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ladylooch · 1 year

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All About You- Brady Skjei

A/N: Whew, is it ever too early for smut on a Saturday? No? Okay thanks for making me feel better 🤪

I had a couple of requests for Brady Skjei, so this is my gift to both of those lovely anons.

My perception of Brady is very, very soft with a rough side, so I tried to capture that perception here. Thanks for reading!

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+ Content, swearing, unsavory things while driving (be safe. Obey most of the laws).

I’m awakened on an off-day Sunday by Brady rolling out of bed. I wince at the sun streaking in through the blinds, annoyed with last night us that decided we were too drunk to do one last step. I toss my arm over my eyes, stretching my back out. I attempt to settle myself deeper into bed as I feel the other side dip from Brady’s return.

“How do you want your coffee?” He asks me. His fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling it from my face so he can place kisses along my soft skin. I sigh at the brief presses, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Cold and in two hours.” I mutter.

“Cold it is.” Another kiss and he’s gone.

I doze in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes until I hear his heavy footsteps coming back down the hall. I open one eye at him, seeing my to-go tumbler filled with delicious liquid gold. I reach for it, confused.

“Am I going somewhere?”

“Yeah, baby. Get dressed. Comfy clothes only today.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” His smile is mischievous.

“Brady, it’s too early for games.” I say to him, slowly sitting up. My shoulders slouch forward. I can tell my hair is a mess, my mascara is definitely smudged into raccoon eyes and my breath is hot garbage. And still, he looks at me like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. His brown eyes liquify. Eventually, he comes to, leaning forward to connect our lips. He doesn’t mind garbage breath.

“No games. I promise.” He says nothing more as he wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me from the bed.

“This is a game.”

“No, it’s to get you to move that hot ass a little faster.” He sets me in the bathroom then gives my butt a slap. “Hustle, Skjei.”

I try to do as coach asked, alternating between getting ready tasks and small sips of my coffee. Brady comes in at least three more times to check my progress until I shut the door on him.

“You’re making this take longer!” I yell through the door at his protesting.

“I need you done in five minutes.” He responds.

I’m done in three, opening the door to find him laying on the bed, hands crossed over his stomach, staring at the ceiling. He pops up, assessing my outfit of yoga pants and a cropped, peach sweatshirt. My hair is settled into a high ponytail and I’m makeup free.

“Just the way I like you.” He murmurs, walking towards me. His hands slide to my ass, gripping both cheeks with his strong hands. His mouth encloses mine. My fingers card through his long hair, tugging the strands slightly just how he loves. “Oof. Okay, we better go before I change my mind.”

“When do I get to know where we are going?” I ask him as I click my seatbelt into place.

“When we get there.” He insists, pulling out of our garage. “Enjoy the ride, baby.” He jokes as he puts on my favorite true crime podcast that he literally loathes. I squeal in delight, tucking my legs into a pretzel, gripping my tumbler and listening intently.

We are on the road, traveling through the morning humidity haze until we come to an obscure building with windows only facing out towards a fenced wooded area. I turn to Brady expectantly.

“Today is all about you.” He murmurs. “You’ve been so good to me this season. Taking care of every detail with the house renovation, food for us, attending every home game, and making sure I’m always ready to hit the road. I love and appreciate you so much. I couldn’t be successful in this league without you.”

“B-” I pout sweetly at him.

“Nah. Don’t deflect. I mean it, I’m so lucky to have you. So, I planned a whole spa day for you. Just you. I know you really want to get some alone time in to recharge, so it’s all set for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, whatever they do here, you’re getting it. You deserve to be pampered. And I would gladly do it, but I think you’ll be getting better service from the professionals.” I laugh, thinking of Brady attempting to paint my nails.

“Let’s be honest. We wouldn’t get passed the massage part.” I grin, leaning across the center console to kiss him. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.”

“Thank you. Now, get out of this car. I’ll pick you up in five hours.”

Brady wasn’t kidding. He absolutely went all out for me. The spa had it all- tranquil music, cozy waiting areas, and the most luxurious robes I’d ever slipped onto my body. I started with a gentle, Swedish massage, then moved into a moisturizing facial. By the time I got to my manicure and pedicures, I was a puddle of goo in the chair. I sipped on expensive champagne, ate delicious snacks of fruit and assorted cheeses all while enjoying my own company and several podcasts that had built up in my Spotify episodes. By the time I saw my husband again, I felt like a completely different person.

“Holy shit.” I say to him as I collapse into the passenger seat. His hand immediately finds my thigh, rubbing his thumb against the smooth fabric of my pants. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed in my whole life. And that includes our honeymoon.” I rest my head back against the seat, sighing contently. I slowly open my eyes, turning to Brady who gives me that same look from this morning- like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. “Thank you.” I finish in a whisper. “This season has been a grind.” I admit, not that it’s news. After two shortened seasons, the 82 game season was an adjustment.

“I know.” He reaches his hand up, cupping my cheek to bring our lips together. He feels like heaven. I can’t help but moan. The air in the car shifts and Brady presses his mouth tighter to mine. I nibble his bottom lip in my mouth, reaching my hand out to skirt across the zipper of his shorts.

“Only one more thing could make this day perfect.”

“Oh, we aren’t even close to done yet.” He tells me. “That was just phase one.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” I whine, watching as he pulls away to start driving.

“It was the five star head on our 1st date.”

“Brady!” I snap, slapping his thigh. His quad seemingly claps back, making my hand sting. My cheeks tint red at the memory. Normally I’m not someone to put out on the first date, but something about Brady was different from the start. I wanted to.. no I had to, at that sophomore year homecoming party hosted by the hockey team.

“I think about that on a weekly basis.” He admits to me, flipping his turn signal on and heading to the right. “Knew I’d do just about anything to keep that mouth on me.” I drop my head in my hands, laughing. I slide my fingers apart, swiveling my head to look at him.

“What would you do for it right now?” I can feel the breath rush from his chest at the thought. Most of our way home is obscure backroads. Very little traffic is with us or going the opposite direction. It’s risky, but not impossible.

“You start us in this car and I’ll finish us inside of you.”

“Promise?” I ask, skirting my fingers along the growing bulge.

“Yeah, baby.” He moans as I work the button of his shorts apart.

After a little awkward maneuvering, I get him out of his boxer briefs. I work the seatbelt around my shoulders, keeping it across my lap and perching my mouth in front of his thick shaft. I wrap my fingers delicately around it, pumping the velvet skin and watching as a bead appears at his slit. My tongue licks at it, savoring the salty pleasure. Brady’s hand comes between my shoulder blades like he’s bracing himself for what is next. I kiss his tip the leisurely part my lips for pull him into my mouth. The passionate sigh he releases has anticipating tightening my inner core.

“Was it this good?” I ask him before taking him all the way into my mouth. I let him thrust deeper, nudging down my throat.

“No.” He admits. “It’s better now that you’re my wife.” I smile around him, then grip the base of his shaft with my hand. When my mouth and hand begin to work together, Brady groans deeply. His breathing increases and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. He presses into my back, encouraging me deeper. I do, then revel in the tortured sounds coming from his mouth. I feel the car stop, sensing we are just about to turn left into our neighborhood. “Go faster until the light turns green.” He begs. I comply, working him over quickly- sucking, licking, and squeezing. “Fuuuuuck.” He moans. A car honks behind us. Brady tugs my ponytail for me to stop. “No more until we are home. Damn, I hate saying that, but I won’t make it if you keep going.”

I pop back up, shoulders rolled back like a queen while wiping at my mouth. Brady’s hand moves to between my legs, feeling the heat radiating. He works his fingers in deeper as I spread wider for him. I grip his wrist as he teases me with the tips of his fingers, not able to get the movement he wants through my Lulu’s.

“Hold on a bit longer, babe.” He says as he turns onto our street.

The garage door is barely open enough for the car to clear. I cringe, expecting Brady to hit it and breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn’t. When the car is in park, he pushes the button again to close. I shove my door open, meeting him on the outside. Our hands grope each other greedily. He works us backwards towards the door. He presses me hard against the wood, wrapping my knee around his waist to grind into my folds.

I reach behind me, twisting the knob so we crash into the mudroom. Brady spins us, then pulls me towards the built in oak, cubbies.

“Come here.” He demands, sitting in the middle of the built ins. I laugh, thinking of how we built these slots for our future children to have a place for their little coats and shoes.

Brady’s shorts drop to his ankles. I work myself to straddle his lap, more than ready for him to be stuffed inside of me. I grip his rigid cock so I can slide down. I glide down him, settling my thighs against his. I moan, accepting his immediate thrusting up into me. I’m so wet, him so rigid, that the feelings are electing profound moans from us both.

“Good God.” He pants, looking up into my face as I ride him. He shoves my shirt up, pulling my sports bra down to reveal my nipple. I sob out in pleasure as he works the bud with his tongue. I reach up, gripping the metal hooks and adjusting my angle on him.

“Yes. Oh my god, yes.” I laugh incredulously at how unbelievable it feels. I can already feel my orgasm torturing me for release. “Babe.” I warn him.

“Mmm, you’re so beautiful fucking me like this.” He insists between tugs on my nipple.

“I’m coming.” I tell him. He keeps the exact tempo I need, keeping my nipple flush against his tongue as he wiggles me to my explosive orgasm. “Fu-fuck yes.” I wail, gripping the back of his neck, my fresh manicure digging into his tan skin. “Shit.” I sob to him as my inner muscles clench tightly around him.

“God damn.” He moves his hand to the small of my back, working my hips into him until he fills me. I rut against him to help him finish completely, then collapse against his chest.

“So our least favorite kid gets this one?” He jokes of the cubbies.

“That’s mean…” I trail off, hot breath dancing against his t-shirt.

“Fair… maybe the one we just made then.” I smile against his skin.

“So we are trying now?”

“I mean, you threw your birth control out of the car last night on the way home from dinner?”

“What!” I exclaim, shocked.

“Yeah, you were like… I’m ready Brady!” He mocks me with a high voice. His hand tosses over his shoulder.

“What the…” I trail off, not remembering that. “Stop letting me drink Palomas.”

“I mean, I just came in you unprotected so, I’ve done what I can on that for nine months.”

“Yeah… then I guess we are trying. Thanks drunk me.” I giggle, placing our lips together. Brady gently lifts me. I wince a bit as he slides out, my folds feeling used and a bit raw.

“Okay?” He asks me, searching my face.

“Way better than okay.” I assure him.

“You ready for phase two?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Trashy TV, couch cuddles, and take out- coming right up.”

It’s finally confirmed, I think to myself as Brady exits the mudroom to get phase 2 prepared. Being married to Brady Skjei is heaven on earth.

#Brady skjei #Brady Skjei fan fiction #Brady Skjei smut #Carolina hurricanes #hockey writing #NHL fan fiction #writing request #my writing

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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 6 months

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I’ll Stand by You (Sweet Jane Part Two) — Campbell Bain x Reader

Sweet Jane Episode One: Hey Jude

Warning: One gif shows mild self harm. (The digging nails into palm from Riverdale)

“You were a risk, a mystery, and the most certain thing I’d ever known.”

Campbell finished playing a song and he spoke into the microphone, “That was Money (That's What I Want)—"

“Cannae hear ye, Campbell.

“From way back in 1959—” Campbell continued, now louder

“They still cannae hear ye.

“AND THIS IS CAMPBELL BAIN, THE BANE OF YOUR LIFE!” Campbell all but shouted.

“Campbell—” Eddie started.

Campbell turned and snapped, irritably at Eddie, “Eddie, I'm a mentally ill person. If I shout any louder I'll be restrained and sedated!”

He felt Y/N take his hand and brought it to the fader as Eddie pointed this out, “The fader, Campbell.”

He paused. “...Oh, I knew that!” He lied.

“Okay, Campbell, we'll try it again.”

Campbell started to jingle again, making it let out a screechy staticky whistling as it played, making Y/N jump up, suddenly, clamping her hands over her ears, making Campbell look at her with deep concern before Fergus reached over Campbell’s turned shoulder and pulled the slider down

“You'll blow the monitors if you push 'em like that.” He told them, “Along with Y/N’s eardrums.”

“Fergus! I nearly got it right that time! What're—” Campbell complained but cut himself off when he saw Fergus wearing a white doctor’s coat and glasses with his pulled back into a ponytail, “Well, well! The poacher's turned gamekeeper, eh? Where did you get the coat?”

Fergus looked down at the nametag to read it, “From, uh, Doctor Brady.”

“You look dead handsome like that, so you do.” Rosalie complimented.

“Get everything you needed?” Eddie asked.

“Almost.” Fergus said as he held up an electronic device, “That only cost 50p. I'll strip it for the power transistors.” Then he gestured to Campbell. “Are you sure you trust him on that desk?”

“Fergus, this desk and I are on intimate terms. This desk and I are practically engaged. We're doing our first show together tomorrow night.”

“Not tomorrow, Campbell.” Eddie told him.

“But I'm standing at the threshold of one the most important moments of my life here!” Campbell whined before saying, fervently, “Give me an audience; give me punters and I will deliver, Eddie!”

“Well! I hadn't expected such a crowd.” A woman said, entering, and Y/N rolled her chair away from her, looking at her suspiciously as she nodded at Fergus, “Doctor.” Then to everyone else, “Which one of you is Eddie McKenna?”

“Um, I am.” Eddie said, standing up.

“I'm Mrs. MacDonald, assistant administrator.” She said

“Mrs. MacDonald.” Eddie said, shaking her hand.

“Call me Evelyn. Just thought I'd pop my head in and say hello, ask if you need anything.” She said and Y/N and Fergus exchanged looks before the silent patient gave her a blank stare.

“Aye, we do.” Fergus said.

“I'm sorry?” Evelyn asked as Y/N handed Fergus a cable.

“We need some shielded three-core flex. This stuff is useless. The doctors' bleeps are coming through on the air.”

“Well, that should be possible.” Evelyn said, having understood very little of that but smiling to pretend that she did.

“And some paint! This place needs redecorating, so it does.” Rosalie interjected.

“Oh, hang on. Just let me make a list.”

Y/N smacked Fergus in the shoulder, lightly and gestured to the mixing desk. “Yes, the main thing is the mixing desk.” Fergus opened said mixing desk, “Now, we've got a lot of crackle coming through on these faders, and these two here have had it, really.” Y/N used a screwdriver to demonstrate which wires, “Now, we could do with a couple of new ones if you can still get them, but what we really need is a new desk. A six-into-two would even do us.”

“My goodness!” Evelyn laughed, “Are you a doctor or an engineer?”

“I'm a patient.” Fergus said as Y/N smiled, cheekily at her before he took his glasses off, laughing as Evelyn’s smile fell but not having the open mind that Eddie had when he mistook a patient for a doctor.

“We're all patients. Except him,” Campbell said, nodding towards Eddie, “who isn't, but should be. But don't worry; we're heavily tranquilized and pose no danger to the public.” Campbell then gave her an adorkable smile.

“No, that's marvelous, involving the patients.” She said but Y/N could tell she wasn’t genuine and was being very fake, not exactly going to be the next Oscar winner, “I'll see what I can do about this list. Uh, there's an endowment trust we can approach. But the hospital board will want to see some figures, I'm afraid.” Her voice was now hesitant. Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up on this at once.

“What kind of figures?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, just a budget proposal, really. Current running costs, projected capital outlay, that sort of thing. If you've got your books up to date and you've got some written estimates of the equipment you propose to purchase, you can—” Evelyn said as Campbell and Y/N started to get very bored and they exchanged very bored, like in Math(s)-class-level-bored looks before Campbell played the jingle.

“That was dedicated to the bored and boring board of Saint Jude's Hospital, that bloated, bilious body of befuddled brains we'd like to befriend. Just give us your dosh, boys!” Campbell said into the microphone cheerfully.

Can’t Buy Me Love by the Beatles played before Eddie scolded, “Campbell!” He slid the fader back down, quieting the music.

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“Well. Pretty impressive! Anyway, Eddie, I'll pop in again in a few days when you have a chance to get some figures together. And... thanks for the wee demonstration, as it were.” Evelyn said, taken aback, confused, and not wanting to be near Campbell as she felt he definitely was mentally unstable and she didn't like the death glare that was being given to her by Y/n.

“Oh, well done, Campbell.” Eddie said, sarcastically.

“I told you I could do it if I had an audience!” Campbell said, the sarcasm going right over his head.

“No that. What's Evelyn gonna think of that?” Eddie nodded at the mixer, having been referring to Campbell’s performance out of boredom.

“She'll think I'm a loony. I am a loony. ...Come on, Eddie. Let me do my own show tomorrow, eh?” Campbell pleaded.

Eddie looked at Fergus and Y/N, the older of the two quiet and gentle patients shook his head ‘no’ while the youngest and most quiet on, nodded her head, enthusiastically, yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!

Eddie sighed, looking at Campbell and conceded, “...Aye, okay.”

Campbell then jumped up from his chair, either really excited or having a mild manic mood swing. “You beau-taay! Tomorrow night! The Campbell Bain Show debuts tomorrow night!” He extended his arms out and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling like, I’M ON TOP OF THE WORLD as Y/N watched with a sparkle in her eyes. “Eat your heart out, Ken Bruce, you bastard, ha!” His smile immediately fell when he spotted his father entering the room, “Oh... Hello.”

“They, uh, told me I'd find you in here.” His dad said, uncomfortably.

“...Aye.” Campbell glanced at his friends, rather nervous about how his father would react to them given his disbelief in his son’s own mental disorder, “Well... here I am." He turned back to his friends, who were uncomfortably waiting for him to introduce this man to them, "...Eh, you lot, this is my dad." Eddie smiled in greeting but like Y/n, his eyes kept darting back to Campbell, noticing his obvious uncharacteristic nervousness and stillness, "Dad, this is that lot and this is Y/N, my best friend…” He said, placing a hand on the back of Y/N’s back as she looked at him, considering they had only met two months ago and she’s never even spoken to him despite the many, many, many times he’s spoken to her, before quickly adding, “but-but not my--not my-my girlfriend…”

He cut himself off as his dad gave them all apart from Campbell a cold look while the one he gave Campbell was just uncomfortable and disappointed, like he thought he had to walk on eggshells around him.

Then his dad just left, intending for the unsettled Campbell to follow. Campbell turned to Y/N and pleaded with her with his eyes to follow in case things went wrong which they most likely would, knowing his father and Y/N got up and walked solemnly after them, glaring at Campbell’s dad the whole time.

The father and son entered the day room as Y/N slowly walked in, glaring at Campbell’s dad still, before sitting down and continuing to glare daggers at Campbell's dad.

“Uh,” Campbell glanced at Y/N with her rather terrifying stare at his father like she was planning on murdering him, “have a seat.” Then he joked to lighten the mood, “I'd get you a cup of tea, but they don't trust us with kettles.”

“No, you might burn yourselves.”

“Aye. Or wear them on our heads. Either way, it requires medical intervention.” The teen chuckled, nervously.

“I've just, uh, had a word with your doctor, by the way.”

“Oh, aye?” Campbell asked with mild curiosity.

“He gave me some good news... I think. He says they'll be letting you out of here soon. Next week, he reckons.” Campbell’s dad said and Y/N’s insides flipped, not sure how she should feel. Her empathetic side was happy for him but her selfish side was sad that she wouldn’t be able to see him as often.

Campbell had defied all her expectations after her trauma. He was everything she had started to lose belief in in men. He was kindness and gentleness and sunshine.

Campbell clearly thought this was great news, “You're joking — next week?” He said, excitedly and then jumped up, excitedly, shouting, “YES! YES! FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST!” He walked over to Y/N and kissed her on the head, enthusiastically, “THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, I'LL BE FREE AT LAST!”

He spotted the bittersweet look on Y/N’s face, making him pipe down and look at her with confusion and concern so his dad took this opportunity to talk.

“Aye, well. Just thought I'd come and ask you if you'd, uh, any plans for when you come out.”

Y/N scoffed, knowing what he meant at once. Was that really his only concern? Not welcoming his wonderful son home.

“Aye! Loads of them!” Campbell said, enthusiastically, not understanding, “Massive booze-up with all my pals. Holiday in the Seychelles—or Majorca; I'll slum it. And… lose my virginity. I'm nineteen, I think I should lose my virginity, don't you?”

For some reason, Y/N felt even more sad at this, not noticing how Campbell’s brown eyes darted at her before his dad ruined his excitement… as per usual.

“Listen, stop your daft act! You'll make me think you need to stay here.” Campbell’s dad snapped, making Campbell’s mood switch from manic to depressed as he slumped into a seat, seeing his dad hadn’t changed as much as he had as Y/N glared at the ununderstanding father, her nails digging into her skin, something she had done from a young age to keep herself from violently lashing out. The pain grounding her but she had never told anyone this due to it being considered as self-harm.

“I was talking about your future, son. You didn't get your exams, you know. Your mother and I was wondering if you'd thought about going back to do your exams.”

Yes because exams are fair and test all kinds of intelligences equally instead of one or two because that would be massively unfair to those with mental and/or learning disorders by forcing them to conform to the way normal people think. Y/N thought, sarcastically, her nails breaking skin.

“Well... cannae say that was the first thing that crossed my mind.” Campbell admitted.

“Well, think about it, son!” His dad said, like, what else could you possibly be thinking about, “There's a recession on. Nobody gets nothing for nothing. You need qualifications.”

Alistair looked back at them in annoyance before catching the deadly glare Y/N gave him like, say something if you dare.

“Well, it's just... I don't know what I wanna do yet.” Campbell sighed.

“Ah, don't give me your daft talk. We're talking about a job. I mean, what you want has nothing to do with it!” Campbell’s dad snapped as Y/N’s nails pushed harder into her palm.

“Aye, well, I could always be a road sweeper, I suppose.” Campbell snapped, bitterly, getting up and turning his back to his father.

“I am not a road sweeper! I work for the Cleansing Department. And I'm a foreman.” His dad defended and Y/N audibly scoffed.

You sweep the road.” Campbell said, coldly.

“Oh? I never heard you complain about the food it put on the table.” Perhaps because you were too busy criticizing him and refusing to listen to him to hear him. “Do you want to be a waster all your life?” You’re the waster. “'Cause I'm not having it. You've got to pull yourself together, because this thing is killing your mother. It's positively killing her. I mean, the doctor's had to put her on tablets because she's so upset about it.” Then why isn’t she here?

Y/N’s eye started to switch as her nails continued to dig.

Campbell just breathed out a bitter laugh at that, “That makes two loonies in the family.”

“Your mother is not a loony. We've never had a loony in the family before you. Not on my side or your mother's. You've just got to stop this. Put it all behind you. Pull yourself together. You understand me?” His father ordered like it was something Campbell could turn on and off or like it was some act for attention.

Campbell just nodded, not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking but he still didn’t turn around. His dad went to put his hand on Campbell’s shoulder but stopped himself before he could.

“You just have to think about your future, son.” He told him as Campbell stared solemnly at the floor

Y/N glared at Campbell’s father as he left as he gave her a cold look back, once he was gone Y/N walked towards Campbell and hugged him from behind, he grabbed at her hands before turning around in the hug and pulling her into a stronger hug as he buried his face into the top of her head.

—

The next day, Fergus and Campbell announced “Campbell Bain’s Looney Tunes Show” with Campbell in a wheelchair with balloons and streamed on it… also on Fergus.

Later that night, Campbell, Y/N, Rosalie, and Fergus were in the station and Eddie wasn’t there yet.

Campbell stressfully took out a cigarette out of his pack as Fergus squeezed a yellow balloon, “He should be here by now!” He looked down at Rosalie who was under the desk, spraying Campbell’s boots and Y/N high tops. “Rosalie, what are you doing?”

“Just polishing your shoes, son.” Rosalie said and Campbell felt his cigarette be pulled out of his fingers by Y/N and dropped in a pitcher of water. Campbell looked over at Fergus in disbelief.

Campbell excused Y/N by asking her to get him some water that didn’t have cigarettes in it and then lit a new cigarette.

“We're gonna have to go without him.” Fergus said as Y/N came back with the water and frowned at Campbell who taking a nervous puff of his cigarette.

“Ten... nine... eight... seven... six...” Fergus counted down as Y/N took the cigarette from Campbell and stubbed it out, giving him a disapproving look. “Two... one. You're on.”

Campbell leaned towards the microphone and spoke, “That was I Hear You Knocking, But You Can't Come In, dedicated to all the medical staff here at Saint Jude's Hospital. They hear you knocking, but you cannae get out! And this is Campbell Bain with the first ever Campbell Bain's Looney Tunes Show!” Y/N pushed the button that played the Looney Tunes jungle, “And our next request is for Senga on Ward six, who tells me that she's being controlled by aliens from another planet.” He put on the record, Puppet on a String and then he joked, “Sengaaa, the nursing assistants are only doing their job.”

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He heard Y/N giggle beside him, making his heart do flips. Y/N. She was definitely what he was going the miss most. Even with her never saying a single word to him.

Fergus and Y/N spotted Eddie stopping from a dash when he saw Campbell, sorting through the records. Fergus waved casually at him.

And now, I've been asked to play a "dead smoochy" tune by Alison on Ward 7.” Campbell said in a comedically husky voice, “So here's a song that should cause each of us to experience a wee flutter in the heart, a wee catch in the throat; a tune that we can truly call our song.” He said the last sentence while looking at Y/N.

Campbell put on the song, Goin’ Out of my Head and then he spotted Eddie and he smiled at him, before looking at Y/N who was bopping her head along to the song.

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—

“Cocoa's up. You coming” Campbell asked Eddie as Y/N waited for him, quite proud of the looney.

“No. Gotta get these figures together for Evelyn.” Eddie refused.

Campbell was nervous yet excited as he put his hands in his pockets, “I had fun tonight, guys. I think that's the most fun I've ever had without being manic.” There was a nervous pause. “Was I any good?”

Y/N didn’t even hesitate, she nodded and gave him two thumbs-up. That was as good as he was going to get with her.

Eddie paused, considering before turning to look at him, “Aye.”

This was the kind of support Campbell never got from his father and it excited the young man, “I've never been good at anything before, Eddie. I spent four years of my life learning to play guitar and the only song I can play all the way through is ‘Knock Knock Knockin' on Heaven's Door. And I only did it to try and pull women. I'm no good at that either.” He sighed and Eddie breathed out a laugh, knowing that Y/N was quite infatuated with him, even without her ever saying a word to him… or to anyone in the hospital, “I want to do this. Professional, Eddie, Y/N. D'you think... I could?”

Y/N gave him a smile while Eddie said, “Maybe, aye.”

“But I've got to take it seriously.” He said, starting to pace, “It's got to be taken seriously, this thing. First thing I'm gonna do is get some cans like yours, Eddie.”

“Beyer DT-100s.” Eddie said, flatly.

“Aye. Professional cans, with my name on them in big yellow fluorescent letters. Build up my own record collection; specialize in something. Get some routines together. What else do I need?

“Experience, Campbell?” Eddie suggested.

“Aye, good point! They're no gonna hire somebody who just walks in off the street. They're going to hire somebody who has spent days, if not weeks, developing their show into a creature that's, is totally fresh and fundamentally loony in every way!” He said, excitedly.

“‘Days, if no weeks’?” Eddie repeated his words, considering he had been trying to go professional for eight years.

“They're letting me out of here next week, Eddie. And I wanna come and work for you. Full time. I want you to teach me everything you know. We'll be a double act. We are gonna make this the most outrageous and original hospital broadcasting outfit in the country! This station is gonna take us places, Eddie.” Campbell proposed and Y/N’s heart began to lift.

“‘Us?”

“Well, you're no gonna sell double glazing all your life, are yeh?” Campbell pointed out.

“Uh, no likely, anyway.” Eddie muttered, figuring he was going to be fired in a few days due to his literal workaholic boss’ impossible standards.

“Then go for it! Have you never wanted to go professional, Eddie?” Campbell asked.

“I've sent out the odd tape.” Eddie said as Y/N tilted her head.

“And?”

“Uh, general consensus seemed to be, um, I was shite.” He muttered.

Campbell thought about this for a moment before saying, “Ah, well, that's where you went wrong. You see, you went to them. That's one thing I'm sure of, is you've got to get them to come to you. What's it called...”

“Abduction, Campbell, and it's illegal.” Eddie deadpanned.

“No! No! No!” He spotted Y/N pad which she had written the word on, “Yes! Market strategy. Creating a seller's market. Can you see the potential? We are one of the only loony radio stations in the country! Think of the angle, the publicity!” He mimed a newspaper headline in the air, “‘Loonies Take Over Asylum at Saint Jude's’. All we have to do is be brilliant as well as original, and they'll be coming to us. With your knowledge and experience and my hypomania, how can we lose? Come on, Eddie. You with me?”

Eddie thought about for a moment before nodding, “Aye. Campbell grinned widely at his answer.

“Are you sure you're no manic?” Eddie asked.

“I'm inspired, Eddie.” He corrected.

“What's the difference?”

“Inspired is when you think you can do anything. Manic is when you know it.” Campbell explained and went to get his cocoa. Y/N smiled and followed Campbell to get hers.

Later Campbell was reading a book called Careers in Radio when he looked up to see a soaking wet Fergus with a shopping bag.

“Fergus! Did you get them?” He asked, excitedly.

“Aye. Secondhand. Fifty quid.” Fergus said, opening the bag for Campbell.

“This is brilliant! Brilliant! My first professional headphones.” Campbell said, getting his headphones out and putting them on as Fergus got a towel to dry off. “Did you get the paint?” Fergus pointed at the bag and Campbell fumbled with the bag until he got the pain out, “I have to put my name on them. That's how they do it in professional radio.”

“Where'd you get all this cash, anyway?” Fergus wondered.

“Sold Mad John all Y/N and my cigarettes. She doesn’t smoke so she was happy to.” He explained.

“For sixty quid?”

“Well, it was nearly eight packs. And he did offer; he was desperate.” Campbell said.

“But what are you gonna do for smokes?” Fergus asked.

“I'm giving it up. I've gotta take care of my voice. And may God strike me dead if I so much as engage in passive smoking.” He said.

“But everybody smokes in here.” Fergus said, “Except your girlfriend.”

Campbell merely glanced at him, slightly irritated at him calling Y/N his girlfriend but decided not to comment on it. “Then I'll stop breathing in. I’ll do whatever Y/N does. C'mon! Let's try these out at the station.”

He went to run out of his room and to the station when he was stopped by his father entering, looking just as lethargic and boring as ever. So, the exact opposite of Campbell in every conceivable way. “Dad! Hello.”

Campbell’s dad looked at Fergus and frowned, “You're wet!”

Fergus pressed his finger against his temple like he just got an idea or was getting a psychic message from someone and then said, sarcastically, “Next time I'll take my clothes off before I get into the bath.” The he gave Campbell’s dad a somewhat loony-esque look as he walked out.

“I thought he was a doctor.” Campbell’s dad said, confused and slow.

“Only part time.” Campbell said with a slight nervous chuckle.

Campbell’s dad then decided to ignore this, not having his son’s acceptance and love for “loonies” as his son put it. “I was wondering if you'd thought about what we were saying.”

Neither noticed Y/N appear at the door, leaning against the door frame, watching the scene with scrutiny but not interrupting.

“Yes. I have. And I've decided that you're absolutely dead on. I'm nineteen years old and it's time I started thinking about my future.” Campbell said with a big smile.

“Oh, aye?” His dad asked.

“You're gonna be proud of me, Dad.” Campbell hoped, but somehow, this was doubtful with what was known about Campbell’s close-minded dad. “Because I've decided that my future, my life's work, my soul's passion is gonna be this.” He pulled his headphones from around his neck to over his ears.

“...You're going to be an airline pilot?” His dad asked.

“Nooo!” Campbell drawled out, making Y/N lips twitch into a smile before her glare settled back onto his dad. “A radio disc jockey! And I can get all the experience I need right here in the hospital station!”

Campbell's dad was not proud in the slightest, just disappointed and exasperated for what he assumed to be his son’s latest “obsession” but was actually more accurately a Bipolar hyperfixation. “Back to that, are we?” He asked, sitting down.

“Back to what?” Campbell frowned, pulling his headphones down.

“Well, six months ago you wanted to be a pop star.” His dad reminded him.

“That was different. I cannae sing.” Campbell told him.

“Two years before, you wanted to be a racing jockey.”

“I'm afraid of horses.”

“Before that, you wanted to be an actor!” His dad complained.

“I cannae remember lines. But this is different! I'm good at it! I know I am! Y/N told me, I mean not so much with words, but she did in her own way!”

“The mute girl?”

“SHE’S NOT MUTE!” Campbell shouted, angrily, gesturing to Y/N at the door who waved sarcastically at Campbell’s dad with a sarcastically sweet smile.

“Ah, well, there's a lot of things are gonna be different from now on. Your mother and me have been talking, and... we've decided it would be a good idea if you went to your auntie Susan's for a bit.” Campbell’s dad told him.

“But she lives in Perth.” Campbell said, shocked.

Y/N’s heart fell at this. Campbell wasn’t just leaving the hospital, he would be even further away. If he meant Perth, Scotland then he’d be sixty miles away, that would be over an hour’s drive. If he meant Perth, Australia, then that was in a whole different time zone.

“Yes, but you can go to adult classes there. You'll get the peace and quiet that you need.”

Y/N scoffed at his dad’s reasoning. It sounded more like if Campbell had another episode, he didn’t want to deal with it and he was using his education as an excuse.

“I cannae go to Perth! I've gotta stay in Glasgow to work in the station! I need the experience!” Campbell freaked out, holding up his headphones at his dad, Y/N eased over to behind Campbell, sensing his anger rising.

Y/N took Campbell’s headphones from his hands and replaced them with her headphones.

“You need to get well!” His dad protested like he was arguing with someone who was actually ill and Perth was actually going to help do that. How exactly?

“BUT I'M NOT ILL!” Campbell screamed and just as Y/N had predicted Campbell threw his headphones at his bed, they bounced and hit the floor, she could hear them break even though Campbell was shouting as she slinked back out of the room, “YOU CANNAE MAKE ME GO TO PERTH! I'M NINETEEN YEARS OLD, AND I'M STAYING IN GLASGOW TO WORK IN THE STATION! I'M GONNA BE A PROFESSIONAL DJ WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!”

“You stand there, shouting at the top of your voice, throwing your arms about like some mad scarecrow, and you're telling me you're not ill?” His father scoffed as Y/N glared with him with such hatred. “You're not capable of thinking straight, and some straight thinking needs to be done. Now, your mother and me have done our best to look after you.” Y/N clenched her jaw as her hatred increased, “If that's not good enough for you, then there... there's nothing left but... to have you sectioned, and let the doctors decide.”

Campbell’s anger turned to shock and brokenheartedness as Y/N’s turned from fiery hatred to ice-cold hatred. There was officially one person she hated more than she hated Campbell’s father. She could see that he wanted to love a normal son but he didn’t have that so he tried to shape Campbell into being normal, but he wasn’t but he just didn’t have the capacity to understand that and just blamed Campbell for things that wasn’t his fault.

“...Oh, Jesus. You'd have me sectioned?” Campbell breathed, looking at his father with horror through his floppy light auburn hair.

“I'll come round on Monday to collect you. Your uncle has loaned me his car.”

Great. Y/N thought, Then I could key it with curse words.

Campbell’s father went to turn to leave when his son spoke again in a heartbroken tone, “Have you never been young, Dad? Was there never anything you wanted to do, you wanted to be, more than anything in the world?”

His dad paused and then said, “Oh, aye. Goalkeeper for the Glasgow Rangers. Lot of fucking good it did me.”

Yeah, because you have no talent whatsoever, nor compassion, empathy, or unconditional love for your so. Only if he’s the way you want him to be. Y/N thought with sardonicism.

Campbell looked up to see Y/N blocking his dad’s way, glaring daggers at him before he shuffled past, muttering about loonies.

Campbell looked at her with tears in his eyes, “WHAT!? YOU THINK I’M JUST AS BROKEN AS HE DOES! THAT’S WHY YOU FOLLOW ME AROUND BUT NEVER SPEAK TO ME!” He lashed out but Y/N showed no emotion on her face, she just took it like she was used to being screamed at… she was. Campbell got up and ran past her and she ran after him.

Evelyn was showing her true colors to Eddie, to her the only normal who worked at the station.

“Eddie, nobody could admire you more than I do for involving the patients. But I think the intention when we decided to fund the station was that there would be a regular staff of outside volunteers. Reliable people.” She voiced her opinion. Which was wrong in every way imaginable because in her mind, they were dangerous, unstable, and every stereotype their mental illnesses and/or disorders presented via said stereotype or movies or discrimination in general when in actuality people with mental illnesses which was over one third of the Earth’s population were eleven times more likely to be the victims of crime and/or violence than the general public.

“I've never been let down.” Eddie frowned.

“Eddie, some of these patients have horrendous problems. It's not fair to expect too much.” Evelyn explained to him like she was explaining what a surplus was to an eight and then to a five-year-old. Even though each “patient with horrendous problems” had done just as much if not more than Eddie had.

“They keep telling me how much they enjoy it.” Eddie said, shocked and confused. Wasn’t this woman supposed to be the Assistant Administrator of mental health? It was becoming more clear why she was Miss Evelyn MacDonald and not Mrs. Evelyn MacDonald or Doctor Evelyn MacDonald.

“You can't always listen to them.” Evelyn said, even though that’s what people already did that and when it should be the opposite with less screaming at them that their view of the world was wrong and the normals’ view of the world was right.

Then she left as Eddie looked after her, not understanding why she would think that, he had spent ten minutes in this hospital before realizing that his initial assumptions towards the patients had been wrong, thanks to the contrast between Stuart and Campbell.

Then he noticed that Francine had been eavesdropping on the quite upsetting conversation and she ran off.

“Francine!” He cried after her.

Campbell visibly upset and trying to light a cigarette with his lighter stalked past behind Eddie.

“Campbell? Campbell!” Eddie called as Y/N ran past him after Campbell with his new headphones around her neck.

Eddie had never seen Campbell so upset before, given Campbell was either always happy, manic, or overwhelmed, so he followed Campbell and Y/N. Campbell stormed into the studio, sulked over to the chair next to Fergus and flung himself into it, dejectedly before Y/N opened the door and knelt by Campbell’s side but he twisted his torso so the swivel chair turned him away from her, refusing to look at her, feeling guilty for what he said and not wanting to look her in the eyes.

“I thought you said you were gonna give up cigarettes.” Fergus told him.

“Aye, well, I also said I was gonna become a DJ.” Campbell said, bitterly and depressedly.

Eddie came around the corner and traded looks with Fergus. Eddie nodded at Campbell like, do you know what’s wrong?

Fergus shrugged like, No idea and I have no idea how to help him.

Y/N held up her hand, reassuringly like, I got this, boys.

Y/N grabbed Campbell’s arm and pulled him but refused to get up so the chair rolled until Fergus grabbed the back of the chair, making Campbell reluctantly stumble after Y/N who pulled him to his room, closing the door behind them and sat him on his bed and sat next to him so he could vent.

“Maybe, my dad’s right. Maybe following your dreams only exits in television.” Campbell sighed and tried to take another puff of the cigarette but Y/N took it from him and put it out on his ashtray. He looked at her and took out another cigarette which she took from him. He tried three more times in which she did the same.

He finally looked her in the eyes, “Well, that’s the least fun game ever, Y/N,” He deadpanned and she gave him a smile as she tilted her head and a sparkle twinkled in her eyes like, come on. Come on, buddy. Interact with me. He let out a half-scoff, half-chuckle and said, “Look, I’m sorry that I shouted at you, Y/N. I really am and I know you don’t think I’m broken and I don’t think you’re broken—I know I didn’t say that but I know you think you are because I know that look in your eyes. I’ve been here a while and I’ve had that look in my eyes for a long time.”

He stopped his rambling when Y/N placed her hand on his, sending waves of warmth through his body like hot cocoa on a cold day, “Maybe I need to be more like Eddie, a realist. Get a job to get by. Maybe, I’m just not that good. Maybe idealism is for suckers and I’m not as talented as I thought I was.”

“No.” Y/N spoke.

Campbell shook his head in disbelief and looked at Y/N with wide eyes, “Did you just…”

“Don’t give up, Campbell.” She said, softly, her voice was soft and bit hoarse from going ten months without speaking and so her vocal chords had atrophied a little but nothing too bad.

Campbell let out a laugh and cupped her cheek, “you’re talking. You’re really talking.”

“Your dad is close-minded arse who’s just miserable with his life and takes it out on you. I wanted to attack him and I wanted to key his car but he took the bus here… I checked. I wanted to scream at him and make him go crazy so he’d know what being loony is like.”

“You’re a really dark person, aren’t you?” Campbell chuckled, not at all worried or upset with her for wanting to commit physical and psychological damage upon his father.

“Manic-Depressive disorder is eighty percent genetic and most likely passed down from the father’s side of the family, just because there’s no known family members of your family doesn’t mean there weren’t any. Until seven years ago, they called attention deficit hyperactivity disorder or ADHD, ‘hyperkinetic reaction to childhood” despite the disorder being known since either the late seventeen-hundreds or the early nineteen-hundreds. Stress, emotional abuse, neglect, being bullied, loneliness, isolation, pressure, etcetera, etcetera.”

Campbell studied her as she spoke, seeing she was rather intelligent though he had expected that from her engineering skills but this was knowledge of mental health that even some of the therapists he saw didn’t seem to know as they just insisted that he needed to calm down or he wouldn’t be able to function in society or lazy or over enthusiastic or a slacker or pointed out whether he seemed happy or sad that day like he needed it gauged and vocalized or that he was faking his episodes before they finally diagnosed him with manic-depressive disorder. She had a Y/A (Your accent) accent that sent his heart a-fluttering.

“You are not mentally incompetent or unwell. You are not acting out or putting on a daft act.” His eyes became misty with happy tears, “You are perfect just the way you are. You’re so much stronger than all the white noise in the world,” She gestured out the window, referring to the normals as white noise, “You’re stronger than your father, you’re stronger than Stuart, you’re stronger than Evelyn MacDonald. You’re so much stronger than anyone I know. You are holding the station together, you are holding the show together, so please, please, don’t let go.”

He nodded and cupped her cheek, stroking her soft skin with the pad of his thumb, “Why’d you wait until now to talk? You’ve been here for weeks and according to Stuart, you haven’t spoken in eight months and that was nearly two months ago, so ten.”

“You.” She said, “You were going to give up. Don’t. Please, don’t.”

“You’re talking… because of me. To encourage me?” He asked, touched and surprised that she cared for him that much.

She nodded and touched her forehead against his as she spoke softly, “You are more brilliant and talented than your dad ever could imagine. He doesn’t understand your disorder, he doesn’t see how brilliant it is. You know creative people are twenty times more likely to be manic-depressives? Creative people are more likely to be loonies.” Campbell chuckled softly, loving the sound of her voice and the passion twinkling in her E/C-colored eyes as she placed his headphones around his neck. “You have ambition, genius, loyalty, and compassion that doesn’t even rival your father’s by a long shot. Your disorder reminds you to relate to others and know when they’re struggling. You saw me. My parents only sent me here because I refused to talk but you knew there was more than that. They never did. And I see you and I understand you and I accept you.”

Campbell had tears of joy in his eyes and he pulled her towards him, hugging her, making her straddle him so not to be in an awkward angle, she stiffened before relaxing, hugging him back.

She turned her head to whisper into his ear, “And I have a plan.” She pulled away and looked into his brown eyes, “How’s your acting?”

Campbell raised an eyebrow at her before getting distracted, “I thought I broke the headphones, I threw but these aren’t broken.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s…” She nodded to the floor where he spotted her headphones now broken.

“Oh, shit! I broke your headphones, don’t-don’t worry, I’ll replace them.”

"Campbell... the plan." She reminded him.

"Oh, right, right... what's your plan?" He asked.

Y/n leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, however he didn't get a single word from being too distracted by their closeness.

"Could you say all that again? I didn't get any of that."

Campbell started the show the next day with Y/N as Eddie was a bit late but anyways, it was his show today—his last show.

As This Ole House by Rosemary Clooney played, the patients danced outside the station and Campbell, looking more restrained and calmer than usual. He also seemed deeper and more lost in thought than his usual spur-of-the-moment, impulsive, didn’t-think-this-through self. They sorted through the records and looked at the ones that Y/N handed him as she spoke softly with her back to the others so they couldn’t see and take her away now that they knew for certain she could talk because then she’d miss this and she didn’t want to miss this.

“What about Tears for Fears’ Mad World? It’s one of my favorites.” She suggested, holding up the 1983 song. “It can explain a looney’s tiredness of the world around us. To everyone else, we’re the ones that are mad but to us it’s the everyone else in the whole world that’s mad.

“Mmm. Great choice but I think some people are going to be a little bit depressed already with what I’m going to do.”

“Or I could play it after you leave.” She shrugged.

“Oh, you trying to take over my show, L/N.” He teased, spinning his swivel chair to her.

“Maybe, I am, Bain. What are you going to do about it?” She teased back.

The song ended and Campbell took over as Eddie entered, “This is Campbell Bain's Looney Tunes show, and I hope everyone in this old house is tuned in and ready to rock and roll.” Y/N pushed the button and the Looney Tunes jingle played as Eddie gave Campbell a proud smile, being far more supportive to him than his dad ever was, “That's right, because it's time for the Looney Tunes show, and I want you dancing, loonies, I want you singing along, I want you clapping your hands and stamping your feet! If there's a strange voice in your head, get it to sing along! If there's a catatonic sitting next to you, WAKE ‘EM UP!” Y/N giggled at his antics, making him give her a grin, “This is for all of you having ECT tomorrow; I hope you get some good vibrations.”

He started playing Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys and grinned at Y/N as that was one of her suggestions which he rather liked as it resonated with his feelings for her.

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Outside the stations as per usual, Hector sang along to the lyrics of the song into a spoon while as per usual Alastair was annoyed that they were interrupting his TV time

Campbell put the fader on, so the song faded out and he spoke into the microphone again, “Well, I suppose you're all wondering why I asked you here tonight. As you may know, this is the fourth and last Campbell Bain's Looney Tunes show. The good news is that it's because I'm being discharged. The bad news is, I'm gonna be living in Perth. And our first competition tonight was to find a special dedication to the town of Perth. And the winner is Margaret on Ward eleven, and she dedicated this song to the town of Perth.”

He started playing We Gotta Get Out of This Place by the Animals. He looked at Y/N and winked, giving her the signal while forcing himself not to look happy or manipulative. She smiled, then she leaned forwards and kissed him on the cheek before leaving to join Fergus and Eddie and actually spoke to them, “He's hot the night.”

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They did a double take at her but she wouldn’t say anything else when she was questioned about it as she closed the door, watching Campbell with amusement at what was going to happen and because his cheeks were now bright red.

Campbell waited a minute so that her leaving right before wouldn’t seem planned before taking his headphones off and looked at the studio door, as he pieced together what he was going to do. He walked over to the studio door and locked the door, locking eyes with Y/N.

Fergus and Eddie exchanged looked before Campbell walked over to the record player and pulled the tonearm off the record with a scratch and he sat back down, placing his headphones back over his ears and spoke in a manic pace of voice, “Ach, that's no dance music, is it? We're supposed to be rockin' an' rollin'! Because we are loonies and we are proud! I'm a manic-depressive and I'm proud, my friends. Some of the greatest geniuses in history have been manic-depressives on a manic roll! Vincent van Gogh, Handel, Schumann—”

Outside the station, Isabel the only good nurse apparently opened the medicine cabinet to see that Campbell hadn’t taken his pills and then looked over towards the studio door, concerned, given how severe his episodes could become if untreated.

“Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Spike Milligan, Vivien Leigh—” Campbell continued, “that is one hundred percent true, folks—and this is for all you manic-depressives out there; we are loonies and we are proud!” Then he let out a sort of shout/howl, “AAAOOOOW!”

Then he put on Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher by Jackie Wilson and the patients continued dancing while Alastair yanked the spoon from Hector’s hand and then sat back down, grinning triumphally as Hector frowned.

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He exited the day room, only to run into Y/N who handed him a new spoon. He grinned and started to sing along into it. She walked into Alastair’s view who was frowning in disbelief at her as she gave him a sarcastic smile and then gave him the middle finger before taking Hector’s arm and leading him out of the day room and to the hall so Hector wouldn’t take the second spoon away from him too.

“Have you ever noticed how much mental illness imagery there is in popular music? Tonight our guest on the Looney Tunes show is professor of musicology, Doctor Boogie!” Then Campbell started to speak in bad German accent… or Romania given how he was pronouncing some words… somewhere near Transylvania where Dracula lived, “Aye, aye, in the popular music we find much imagery of ze mental illness, indicating an underlying fear and faskination vith madness. For example…” He started to play A World Without Love by Peter and Gordon.

“He's away.” Fergus said, a bit concerned.

He stopped the song with another record scratch, Campbell’s voice seemed to be increasing speed, “And this expresses the deep anxiety about going a little bit crazy, huh? Another example is…”

The needle scratched on the record and Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis. “This expresses the deep anxiety about going a lotcrazier with a,” His eyes were bugging out of his head and waggling his fingers, manically and Y/N had to force herself not to giggle at how he looked, “pyromaniac overtones. And then again in a song like—"

A less prominent record scratch before Paint it Black by the Rolling Stones played,“—We see a fascination with obsessive behavior. And some songs provoke the greatest fears of all, in this case—”

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He took the needle off without a scratch this time and then he played Sugar, Sugar by the Archies.

“—the tvin fears of abject mediocrity and of writing crap songs. Ah ja! But zen of course—” Campbell said, still speaking in the odd Central to Eastern European accent as Eddie finally tried the door, only to find it locked., “—there is, uh—"

He started playing Da Doo Ron Ron by the Crystals as Isabel and two assistants (thankfully not Stuart) hurried down the corridor. He dropped the accent, “—which has got nothing to do with loonies, but it's a great song!”

He glanced at Y/N with the silent message of: should I up the mania? She subtly nodded, he flashed her a grin as he tore off his headphones, “Whoa! I'm sweating! I'm just going to open a window.” He went to the window and opened it as Margaret from Ward eleven bit her thumbnail with concern, Campbell stuck his head out of the window and looked around, “Whoa! It's a long way down from this window, but I'm so high I'll bet I could fly.”

Eddie growing more and more concerned now that Campbell seemed to be threatening suicide or at least several shattered bones, banged his open palm on the studio door window glass.

“Oh, cue the song, cue the song!” Campbell shouted as he put on Fly Like an Eagle by Steve Miller Band.

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“Jesus, Campbell!” Eddie shouted.

Campbell leapt on the windowsill and Y/N shifted as this was getting a bit too close for her but surprisingly she trusted Campbell and saw that he was clutching onto the bottom of window sash frame as he shouted enthusiastically and manically into the microphone

“What do you think, boys and girls? Do you think if we close our eyes and say ‘I do believe in magic’ that Peter Pan will really be able to fly?” Everyone was concern by now, realizing how serious Campbell’s episode was by now as he pushed the window sash up a little more and Y/N smacked the window, making him look over as she gave him a message like, don’t be so manic that you kill yourself because then I will kill you! “Let's try it, eh!?” He turned away from the window, locking eyes with Y/N through the floppy bangs in his brown eyes,“I do believe in magic.” Then he shouted, loudly, stepping away from the window thankfully, “COME ON! I DO BELIEVE IN MAGIC!”

Isabel pushed her way through the concern crowd to the door, Y/N refused to move out of the way.

“Oh, they're coming to get me, folks! They're coming to get your very own Campbell Bain! BUT WAIT!” He shouted, throwing his hand out, “Wait, I've got the perfect song!” He ran to the record player and scratched the record off as Isabel pounded on the door with her palm, finding it locked as he scratched on They're Coming to Take Me Away Ha-Ha by Jerry Samuels.

“Oh, yes, we're really seeing some action now, Brian!” Campbell shouted, his voice getting even faster, Y/N was sure that not even the Doctor from Doctor Who could talk that fast, he put his fingertips to the top of the shell of his ear, like a sports commentary, speaking into an earpiece, commentating what was happening as he saw it to those who were only listening, “Oh, the nursing staff have been at a temporary disadvantage, but I think they're beginning to get the upper hand now! YES! They found the spare key! It may be all over soon, and,” The key couldn’t turn due to the first key being in on the other side of the lock, “Oh, nooo!” He dramatically fell to his knees, “the key's in the lock from the inside and there's not a thing they can do about it!” Then he spotted Stuart approaching, “Oh, wait! Oh, it’s wee Stuart's got something, and he's not happy. If he can't break through the doors then I don't think anyone can.” Stuart aggressively pushed Y/N to the side which made her scream and fight back, suddenly, punching Staurt and clawing his skin off, “He tried to manhandle Y/N and she’s not happy; he’s made her angry! He’s pressed her trauma button!” Isabel then pulled her away and she immediately calmed down, “Ah, Isabel to the rescue.” Stuart then smashed the studio door window with a fire extinguisher, making Y/N flinch violently.

“YES! He's done it! He's broken the glass! And he's in! Wait, I haven't told you my loonies joke yet!” He shouted as Stuart and another assistant grabbed a hold of Campbell, picking him up as he continued to tell his joke at full speed, “This loony walks into a pub with his dog. The barman says, ‘Can't be any dogs in here, bud.’ But the loony tells him ‘it's a talking dog’, and he says to him ‘Look, if he can answer three questions, can he stay in the bar?’ ‘Let's see it.’ So the guy says to the dog, says, ‘What's the texture of sandpaper?’ And the dog says, ‘Rough.’ And then the loony guy asks, ‘Who was Scotland's goalkeeper in the 1978 World Cup?’ And the dog says, ‘Rough’.” The crowd followed them as Stuart carried Campbell, even Alistair had gotten up from the TV to watch with concern, “And then, ‘Who was the greatest American baseball player of all time?’ And the dog says, ‘Ruth.’ The barman's definitely not impressed. He grabs the guy by the collar and throws him into the street.” They brought Campbell into the treatment room with Isabel stopping Eddie and Y/N from following them in.

They slammed Campbell against a wall roughly, making Y/N flinch as Campbell, now slightly disorientated from the impact done to his head, repeated the last sentence he said, “Then he grabs the dog by the collar—” They pulled his jeans down, leaving him in his underwear, making Y/N flinch, violently as he continued to tell the joke, “—and throws him into the street. They slammed him aggressively against the treatment table, making Y/N flinch again, “And as they're lying in the gutter the wee dog looks up with tears in his eyeee—!” He cried out in brief pain as Isabela jabbed the needle into his buttock cheek with the sedative, making Y/N flinch. He was quiet for a few moments as the sedative took effect, making him drowsy and relaxed and then he spoke in a much more slower speech to finish his joke, “The wee dog looks up with tears in his eyes and he says... ‘DiMaggio...?"

He chuckled at the joke before succumbing to the sedative as Eddie watched ruefully and Y/N guiltily through the window before walking back to the station. She stepped through the glass and sat down, “Hello, this is Y/N, sorry for the craziness but our Campbell Bain has suffered a violent mania attack thanks to his father’s closed-mind, judgmental, disappointment in his DJ career, neglect, and general awfulness about him. So, I fucking hope you’re happy, Mister Bain, you think your son is the only looney in the family, you likely made him that way. This next song is Mad World.”

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She played the song as Eddie looked at her through the window. A little bit later, she spoke again, “The last song of the day will be Bang and Blame, dedicated to all pathetic waste of spaces that are abusive parents, once again Mister Bain, thank you for making your son ‘unwell’ as you put it and putting pressure on him to find a job like you have such high standards, you road sweeper.” She played song as she looked through the window to see Stuart and Isabel waiting for the song to be over so they could deal with her and the fact that she’s talking.

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The next day, Eddie walked in to see Campbell still groggy from the sedative with Y/N by his bed in the same clothes as yesterday, holding his hand. He was awake and they were just looking at each other in a comfortable silence.

Campbell groggily looked at Eddie to see him in a suit and in a slow yet facetious tone said, “What's this? Did somebody die?”

Y/N fetched a glass of water and made him drink it, he resisted at first more just to be a nuisance than anything but gave in and complied as Eddie chuckled and said, “I came from work. Big day today.”

“Ooh, did your boss get fired for overworking his employees? Or drop dead from exhaustion because he’s working seven days a week?” Y/N asked, sardonically yet with a cheerful tone.

Eddie chuckled again yet not sure if he liked it better when she didn’t speak, considering he was finding out she was a very sarcastic and sardonic person. to vastly contrast Campbell's personification of sunshine-ness. He pointed to his tie tack, “Salesman of the Month.”

“Salesman of the Month, eh?” Campbell asked in disbelief.

“What were the other salesmen like?” Y/N teased.

“How are you?” Eddie asked Campbell.

“Great. Y/N slept with me last night, yet I still remain a virgin. He teased and Y/N slapped his shoulder, playfully as he smirked, cheekily, “Saw my shrink this morning. He says I'm definitely not stable yet.” Y/N grinned and leaned down, pressing it against Campbell’s hand to hide it while pressing a kiss to it. “They're, uh, going to keep me in another six to ten weeks.” He briefly got distracted from the hand kiss, “Do you realize how much we could make of that station in six to ten weeks? Anything's possible now. And Y/N could be my protégé, now that she speaks again.” He wanted to ruffle her hair but his limbs felt like lead, so he just let out a half-hearted noise of not-really exertion.

“Aye, well. If you think you're up to it. Both of you.” Eddie told them.

Campbell looked at Y/N like, can I tell him. And she nodded, enthusiastically.

“Great acting, eh?” Campbell grinned as Y/N giggled.

Eddie looked confused as both teenaged patients looked up at him, then they both winked out of sync and it dawned unto Eddie that there was no manic episode. That’s why Y/N had left the room just before the “episode” started, why she remained calm up until Campbell was fake-threatening-implying to jump out of the window, why Campbell kept looking at her during the episode, why Y/N had looked so guilty and then blamed Campbell’s father like she had rehearsed it.

“It was Y/N’s idea. She’s an evil genius.” He smiled at Y/N before looking back at Eddie, “We’ve beat them, guys. I'll beat the bastards.”

After Eddie left, Campbell looked at Y/N as she climbed back in the bed with him just like she had last night and cuddled next to him letting the blanket act as a barrier of platonic intimacy between them, she rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped a loose arm around his covered waist.

It was silent for a little bit before she moved her hand so it went to Campbell’s hand, resting on top of it and she stroked Campbell’s hand with her thumb.

“How long have you been here?” He asked.

“As long as I could. They wouldn’t let me in at first but I kept finding ways in. I needed to be by your side.” She said, ��They kept pulling me out, especially when I started shouting… well, it was more like whisper-shouting due to my likely atrophied vocal chord and they tried to take me away to some shrink but I wouldn’t let them. Eventually, they gave up and let me stay with you.” She whispered, “as you know, I slept next to you. I’m sorry if my plan hurt you.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He asked and he managed to shift so his arm was on the other side of her and able to just barley touch her waist and to her surprise she didn’t flinch. She felt him move his head and press a kiss to the top of her head and again, she surprised herself by not flinching.

She was surprised herself on how this little, hyperactive, persistent kid had somehow gotten past her guarded defense walls, gotten under the wire, despite all her efforts to forevermore keep another heart from touching hers, the one she tried so hard to hide in the past ten months. She had been successful until Campbell Bain had crashed into her two months ago.

But the last time, she had trusted someone to be their best friend, she got hurt and was violated and therefore traumatized into a nearly year-long muteness.

There is a couple Doctor Who references. One straight out states it and the other is a reference to a quote from the Tenth Doctor in Fear Her.

There's also a reference to a line from Queer as Folk, but I've never seen this show but I have heard the audio clips of this scene in fan videos.

Personal Mental Heath Rant (Skip if you don't care)

Sorry for being tough on Campbell's dad but I have severe ADHD (since I was three and getting worse with ever presistent pessmisstic criticism I'm given), Anxiety, Depression, and possibly two ambigious and debatable types dylexia and if complexes count an inferiority and guilt complex and I have spent my whole life being shouted at for seeing things differently, for seeing that there is no metaphoric box to think in, for focusing on so many things at once that it's just as useful as not focusing on anythingat all and so people think that I', not even trying, for being overwhelmed with tasks that are so simple to everyone else yet near impossible for me (due to being yelled at my entire life for everything I did. I was once shouted at for about or over thirty minutes because I didn't put something down right after I was told to do so becuase I was so terrified of the person who shouted at me, I was convinced they were one meltdown from turning verbal abuse to physical abuse though then I would be able to call the cops of them, I tried to see the silver lining in my own dark and twisted way of thinking). People expect me to act like I don't have a disorder or they treat me like I'm stupid because apparently I'm the one with the issue rather than them googling the symtoms (IT'S FOUR LETTERS) and try putting themselves in my shoes. (My mom once told me that ADHD was not a learning disorder; techinically she's right because IT'S SO MUCH MORE THAN JUST A LEARNING DISORDER! It can affect your entire life and shouting at me is just making it worst! But I have to be the calm one and force my temper down. Somehow I'm the most patient persn in the house in terms of temper. How!?

I have been forced to try and learn and study to only two type of intelligence rather than the one I understand best I have been forced to try and think socieity's way of thinking when my mind just doesn't work like that. I'm literally wired differently.

(About the "ambiguous and debateable types of dyslexia, I was tested for Bipolar when I was young and somehow they got I was dylexia because I kept drawing lines in the opposite directions that they told me and if you were to give me directions, it would be like in a cartoon when a character spins an arrow sign and it points in like every direction at once just indicates "Directional Dyslexia" or "Left-Right Confusion" but I don't like that term as it sounds like I have the intellect and common sense of a first grader who can't tell the difference from right and left.

A few years ago, I went to the therapist and I was diagnosed with a math learning disorder but wasn't told what kind so I went to my most knowledgeable ally: Google! And the only one I can find is Dyscalculia which is basically math dyslexia. In my head, it's like some astronauts in a kid's game or show is placing number down in outer space but the moment I let go of them, they float away and I can't place more than two down, I can barely think about numbers without getting a headache as if I'm trying to understand time travel.

These two types of dyslexia I suspect I have, have been debated on whether or not they're an actual form of dyslexia

So I haven't been "officially" diagnosed with these but I'm not just saying, "hey, I have trouble with (insert dyslexia-induced trouble), maybe I'm dyslexic too", I hate that (Like don't say "I get distracted too, maybe I'm ADHD"), I have sufficient reason to believe this.

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rafemotherfuckingcameron · 5 months

Text

GUNS, BITCHES, WEED, MONEY, YSL, GOLD CHAIN, MASERATI, PENTHOUSE, HELICOPTER, FAME

Word Count: 6.7k

Pairing(s): Boss x Reader, Rafe x Protective!Reader, Brady x Rafe

Warnings: Flirting, Violence, Gun Violence, Home Invasion, SMUT, Mentions of pregnancy (including labour), MDNI 18+

Summary: Fem!reader has been hired by Ward to protect his children when a deal goes south and he sees a bounty has been placed on their heads.

Sorry this has taken so long, I've been planning a wedding, but it's finally here and i've loved writing this series Hope you enjoy this as much as I did.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Final Chapter

Two weeks had passed since the revelation of my pregnancy, and "surprised" felt like an understatement for the whirlwind of emotions I was experiencing. Yet, it wasn't my own reaction that loomed as my primary concern—it was Rafe's. The gravity of the situation settled heavily on me; I was about to alter the course of his life.

While I acknowledged that mine would inevitably undergo a transformation too, those personal implications took a backseat for the moment. The foremost task at hand was sharing this life-altering news with him, and I couldn't shake the nervous anticipation that accompanied the impending conversation.

Even though the weight of recent revelations had occupied my thoughts for the past couple of weeks, I knew I still had a job to do. The persistent morning sickness was a genuine struggle to contend with, yet I remained determined to focus on the task at hand. Upon arriving at the Cameron's estate, I was greeted by the sight of Rose and Ward preparing lunch for the family. They kindly extended an invitation to join them, but the meal wouldn't be ready for another half hour. My immediate question was about Rafe's whereabouts, directed mainly at Ward. "He's in his room," he replied, gesturing towards the stairs. I nodded my thanks and proceeded upstairs.

Upon reaching Rafe's room, I knocked on the door before entering. Inside, I found him engrossed in a PlayStation game, the sounds of Top and Kelce's animated voices emanating from the headphones. Sneaking up behind him, I ran my hands over his shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek, temporarily setting aside the pressing thoughts that had consumed me for the past weeks.

He abandoned the controller and pulled me onto his lap, deepening our kiss. Amidst the passionate embrace, the cacophony of Topper and Kelce's swearing through the headphones as zombies claimed them provided a backdrop to our moment. Abruptly, he broke away, Rafe declared, "I gotta go, Dad needs something," and promptly ended the game. Expressing how much he had missed me, his hands slid up my thighs as we continued to share a moment of intimacy.

About five minutes later, a sudden urge to throw up overwhelmed me. The burning and knotting sensation in my stomach forced me to pull away from Rafe. Concern etched on his face, he asked, "You okay?" My complexion turned pale, and I leaped off his lap, darting into his bathroom just in time to reach the toilet, where I emptied my stomach. Rafe followed me in, checking on my well-being.

He gently grabbed my hand, pulling a hair tie off my arm and securing my hair into a messy ponytail. I slowly nodded, asking him to give me a minute to clean up. I washed my face with cold water and walked back to where he was waiting on his bed. “You sure your good?” He questioned, standing up to look over me.

"Ummm, not really," I answered, momentarily averting my gaze before meeting his eyes again. "We need to talk," I continued, gently pulling him to sit down beside me. "I think I know what this is about," he responded almost immediately.

"Really?" I asked, puzzled by his certainty. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you? I knew this was probably going to happen eventually. I just thought it was going to be after this whole thing was over, and you had to go to your next assignment," he admitted, fidgeting with his fingers. I placed my hand on his leg, assuring him, "Hey, no, I'm not breaking up with you, but you might want to after I tell you," I added, prompting a hopeful look from him.

"Thank god, because I don't know if I could take that right now," he responded, kissing my hand. "So if you're not breaking up with me, what did you want to tell me?" he inquired, gazing into my eyes.

"I'm... I'm pregnant," I finally disclosed, awaiting his reaction. The silence that followed felt deafening and somewhat unnerving. "Rafe? Did you hear what I said?" I asked, genuine curiosity filling my eyes.

"Yeah, I heard you," he replied slowly, his eyes shifting towards my stomach. "How long have you known?" he asked, curiosity colouring his expression.

"Only two weeks. I know this is probably not what you expected, and I understand if you don't want anything to do with this. So, I am giving you an out if you want to take it," I responded, offering him an opportunity to process the news. Before I could finish, he quickly interjected, "Hey, that's not what I'm saying. I didn't mean to come across like that. I'm actually really happy about this."

He leaned in, giving me a warm hug and placing his hands on my belly. "Are you sure?" I asked, seeking his assurance to help me cross the emotional threshold.

"100%. In the past weeks, I couldn't imagine not being with you, and now this just makes it amazing," he declared, sealing his words with a deep and affectionate kiss.

"Okay, but this is even more dangerous now. These people are still after you, and I'm going to have to tell my boss I'm pregnant. He's probably going to take me off the case," I stated, ensuring he understood the gravity of the situation.

I looked into Rafe's eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or concern. "I need you to understand the risks and potential consequences," I continued, my voice conveying a mix of determination and vulnerability. "This complicates things, and it's not just about us anymore. We have to consider the safety of our child, and that means making tough decisions."

Rafe tightened his embrace, his expression a blend of reassurance and acceptance. "I get it," he replied, his voice steady. "We'll figure it out together. Our priority is the safety of our family, and I'll support whatever decision you make, no matter how hard it is."

His unwavering support brought a wave of relief, but the challenges ahead lingered in the air. We sat together, contemplating the uncertain future that awaited us, knowing that our love would be tested in ways we hadn't anticipated.

-----

The following day, I visited the agency to discuss my circumstances with my boss. When I revealed that Rafe was the father, he didn't express surprise. "This isn't the first time this has happened, Y/n, but it is the first time one of our female agents is the one who's pregnant."

Discovering that similar situations had occurred before shocked me. We engaged in a lengthy conversation, outlining the steps ahead. A new agent was brought in to assume my role, but my boss emphasised that I still needed to maintain a presence in the Cameron house. "Y/n, meet Brady; he will be Rafe's new official bodyguard. He's been briefed and is aware of your situation with Ward's son," my boss introduced us.

Brady left us to start his new assignment, and my boss and I further discussed the plan moving forward. Despite the unique challenges, my boss assured me that the agency would support me throughout my pregnancy. We delved into the logistics of my ongoing involvement with the Cameron family, emphasising the importance of maintaining a low profile for security reasons.

As I left the agency, a mix of relief and apprehension filled me. The support from my boss was comforting, but the realisation that my personal and professional worlds were intricately entwined now weighed heavily on me.

"It's also a good idea not to tell the rest of his family yet. The fewer people who know, the safer it will be for you," he advised as he walked me to the door. Nodding in acknowledgment, I left to return to Rafe.

Making my way back upstairs to Rafe’s room, I noticed Ward and Brady engaged in conversation in the office. It seemed like Brady was briefing him on the slight changes to the security. Entering Rafe’s room, I found him engrossed in his phone. He looked up as the door opened, coming over to greet me with a kiss on the forehead. “Hey, how did it go today?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me in a warm hug.

"Better than I expected. He said the company would be very accommodating through the pregnancy because this isn’t the first time this has happened," I shared, observing his reaction. "What? That’s weird. What happens now?" he questioned, guiding me to sit down on the bed.

"My boss said that you will have another official bodyguard who just watches the outside, and I will continue to watch out for you, so it doesn’t seem suspicious," I explained, tossing my stuff onto the bed.

"Who’s the guy?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "His name's Brady. I knew him from the academy; he's kind of a dick, but really good at this job, unfortunately."

Rafe's expression shifted, a mix of curiosity and concern evident on his face. "Brady, huh? Well, as long as he does his job, I guess it's alright. Just keep an eye on him, Y/n. I don't need someone shadowing me who might cause problems."

I reassured him with a nod, understanding the underlying worry. "I'll make sure everything runs smoothly, Rafe. We've got this," I said, offering a small smile.

—

It’s been 3 months since I told the most important people that I was pregnant and Rafe had made plans to go to the main land for our date night, we drove together in my Maserati all the way into Charleston. As we cruised down the scenic roads towards Charleston, the anticipation in the air was palpable. Rafe had orchestrated this special date night to celebrate the news of our impending parenthood.

The rhythmic hum of the engine beneath us seemed to echo the excitement building between us.

The city lights of Charleston glittered in the distance, casting a warm glow over the night. It was hard to believe three months had passed since I shared the news with the most important people in my life. The journey towards parenthood had brought us even closer, and tonight was a symbolic nod to the new chapter awaiting us.

Rafe's thoughtful planning extended beyond the mere destination. As we strolled through the historic streets of Charleston, the soft ambiance of the city enveloped us. The evening breeze carried a sense of serenity, and the quaint charm of the surroundings added a touch of magic to the moment.

We dined at a cozy restaurant with dim lighting and an intimate atmosphere.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving between the excitement of impending parenthood and the nostalgia of our journey together. Rafe's gaze held a depth of emotion, mirroring the commitment we shared.

After dinner, we found ourselves on the waterfront, where the moon's reflection danced upon the gently rippling waves. My back was pressed against Rafe’s chest and his arms enveloped me, placing his hands on my small baby bump. As we were enjoying our moment together I felt my phone vibrate, I checked to see who it was.

*Unknown Number*

“I know your secret Y/n and I know who the baby daddy is.” “Watch your back bitch”

My eyes lit up with concern, I turned my focus around to see Rafe’s, he was already fuming. Rafe's gaze met mine, and without exchanging words, we communicated a silent understanding. “I think we should go to the agency so we can track the number.” I say and he nods.

He stands up behind, bringing his hands out so I can grab on to them. He helps me up and wraps an arm around my lower back helping me walk on the sand. As we are driving, I feel this stabbing pain shoot through my chest, an unexpected intrusion that mirrors the unsettling revelation and threat that linger in the air. The physical discomfort intensifies with each passing moment, as if my body is betraying me, echoing the turmoil within.

My hand instinctively clutches my abdomen, as if to protect the life growing within me from the external storm that has suddenly erupted. The rhythmic hum of the car engine becomes an unsettling backdrop to the internal chaos, and my gaze remains fixed on the road ahead, searching for a sense of stability in the uncertain darkness.

Rafe notices the shift in my demeanour and turns to me with concern etched across his face. The lines of worry deepen as he realises the physical toll this revelation is taking on me. "Are you okay, Y/n?" he asks, his voice a comforting anchor in the midst of the emotional tempest.

“Yeah, I’m fine” I lie straight to his face not wanting him to worry, I just needed to get to the agency so we could find out who this was. The ride wasn’t long, but it felt like it took a while. The had subsided a little but I was still there, Rafe helped me out of the car and we both walked in to see my boss. “Y/n what are you and Rafe doing here” he asked mostly looking at Rafe.

“I received a threat” I said showing him the text, he took it from me and plugged my phone in to the computer and started a trace. It took a while, but it finally revealed that it was someone in the town on a burner phone, it couldn’t be tracked anymore, but they had all the data from my phone to keep a search going for anything else to pop up.

Eventually we made our back home, we were met with Rose and Ward making dinner, “Hey guys, do you want dinner?” He asked “I’m actually pretty tired, I’m might just go up to bed” I said heading upstairs tilting my head to signal Rafe to follow. “I’m not hungry right now, but I might be later” he said following behind.

I entered his room and settled on the edge of the bed, intending to loosen the laces on my shoes. However, Rafe intervened, insisting, "Let me take care of that for you," as he leaned down to remove my shoes. I reclined further on the bed, letting my head rest on the plush pillows.

He joined me, lying down beside me. Tenderly, he swept my hair behind my ear, his hand finding its way to my baby bump, where he began to trace gentle circles.

“I've been thinking about us,” he said, his voice carrying a sense of contemplation. I turned my head to look at him, curious about what was on his mind.

“About us?” I echoed, wondering where this conversation was headed.

"Yeah," he continued, tracing invisible patterns on my belly. "With everything going on, it's a lot to take in, but it makes me realise how much I want to be with you through all of it.”

A mixture of emotions crossed his face – a blend of sincerity, concern, and perhaps a hint of vulnerability. I reached for his hand on my belly, intertwining our fingers.

“Rafe, we're in this together,” I reassured him. “Whatever happens, we face it together.”

He smiled, a genuine expression that reached his eyes. "I love you, Y/n," he whispered, placing a tender kiss on my temple. I gently hovered over him, my hand resting on his neck, and I leaned in, whispering, "I love you too, Rafe.” Our lips met, and I wrapped my arms around his head, intensifying the kiss. His hands explored my body, and he deftly flipped me onto my back, trailing kisses down my neck.

He gathered my dress, lifting it up, and hooked his fingers into my panties, drawing them down. A low groan escaped him as soon as my bare cunt was in front of him. He spat in his hand and began rubbing circles on my clit, eliciting a slow rise of my hips, but he promptly pressed me down. I peeled off my dress, exposing my breasts. "Not wearing a bra, naughty," he smirked, taking one into his mouth, while his other hand reached up to massage them, his thumb swiping over the bud.

My fingers skilfully unbuttoned his shirt and belt; he released my breast with a pop. Standing up, he stripped down, and I reached out to grab his length. "This is about you tonight," he said, gently lowering me back onto the bed. "In that case, I want you to go slow and deep," I said, gripping his forearms and wrapping them around me.

"Ok, baby," he responded, aligning his cock and slowly pushing through my folds. The sensation of him stretching me out felt amazing; he was completely in before he began rocking his hips, slow and steady. Leaning down, he kissed me, balancing on his forearms to avoid putting all his weight on me. I could feel his tip touching my cervix, the warmth making it easier for him to glide in and out. The knot inside me tightened as I started to let go.

“Gonna cum,” I panted out. "Me too, baby," he replied, spilling his seed as I followed suit. He continued to thrust into me to prolong the high. “Ahhh, fuck,” I yelled, digging my nails into his biceps. Rafe stopped his movements, concern etching his face. “Hey, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” he questioned, pulling out and examining my face.

“No, you didn’t do anything. It’s the baby; it's...” Rafe cut me off, his face filled with concern, “Is the baby okay? Are you okay?” “Rafe, I'm fine, the baby is fine too. It just... I felt it kick, a very painful kick. I don’t think it liked you knocking on their door,” I laughed a little, making him laugh too.

I grabbed his hand and placed it over my belly; it kicked again. “Feel that?” I said, and he nodded. As we lay there, Rafe spoke softly. "You know, seeing you like this, carrying our child, it's a feeling I can't put into words." His eyes reflected a deep sense of connection and tenderness. "I can't wait to meet our little one," he added, placing a delicate kiss on my forehead.

----

The following morning, I awoke in the comforting embrace of Rafe, who was still peacefully asleep. Deciding not to disturb him, I quietly made my way to the bathroom to take a shower. As the warm water cascaded down, I was momentarily lost in my thoughts until the abrupt ringing of my phone jolted me back to reality. It was a call and text from my boss:

Morning Y/n, I need you to come into the office right away, don’t bring Rafe I don’t want him to worry. It’s about the guy you killed a few weeks ago.

I quickly got dressed and headed out of the bathroom, I wrote a note to Rafe and left it on top of his phone:

Hey, My boss texted and asked me to come and go over some stuff, I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. I’ll be back soon, love you Rafe. P.S I told Brady where I was going, so he will be watching you while I’m Gone. xx Y/n

Seated at my boss's desk, I demanded answers, "What's going on? Has something happened?" My boss appeared puzzled, "Y/n, I didn't think you were coming in today." I was adamant, "What are you talking about? You asked me to come in." I retrieved my phone, showing him the text.

"I didn't send that message," he replied with a grave tone. I was incredulous, "What do you mean you didn't send it? If you didn't, then who did—"

I abruptly stopped myself, the realisation sinking in. "It's them, isn't it? The guy I took care of a few weeks ago, the people on the phone who saw me. They're not finished with us." The gravity of the situation hung in the air as my boss and I exchanged a sobering look, acknowledging the looming threat that had resurfaced.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It's a possibility. We intercepted some chatter indicating that there might be retaliation. We're taking this seriously, and I've called in additional agents to bolster security. However, we need you to be extra vigilant. No more solo missions for now."

I nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "What's the plan, then?"

"We're investigating the network he was a part of, trying to get ahead of any threats. In the meantime, keep a low profile.” My boss leaned forward, concern etched on his face. "I've sent my assistant to the communications department to get a trace on the number.

She should be back any moment, and we can finally figure out who it is." The urgency in his voice mirrored the gravity of the situation. As we awaited the results, the tension in the room seemed to thicken.

The doors were pushed open with force, and the boss's assistant entered the room, holding a piece of paper. She handed it to my boss, who looked up at me, his expression grave. He stood from his chair, instructing, "Chelsea, get everyone geared up and ready to go in 10 minutes. It's a code black."

She hurried out of the room, and I turned to my boss, urgency in my voice. "A code black? Who is it?" I questioned. "I'll tell you on the way, Y/n. Let's go," he said, walking past me. "Where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. "Tanny Hill!" he replied. The urgency in his movements and the mention of Tanny Hill hinted at the severity of the situation, leaving me with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

=====

RAFES POV

I wake to find Y/n gone. I grab my phone and see the note she left behind. Walking into the bathroom to clean myself up, I hear a knock at the door. "Just a second," I pull on some clothes and open my door. Brady is standing there, pushing past me into the room. "Hey mate, did you get Y/n’s note?" he asks, still standing by the door. "Umm, yeah, I did. Can I help you with something?" I question. "Yeah, I’m here to talk to you about Y/n," he says, a smirk painted across his face. "What about Y/n? Is she okay?" I ask, stepping forward a little, concern evident in my voice.

Brady leans against the wall, crossing his arms casually. "Relax, she's fine. Just had to run into the office for some last-minute business. Boss's orders," he says, his tone giving away little. I can't help but feel a sense of unease.

"Last-minute business? What's going on?" I press, my worry intensifying. Brady hesitates for a moment before deciding to share more. "Can't go into details, mate, but there's something going on, and your girl is right in the middle of it," he states, his expression serious.

My mind races with possibilities, each one more concerning than the last. "What do you mean, 'in the middle of it'? Is she in danger?" I demand, my fists clenching involuntarily.

Brady's revelation hits me like a freight train, leaving me momentarily speechless. The room feels charged with tension as he takes a step closer, emphasising the gravity of his words.

"You see, a few weeks ago, when you guys killed that guy, well, more so Y/n, the guy you killed was my brother. And in order to get revenge, you have to be the bait. But it had to be done without Y/n in the house first, so I could talk to you and get you to do what I need you to do," he explains, his gaze fixed on mine.

The weight of his words settles in, and I'm torn between anger, confusion, and concern for Y/n. "What do you need me to do?" I manage to choke out, my fists clenched at my sides.

Brady takes a deep breath, gauging my reaction. “I need you to tell your dad that you need money, because you have gotten yourself into a situation that resulted in you getting Y/n pregnant, and then I need you to hand over the money” he said smirking at himself, “I won’t do that” he says getting ready to punch him, “I thought you might say that, that's why I hired some help”, I turn around and was immediately hit to the head with a bat.

I struggle to focus as my vision clears, the throbbing pain in my head intensifying. The surroundings become more apparent—Ward, Rose, and Sarah huddled together, Wheezie on the ground in tears. Brady stands nearby, a cruel smirk etched on his face.

"Look who's finally woken up. He didn't hit you that hard, Rafe. Don't be so dramatic," Brady taunts, his voice dripping with disdain.

My hands are bound, and I attempt to assess the situation. "What the hell is this? Why are you doing this?" I growl, my words strained.

Brady leans in, relishing my disorientation. "You didn't think we'd let you refuse, did you? This is the price you pay for meddling in our affairs. Now, you'll lead them right into our trap, or your precious Y/n will suffer the consequences."

A surge of anger courses through me, but the throbbing pain in my head forces me to reassess my options. As I try to gather my thoughts, Brady smirks again, savouring the chaos he's orchestrated.

====

"Okay, we're on the move. Please tell me who it is?" I ask in desperation, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

"It's Brady, Y/n. The guy you killed— he's his brother. He's after you and anyone you care about," my boss responds, his voice heavy with concern.

The weight of the revelation hits me like a ton of bricks. Brady's vendetta is not just about revenge; it's personal, entangling those closest to me in a dangerous web of consequences. The urgency to protect Rafe and his family. "What's the plan?" I inquire, my mind racing to find a solution.

"We're heading to Tanny Hill. It seems to be their base of operations. The sooner we get there, the better chance we have of diffusing the situation and safeguarding Rafe,” my boss explains as we rush towards the destination.

We arrive just outside the fence at Tanny Hill. My boss instructs the others to stake the house out and wait for my signal. Eager to join the action, I go to jump out, but my boss stops me.

"Where do you think you're going? You're off duty," he says, firmly closing the door back in my face.

"I'm coming. Rafe's in danger," I protest, refusing to back down.

"That's exactly why I can't let you. They want you and that baby, and they'll do anything to get them. You're staying here. If things turn bad, I'll need you for backup," he explains, donning his protective gear. I reluctantly nod in acknowledgment, realizing the importance of this strategic decision. I watch intently as the body-cams capture the team's movements, ready to assist if needed.

Despite my boss's order to stay put, anxiety courses through me as I monitor the situation from the vehicle. The gravity of the threat against Rafe and our unborn child fuels a mixture of fear and determination within me.

Minutes feel like hours as I witness the tactical approach of my team. Every nerve in my body is on edge, and I can't shake the feeling that I should be there, standing by Rafe's side. I debate whether to argue my case again when a sudden commotion erupts on the body-cams. Shouts and rapid footsteps fill the audio feed, and my heart skips a beat. Instinctively, I reach for the door handle, ready to defy orders. The urgency intensifies as I watch the live footage unfold, desperate for any glimpse of Rafe's safety.

Armed and ready, I step out of the van, my senses heightened by the gravity of the situation. The chilling realisation that Rafe, his family, and now my boss are in immediate danger fuels my determination. I quickly check my equipment, ensuring everything is secure and ready for action.

The hum of the earbud in my ear connects me to the ongoing situation inside. I carefully approach the entrance of Tanny Hill, eyes darting between the shadows and corners. The urgency to act intensifies as I witness the unfolding events through the live audio feed.

With each step, I remain vigilant, the weight of the assault rifle in my hands a stark reminder of the responsibility I carry. I communicate discreetly with the team back at the agency, relaying critical information and coordinating backup. The urgency in my voice echoes the dire circumstances as I press for a swift response.

As I inch closer to the building, every sense is on high alert. The pulse of adrenaline mingles with a steely focus as I prepare to confront the unknown threat inside. The fate of Rafe, his family, and the safety of my boss hang in the balance, propelling me forward into the heart of the danger that has enveloped Tanny Hill.

Sneaking around the side of the house, I hear talking through the window of Wards office, “Where is she?” Brady yells at my boss, “Where is that slut?” “I told her to wait back at the agency,”

My heart pounds with a mixture of gratitude and guilt as I hear my boss's protective lie. The bond of loyalty, even in the face of danger, strikes a chord within me. Brady's enraged voice pierces through the night, echoing his desperate search for me.

The shadows conceal me as I continue to move silently along the perimeter. The urgency of the situation intensifies, and I strain to catch every word exchanged in the office. My focus narrows on the unfolding drama, a high-stakes chess game where every move could mean the difference between safety and peril.

As I reach a vantage point near the window, the gravity of the situation becomes more apparent. Rafe and his family are at the mercy of Brady, a man fuelled by vengeance for his brother's death. The stakes are higher than ever, and my role in this dangerous game is clear.

My hand instinctively tightens around the grip of the assault rifle, a silent promise to myself and those I care about. The decision to intervene looms, each passing second amplifying the urgency. I brace myself for the impending confrontation, knowing that the next moves I make will shape the outcome for everyone involved.

Brady grabs Rafe by the shoulders and pushes him through the door, he then grabs ward too and takes them to a different room, he leaves the others in the room by themselves. I take the opportunity to open the office window and jump in to where they were “Hey, are you guys okay” I whisper, checking them for any injuries “No, were fine. What are you doing here? Is that a gun?” Rose asks, her voice filled with fear.

"Yes, it's for protection," I reply in hushed tones. "Brady is after me, and I can't let anything happen to your family.” “I need to get you all out of here safely," I continue, my mind racing to formulate a plan. The muffled sounds of commotion from the adjacent room remind me of the imminent threat we're up against.

Rose interjects, her voice stern but grateful, "We appreciate your concern, Y/n, but we can't just leave. We need to confront Brady and resolve this once and for all." I nod, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. “I know but in order to do that I need to get you to safety, I'll do everything I can to get Ward and Rafe out too.”

“I know you will Y/n, I know you love Rafe” Rose smiles and I smile back. “Okay let’s go!” I whisper yell. I jump out the window and help them out too, I keep them close to me at all times as we slowly make our way back to the van.

As we near the back door, we hear raised voices. Brady's harsh tones echo, and my grip tightens on the pistol. I motion for everyone to halt, and we press against the wall, eavesdropping on the conversation.

"I need that money, Ward! You don't understand what's at stake here," Brady's voice seethes with desperation.

Ward, firm in his resolve, retorts, "I won't be manipulated by your threats. You're not getting a single cent." While Brady continues to yell I tell the others to run over to the van and get in. I wait until they are inside to slip inside the back door and hid behind the lounge.

Brady grabs rafe by neck and holds a gun to his head, “Send the money ward or your son dies, you son who is about to become a father with the girl you hired to protect him.” He yells and I see Wards face drop in shock, Rafe tries to get out of his hold, but his his hands tried behind, its no use.

I crawl behind the couch and have my gun ready with safety off. “Fine Ward, you just killed your son” he shouts. “Wait” he yells, Brady is distracted for a moment as I jump up, “DROP IT” I shout at Brady.

My finger hovers over the trigger, the room tense with the gravity of the situation. Brady, startled by my sudden appearance, hesitates for a split second. The standoff feels like an eternity.

"Drop the gun, Brady!" I command, my voice steady but laced with urgency. Rafe seizes the opportunity to struggle against Brady's grip, his eyes pleading with me. Ward, visibly distressed, clutches his desk for support.

Brady, a smirk playing on his lips, slowly lowers the gun. "You always were the hero, Y/n," he sneers. His grip on Rafe tightens, but the fear in his eyes betrays the facade of confidence.

"Let him go, Brady. This doesn't have to end in bloodshed," I urge, my focus unwavering. I inch closer, ready to intervene if the situation takes a turn for the worse.

Brady, sensing the growing tension, glares at me. "You think I won't do it?" he taunts, his finger twitching on the trigger.

“You think I won’t? I already put your brother down, don’t make me put you down too.” I say holding my position, he laughs and goes to pull the trigger, but I’m faster, I pull the trigger and a bullet is released hitting him in the neck, he falls back against the wall and too the ground.

I run over to Rafe and hug him tightly, “Are you ok” I ask, cutting his hands free. Rafe, still in shock, nods, his arms wrapping around me. "Yeah, I'm okay. You got here just in time," he says, his voice filled with relief. Ward, wide-eyed, watches as Brady struggles on the floor, blood seeping from his neck.

"Thank you, Y/n," Ward utters, a mix of gratitude and astonishment in his voice. Brady, weakened and defeated, glares at me with malice. "You won't get away with this," he rasps, blood staining his words.

My boss bursts into the room, accompanied by the sound of approaching sirens. "Well, it looks like you've solved the problem, Y/n," he says, assessing the scene. "I had to protect what's mine," I reply, my gaze unwavering.

As the authorities arrive to apprehend Brady, the weight of the situation begins to lift. The ordeal is far from over, but for now, Rafe and his family are safe. Hand in hand, we exit the house, and my supervisor approaches, informing us that our names have become widely known in the news due to a woman single-handedly dismantling a drug operation, basically we were famous and the talk of the town.

He advises us to find a secure location until the situation settles. I propose the safe house typically used by affluent clients during such incidents. He agrees and arranges for a helicopter. The rhythmic thumping of the helicopter blades drowned out the residual chaos as we climbed on board. Rafe and I exchanged a glance, a mix of exhaustion and gratitude in our eyes. The adrenaline rush from the confrontation was now replaced with the reality of being in the public eye.

The chopper ascended, carrying us away from the tumultuous events at Tanny Hill. My boss, seated across from us, explained that the safe house was a discreet haven for clients in such predicaments. It was a temporary refuge, a sanctuary nestled far from prying eyes.

As we approached the safe house, I could see its grandeur from above—an amazing penthouse with view of the city. The helicopter descended, gracefully touching down on the roof of the skyscraper. We disembarked, enveloped by the privacy this refuge promised.

Inside, the opulent interior contrasted sharply with the recent chaos. Rafe and I found a quiet corner, away from the prying eyes of the staff. I wrapped my arms around him, seeking solace in the midst of the storm.

"This will all blow over eventually," I whispered, reassuring him.

6 MONTHS LATER

“Rafe!!” I yell from the lounge, “Rafe come here please,” Rafe runs to me “what’s wrong?” He questions sitting beside me. “I think the baby’s coming.”

Rafe's eyes widened with a mixture of excitement and concern. "Are you sure? What do we need to do?" he asked, taking my hands in his. I winced through a contraction.

"I've been keeping track of the timing. They're getting closer. We need to get to the birthing room.” Rafe's face shifted to urgency, and he helped me to my feet. "Let's go, we don't have time to waste." All of a sudden my water broke and the pain started to rear up.

He guided me gently toward the bedroom door, a blend of nervousness and anticipation etched on his face. He laid me down on the bed and went to call the private medical team to say it was time.

Upon arriving, the medical staff quickly took over, guiding me through stages. The atmosphere was a mix of nerves and excitement. Rafe stood by my side, offering words of encouragement as the medical team prepared for the imminent arrival of our baby.

As the contractions intensified, the pain became more pronounced. The medical team coached me through each stage of labor, providing support and reassurance. Rafe held my hand, his unwavering presence a source of comfort in the midst of the intensity.

The hours seemed to blur as the labor progressed. The room echoed with a mix of my determined breaths and the soothing guidance of the medical professionals. Rafe, having attended birthing classes with me at home, was actively involved, offering massages and words of encouragement.

When it was time to push, the room buzzed with an elevated energy. The medical team rallied around, their expertise guiding us through the final stage of labor. Rafe stood at my side, ready to welcome our little one into the world.

"You're doing great, baby; keep it up," Rafe reassured me. "Oh my God, I can't, Rafe, something's not right." The doctors applied ultrasound gel to my belly and discovered that the baby was in an incorrect position.

"Y/n, honey, are you still with me?" I nod weakly, already fatigued from the labor, and nothing has progressed. "The baby isn't in the right spot, so we need to reposition it. This doctor here will adjust it inside you. It might hurt for a few seconds, but then we can resume pushing." The nurse said. “Ok.” I squeezed rafe’s hand as the doctor began turning the baby inside me, it hurt like hell, but eventually it popped into place.

With each push, the anticipation heightened. Rafe's supportive presence never wavered, and the medical team worked seamlessly to ensure a safe delivery.

The culmination of months of preparation and emotional anticipation reached its peak as our baby entered the world, filling the room with a cry that echoed the beginning of a new chapter in our lives.

“Congratulations you have a baby girl” In that moment, as we held our newborn, exhaustion mixed with overwhelming joy. Rafe and I exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the profound journey we had just undertaken together, welcoming our child into the world surrounded by love, support, and the dedicated care of the medical team.

“Do you guy have a name for your baby girl yet?” She asked, “Yes we do!”

“This is Valerie Camille Cameron”

PART 2

🔫🤰❤️📲🛡️🚨🤱🔫🤰❤️📲🛡️🚨🤱🔫🤰❤️📲🛡️🚨🤱🔫🤰❤️📲🛡️🚨🤱🔫🤰❤️📲🛡️🚨🤱🔫🤰❤️📲🛡️🚨🤱🔫🤰❤️📲

#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe mf cameron #rafe x reader #obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #obx home invasion #pregnant reader x rafe

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mercurygray · 19 days

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Hiii Merc, for sleepover Saturday can I please ask about modern AU headcanons for the babes Fred & Brady? (Any kind of modern AU, or a more general one) I just love them so much:') — @shoshiwrites

The babes! (They are the only couple I can use that word with. I don't know why.)

They are the couple who are always holding hands. It is their thing. (They are also the couple who have regular Saturday morning coffee dates to the farmer's market.)

Fred steals a lot of Brady's sweaters and sweatshirts. She's also a big fan of messy ponytails.

Their song is 'Let's Misbehave.' Brady learned to play it on the piano for Fred even though that's not his instrument.

In at least one version of the universe, Brady is a professional musician (clarinet) and Fred works as a florist and photographer. She's on Insta a lot, but not in an obnoxious way.

In another version of the universe, he teaches high school band and she teaches kindergarten. They are the pair of teachers that everyone ships once they figure out they're a couple. In the summer Fred brings snacks to band camp and all the little band freshmen love her and everyone mumbles about how Mr. Brady's girlfriend is super cute and super nice.

In every version of the universe, they have a really big music collection and at least two musical instruments in the house at all times and have a lot of really creative, vibrant energy.

They really want kids. Probably two or three. They might have a dog.

In the AU where they met at college, Brady and Egan were roommates for at least a year and it was the hardest year of John's life. He's pretty neat and Bucky is…not. (They're still friends, but man alive, John is so glad he's not living with Bucky any more.)

In the summers they go up to Wisconsin to Fred's family lake house in the north woods. She loves counting his freckles.

{sleepover sunday! Send me things!}

#asked and answered #shoshiwrites #freda torvaldsen

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msmargaretmurry · 1 year

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Eldest daughter Quinn Hughes :)

eldest daughter quinn hughes is my cisswap quinn/brady concept (quinn is cisswapped; brady is not, he's still his cis dude self) that i love SO much but have tragically gotten a little stuck on, writing-wise!! i talked a little about my eldest daughter quinn thoughts here; also here is a little snippet, set at the ever-convenient location for bad choices, the hughes michigan lakehouse:

Jack and the boys, traveling in a pack, make a racket that would lead Quinn’s mom to make a pointed comment about elephants. They’re laughing and chattering, and Quinn, lying there under Brady, has a brief moment of panic that maybe the door to her room is open, showing off her very empty bed. But no, she closed it. She knows she did. Still, she sighs in relief when Jack loudly shushes everyone.

“Quinn’s sleeping,” he admonishes.

“Old people go to bed so early,” Cole says, loud enough that he’s clearly trying to be overheard.

Right in Quinn’s ear, Brady whispers, “At least one time while I’m here we have to drink them all under the table. We have to.”

Now that feels normal. Except for the way his erection is pressed against her. And the way he has one hand halfway up her t-shirt. And the way his mouth is red from kissing, his eyes somehow bright and dark at the same time. The closest to this she’s ever seen him before is stumbling back to her at a party after drunkenly making out with someone else in a corner, but that’s not the same at all. Quinn’s stomach turns when their eyes meet, but Brady just smiles and leans in to bump their noses together again.

He’s so damn soft. In any other situation, Quinn would chirp him about it.

“We can do that,” she says belatedly.

“Oh, good,” Brady says. “Would hate to get sloppy alone.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Quinn scoffs. Brady mimes an exaggerated shushing, holding one finger to his lips. Quinn rolls her eyes but lowers her voice back to a whisper. “I’m just saying.”

“And here I thought you thought so highly of me,” Brady whispers back. Quinn could retort, but she wants to get on with it before she gets in her head again.

“Do you want a blowjob?” she asks.

“Jesus, Quinn,” Brady says. “Yeah, if you want.”

“Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t,” she says, shoving him in the chest until he rolls off her. She can feel his eyes tracking her as she sits up and fixes her ponytail. Not because she’s nervous. Because she doesn’t want to get hair in her mouth.

“Show some effort,” she says. “I’m not taking your pants off for you.”

#ask #my fic #eldest daughter quinn hughes #i was literally just talking to a friend about how cagey i can get with my wips but i guess it depends on the wip lmao #it's easy to find snippets of this one that don't feel like spoilers because so far it's just like 10k of idiots having sex #hockey for ts

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newzzwired · 1 year

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Gisele Bündchen Makes Golden Red Carpet Return After Tom Brady Divorce

Gisele Bündchen glittered in gold at her first public event following her divorce from Tom Brady. The supermodel attended a dinner celebrating the 60th anniversary of jewelry company Vivara in Sao Paulo, Brazil on Dec. 12. For the event, Gisele wore a gold gown and swept her hair back into a high ponytail. She finished off her look with a pair of drop earrings and a sparkly necklace. Gisele,…

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teamnamehuddle · 2 years

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#IFTTT #Team Name Huddle

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angelazapam · 2 years

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June 12, 2022

I am much too emotional for my own good, and for the good of others I hate that feeling when you are about to cry, and you feel a chill into your bones and get goosebumps and your body loosens and readies itself for a crash landing

I am used to highly emotional men. I pryed someone a little too hard and I think I offended him. He’s now spamming me on snapchat and idk what to do. I’’ read it. I do the fake it till you make it chill girl thing.

There are so many emotions I wish to be validated. I crave to be heard and understood and loved. And cared about. On more than a physical or material level. The other day I was in Matts bed. I had kissed him many times that night, opened up, and we enjoyed our time. But I felt as if at the end of the night, after sex, as he felt up my body it was the only affection he craved out of me. Was sexual affection. That could very well be a personal problem and I dont know. I am highly insecure and I am not sure what to do about it.

I need therapy.

This is the first relationship in my life where there isn’t some sort of trauma bond it seems. Or tolerance for such. I crave Xanax so fucking hard its not even funny, I just texted Brady. I would have to keep this a secret from everyone. I couldn’t tell Matt. Or else I would lose him. I couldn’t tell Brooke, or else she would tell Will, and it would suck.

I want it to rain. I want to feel the rain on my skin. I want to feel nothing as the rain falls on my skin. I want to take 4 bars and go into the shower and come out fresh. Then do my makeup. Then text all my exes. Then get fucked. Then go on a joyride. Then pass out and have the most restful sleep of my life. I want it to all fucking end somedays. I wish I could throw away all my potential, and devote my life to drugs, without disappointing or hurting my loved ones. I am tired of trying some days.

Matt has not called me beautiful. He said my ponytail looked good once though. I want to cry thinking about it. I want to join eating disorder twitter again. I will, actually. I need to lose 70lbs. I have a food addiction though and unfortunately if I want to break it, it feels like I need to replace that addiction with another. Just like my mom. I want to shoot up. Feel the opioids run through my bloodstream. Make sweet sweet love. Play video games for hours on end. Never feel pain, physical nor emotional. Forget my morals and just fucking give it all up. Give myself to god. To satan.

#Journal #diary entry #tumblr diary

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nightbcrne · 6 years

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girls

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

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if everything could ever feel this real forever

word count: 4.3k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, allusion to sexual content (nothing explicit but minors please be aware!)

recommended listening: everlong | foo fighters

a/n: broke down and wrote for ratty matty. alternalty titled four times matthew thinks you’re the one and one time he knows (4+1′s are fun to write, pls don’t fight me). also pls ignore the fact i don’t know how airports work, i’ve only ever flown domestically lmao

Matthew feels different when you’re around.

You don’t turn him into a completely different person. He’s still himself – an absolute pest at times – but more genuine. With you he can feel everything deeply, say whatever’s on his mind without the fear of being judged. It’s the best kind of different, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. His teammates constantly ask him when he’s going to lock you down; put a ring on your finger and change your last name, but he needs to be sure before he makes such a big commitment.

one

It’s the beginning of July, and you’re sweating buckets in the back of an Uber. The driver has the air cranked, but nothing seems to alleviate the heat. You know it will be worse in St. Louis so you do your best not to complain, but it’s hard. Taking two weeks off to visit your boyfriend in his hometown sounded like a great idea, but reading the weather forecast has you re-evaluating the trip.

Your phone lights up in your lap, and you eagerly unlock it. It’s a text from Matthew. Have a safe flight. Text me when you land. Tayrn will be there to pick you up – Brady and I’s on-ice got extended. I’ll see you when I get home. Love you.

Though you wish he could be the first person you see when you touch down, you understand that his job comes first. Besides, your re-unification will be more private this way. I get to see the best Tkachuk first, fuck yeah you reply, before following it up with Love you too Matty. See you soon.

Soon after sending the text you arrive at the entrance of Calgary International Airport. With a polite thank you to your driver, you grab your suitcase and head inside. The working air conditioning answers your silent prayers and you feel your body slowly return to a normal temperature. Check in is fast, and before you know it you’re breezing through security. A slightly nervous traveller, you’re at the gate earlier than you need to be. The plane doesn’t take off for another two hours. You don’t mind the wait, listening to a couple of podcast episodes and grabbing a snack at the lounge before boarding.

The five hour flight passes in the blink of an eye. St. Louis is busier than Calgary, and it takes you longer than you thought it would to get through customs. Once passed immigration and at the baggage carousel you let Matthew know you’re safely inside the city limits. You grab your obnoxious suitcase – a bright red thing with a giant Flames logo that Matthew thought would be funny to give you – and set out to find Tayrn. She’s easy to spot, waving a giant poster with your name on it. Abandoning nearly all airport etiquette, you rush through the crowd to see her. Over the years she’s become a little sister and close friend, and you really wish you could see her more frequently.

“Y/N!” Taryn squeals as you wrap your arms around her. The pair of you embrace for another moment or two before making your way to her car. Neither of you can stop talking, so excited to be in each other’s presence.

“It’s so nice to be back,” you sigh. “I really do like St. Louis.”

Tayrn giggles. “You’re just excited to see Matthew.”

Though she isn’t wrong, you swat her bicep in faux annoyance. “What? Can a girl not enjoy a nice Midwestern city?” You push your sunglasses up onto the bridge of your nose before continuing. “Besides, I only came here to see you. I see enough of Matt at home.”

She rolls her eyes but extends her arm so you can fist bump her. With a quick look to make sure the way is clear, Taryn exits the parking spot and heads in the direction of your temporary home. The open sunroof allows the wind to whip through your hair and you struggle to tame it enough to put it in a ponytail. One Direction blasts from the stereo, and you join Taryn in screaming the lyrics until your lungs hurt. Being on vacation, even if it’s only to St. Louis, is so freeing. You don’t have to deal with work deadlines or friendship drama. All that matters is spending time with Matthew.

When you pull into the Tkachuk’s driveway it’s empty. It’s Thursday afternoon; Chantal’s at work, Keith is golfing with friends, and the boys are at the rink. You take a few minutes to unpack, filling Matthew’s drawers with your clothes, before joining Taryn by the pool. St. Louis is just as hot as the city you left, and the travel has left you feeling below average. A quick swim is sure to be the perfect remedy.

The water is the right kind of cool, and alleviates any stress you were possibly feeling. You’re properly in vacation mode now, lounging on pool floaties and gossiping with Taryn. An hour later when Matthew returns home you’re in basically the same position. Stepping out into the yard he sees you urging Taryn to turn around so you can place sunscreen onto the one spot she missed, laughing all the while at some ridiculous celebrity rumor she’s telling you. Seeing you get along so easy with his sister, and the rest of his family, makes his heart swell.

In the couple of months you’ve been separated, Matthew’s thought a lot about his future. Specifically about his future with you. When he closes his eyes he can see it clearly: the two of you married with children and a dog, living in a house in the mountains and loving life. It’s idyllic, and even though he knows you’d say yes if he asked you, Matthew still can’t bring himself to do it. There’s something in the back of his brain telling him to wait until he knows with absolute certainty that you’re it for him.

Not wanting to be separated from you for a minute more, he snaps out of his daze and scurries over. Wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pressing a kiss to the base of neck, he relishes in how you mould to him immediately, not even questioning who it was.

“Welcome back baby,” Matthew mumbles into your skin.

With a chuckle you wriggle slightly in his grasp, allowing yourself to face him. You press a kiss to his lips and it feels like heaven. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, you suppose, because you could stand here kissing Matthew your the rest of your life and be happy.

“Hi Matty,” you giggle against his lips, parting from him only to rest your forehead on his and twist a curl around your finger.

From somewhere inside the house you hear Brady yell, “Jesus Christ, you two, get a room.”

Without taking his eyes off you, Matthew replies, “Fuck off Brady!”

two

The energy inside the Saddledome is electric. It’s the Flames’ first home game in nearly a week, doing an east coast road trip and sweeping every team they faced. Six games later the team is on a nine game winning streaking and are hoping to keep it going. You know how much it matters in this moment – the playoffs are fast approaching and all points they can tally up are needed.

You had decided months ago to buy rinkside tickets for this game, planning to surprise Matthew. He loves when you sit in the regular crowd, cheering and spilling your beer like any old fan. It’s humbling for the both of you, and honestly you enjoy it. Though you love those in the Better Halves box, you were a hockey fan before dating Matthew and sometimes like to enjoy games by yourself. Plus, your friend was supposed to be in town and join you at the game, and you figured she’d like to experience how insane the area is firsthand.

So you do your best to quickly shimmy around those blocking your seat, beverage in hand. It was all you could do to get to the rink on time, sitting in the dense downtown traffic for nearly three quarters of an hour after rushing out of work. You wanted to make it before warmups started to make sure Matt knows you’re there supporting him. No one really bats an eye at you, which you’re thankful for. In no way are you notorious, but it wouldn’t take a die-hard fan long to recognize you. Sitting down and letting a soft sigh escape your lips, you carefully place your jacket over the seat beside you. At the last minute your friend had to cancel her trip to Calgary, leaving you solo. With a quick look at the clock you see that warm up will start in just under a minute. The players begin to step onto the ice as you sip your beer. Matthew is yet to notice you but you don’t take offence. He’s in the zone and most likely won’t realize you’re sitting right in front of him until halfway through the third period.

“Look daddy, it’s Matthew Tkachuk!” you hear a young boy shriek in excitement. “He’s so fast, I want to play just like him.”

You turn to look and see two rows above you there’s a father and son, who looks around eight. He’s wearing a jersey identical to yours, and from the sounds of his excited chattering it’s his first game. Seeing the young boy so happy to be here, to see your boyfriend, has your heart swelling. You want to make this a game he’ll never forget.

“Hi,” you smile at the father. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I know Matthew quite well. Would you like me to get his attention so your son could meet him?”

A shocked expression makes its way onto the dad’s face, but he doesn’t react negatively. “You’d do that?” he asks. “Riley loves Matthew. Wants to be just like him.” When you nod, he lets you approach the boy.

“Hey there Riley, I’m Y/N,” you say, smiling and extending a hand to him. “I’m a special friend of Matthew’s. Would you like to meet him?”

The boy looks at his father tentatively, and only once he nods encouragingly does Riley respond to your question. “Yes please.”

“Why don’t you come down here with me and we’ll get his attention?”

With a little help from you, Riley climbs over the seats and plops unceremoniously beside you. You help him straighten out his jersey before beginning a conversation. He tells you he plays in a local youth league and wants to make it to the NHL one day. When prompted, you explain to him that you work a boring office job that you love even though it makes you angry sometimes. It’s all very formal, but after cracking a few jokes you get him to loosen up.

Matthew, still not having noticed you, begins to skate along the boards in your direction. “Watch this,” you whisper-yell to your newfound friend, “I bet he’ll jump super high.”

As soon as Matthew passes your spot you bang on the glass and scream his name. Sure enough, his skates lift a good three inches of the ice and he shrieks. Teammates around him laugh and the look on his face is priceless when he discovers you’re the culprit.

“Babe!”

You smile. “Matty, this is my new friend Riley. He wears number nineteen just like you!” A glance at the boy lets you know he’s starstruck, and your eyes lock with Matthew’s.

He leans down and rests his hands on his knees, at eye level with the child. “Hi Riley,” he begins. “I’m Matt. I like your jersey.”

After that, Riley’s a tap that won’t turn off. He details every bit of his day to Matt, and even though their voices are muffled a bit from the glass they get on like two peas in a pod. Matthew is great with children and doesn’t shy away from having legitimate conversations with them. He talks to them like they’re people, which is something you admire about him. The warmup time runs out, but before he heads back to the dressing room Matthew hoists his stick over the glass, giving it to Riley. The younger boy beams and waves goodbye. You blow Matthew a kiss, which he gladly returns, and turn your attention away from him as his figure retreats.

“Is he your boyfriend?”The question makes you laugh.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask, to which Riley just shrugs.

“He called you ‘babe’, and my mommy calls my dad that. That means you’re in love,” he says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world.

Matthew cannot pay attention in the locker room for the life of him. He’s trying really hard to listen to everyone’s hype speeches, but his mind keeps wandering back to the interaction you shared during warm up. You looked so happy watching him interact with the boy you found god knows where within the arena. It’s then he realizes he wants to watch you act like that for the rest of his life. He wants to see you bring excited children to meet him because you have the power to make their nights. His suspicion is confirmed when he steps onto the ice and looks in your direction, finding you and Riley pressed up against the glass cheering loudly.

three

The Giordano’s are hosting an end-of-season barbeque before everyone scatters into the wind, and you’re going to be late. No matter how much you reminded Matthew of what time you had to leave he still started getting ready as you were finishing up. This typically wouldn’t be a big deal, but he has recently started taking care of his curls, and the routine eats up a lot more time than he anticipates.

“Matty, are you almost ready? There’s going to be no parking!”

His footsteps echo off the hardwood floor as he comes towards you. “That’s what you’re worrying about, baby? Parking?” Matthew laughs, pulling you into his side and kissing the crown of your head.

“Yeah Matt, I am. You know I have parking anxiety.”

“I’ll drive then,” he says sweetly. “Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve driven us. Have some fun tonight.”

The short drive across town is full of laughter. Neither of you are great singers, but it doesn’t stop you from belting out lyrics at the top of your lungs. At some point Matthew breaks out a rather terrible impression of Axl Rose and you just have to post it to your instagram story. Captioning with a simple microphone emoji, you slip your phone back into your sweater pocket. Though most certainly warm enough to spend the entire evening outside, Calgary currently has a bit of a proclivity for wind, and you’d rather be prepared. Outside of Mark and Lauren’s house Matthew finds a spot and parallel parks with ease.

“Shut up,” you mumble, poking your tongue out at him.

Matthew ruffles your hair in retaliation before jumping out of the vehicle, booking it around to the other side so he can open your door. He isn’t slick about hiding his intentions, grabbing a handful off your ass before leaning down to kiss you. Though you’d much rather stand in the cul-de-sac and make out with your boyfriend, you both have appearances to keep up. You get him to stop being a pest kong enough that you can enter the party and pass him off to his teammates.

You congregate with some of the other girls in the corner of the yard, and enjoy a drink while the sun sets. It’s fun to gossip with them, to catch up one final time before most of them leave. You’ll be staying in Calgary, job tying you down for the foreseeable future. The only thing that’s better than spending time with your friends is glancing at Matthew from across the space.

He’s enjoying himself, glass of water in hand. When he offered to be the designated driver he was serious, and he took the shit the boys were giving him in stride. Though you’ve only had one gin and tonic and can’t feel the effects of the alcohol, you’re glad he’s staying true to his word. The heightened water intake makes his skin glow, and you’re having a hard time staying focussed on the story Lauren is telling. He catches you staring and shoots you a dazzling smile. Tired of keeping your distance, you excuse yourself from the conversation and saunter over to your boyfriend.

“Hey Y/N,” Noah says breezily, raising his glass to you in mock salute. You wrap your arms tightly around Matthew’s waist.

“Hanifin,” you smile. “I’m really sorry to do this, but I need to pull Matt away for a quick second.”

No one in the group is the least bit surprised. The two of you have a reputation for being young and in love, sneaking off often and doing everything that entails. Once the two of you are alone you rest a hand on his chest, dangerously close to the button of his shirt. You then move kissing along the underside of his jaw, pressing your body closer to his to ensure he gets the point.

“Needy baby?” Matthew tries to smirk, but his voice wavers when you reach the junction of his jawbone and earlobe.

Declining to speak, you continue your actions until he’s just as desperate to get home as you. Though you try to be sneaky as you exit through the back gate, you won’t be surprised if you wake up to a few crude text messages. You’re too far gone to care, solely focussed on showing your boyfriend how much you love him.

The entire ride home Matthew can barely focus on the road. Not because you’re doing anything particularly risqué, a few too many close calls have put you both off of initiating things in the car, but because he doesn’t ever want to stop sneaking away from events with you. It’s exhilarating in more ways than one, and he hopes the feeling never goes away. Being with you, his best friend, is something he wouldn’t trade for the entire world. So what if he gets chirped by the boys for having precariously placed marks on his back.

four

September brings a chill to Calgary, but you couldn’t feel warmer. Matthew is due home this afternoon after nearly four months of being away. Of course you visited him in St. Louis, and he even flew back to the city once, but the two of you were mostly separated. Your shared apartment felt cold and lonely without him to annoy you, so you had spent as much time away from it as possible. No longer do you have to fall asleep with Matt’s side of the bed stone cold.

Though you know he likely won’t care, you’re nervous about the new decor. In an effort to make yourself feel better in Matthew’s absence, you completed some home renovations. Most are superficial, like a new sectional and an ungraded home speaker system, but you had redone the entire kitchen after scrolling through pinterest. The cabinets are a bright yellow, and the walls are a warm cream. Subway tile has also replaced the previous backsplash. You’re quite proud of the way it looks – doing pretty much all of it yourself and only calling your dad when you really needed help.

You spend much of the morning not doing anything productive, pacing the hallway back and forth. It’s nerve wracking and exciting to have Matthew home. Things will go much smoother with his presence even if he can sometimes be the most annoying person on the planet. You force yourself to eat a small meal before continuing to wear holes into your floor. He’ll arrive in a matter of minutes, and you’re practically vibrating with how much your legs are shaking.

A key twists in the lock, as though it’s a Pavlovian response, you bound towards the front door. Not even letting him step over the threshold you wrap yourself around him as tightly as possible. Matthew giggles sweetly, and you swear it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. Tears flow freely down your cheeks and soak through his shirt. In a very ungraceful waddle Matthew carries the both of you inside your home and shuts the door lightly.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Matt asks, obviously concerned because this is more emotional than any homecoming you’ve ever had.

Through hiccupping sobs, you stutter out, “I painted the kitchen cabinets yellow and you’re going to hate them. And then you’ll want to break up with me but I won’t be able to take them with me.”

“Woah woah woah, slow down baby,” he soothes, rubbing circles on your back. “Why am I going to hate it?”

When you can’t come up with a justifiable answer, he knows your anxiety just got the better of you. Repositioning you slightly so you’re tucked into his side, Matthew walks through the apartment to see the kitchen for himself. He’s blown away by its beauty, and he can see just how much work you put into it. The room is so much brighter and inviting – he can’t imagine having any other kitchen now.

Once you ramble off an apology for being so dramatic that he won’t accept, the two of you settle into the couch and start a reality television marathon. It’s a tradition that both of you take very seriously, and though he’d never admit it to anyone but you, Matthew looks forward to watching the outlandish dramas. The night is quiet, with you getting through quite a few seasons of Desperate Housewives, and at some point you fall asleep on Matthew’s chest. He knows he should gently move you off of him, start to unpack his bags, but he can’t tear himself away.

He can’t help but stare as you snore softly. There’s nothing Matthew would like more than to spend the rest of his life relaxing after coming home to you. If he’s being completely honest, St. Louis doesn’t feel like home as much anymore, and he finds himself counting down the days until he can return to Calgary. Matt supposes you’re the defining factor, and even Antarctica would feel like home to him if you were there. He never wants to lose that feeling.

+ one

There’s ten seconds left on the clock. Ten seconds until the Calgary Flames will become Stanley Cup champions. You’re holding your breath – you know a lot could happen in such a short amount of time. The lead isn’t as wide as you’d like it to be, only one, and you squeeze Taryn’s hand tightly. Everyone in the friends and family box is just as amped up as you. If the choice had been yours, you’d be sitting in the stands of the Saddledome, but in event the Flames win you need to be with everyone else if you want to join the team on the ice.

Matthew carries the puck up the ice, and you audibly gasp. At the last second, a Bruins defenseman is blocking his view of the net. Not letting the scoring opportunity go for his team, he snaps a pass backwards to Elias Lindholm. A nano-second later the puck is in the back of the net. You possibly scream the loudest of anyone in the box, jumping into Brady’s arms excitedly.

“Holy shit, they’re going to do it,” you whisper, and Brady nods enthusiastically. The clock now only has two seconds, and there is virtually no way the Bruins can make a comeback.

You untangle yourself from your boyfriend’s brother and approach his parents. “How exciting is this!” Chantal gushes.

“So fucking exciting,” you say honestly. “Listen, I want to talk to you about something.”

The Bruins’ head coach is halfway through his timeout, so you have to talk fast. You explain that you want to hang back while the family celebrates with their son and brother. Keith and Chantal try to argue, but you insist. You want them to be the first people to greet him as a Stanley Cup champion.

A horn signals the return to play, and you return your attention to the ice pad below you. Everything seems to move in slow motion; all you remember is the final whistle being blown and getting crushed in a group hug by everyone else in the room. Your voice goes hoarse from screaming, and tears stream freely down your face.

The party continues for a short time in the box, but then you’re being led through the arena and out onto the ice. Nodding in the direction of Matthew, you urge the Tkachuks to greet him. You congratulate other members of the team, snapping candid pictures of everyone to share in the group chat later. So many families will treasure the photos that you can’t bring yourself to stop, trying your hardest to grab everyone.

Once enough time has passed for Matthew to properly be congratulated by his family, you make your way towards him. Wasting no time, he skates over and lifts you off your feet. Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, and if you weren’t so proud you’d have reservations about sticking your tongue down Matthew’s throat in a packed arena.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper against his lips. “My champion.”

Matthew blushes profusely at your words, and you can tell he likes them. “Couldn’t have done it without you supporting me,” he responds, leaning into your touch as you rake your fingers through his hair.

While you celebrate with the rest of the team, holding babies and snapping pictures, Matthew realizes he can’t live without you. No one else will fit into his life as perfectly as you. There’s no one he wants besides you. Matthew makes a mental note to go through your jewelry box in the morning to get your ring size. His mom always said he’d know when someone was ‘the one’, and now he understands what she meant.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#the sections got shorter and short lmao #oh well #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #calgary flames imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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soysaucecas · 3 years

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i’ll lend you this, i’ll lend you that (ao3)

1k, t4t samjess’s first meeting at stanford the rhonda bit is inspired veryyy heavily by this fanart by @skepticalfrog written for @spnprideweek day 1: coming out

cw for some unintentional misgendering

Sam brings a journal to Stanford to record the names and faces of everyone she meets. This is going to be her home for the next four years—no packing bags in the middle of the night or saying hasty goodbyes to half-baked friendships she’ll never find again. The people she meets are here to stay. She’s here to stay.

California’s hot in August (though not as hot as some of the places Sam’s been), so Sam ties their hair up. They’re not sure how out they plan to be here yet; honestly, they’ve been going back and forth about it every night for weeks, but some guys have ponytails, so it shouldn’t be too risky. Sam takes another quick look at the students in their first day orientation group. Some of the students look super preppy, but there’s plenty in extremely casual wear, plus some scene kids. She sees a few people with outrageously-dyed hair, and one guy who seems to be wearing lipstick. No one is bothering him, nor is anyone shooting her looks yet, and it’s still hot even with their hair up. Can she…?

With a slight rush of adrenaline, Sam takes the bottom of their shirt and ties it off at their waist. Rhonda Hurley had shown them how to make any shirt into a makeshift crop top years ago, and Sam’s muscle memory follows her simple instructions well, even if their hands are shaking a little. It’d been one of the many bits of wisdom Rhonda had imparted on Sam during the one year she was in Sam and Dean’s lives, bits of wisdom she’d always dropped with a small smile that seemed to say, “just for us girls, huh?” Sam doesn’t feel entirely like a girl most of the time, but the word always felt right coming from Rhonda, who was always okay with Sam crashing her and Dean’s dates and regularly called Sam her trans sister-in-arms.

Alyssa, the orientation leader and tour guide, lets them take a ten-minute break for water, bathrooms, and socializing. Sam gets the names, faces, and cell numbers of Sarayu and Brady, though her sketches end up being far less detailed than she’d like. Looking down at her first filled page, she finds that it reminds her a little of John’s hunting journal. The thought makes them shudder. No more hunting, no more monsters. Sam’s not going to kill anyone in this book. As soon as they can borrow someone’s stationery, they’re going to draw colorful borders around each entry, borders so floral they’d make the old man gag.

“Five minutes left!” Alyssa says cheerily. “Just to give you a little taste of what’s to come, we’ll be going to Meyer after this.” She delivers the next line like a joke, but no one really laughs—“Don’t tell anyone this, but it’s actually my least favorite library.”

“She’s perky, isn’t she?” someone next to Sam whispers. Sam turns, confused, and their neighbor inclines a head towards Alyssa. Sam stifles a startled giggle. The speaker appears to be a blonde girl, pretty, and wearing a clearly well-loved friendship bracelet. She gestures at Sam’s notebook, which is still open. “Art major?”

Sam, flattered, shakes their head. “No, pre-law. This is just sort of… a phonebook. I have people’s names and numbers and what they look like in case I forget who they are.”

“Hm. Very cool,” Pretty Girl says. “Can I be next?”

“Sure,” Sam says. “What’s your name?” She tells her, and Sam asks, “Is that with an I-E at the end or just a Y?”

Jessie or Jessy chews on her lip, as if considering something. Her gaze returns to Sam’s midriff (Sam resists the urge to cover up), and seems to come to a decision. “Just… just with an E. J-E-S-S-E. Jess for short.”

Sam tries not to react, but they clearly do a bad job of it, because Jesse steps back a little. “Is that a problem?” he(?) asks.

Sam shakes her head rapidly and starts scribbling the name down like her speed might indicate her acceptance. “No, no, definitely not. I think… I think that’s really cool, actually. Did you”—there are definitely better ways to ask this, but oh well—“did you pick it yourself?”

Jesse relaxes immediately. “It was a collaborative effort.”

“Got it. Phone number?”

Jesse rattles off a cell, then asks, “What about you? What’s your name?”

“Me? I’m Sam.”

“Short for Samuel?”

Sam considers agreeing; after all, that is what it says on their birth certificate, but they stop at the last moment. “Short for—short for Samantha, actually.” The flash of recognition in Jesse’s eyes is both thrilling and terrifying. Sam quickly adds, “But maybe don’t go spreading that around.”

Jesse makes a lips-sealed gesture, eyes dead serious. Sam laughs gratefully.

“So,” Sam says, as quietly as she can, “do you—do you go by ‘he,’ or by ‘she,’ or—”

Jesse unzips his(?) mouth before replying, “Any of the above? Though… kind of like you said, you should probably stick to ‘she’ when there’s unfamiliar people around.”

“Deal.” Sam sticks out her hand, and the two of them shake on it. Jesse holds on a little longer than necessary, a small smile playing at his lips.

“It’s good to meet you, Sam. Really, what are the chances?”

Sam considers the question. “Pretty low. I didn’t know if I would find any tr—well, any people like me at Stanford.”

Jess nods. “I wasn’t that hopeless, but I definitely didn’t think it would happen day one. It is college, though. And California.”

Sam’s not certain what the significance of either of those things are, but before she can ask, Alyssa is calling the group back together. The rest of the students get back in formation behind her. Sam looks down at the second page of her notebook, which just has “Jesse” and a phone number written on it—no portrait yet. Damn. Though, Sam thinks, looking up at Jess walking ahead of them, maybe that’s a face she won’t need help remembering.

#samjess #sam winchester #jess moore #jessica moore #[though that's not her name here]#spnprideweek #spn #supernatural #fic #my fic #sam #jess #sj

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macbetha · 3 years

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below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!

+++

After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancy’s nerves further on edge. It isn’t until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.

Dear Ned,

How are you? It’s been a while. I’ve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but I’m not on one right now. I’m sure that’s hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. I’m sure you would love it here. This is the first time I’ve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. I’m somewhat jealous I’m happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope you’re doing well. I’m sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy

She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot – it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancy’s foot got caught under the getaway car’s tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, it’s stiff as hell with the most intense cramps she’s ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window – counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.

She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small – she hopes it’ll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesn’t have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancy’s thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasn’t left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. “Nancy,” Bess stresses. “You’re never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!” Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, it’s not Ned. Please, don’t let it be Ned. George says, “Give you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.” Nancy’s despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.

“That didn’t narrow it down at all, George,” Bess says with a roll of her eyes. “Nancy’s been on hundreds of cases.” Nancy’s strain creeps into her one word: “Who?” Bess and George beam. “Maya Nguyn!” ++

Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. “Nancy!” “Maya,” Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Maya’s sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, “What are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.” “My house is technically there,” Maya nods. “But I get to work on the road more these days.” Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. “Bess and George tell me you’re kind of in the same boat.” Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Maya’s concerned gaze. “It’s just easier,” Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesn’t speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, “Maya offered us free tickets to a play she’s reviewing tonight and get this – it’s at the Globe Theater!” “Remind me what’s so special about a globe theater,” Bess sighs, checking her nails. “Not ‘a’, Bess, the.” George shakes her head. “The Globe Theater – well, technically it’s a reconstruction of the first one, but it’s where Shakespeare wrote his plays.” “It’s the opening night of a new play,” Maya explains. “And Nancy, you’ll never guess who the star is.” Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. “Brady Armstrong.” Maya blinks. “Well – yes, actually.” Nancy frowns. “Wait, really?” “Yes,” Maya laughs. “I’ll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.” A spark of vigor heightens Nancy’s senses. That doesn’t sound bad at all. Still – “Are you sure we won’t be a distraction or –” “Nancy.” Maya’s hand falls on her shoulder. “You saved my life. You’re the furthest thing from a distraction.” Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. “All right, then.” +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyone’s spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses she’s ever received. The music won’t stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancy’s eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. “It’s hard,” Maya says. “This life on the road. You pick up a few habits.” Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoat’s pocket. “I want to enjoy this,” she admits quietly. “But I think the holidays are always hard.” Maya nods. “It won’t be this way forever, Nancy,” she promises. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.” Cross your fingers, there’s a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesn’t watch where she’s going – she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, “What does that mean?” “It means you’re at a crossroads,” Maya says. “A turning point.” “Sounds a little dramatic,” George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with

her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, it’s an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasn’t grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly – according to the play’s plot – written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he can’t win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the play’s ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything – but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancy’s mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They don’t receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, “You’ll call if you need to talk?” “Of course,” Nancy says by impulse. “Same to you.” +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though it’s nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isn’t jealous – but she can’t help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasn’t found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. “Hey.” “Hi, Nance,” Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. “What’s going on?” “Things aren’t too different from last week’s call,” Nancy smiles. “But I’m on vacation with Bess and George.” “Oh wow! That’s awesome. I hope it’s been fun.” Nancy’s glazed eyes blink. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It’s nice.” She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. “But what about you? How’s Joe?” “Same as usual, a pain in my ass.” Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frank’s voice. “We’re actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case – but I wanted to make sure everything’s good with you.” Nancy’s hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. “Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a case.” “Not really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?” “Yeah, but that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without a case since I started.” “I’d give you ours if I could,” Frank says. “Really not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, they’re calling for our gate – but do you want me call you when I land?” Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. “No, that’s okay – but

thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.” “Can do.” Frank pauses. “I – tell Bess and George I said hi.” “Can do,” Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. “See you soon?” She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. “I’ll make it happen,” Frank promises. “See you, Nance.” After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. “Hello?” “Yes, hello – I’m trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?” The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. “This is she.” “Splendid! Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gone to in order to find your number.” “Sorry? Who is this?” “Why, Nigel Mookergee. We met at –” “Blackmoor,” Nancy whispers. “Nigel, hi. What’s going on?” “I’m afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,” he says. “How should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see –” He sighs. “Don’t tell anyone I’m speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of… financial trouble.” Nancy says, “’Financial trouble’?” “It’s certainly not my business to spread, but yes. It’s not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomat’s salary is not enough to keep up a castle.” Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. “The Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor – much to Mrs. Drake’s dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I don’t quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists it’s just what the manor needs.” Nancy finishes scrawling and says, “So, you’re working for the Penvellyns now?” “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been some situations – inconsequential events, if you will – that need a glance over.” Nancy arches a brow. “You mean an investigation.” “Ah, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Right. When would you need me there?” “As soon as possible -” Nigel catches himself. “I mean, at your earliest convenience.” Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and stay safe. and please consider following me here and on twitter! xoxo

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

Text

Lines and Sunshine

a/n: this is based on a tiktok i saw and it immediately gave me matty vibes! also shoutout to @nolypats for getting me through this one when i had one scene and nothing else in mind to write.

warnings: swearing

word count: 4K

You sighed as you let yourself fall down onto the couch. Your drink sloshed a little in your cup, splashing onto the back of your hand with a few drops landing on the arm of the curly-haired boy next to you. Matthew groaned and shook his arm with a disgusted look on his face.

“You’re the worst,” he lamented. “How dare you?”

“I dared. I did. I delivered,” you countered smoothly. “Nice to know your carefully curated appearance of four t-shirts, three pairs of gym shorts, and a cut-off sleeve Nike jacket will fall apart if two drops of beer fall on your bare arm that you can easily wipe off.”

“I carefully picked this particular shirt and shorts combination today and did not plan for wet spots on my arm and an overwhelming odor of beer to be part of the ensemble. You’re ruining me here, honey,” Matthew joked back, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he spoke to you.

You rolled your eyes at him and took a sip of your drink with a smile against the edge of the cup. Matthew gave you a soft nudge with his shoulder in response to your eye roll, which you shook off. The couch next to you shifted suddenly, causing you to break eye contact as the movement rocked you away from Matthew. You turned your head to find that Brady’s sudden weight as he plopped next to you on the couch was the culprit for tipping you almost sideways on the couch.

“Hey, Brads,” you said with a bright smile to him, giving his cup a tap with yours as a greeting.

“Hey, hey,” he replied. “Enjoying the party?”

Matthew and Brady were throwing this joint party together before they left St. Louis to return to Calgary and Ottawa respectively for training camp next week. You’d tried to argue they should call the party “Yoo-hoo, Big Summer Blowout” like from Frozen, yours and Brady’s favorite, and Matthew’s absolute least favorite, Disney princess movie. Matthew had axed the suggestion, something you’d tried incredibly hard to get him to budge on. You’d almost succeeded too when you brought out your best puppy dog eyes, but Matthew had found some extra resolve from somewhere inside and pushed you off, insisting the party remain nameless, which was cooler apparently. You thought it was bull and told him so.

“You’re thinking that I should’ve let you name this after Frozen, aren't you?” Matthew called you out instead of letting you answer Brady’s question. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” you finished for him with a sharp nod of your head, your ponytail swinging with your sudden movement.

Matthew shook his head, but didn’t disagree, as he turned his attention toward the party. You sighed and let you head fall onto Matthew’s shoulder. He didn’t look at you, but he shifted and threw an arm over the back of the couch behind you to make himself into a more comfortable head rest for you. You sighed in appreciation.

“You haven’t had enough alcohol to get over the hump,” Matthew informed you. “You’re in your ‘I’ve had two drinks and now I’m a sleepy ho’ zone.”

“You don’t have to call me out like that,” you mumbled to him, making him chuckle and give you a small squeeze around your shoulders in reply.

“It’s my job as your friend to call you out on your bullshit,” he laughed as he spoke. “If I stopped, you’d need to demote me to friendly acquaintance and we all know it’s a slippery slope from there to casual acquaintance to that guy you know that plays hockey right into that guy you used to know that plays hockey. I don’t like that career path for myself, personally, so I’m going to keep doing what I was hired to do and call you out on your shit.”

You’d met Matthew and Brady a few years ago at house party of a mutual friend’s not entirely unlike this one, sending the boys off before their hockey season kicked into full gear back then. You’d met Brady first and hit it off instantly, finding kinship in being taller than your older siblings after the constant verbal and physical abuse you suffered at their hands growing up. He’d still introduced you to Matthew that night though, something he swore to this day was his biggest mistake because Matthew had immediately stolen you right from Brady and declared you were his friend first, before Brady’s. You’d tried to fight, but Matthew was persistent and you had the same sense of humor as him.

Plus, the dimples, the curls, and the coy smile drew you in. You remembered thinking he was cute when you first met him, but also that nothing could ever come of it, so you had forced yourself past that initial feeling and had been his friend ever since with no regrets. Despite the distance, you two had remained close since that day. The two of you made a pretty formidable team when you were on the same wavelength about something. You were pretty sure it might be better for everyone in your potentially shared warpaths that you weren’t around each other as much as you would be if you lived in the same city.

As the night dragged on, the party shrank in size, but the group of people relaxing in the couch area on the patio grew with Matthew and Brady’s closest friends. You’d been up and down a few times to fill your drink, but Matthew always saved you the seat right next to him. He never forgot about you, not even for a second, something you always appreciated.

You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You sighed as you lifted your hips and grab it from your back pocket and sighed again when you saw who texted. Aaron. You read the text quickly. He was asking you if you wanted to come over after you were done with the party. Aaron was... fine. That was the best word you had for Aaron. He was nice, polite, decent in bed, and completely unextraordinary in every single way possible. You weren’t seeing anyone else and neither was he, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. Neither one of you really wanted that. Aaron was fine for now, hence why he’d stuck around for six months. He hadn’t done anything to earn you wanting to promote him from casual fling and hadn’t done anything to make you want to get rid of him either. He met your few needs, you met his, and that’s all that mattered to either of you.

“Oh, is that Aaron?”

Matthew’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. You shrugged instead of actually answered. You didn’t really want to get into what he thought of Aaron right now. He’d told you that he thought Aaron was basically the human equivalent of beige wallpaper and he couldn’t understand why you talked to him the first and only time you’d let them interact. You’d kept them apart ever since.

“So it was Aaron.” Matthew answered his own question in a curious tone. “Thinking of ditching me and Brads here for him?”

“I’m not going anywhere unless you keep making comments like that,” you sang softly with a layer of caution for Matthew coating your voice as you brought your cup to your lips for another sip.

Matthew chuffed a little under your admonishment of him, but he pressed on.

“Okay, so how long have you been talking to this guy again?”

Matthew leaned forward as he asked you the question, his hands lacing together as he braced his weight onto his forearms pressed against his thighs. He raised an eyebrow at you as he waited for you to answer.

“Six months,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink to cover a sly smile that tried to rise as you continued by asking, “why?”

Matthew skipped over your question with a wave of a hand as he shifted back onto the couch, his large frame pressing into the cushions of the back of the couch. He nodded softly, one of his hands moving to his chin, scratching at the stubble there as he thought.

“And you’re not talking to anyone else?” he asked you, his pitch raising higher than normal at the end of his question.

“No,” you said firmly, pressing the red cup between your palms as you watched Matthew react to your answer.

“And he’s not talking to anyone else?” Matthew followed up after a moment of thought.

“Uh, no,” you laughed with a soft shake of your head, thinking that one-sided exclusivity didn’t do anyone any good. Kind of ruined the whole exclusivity concept if only half of the team was playing the same game.

Matthew nodded in fake understanding. You knew him well enough to know he was playing some long game you didn’t know anything about. He carded a hand through his curls, shaking them out a little with a sigh.

“So he’s your boyfriend then, right? He has to be by now and you just forgot to tell me,” Matthew continued.

You shook your head softly, “No, he’s not.”

Matthew groaned and let his head fall back, hovering over the back edge of the couch. He drummed his fingers on the exposed skin of this thigh just south of the edge of his shorts. He nodded softly and tightened his lips before lifting his head. You could’ve sworn you heard him whisper a soft, “Fuck it,” to himself, but you weren’t sure if you’d heard it or imagined it. Matthew sighed as he sat up, the words starting to flow out of his mouth as he turned towards you and locked his baby blue eyes with yours.

“So like, I’m confused here. Six months being exclusive with this dude and he’s not your boyfriend. Is he confused? Like, does he want you or not? Because he’s holding up the fucking line here!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came as Matthew’s blue eyes looked deep into yours, deep into you, and as your friends circled around you started hollering and clapping. Brady next to you was particularly loud, but it was all relative. Everything else was muffled compared to how loud the silence between you and Matthew was in that moment. His eyes were tracking across your face, from the wideness of your eyes, to the wrinkles in your forehead from your surprised expression, to the tight, firm line of your lips you’d closed as you tried to figure out what to do, what to say. Matthew telling you he had been waiting the whole time you’d been seeing Aaron at the very least had beyond blindsided you.

Matthew closed his eyes softly and began to nod in understanding, curls bouncing with the movement. His tongue poked out between his teeth as a sad, forced smile pulled at his mouth. He sighed as his smile widened, but it wasn’t the smile you’d grown to know from him. It was something entirely new. He stood up without another word and headed into the house. You let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding when the patio door shut behind him.

“He’s planned how he wanted to tell you like, six-hundred ways, but that was definitely not one of them,” Brady laughed next to you. You turned your head toward Brady, your surprised look somehow impossibly intensifying, making Brady laugh harder. “Oh yeah, he’s liked you for years now. You’ve just never lined up. You had that boyfriend, then he was sort of seeing that girl, now there’s Aaron, who is super boring by the way. He’s been trying, but the timing has never worked out for him. Got to give the guy some credit for finally growing a pair and telling you though, even if that wasn’t exactly pretty.”

“How long?” you asked, choking on the word.

You cleared your throat and repeated the question again. Brady shrugged in response.

“I don’t know, probably since that first party honestly. He made me introduce you to him when he saw us talking. Guess he thought you were cute.”

Brady said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he was simply ordering orange juice with brunch at a diner on Sunday morning. For you, it made your world tilt violently on its axis. Matthew was always never an option. He was so not an option you had all but deleted every memory of every thought of finding him attractive. Apparently, completely unknown to you, he’d been an option the entire time.

You stood up quickly from the couch, your fingers already pulling up Aaron’s contact information even though you didn’t have a plan on what to say to him. You knew you needed to see the sun in your life again and you knew Aaron wasn’t it. Aaron wasn’t the sun; he was a gray cloud. He was kind enough and unproblematic enough to never rain on your life. He protected you from some UV exposure, meaning bad one night stands and societally named walks of shame, but he was keeping you cool and complacent with you life. You never felt warmth on your skin from him. There was no heat, no love, no passion. A cloudy day was fine for a while. Aaron was fine for a while. You wanted the sun and you knew who it was.

Your mom had said it the first time you’d invited Matthew over to watch a movie with you a couple of week after that party where you met. While he could be your resident pain in the ass, he charmed your mother instantly, a fact he rubbed in every now an again because your mom, like everyone, was fine, but not thrilled, with Aaron’s existence.

“That boy is like sunshine, I swear,” she told you. “You light up when he walks in the room.”

Matthew was the sun. You wanted, needed, to feel the sun on your skin. You’d been standing near it for so long. You needed to know what it felt like to actually stand in the light.

You walked into the house, turning the opposite direction of where you’d seen Matthew turn when he walked in. You shut the door of the front office behind you to try to give you some privacy for this. You were completely unprepared and there was a serious risk you might try and compare Aaron to a raincloud at this point if you talked to him, but there wasn’t ever going to be a better time for this. Aaron answered on the third ring, like clockwork, like he knew you too well in the worst, most superficial ways.

“Hey,” he spoke softly and steadily, as always. “Is something wrong? Need me to come pick you up?”

“Uh, no, I’m good,” you mumbled out before hastily adding a quick, “thanks.”

You cleared your throat before you tried to continue.

“Hey, Aaron.” You cleared your throat again, trying in vain to bring the pitch of your voice down. “This might be out of left field here, but what are we doing here?”

“What do you mean?” he replied after a slightly too long pause. “Are you not okay with this anymore?”

You sighed and tucked some errant strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail behind your ear as you tried to collect your thoughts.

“That’s the thing Aaron,” you breathed out. “I’m tired of things being okay. This has always just been okay and you know it. This has never been a heart-stopping, Earth-shattering, scream-how-you-feel-in-front-of-a-room-full-of-people kind of thing. And I want that, Aaron. I want passion and I want things this doesn’t have, has never had, and won’t have because that’s not us. This is just, it’s fine, Aaron. But I’m sick of fine.”

You heard Aaron breathe out harshly, not unlike how you had before you’d let all of those feelings come out. You hadn’t realized exactly where you’d been going when you opened your mouth, but you knew you’d arrived at the right thing by the end.

“Honestly, so am I.”

You almost dropped the phone at his words. You had been expecting every reaction ranging from tears to screaming to silence. Agreement wasn’t a response you’d planned for. You’d thrown it out instantly, like you do with Jokers when you open a new deck of cards because they can’t possibly be in play. There aren’t any games that actually utilize them. There wasn’t a scenario you were prepared for where Aaron agreed with you.

“What?” you managed to get out. “You agree with me?”

Aaron laughed softly before saying, “Honestly, yeah. I hope you don’t think I’m being rude when I say this. You’re a great person, but this was just something casual for both of us and I think it’s just gone on longer than we planned since we both got into it thinking it would go bad before we were two months in. It never went bad, so we kept doing it. You and I are kind of alike in that way. Unless something makes us go off the rails, as long as the train has three out of five stars, we’ll stay on it forever basically.”

“That’s not rude. It’s exactly how I feel,” you told him, making him laugh again. You scrunched your nose up before adding, “Sorry, that probably sounded a little too relieved, huh?”

“No, no,” Aaron chuckled. “It’s real and fine and I feel it too.”

You sighed and leaned back against the nearby desk, trying to will your nervous heartbeat to slow down for a second. You nodded softly, trying to come up with words to say.

“What are you still doing on the phone? Go get him. Go get your real guy.”

You paused. You weren’t sure if you’d heard Aaron right. You racked your brain, trying to remember if you’d let anything slip out that could have pointed you ending things toward Matthew. Aaron might have not been your guy, but he was still a good guy and deserved better than thinking you’d dumped him for someone else.

“Matthew,” Aaron added before you could speak. “He finally plucked up the courage and said something, huh? About fucking time, Chucky.”

“You knew?” you asked breathlessly. “Did everyone know but me?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty much,” Aaron informed you, laughter edging at his voice again. “So, go get him. Hang up already! No hard feelings. I’ll see you around, okay?”

Aaron hung up for you. You slowly slid your phone into your back pocket, trying to collect your thoughts. Was what you were doing sort of sudden and crazy? Probably. It didn’t feel that way though. It felt like this was exactly what you should be doing.

Your feet carried you toward the kitchen where you assumed Matthew still was, most likely freaking out about ruining your friendship. You found him with his head hung low, one of his hands supporting him by gripping the edge of the counter behind him and the other feverishly raking through his curls. He was mumbling to himself, trying to gather his thoughts like you just had been.

“You want to finish having this conversation with yourself or can I interrupt?”

Matthew’s head snapped up and over toward you. His eyes soften when they connected with yours, before that same sad smile from outside came back onto his face. You knew what it was now, the unidentifiable emotion on his face. Pain. Looking at you, looking at what he thought was your rejection hurt him. He was trying to deal with it as best he could, but he was barely holding himself together.

“Well, you’ve already interrupted, so I feel like the least you could do is come into the kitchen,” Matthew replied, waving you in with his free hand.

“Matthew-”

“No, let me,” he cut you off as you started stepping toward him. “I’m sorry. I totally threw that at you in front of everyone. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t cool. And you have Aaron, I guess, so you’re not even really single, so it was really stupid to say. I’m really sorry and I hope-”

“Matthew Tkachuk, shut up for once in your life,” you said exasperatedly as you reached him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then your hands grabbed his and he couldn’t focus on anything other than how it felt. His eyes were locked on your hands as you let your fingers intertwine with his.

“I ended it,” you told him.

“You what?” Matthew choked out as his eyes snapped up to yours. “With Aaron? Just now?”

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “He actually took it really well. Turns out he’d been feeling a little stuck too, I guess.”

“Mm, solid,” was all Matthew had to say in reply as his attention turned back to your hands wrapped around his larger one. He wouldn’t let himself get his hopes up about what they meant for him right now. Just because you were getting rid of Aaron, didn’t mean that was permanent or that you were picking him instead.

He started to gently squeeze your hand with his, letting his large hand dwarf both of yours and he softly moved his thumb in smooth circle over the back of your hand. The small act, the smallest of possible movements, still was far more intimate than anything you’d felt in six months with Aaron. This was what it was supposed to feel like.

“There’s no line, Matthew.” You spoke softly and steadily, willing your words to wrap around him and take away any temporary pain your hesitation caused him. “There’s only you. You’re the one I want.”

Matthew didn’t need to double check. He knew you were sure from your tone. In the blink of an eye, his hands were on your waist, hoisting you up onto the kitchen counter as his lips crashed to yours for the first time. One of your hands tangled itself into his curls and the other rested on his broad chest, anchoring you to him.

He felt like sunshine on the first warm spring day of the year. Your skin soaked up that first light willingly, relishing in what it had missed as his warmth thawed the permafrost from your bones.

“Jesus,” you breathed out when he finally pulled back. “You’ve know how to kiss like that the whole time and you didn’t just try and do that to get my attention? Damn, Tkachuk.”

Matthew blushed softly, a new reaction to your words you immediately threw into your favorite column of reactions to pull out of him, noting you needed to make it happen more often. He smiled softly at first, but as he looked at you, his smile wouldn’t stop growing until it was spread wide across his face.

“I’ll make a note of it.” He paused to slide his hands under your thighs and lift you off the counter in one smooth motion. He guided your legs around his waist as your hands braced the back of his neck for support. “You know, for the next time I try to confess my feelings for a girl in front of all of my friends .”

“Mm, hope you don’t have any plans to try and use that advice anytime soon,” you teased him back as he carried you out of the kitchen and towards his room.

“Honestly, I already threw that note away. What did it say again?” he asked you jokingly, giving you a quick peck on the lips as he walked.

“It was just a little notice letting you know I’ve moved you to boyfriend status,” you replied with a shrug, but your smile betrayed you.

“Before I even show you all the tricks up my sleeve? Damn, mind if I show you anyway? I’ve got some pretty good ones that just might blow your mind.”

Matthew threw you a quick wink as he pushed his bedroom door open with his back just to make sure you knew exactly what he was referring to, leaving nothing open to misinterpretation.

“Oh really now? Try me, sunshine. I’ve got all night.”

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