#the conference and the people and their noise. but i guess it would have been less horrible if someone held my hand :

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Snapped

A/N: Ok, so, villain! Nanami isn't my cup of tea. For me, he's my comfort character, the one I go to at the end of the day for hugs and forehead kisses. However, as one of my moots said, with all the bullshit happening in my life at the moment regarding my job, Nanami would be so pissed off for me. Is this fic indulgent? Yes. And I don't care. However, it is my first time writing villain! Nanami and I'm not sure how well it's been portrayed. Pairing: Villain! Salaryman! Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader Warnings: MDNI, violence, gore, mentions of murder, death, general corporate shittiness Summary: In the midst of a layoff, your boyfriend Nanami snaps at his own office, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. Word Count: 2.7k

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Nanami’s jaw is tense, mouth set in a grim line as he exits his meeting. Another long day of listening to how the company’s profits didn’t meet the quarterly requirements, about how their stock value was plummeting, and how their finance experts must work harder at pushing their client portfolios into buying rather than selling.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, sighing, wondering how to combat this feeling churning in his stomach. The sense of repulsion, knowing what he did for a living, this constant hook behind his navel, yanking, pulling, warning him that all he was doing was making rich people richer, enabling a gluttonous corporate’s insatiable appetite for more money. 

He checks his schedule, a slight crack of relief filling his being when he sees it’s lunchtime and he exits his office, slumping against the elevator wall, running his hands through his hair. The sun shines brightly outside, indifferent to the gathering gloom inside him as he walks to a restaurant nearby. He gives his order and walks back to work, sandwich in hand when his phone rings.

Your name flashes on the screen and he answers quickly, hoping a quick chat with you would pull him out of this foul mood…only to be hit with your weepy voice, making his eyes widen.

“Ken. I-I.” Your breath hitches and he quickly tries to calm you down. 

“Take a breath darling. Are you ok?” 

Your voice shudders as you continue. “I walked in today. Completely normal. Ready to take on the day. Except when I got to my office, our HR representative was waiting for me near the door. She led me into one of the huge conference rooms, the ones they save for guest visits and symposiums. There were like, at least 100 other people in there with me.” You pause to take a breath, tears leaking from your eyes, and continue.

“We were logged into a Zoom call and told by our CEO that the company’s profits were not high enough to keep up with their budgets. They went on and on about all these different numbers but in the end, none of it mattered. They told us they had no choice but to do a layoff.”

Nanami’s heart tightens in his chest. Trying not to let his feelings seep through, he asks, “And then what happened?”

You sniffle and carry on with your tale. “The HR representative told us to open our work laptops and that we would receive an email officially notifying us of the termination. It came not less than a minute after we all logged in. I have two weeks left. They’ll pay me out for that time whether I go in or not. And after that…” Your voice trails off, tears choking your throat.

Nanami listens patiently, but there’s a quiet, simmering rage underneath. “They let you go?”

“Yes. Me and my whole team.”

“Even though you guys delivered on a project that brought in almost 2.5 million dollars in profit?”

“That’s what I thought too. HR insists it was arbitrary and that they were only retaining teams that they thought would maximize their profits. I guess 2.5 million dollars isn’t considered a profit.” You laugh, the noise filled with bitter irony. “I thought I was more valuable than that. 4 years at this place, Kento, 4 years! I could understand if I wasn’t meeting deadlines or refusing to be a team player-”

“You went in on Sunday for the last 6 months and no one said a word of appreciation to you.” The blond salaryman can’t keep out the bite of irritation in his voice, aimed not at you, but your employer. “When was the last time you slept in on a Sunday? When we were able to get brunch, or simply lie in bed together? They didn’t even compensate you for it.”

 You hear the harsh tone in his voice and sniffle. “I’m sorry Ken I-”

“No.” He cuts you off. “Don’t apologize. I’m not mad at you darling. Please understand that. I just hate that they used you and that didn’t matter to them when they chose to let you go.”

“I have some savings but... Kento, I don’t think I can afford my share of the expenses soon. Rent, utilities.” His heart almost breaks at your next words. “I understand if you don’t think we should continue living together under these circumstances.”

A lump forms in his throat, so painful, so intense, threatening to consume him like a tumor. You chose to follow him outside of the world of sorcery. You chose to study at the same college he did. You chose to get a corporate job despite the talent you had for jujutsu. You did it for him. He thinks back to the days of you sharing a college dorm, broke students picking up small jobs at cafes and delivering groceries. The ratty apartment you’d both found with your first paychecks, the celebration the both of you had in the cramped kitchen when both of you landed your first serious jobs. The move to the nicer neighborhood, with a coded entrance, toasting each other, thinking you’d made it.

Only to be worn down by corporate mundaneness. That chewing feeling of being a cog in a machine, a hamster on a wheel, ever-turning, never-ending, stuck until you die. Money. The big controller of the universe. The ultimate checkmate to everything. Money. Money. Money.

“No.” His voice is gentle. “Don’t even for a second think about moving out. I love you darling. You’ll find something else. I can tide us over till then. We’ll just cut back on some of our other expenses till then. Ok?” The thought of coming home to an empty apartment weighed down on him. Even back in the olden days, the dorm, the ratty studio that you’d both shared, you had always been there. The concept of living alone was long since driven out of him. The idea was unbearable, coming home and not seeing you there. 

Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you too. Thank you.”

“No need.” Kento’s gruff voice calms you and you cling to it like a prayer. 

“I have to go. I need to surrender my laptop and badge. I’ll see you at home, ok?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

The line disconnects, leaving him feeling strangely hollow. Companies really didn’t care. It was all bullshit propaganda, the act of ‘being a family’. You were just a collateral statistic. With a groan he forces himself back to his own office, his cubicle, the appeal of the sandwich lost to him now. He forced himself to eat, knowing there was another block of meetings coming up and there was no guarantee about when he could catch a break again. To his displeasure, he sees his manager walking hurriedly in his direction, and averts his gaze, hoping to finish his lunch, but to no avail. 

“Nanami-San!” The man unctuously calls, putting both his hands on Nanami’s shoulders, setting his teeth on edge. A manila envelope is tucked in his armpit as his fingers dig into Nanami’s blazer. He had spent a grueling two hours with this person in an earlier meeting, where he had praised Nanami for being able to sell one of their poorer-performing stocks, raising its portfolio value. The celebratory way it had been said as if Nanami hadn’t conned their clients into buying mediocre stocks which wouldn’t fetch them any benefit in the long run, made the bile rise in his throat. The contempt he holds for this man is tangible, yet he swallows his feelings and pretends to look calm.

“Yes?” he asks politely, trying not to squirm away from his touch.

“Nanani-San, I have news! Very good news for you. Please come with me.” He pulls him away into a private meeting room, Nanami dubiously taking a seat and looking at the man wearily. His manager sits down opposite him with barely contained glee, setting down the manila envelope on the table. 

“They want to promote you Nanami-San!” he bursts out, as though the energy of containing this information was eating at him from the inside. For a second, Nanami’s face goes blank. Then he realizes what he’s just been told.

“A promotion?” he asks again carefully. 

“YES! You’ve been killing it with your clients, raising our stock portfolios, and our profit margin! Hard work deserves to be rewarded!”

Despite his distaste for the man, Nanami blinks and then feels his heart expand. It wouldn’t matter if you were laid off, with the promotion. He could take care of both of you, and you could be peacefully at home while you job-hunted. You wouldn’t need to be in a rush, could maybe take some time to yourself…make up for all those Sundays you went in. A weary smile touches Nanami’s lips as he imagines the life he could provide for you. Could it be, that there was a lining after all?

He glances back at his manager, who appears to have more to say. “Was that all…?”

His manager gives him a nauseatingly saccharine smile, and Nanami feels the temporary prick of joy vanish. 

“Well, the position you’d be up for is more of a leadership position. The higher-ups want to make sure you’re a man capable of navigating difficult situations. Sometimes, things must be done, even when they’re unpleasant.” Nanami’s stomach is roiling, but he swallows and looks at his manager squarely in the face.

“What do you need me to do?” he manages to clip out.

His manager pushes the manila envelope towards him. Feeling like he’s been given a sentence, Nanami opens the envelope, and from it, removes three employee dossiers. He recognized the names as he looked through them, three young men who had started here around the same time he had.

“We’re going to need you to tell these three people that they’re fired.”

His manager’s words fall into Nanami’s ears deafeningly. Swallowing, he looks at the man with narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry but…why?”

“They’re underperforming.”

“Their numbers are consistent.”

“Consistent is not the same as moving up.”

“So you want to fire them because they’re not bringing in more money? Is that all?” Nanami drops the dossiers onto the table, an acrid taste building up in the back of his throat. 

“Well, you would be firing them. Think of it as their three salaries combining to equal your promotion.”

A chill washes over Nanami’s body. “I refuse.”

“Don’t you want the promotion?” his manager cajoles him, like trying to mollify a child with a lollipop.

“How about I get the promotion first, then you ask this of me?”

“Ah…if only the world worked that way. But no. We need them removed first. And since you will be taking over the department they will be leaving…you have to do it.”

Nanami looks at his manager, at this greasy, servile man, who he has hated ever since he started working here. His smug face, as he waited to see what he would do. He thinks back to you, let go for no other reason than “it’s what’s best for the company”. A red haze fills his vision.

“You’re despicable.” Nanami says quietly, his hand curling into a fist, feeling a tremor of cursed energy flowing into his arm, something he hadn’t succumbed to since leaving Jujutsu High. A turquoise aura begins to envelop him. His manager appeared to have not noticed but continued to give him that leery grin. 

“It’s your life versus theirs Nanami-San. I imagine a wise man would do what he’s being asked.”

Nanami stands, his impressive height and build towering over the man. 

“Fuck you.” 

The blond raises his hand, which is glowing with cursed energy now. His manager stares at it, taken aback. With a swift moment, Nanami’s ratio technique hits him, cleaving his body straight down the middle into two halves, grotesquely falling to the floor with a splat, blood spraying everywhere, covering the walls, windows, and the door of the meeting room.

A terrified scream is heard outside. In a daze, Nanami leaves the conference room, indifferent to his coworkers who are now gaping at him and scrambling to get out of his way, several of them shouting in panic at his state, his crisp suit spattered with fresh blood.

He walked into the conference room where he knew the higher-ups were sitting for their next meeting, locking the door as he did so. The men all move away in shock, a few even call his name, but he simply doesn’t care. The meeting room fills with the horrified sounds of men pleading and begging for their lives, and in a spray of red…silence. 

Nanami unfeelingly walks to his car afterward and drives home. Later when you open the door, you gasp and cover your mouth.

“Kento! Are you ok? Did you get into a fight?”

When he simply sits down on your living room sofa, you try again. “Kento what-”

“Grab me the whiskey bottle, would you darling? Don’t bother with a glass.” Dumbstruck, you obey, and retrieve the bottle from your liquor cabinet and hand it to him. He takes a deep swig before setting the bottle down. His sharp eyes, the same color as the alcohol in the bottle, fixate on you.

“We need to leave. Now.”

“Wh-Why- Kento I need an explanation!” You take in his bloody appearance. “What happened?”

“I could get into details. But simply put, I killed my manager and all the higher-ups at my company.” He watches you intently, his sweet, innocent girlfriend, who deserved more than what life had handed you. Your eyes widen.

“Kento- you- you murdered those men in cold blood?” your voice is a hushed whisper, as you look at the man you had spent the last several years with. Not a capricious person at all, so there was nothing that could convince you that Kento snapping like this was a coincidence.

“Darling. There’s no point sugar-coating things. Yes, I killed them. Now the question is, are you coming with me, or staying here?” There’s no malice in his voice. It was a genuine choice he was offering to you. The murders were his cross to bear, and it wasn’t right to involve you if you didn’t want to be.

You cover your face, trying to organize your thoughts, trying to get your breath to even out. Kento reaches out and pulls you closer to him, leaving bloody fingerprints on your clothes. “We don’t have much time my love. If we want to disappear, then we have to do it now.”

You look at him, then, to his disbelief, you ask, “Where would we go?”

He takes a shuddering breath, relieved that you were in this together. “It’s not the police we need to worry about right now. It’s the sorcerers who will undoubtedly put two and two together and realize I’m the culprit. However, I’m hardly the first sorcerer to do a revenge killing against civilians.”

“You’re not?”

“There’s an underground network of sorcerers who went off the grid for similar reasons. It’s seedy, but darling…we’d be free. None of this corporate bullshit, or punching in and out on a clock. We’d take jobs only we wanted to take. Freelance assassins, essentially. We deserve this. Life is full of shit anyway. Might as well pick what we want to do right?”

His words hit you with clarity, and despite all the suddenness and ups and downs in the last ten minutes, your resolve steels. “How long do we have?”

“Not too long. Pack a bag, essentials only. I only have a vague idea of how to contact this network but I’ll figure something out. Now quickly.”

It takes less than 10 minutes for you to pack a suitcase. Your boyfriend slips out of his blood-stained garments and into fresh clothes, hurriedly packing another suitcase alongside you. You glance around the apartment one last time, a wistful look in your eyes as you remember how hard the both of you had worked to get here.

But Nanami was right. It was all bullshit. You hadn’t chosen to stay with him out of blind loyalty, but because deep down, you knew he always had the right reasons. The both of you look at each other, a deep connection of understanding passing between you both, and with a resolute goodbye to the past, walk out of your front door together, unsure of what lay ahead. 

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[yrluvjane]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅

[old money] James x fem!reader

《 Summary - After a coincidental encounter, James takes interest in one of his employees. 》

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Who didn't know the Potters, especially when they owned everything. From banks, houses, and yachts to mansions, planes, and private islands. The family was known for its wealth and power. Almost ten generations have come since their fortune was assigned and now they’ve reached the point in being one of the richest and influential families in Europe. 

And it wasn’t every day James Potter, the only living heir, walked into a diner where he would only be served greasy fries and pizza. His perfectly tailored designer clothes made him stick out like a sore thumb no matter where he sat.

Sat on a table at the far end of the room, with a relaxing book in his hands and a steaming cup of black coffee on the table; James Potter’s eyes wandered from word to word and line to line, finding peace in between the letters. His eyes would raise temporarily every time the hanging door bells jingled to check if his company had arrived.

Despite the loud noise of chatter, the diner was mostly empty, only six tables were taken. The sudden and loud laughs of a group of women disrupted his reading, and James involuntarily swung his head towards them, confusion and curiosity swirling in his eyes. 

There, by the booths, sat a group of five girls all cheering loudly for their friend. James guessed that the woman they were cheering for was engaged, his eyes slightly squinted at the lady as she displayed her hand on the table for everyone to see.

It's not long before he realizes he’s not the only one looking at them; an elderly couple next to him, smiled fondly at the ladies and laughed together after a few short-whispered words. 

“Mr. Potter,” He blinked, refocusing his attention on the voice. He raised his head and found himself facing a young man in a wrinkled suit and skewed slim tie who was staring at him with a disturbingly wide smile. “An honor to have you here, truly.”

 “Thank you.” James responded blankly hoping to return to his book as quickly as possible without attracting unwanted attention from other diners, but it seemed as though the man did not comprehend James’ annoyance and instead decided to invite himself at James’ table. 

“My name is also James,”

The Potter one sent the man a tight-lipped smile. “I own this place, it’s actually my dad’s but I managed to sway him into giving it to me. So, yeah.” At that, the man had finally stopped talking and stared at James as though he was expecting the man to hand him an award and at James awkwardly silent response, the man threw his head back and laughed loudly. 

James narrowed his gaze at the man from behind his glasses and levelled him with a silent look of judgement. Though James did not speak any words his eyes expressed his feelings towards the man perfectly. And this time the man was able to clearly make out James' unpleasant impression of him.  "Not a man of many words, got it.”

“I’ll leave you to it then!” The other James said hesitantly, “If you need anything, and I mean anything I am right here!” The manager stood up and winked at him as he left.  

James sighed tiredly as the man’s voice faded and had finally vanished from his view. It was not that James was rude, it was the fact he did not appreciate people trying to sway him while he was having one of his very rare moments of peace.

His life has always been open to the public, from press conferences and social events to having people stalk him to his home. And though James would have seemed rude he didn’t think the twenty-something year old boy would have anything to say that was worth listening to.

James would rather have this limited time to hear his own thinking without having everyone train their eyes on him and bug him with their opinions of his every thought.

And not a few minutes later, the door swung open once more, ringing the bells and allowing a cold breeze to flow in. James’ eyes followed the jingles as he raised his cup of coffee to his lips and when his eyes trained on the silhouette he was met with a surprising feeling of familiarity. 

His hold on his book loosened, and he gently put the cup back on the saucer. He leaned back on his chair and narrowed his eyes at the woman, trying to make out where he could’ve seen her. By the style and quality of her clothes, he doubted they had worked together. And even if she wore something less normal, there weren’t many acquaintances he knew that would step into anything like this diner.

He let his eyes follow the lady’s figure all the way to the celebrating group of women, all of whom started beckoning her over once they saw her. The closer she was to them the clearer she became. Under the small restaurant’s soft yellow glow, he could finally notice her blue jumper and black trousers. She waved to her friends and walked to them, a black coat hanging from her arm.

Once she took a seat, she scanned the place; freezing once she laid eyes on him. Her eyes widened, blinking owlishly, staring at him with parted lips. She recognized him, yet he still couldn't make sense of who she was. A reporter? An ex? Maybe an assistant? An employee? His mind raced with possibilities and theories trying to guess or at least sense where he’d met her.

As time passes at the speed of a turtle, he can feel the young woman’s gaze at him from afar. Every few minutes or so she turns to him as though she’s expecting something to happen; he doesn’t dare look back but he does catch her eye once. He turns to his side, slightly annoyed and faces her, staring unashamedly. 

Her face of curiosity morphs into one of embarrassment, and James finds himself breaking their little contest when the door swings back open again and his friend walks in, waving at James from across the room. He shoots the girl one last look but this time, it’s her back that’s facing him.

A week later, James is sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, hoping to get some work done. The sun shone brightly above him, and despite there being cool winds breezing by, James’ clothes still stuck to his skin through a layer of sweat.

“Mr. Potter,” Anders, the Potter's head butler, calls. James faces him, scrunching his face against the sun's rays and smiles.

“Yes, Anders?” 

“I have Miss Page on the phone.” He states with a sympathetic smile, handing him the black land phone. James sighed, getting up and taking the phone, he sighs one more time, this time at his assistant’s name on the small screen. “Margret?”

“James! I called six times!” She exclaims, and he can hear the distracting background noises of ringing phones, chattering and pointy heels undoubtedly belonging to the woman on the phone. ”My phone isn’t with me.” James says after shuffling some papers and looking for it. “Why? Why would you not have your phone around you at all times? I mean, what if an emergency happens? Do I have to wait for Anders to pick up the phone after four rings?” 

“Marge? I’m kind of busy here, too.” He says into the phone, stretching his legs by pacing around the large pool. The sun shines on the water so brightly that James has to have on his sunglasses just to not be blinded by the reflecting sparkles of light.

“Well you should thank me. I had the meeting on Tuesday postponed to Thursday, just like you asked. Then, I have Patrick bothering me about Jackson Mills. Things are heavy James, especially now with election season so close.”

“I’ll call Jackson today—”

“Great!” She cuts him off before he can even finish his sentence.

James chuckles softly as she moves on to the next thing on her list. Margret was a wonder truly, but don't be fooled she was direct and pointed as her heels.

“You have dinner at 6:30 on Wednesday with Delilah’s parents,” and for the next few moments the line is silent, “I can always tell them you got into a car crash, if you’d like?” She suggests, her voice much clearer now as the background noises fade out. “No, no, my parents have been pestering me about this for weeks, I might as well get it over with. Marge, the report for the new expansion project is on my desk, have Carter send them to me, please.”

There's a sound of shuffling papers before Margaret's voice appears once more, "It will be with you in 30 minutes."

As she continues, James looks down at his shoes in weariness, sighing, before raising his head up once more; movements by the bushes catch his eyes. He walks over to the end at the end of the pool, where he suspects the gardeners are working, his brows furrowing as he gets closer. 

And when he finally reaches the fence, his lips parted in amusement and chuckles at the scene in front of him. 

“James?”

“Sorry, Marge, you were saying,” James says, barely listening. His arms are leaned over the black fence that separates the pool from the gardens. There, on the ground, sat the woman from the restaurant. Her uniform was all muddy and stained with dirt and grass, her hair was pushed up in a messy up-do that was somehow being held up with a fork. 

James laughs.

“Marge, I’ll call you later.” He says, cutting her off as he ends the call and stares at the woman. At the sound of his amusement, the young lady faced him with a perplexed expression. “Mr. Potter,” She addresses, eyes wide and strands of hair falling over her face. She huffs and fails to push them back with her arm. ”I’m so sorry for bothering you.” She said, “I can leave if you’d like. I’m done anyway.”

“No, no, there’s no need to leave.” He states, his eyes focus on her uniform, a question forming in his head. “May just ask, why are you working in the gardens if you're supposed to be working in the kitchens?” He asked, and he watched her squint her eyes and shade her view with with her arm. 

“Tony, the usual gardener, his daughter, got in an accident. And since I’m done with my work, l told him I could take over while he went to see her in the hospital. I do hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no. But why not just call another one of the gardeners?”

“I…didn’t think of that.” She said, biting her lips and narrowing her eyes. “Mmmh,” James hummed, “So what is it you're doing exactly?”

“Oh I’m just potting these!” She said, pointing towards a bush of pinkish flowers. “Looks great.” He commented blankly.

“Think so? I’ve never done this before.” She pointed, getting on the ground once more.

“In the end of the day it’s them being judged, not your…limited knowledge in gardening.” He said and studied the woman as she laughed. “Oh you should see the Gardenia’s they've put by the gates! They’re gorgeous!”

“Do you like Gardenia’s?” He asks and takes off his shades as the clouds begin to cage the sun. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back loose curls. “They are very pretty.” She notes, and James foresees the incoming 'but'.

“– But not enough to be your favorite?” He finishes and she looks at him and shakes her head smiling. “I can’t pick at all. They’re all so beautiful.”

“You seem to know a lot about flowers but so little of gardening?”

“When I was younger, my neighbor gave me a flower book. It had the names of the flowers and when they bloomed, and where they bloomed. That's all it said. ” She shares, "I didn't really have much to do as a child, so I took on reading. I enjoyed it for a while."

James squinted his eyes at her. Curiosity blooming in his chest. Taking a step back from the fence, he pointed towards his pool with his thumb. "What would you put here?" He asked.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, confused.

"The pool seems kind of bland, doesn't it? It's all plain and boring. We can do better."

"Oh," she asks and stands back up to look onto his side of the fence. James took the opportunity to clearly look at the woman as she dusted her knees and skirt of grass. She was pretty, that was quite clear. But it didn’t make that much of a difference to James; after all he’s had his share of beautiful women every now and then. 

She walked forward and leaned on the fence, the smell of jasmine reaching his nose. It was a lot more welcoming and relaxing than the smell of chlorine the pool gave off.

His studied her face, her focused eyes, her bitten lips, and even the small hairs failing to be held up. "....You could go for the classics and pick some roses?"

He arched a brow at her, and she pursed her lips in response before facing the pool once more. "Angel's Trumpet?"

"Aren't they poisonous to the touch?" He asked, leaning back on the fence and giving her his most charming smile. "Right, I forgot about that." She mutters, biting the inside of her cheek, James smiles at her embarrassed expression.

She shifts from one foot to the other. James catches her fidgeting fingers and instantly feels bad for making her uncomfortable. He stands up straight as a frown takes on his face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put this on you. It's not your job,"

"Oh no, it's fine, really. I... Oh! What about Daylilies?" She asked. James looked at her in thought, "What flower would be on all your top favorites lists?" She tilted her head in thought, her arms falling to lean on the fence as she fixed her gaze on the pool. 

"Jasmine's." She stated as she looked at him. Suddenly aware of how their elbows are touching and how small the space between them is, James's smile turned to a light smirk.

It seemed that she noticed cause soon enough she coughed and took a step back, apologizing. "It's fine." James replied. His eyes wandered over her figure one last time before putting a hand out. "James."

She stared at his hand as though she believed it might bite her. She looked at him, then his hand, and took a step forward, pushing her hand out and introducing herself. “An honor.”

“The honor is all mine.” James says, holding her hand in care as he raised it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. He watched her face break into a smile before she bit the inside of her cheek and faced James with a raised brow. James only smiled in return.

He wasn’t sure why but this woman had definitely caught his attention. “I should probably get going.” She said and leaned down to grab the leftover equipment and gave a hesitant wave.

“Good Bye” James said, waving back and watched as she disappeared behind the greenery of the gardens.

The next day you woke up with a striking headache and the usual urge to fall right back into bed. It took at least 10 minutes to finally convince the rest of your body that it would be for the best to get up.

And you eventually did, after having a nice warm shower to soothe your back and warm you against the coldness of your bathroom, you dressed in your everyday clothes and quickly made your way to the local farmer’s market, in hopes of getting there early.

The most distinctive smell was that of Olive oil, it filled the air and the closer you got the easier it was to make out the strong scent of spices. It was 9:15, the farmers were set up and there was a respectful amount of families and people buying fresh groceries. It didn’t take long for you to grab your things, as you’ve been coming here for years you were practically a usual so most of your orders were pre-ordered and all you had to do is pick them up.

By 10 you were outside the large black gates to the estate, a golf car awaited your arrival as to drive to the main doors, you never really understood why there was around a mile from the gates to the Manor. “Thanks, Robert!” You said, grabbing the bags and running up the steps to the front doors of the service enterance. Anders swung the door open just as you reached the last step.

“Morning, Anders.” You greeted me with a smile.

“Good Morning, Miss —” He was cut off with four men entering the large foyer. You trailed your eyes over their uniform, a dirt-stained grey jumpsuit with a green flower logo on their chest. ‘Gardens?’ You mouthed at the older man, he nodded back. “Yes, Mr. Fretman, if you will follow me, please.”

You snickered at Anders' tone of exasperation as he guided the men out. You managed to side-stepped all the priceless furniture that was in your way to the kitchens and it was no easy task. It was more like an obstacle course, especially with your sense of sight being blocked off by overly filled brown paper bags. 

Potter Estate was the definition of over the top. 

The Manor consisted of 16 guestrooms, 24 bathrooms, 2 kitchens, an indoor pool, an indoor sauna and jacuzzi, a music room, 2 library’s, the theatre room, a sewing room, 4 offices, a wine cellar and an attic, with lord knows what in it. 

The outside was even grander, there was the stables, the shooting range, the lake yards of grass and fancy gardens, the greenhouse (Which no one really sat in except Mrs. Potter whenever she visited), the outdoor pool, the garage and lastly the old stable house (Which, according to Anders, was turned into a "bat cave" by Mr. Potter Sr. for his son and his friends when they were younger.)

You made your way to the end of the west wing, pushing the large oak door open with your feet and sliding in. The evident silence came as a surprise, you would’ve expected to hear shouting, yelling, arguing, the sounds of slamming cupboards and chopping knives, something. But it was completely silent.

You placed the paper bags on the large kitchen island, which was three times the size of your bed and began sorting the fruits, vegetables and cheeses into the fridge and anything else in a cupboard. Once done, you threw the brown bags into a trash bin before washing your hands.

Your mind wandered away, wondering what might have happened to the rest of the crew. You huffed and wondered if you should look for them or not. Maybe they all got sick? But they were all fine yesterday. They were called somewhere else? Anders would have told you to join them. You took a look around and pushed your hair back with a headband and slipped on a hair net. You took one hesitant look around hoping someone would walk in but after a long and silent minute of you leaning on the marble table, gazing at the overly decorated door, you turned your gaze away from the entrance.

You shuffled from one cupboard, pulling all sorts of ingredients; flour, egg, sugar, vanilla , everything you needed to make a batch of cinnamon buns. And in a few moments you had already begun the first step, humming as you kneaded the dough, gently folding it between your hands and letting it rest for a while after you had declared it ready. You moved to preset the oven and a small red bulb lit up as you twisted the knob, signaling it was on.  

You yawned and your vision blurred as your eyes teared up from sleepiness, you really needed to get a better sleep schedule. Brushing the tears away with your arms, you pushed yourself up, putting aside your weariness and walked back to your cooking station.

It was almost half an hour later, when the doors to the kitchen swung open and you smiled up at Anders as he walked over to you. You were practically done, he had walked in on you smearing the icing on the buns. “They’re fresh out of the oven! Try one!” You offered, cutting him a piece and plating it. “Here, you can top it with whatever you like.” You pointed towards the spread of different sauces and toppings on the table.

“Thank you very much, Miss L/n. And I do appreciate this but sadly I did not come here by my own means.” He says with a soft smile and you unconsciously wipe your hand on a cloth before facing the man with confusion. “Has something happened? Is that why everyone is absent? Does it have something to do with Tony’s daughter? Is she—”

“No, no, no. Mr. Willfard’s daughter is being treated for a broken arm and bruised sides, it’s been confirmed that she will make a full recovery.” He says and you smile gratefully, the worry inside of you lessening, still there but much more eased.

“And about the others, they were given a day off by Mr Potter.” He says and you freeze on the spot. “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’  and since we are on the topic. Mr. Potter has sent me to inform you that he is expecting you by the pool.” 

Your eyes widened and so did your mouth, silent movements of your lips were targeted at Anders out of shock. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter? As in James Potter?”

“Are you acquainted with any other ‘James Potter’s?”

“No.” You answered hastily as you your mind racked to why he would want to speak with you and at the top of your head, and like a blaring siren, yesterday’s events shone. “Was he happy when he asked you to call me? Did he ask it in a ‘I just want to talk’ way  or more of a ‘I’m going to fire you’ tone.” You asked and you instantly felt smaller under the blank and unimpressed expression Anders gave you.

“If you will follow me – What are you doing?” Anders asks, his brows furrowing and lips frowning. “Plating these! They must be served warm or else they’re not as delicious.” You whisper, rushing around just as quick the thoughts in your head.

He sighs and leans his hands on the table, watching as you took your time to gently pick each roll and delicately place them on a large plate.

Once you're done you move the dirty trays to the sink and wonder if you could buy yourself some time as you scrubbed the pans and dishes.

“Leave those and follow me. I’ll assign someone to do them later.” Anders says and you can’t help but butt in, “But everyone took the day off! Except me.” You mutter the last part in a harsh whisper and sigh, accepting defeat. You grabbed one of the pastry-filled tray and angrily hand it to the butler before grabbing the others. 

It almost feels like forever as you followed Anders, your fingers were nervously tapping the silver platter. You took deep breaths and purposely slowed your pace. Anders didn’t even bother to look at you as he led you. You looked around you trying to make out where he’s taking you too. It came as a surprise when you had passed James' office but now you were completely out of the Manor.

“Anders, where are we going?” You asked, Anders didn’t turn to you but did slow down. “To the pool grounds.”

He was going to fire you. You admitted mentally. Should've kept your mouth shut! It is a known, unspoken rule that you should never share your opinions with rich people.

You should treat them like kids, don’t talk to them, don’t get in their squabbles and don’t tell them the truth cause it will make them pissed and emotional and then you will be forced to deal with their tantrums.

However you completely ignored that rule yesterday, when you shared your opinions with Potter of all people. Before you even reach the pool, you hear loud noises and shouts coming from its direction. One very distinctive voice was that of James Potter.

“Miss L/n.” Anders addressed and motioned for you to step ahead of him. You sighed and masked your face before climbing the short stair in quick steps.

The first person you were met with was James. He stood towering over a large group of men that were scattered across the pool yard. James’ is dressed in similar attire to yesterday’s clothing and you almost smile back when he turns to you with a grin. “Mr. Potter.” You greet with a strained tone, placing the tray of buns on a nearby table with harsh clack. 

“Oh, how lovely. Anders, please pass them to the workers, will you? And please call me James. How’ve you been?” He asks, still smiling and you're not so sure of what to make of the man. 

Anders agrees in his usual formal tone and you watch him with the corner of your eye as he picks up your tray and walks down over to the working men.

“I’m fine?” You reply hesitantly and thankfully he doesn’t notice your questioning tone.

“Well I’m glad. I’m sorry to strip you of your day off, I assure you, you can have tomorrow for yourself.”

Your brows furrowed as you stared at the man, you're quite confused and to add to it you almost feel ridiculous while speaking to him with his sunglasses on. “Take off the shades.” You order in a blank tone and you see James’ posture change as he takes a step back and pulls the accessory off. Before he can get the chance to speak, you cut in, “Are you going to fire me?” You ask, the smile completely wiped off your face. You narrow your eyes at the man and watch as he speaks to you in genuine surprise. “Why would I fire you?”

“Then why am I here?” You asked, your confidence slipping. “I’m not here to fire you,” he laughs, “I just wanted to show you this,” He explains motioning towards the pool. “...I’ve seen the pool before.” You say, this time your confusion is clearly plastered on your face. “I mean this.” He says and he guides to the side of the pool, where three men are potting some Jasmine’s. “You picked Jasmine’s?”

“You said it was one of your favorites, right?” He asked, and you faced him with a look of surprise. “You picked Jasmine’s cause they were one of my favorites?” The older man blushed and he faced you with wide eyes, “No! Yes, but not directly, I just picked them because I guessed they’d have to have been really nice flowers if they were on your favorites list.”

“Okay.” You said, still confused but you sighed and brushed it all away. James watched your face soften as you took a step closer to them. “They are beautiful, aren’t they?” You ask, your eyes trained on the small, delicate, white petals of the flower. “Yeah…and they smell nice too.” You laugh, turning to face him as you lightly throw your head back. “Yeah, that too.” You agree watching a soft smile adorn his face.

“Here,” James says as he walks over behind a table, you watch lean down to grab something and your lips part in awe as he walks over to you with a pot of Jasmine’s. “Mr. Potter, I–” You’re in shock and happiness. They’re is a small sickening feeling in your stomach and you do your best to try and avoid it.

“A thank you,” He says. “And as I said earlier, it’s just James.”

《 NEXT PART 》

Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog @ietss

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

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Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel. 

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames. 

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach. 

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill. 

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell. 

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!” 

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool. 

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone. 

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts. 

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.” 

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer. 

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind. 

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though? 

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement. 

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone. 

It wasn’t always that way. 

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank. 

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America. 

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose. 

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him. 

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked. 

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018. 

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface. 

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves. 

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away. 

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.” 

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?” 

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled. 

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table. 

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?” 

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face. 

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.” 

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?” 

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching. 

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door. 

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. 

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown. 

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering. 

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head. 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.” 

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony. 

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot. 

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed. 

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex. 

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight. 

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him. 

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility. 

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late. 

“Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants. 

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling. 

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.” 

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?” 

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers. 

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal. 

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him. 

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin. 

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.” 

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it. 

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle. 

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”  

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.” 

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?” 

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject. 

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had. 

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group. 

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him. 

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly. 

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk. 

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes. 

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.” 

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?” 

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.” 

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.” 

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips. 

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room. 

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet. 

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form. 

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.” 

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.” 

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up. 

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room. 

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today. 

My place. 

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place. 

Not permanently, anyway. 

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit. 

It can’t become a habit. 

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear. 

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him. 

This weekend he felt powerless. 

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery. 

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side. 

The answer to his prayers. 

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself. 

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined. 

But mostly, it was a relief. 

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears. 

Even if he can probably never tell you again. 

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up. 

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear. 

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV. 

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?” 

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.” 

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?” 

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.” 

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease. 

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?” 

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV. 

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots. 

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break. 

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.” 

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.” 

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit. 

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.” 

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?” 

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.” 

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip. 

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace. 

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies. 

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat. 

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock. 

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse. 

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet. 

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips. 

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you. 

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. 

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you. 

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod. 

This is stupid. 

You both know it. 

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him. 

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side. 

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much. 

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts. 

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver. 

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself. 

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak. 

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice. 

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy. 

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze. 

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper. 

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself. 

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge. 

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips. 

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking. 

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed. 

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs. 

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest. 

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.” 

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs. 

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him. 

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?” 

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation. 

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?” 

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison. 

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.” 

That makes up his mind. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.” 

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.” 

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp. 

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion. 

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them. 

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer. 

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin. 

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement. 

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?” 

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air. 

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud. 

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child. 

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements. 

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?” 

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.” 

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation. 

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place. 

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it. 

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest. 

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around. 

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask. 

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone. 

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free. 

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses. 

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him. 

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying. 

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing? 

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face. 

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks. 

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be. 

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.” 

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?” 

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him. 

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate. 

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud. 

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace. 

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable. 

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.” 

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms. 

Then it’s quiet. 

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really. 

“This is good,” you say eventually. 

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.” 

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside. 

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges. 

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue. 

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past. 

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face. 

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his. 

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?” 

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?” 

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?” 

“I can’t think of anything.” 

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[ Next Chapter ]

[scattered-debris]

#FFF229

A/N: yay for first submissions. (just realized time zones make this late whoops--regardless). I had seen a post on here discussing the Scott Pilgrim comic, which had a clip of Ramona explaining the concept of subspace highways to Scott. I wanted to riff on the idea, so here's that.

"Well, are you sure this is the way?"

"I mean, I think so, this is what the map says."

"The map has been glitching out ever since we got it! It told us to get off of Sub-I-A where there wasn't even an exit, and that was a highway. There's no way it's going to know where a subspace road is."

"We'll just have to feel it out then, won't we? Put our academy lessons to good use."

"Ugh, you know I hated those exercises, especially that one. Like--"

Hands spread out in front of them, or they would've if they had actual hands in this sub-cranial region. This motion was lost on Everett, who also could not see Jamie's hands (or lack thereof).

"--there's nothing here!"

The statement rang out into nothingness. Or really, rang out into Jamie and Everett's temporary neural link they used for communicating, and at a volume a touch too loud for Everett's liking.

"We'll be fine. Here you go first, and I can help get you started."

Jamie stepped out ahead of Everett. Thankfully, they had a sense of where the other was, but that luxury was only in place so they didn't drop into each others subconscious. It took far too long to convince their boss it was a necessary mod to install. Unthankfully, the sense of each other was about the only sense they got. Once, little underlings had asked Jamie to describe what they saw when travelling through someone else's subconscious via subspace highway, not knowing that it was a question neural scientists had been debating about for the past four sub-cranial conferences. Jamie had answered, "Uh, gray?" before the little underlings sighed and moved on. Really, Jamie thought subspace travel looked like how white noise sounded, but hadn't been able to articulate that very well on the spot. 

"Ok, so right now, you're on the road. Can you feel it?"

"No, Everett."

"Then take a step to your left, you'll be off of the road. Can you feel the difference?"

"Not really?"

Everett sighed inwardly. Jamie heard it.

"What does it feel like to you, Everett? Maybe that will help. Here you go." Jamie stepped back. Everett stepped forward, and pacing left and right slowly, humming. 

"It feels a little clearer-- being off the road, surprisingly. Like, when I'm off it, I have more of a sense of where I'm going, what I'm doing. When I'm on the road..." Everett paused, then started again. "I mean, think about it: the whole reason subspace travel works is because we're relying on people's neural pathways to move around. We're stuffing our consciousness into theirs for a brief period of time, and the particular neural pathway we end up using might not line up with ours. So everything gets all hazy, ya know? Nebulous."

Jamie said nothing and stepped forward. The subspace input jumbled in Jamie's head. It was everywhere, like getting full-body pins and needles while watching TV static and listening to white noise. It caused an odd, simultaneous feeling of nothingness, nowhere-ness, to Jamie, what they imagined floating in a sensory deprivation tank would be like. They felt Everett cringe at the image. But underneath all the input, Jamie felt (saw? heard?) what they hadn't before. If those underlings asked again, Jamie would say now that it felt like a river. An extremely subtle, but stubborn current, a silent riptide that would lead Jamie...somewhere. Jamie could guess where they and Everett would end up, but the current was certainly unsympathetic to it. 

"It's funny. It's kind of contradictory when you think about it. A road is a defined means by which to travel. It's not a trail, or a footpath, it's something established. But this one is hazy--nebulous, like you said-- and it's existence, what sets it apart from the rest of the subconscious for us, is its very obfuscation. A subspace road is a freakin' oxymoron."

"Huh!" Jamie felt Everett's consciousness return next to theirs. "Yeah, you're right. I didn't even think about that." What Jamie guessed was their heads both looked out onto the road. 

"Well, whatever. Come on, let's go. A road doesn't stop being a road, no matter how confusing it is, and we gotta get to the next sub-cranial region."

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[autumnalwalker]

A Dream About A Repurposed Resort

I wake up from my midday nap atop a patch of soft green grass surrounded by shade-giving trees.  Something about the combination of tree cover and the way the ground dips right here reduces the nearby rumble of machinery and roar of the ocean to a barely audible soothing white noise.  I stand up, brushing off my clothes, and those sounds come back in full.  I glimpse the ocean through the trees and the sight of it dispels the last bit of post-waking haze, reminding me where I am.  I can’t help but smile.  I love this place and at times it feels unreal how fortunate I am to be here.

I walk out of my little grove of trees that hides the maintenance shed and pass by the pools on my way to the main building.  Once upon a time, this place was a resort for wealthy tourists.  These days it is a combination of school, community center, and boarding house.  I live here with my brother’s family as part of the faculty.  The children far outnumber the adults around here.  Many of them no longer have parents.

Inside, I happen upon the oldest of my young nieces morosely lingering in one of the former conference halls.  By the decorations, it seems that some event for the students has just wrapped up, but for whatever reason she’s the only one still here.  I ask her what’s wrong and she tells me that she just lost yet another duel (a popular pastime amongst the children here).  I suggest that next time she could try calling upon darker, more taboo powers in order to win.  Once again she laughs it off as yet another one of my eccentric jokes, but I can tell that this time a part of her is considering it.

I wonder how much longer I can get away with these little nudges before her parents say something to me about it.  Then again, it’s not like I’ve ever denied any of the rumors about what I can do or my willingness to teach others.

After cheering her up, I walk with her to go find her sisters together.  We find her stepmother – my sister-in-law – first, coming around a corner and muttering something in an irate tone utterly at odds with her reputation as a favorite teacher of the students here and her brightly colored skirt and blouse.  She has apparently just come out of a particularly stressful administration meeting that has her worked up enough that the usual hug of greeting between us is forgone.  Whatever the issue with administration is, I tell her I’m confident she’ll work it out.  She always does.

My brother arrives shortly behind her – clean-cut, casual, and good natured as ever – and the mood lightens.  He has that effect on people.  Few would ever guess by looking at him that he was once a pirate.  We were all here as tourists from the mainland when this little island nation seceded from the nation that colonized  it long ago.  If not for his going pirate in service of the independence faction (an act some would call a betrayal of his homeland), we probably all would have been deported long ago.

I like to think these days we’ve become an accepted part of the community here, despite obviously having come from the people that were once the enemy.

[babybluebanshee]

Stuff I've had to deal with as a city librarian - Halloween Spooktacular

Hello again boils, ghouls, and nonbinary werewolves! Your old buddy Blue has a backlog of whack-ass stories from her travels as a humble library clerk, so here's a big post fulla laughs, drama, and maybe a few bodily fluids tossed in for flair.

Seriously though, tw for bodily fluids, bugs, and PTSD

*A woman came up to the front desk and asked if we had a quiet area where she could make a zoom call and not disturb anyone. No prob, have people asking that all the time. The study rooms were all full, so she was pointed in the direction of the cafe. A few minutes go by, and suddenly everyone at the desk and the page in the shelves beyond it hears loud ass shouting coming from the cafe. Julie heads down to inspect, hoping it's not a fight she has to break up. Nope, as it turns out, the lady on the zoom call is leading an exercise class. She has a mat and everything, and was leading her class in aerobics when Julie got down there. We quickly moved her to a more out-of-the-way conference room.

*A children's board book was return to us with a bite taken out of it. The area was still wet. We do not know if it was child or beast that took the bite. We had to throw it away regardless.

*We had to bake almost all our DVD cases because we found two with bed bug eggs in them.

*A woman printed out some color pictures and asked if I could check to make sure they came out. I picked up the stack and the first one on top was of an angry-looking woman with her tits out. My surprise must have been pretty evident because the woman I was helping immediately turned red and told me they were for a court case.

*Like everywhere else in this god-forsaken country, homeschooling has been on the rise in these parts. As such, we get parents all the time coming in with printed copies of the curriculum they chose and asking if we have the books recommended by them. Whatever we don't have, we can usually get through inter library loan, but the catch with that is you can only have five going at a time. One day, we had a mother come in with a list of three hundred books her curriculum recommended, and she had us check out catalogue for all of them. Branson started helping her, but her shift ended in the middle of it, so I had to do the rest. It took forever, and we ended up only having about fifty of them because I guess this homeschooling curriculum hasn't been updated since the mid-2000s. To her credit, the mother was very exasperated with homeschooling in general and knows that her daughter doesn't want to do it anymore. Her husband is adamant that their kid not go to public school, however. I fought every urge to say that was fine for him to say when he clearly wasn't doing a goddamn thing to help her.

*There's a patron that comes in whom we know nothing about except that he's had multiple heart attacks and has massive anxiety about potentially having another. We know this because he tells us every time the library gets too loud for him, because he believes the noise will somehow "trigger" another heart attack. Normally, we would have no problem with that; heart attacks are scary, he has every right to be anxious about it and request quiet spots to hang out. However, the problem is that he takes it upon himself to police other patrons in the library who he thinks are being too loud near him. Some children were nearby, working on a puzzle and started getting a little rambunctious, and the dude yelled at the top of his voice for them to shut up and get away from him. We had to speak louder for a patron who was hard of hearing, and the death glare he gave us was chilling. He snaps at anyone who forgets to shut the sound off on their phone. The director finally had to tell him he can't harass patrons and to tell us if he has a problem with someone's volume. He's been better behaved since then, but any time we see him, we're instantly worried he's gonna flip out again.

*A little boy in a wheelchair came in with his family, and my god, that kid could zip around fast. His mom mentioned that she forgot to grab a book for his sister, so he rolled into the kid's area to grab it for her. He was back faster than a patron who could just walk in. And you could tell he was very proud of that fact.

*Shae gave me a Sylveon card about a year ago, and I wear it laminated on my lanyard (because I was originally gonna hang it from my rearview mirror but forgot). It's always a big hit with kids. One little girl, however, liked it so much she asked if she could have it. I chuckled and told her sorry, it was a gift from a friend. She merely replied, "no, I want it" and started making a grab for it. Luckily, she was on the other side of the counter and couldn't reach it, but it was still weird. Especially because her mother was right there and made no move to stop or reprimand her.

*My coworker Branson had to clean...something off the bathroom floor one night. She's adamant it wasn't poop, but also said it was so dried out she had to use a putty knife to scrape it off. Our best guess is vomit.

*I was working on a display at the desk and a little black girl came up to watch me work. We chatted for a little, her asking me all the usual little kid questions. Eventually, she asked me if I had kids. I said no, I liked being an auntie better. Plus, I wasn't married, so I couldn't have kids. She thought for a moment, then said "why don't you just buy one?" Branson was nearby and I heard her choke on a laugh. I was pretty close to losing it myself, and said, "I don't think it's very nice to buy a person." Luckily, her dad came up and they left shortly after, so Branson and I could finally laugh about it.

*A patron and his family got taken to court for not returning almost $200 worth of books and DVDS, after ignoring the four warnings we give people before we actually take that step (because at that point you're actively stealing city property). The patron was ordered by a judge to either bring the items to court or pay to replace them, so he brought them to the courthouse. The clerk was going to take them and the whole thing would have been over and done...except he wouldn't give them to her without a library employee present. He never gave a real reason except he was concerned the clerk would "do something" with the items. So without contacting the library or judge the clerk told him he could bring the books directly to the library. When the judge found out what she'd done, he called the library and told us what was happening, and to hopefully expect the guy in there that night. Predictably, we haven't seen him. This was almost a month ago.

*Branson got a phone call from the county jail, which is actually pretty common for libraries. Patrons get arrested and want to make sure their accounts are clear so they don't potentially get into further trouble with outstanding items. Branson goes through all the hold music and questions to finally get the patron on the line...and he'd dialed the wrong number. Branson felt so bad for him.

*A guy came in to use the computers. Donna was getting him set up, sitting at the desk, so she can only see him from about his torso up. He ended up needing help printing something, so I help him, and finally see the sidearm he's got in a holster on his belt. I tell him the library doesn't allow firearms of any kind, no, I do not care that he has a conceal carry, he can't have a weapon in a municipal building. He's kinda testy about it, asking why we don't have a sign. I tell him we do. He had to walk by it to get in the building. In fact, we have one at all three entrances. He smugly asks me to show him, because he didn't see them. Me, petty bitch that I am, make this fucker walk to all three entrances and show him each sign, then tell him as politely as I can to get rid of the gun before he comes back in. He huffily complies.

*I came into work one day and the director immediately called me to the back. He informed me that a couple was having a loud, angry argument on the patio outside the kid's area, and they called the cops for a wellness check because the woman sounded to be in legit distress. Like, rocking back and forth and screaming swears distress. Cop comes and presumably sends them on their way. We don't know for sure because he came, went out to talk to them, and just...left.

*A guy came in to pick up an inter library loan, and when Branson asked for his card, he said he didn't have one. Like, he wasn't a patron. Never mind how the hell he managed to get a fulfilled ILL without one. Branson informs him he has to get a card before he can check out the book, but it's going to cost him $15 since he lives outside city limits. He tries to pay with a check made out to him from someone else. We tell him that won't work. He leaves to get cash, but then immediately turns around and asks if he can just buy the book. I tell him no, since a) it's not our book to sell and b) we're not in the habit of selling books in the collection anyway. I ask if he'd like me to find it on Amazon for him, and he says no. He leaves and doesn't come back. Bonnie sent the ILL back, and we haven't seen him since.

*A lot of our patrons have conspiracy theory brain rot, so you can only imagine the fanciful tales we heard about the emergency test signal. There were theories it would "activate the nanites" in the covid vaccine and either kill everyone who got one or turn them into liberal zombies. My director had someone 100% seriously call it "the Satan signal". It would have been funny if it weren't so stupid.

[hylianengineer]

Goddamn it, I have either triggered the Dairy-Allergy-Induced-Anxiety, or I am simply incapable of calming down after this chaotic day. Maybe both.

Also I keep hearing noises I really hope are fireworks... but who sets off fireworks on Halloween? Isn't that illegal? Which isn't to say people don't do it...

I'm really Not Over the sulfuric acid incident at work today. I'm physically completely unharmed but emotionally very shaken up. I've never had a real lab accident before that required reporting or medical advice or anything. This one might not have technically required it either, but the MSDS (material safety data sheet - records we keep on every chemical we use that hold safety and first aid information) said to get medical attention. So I called Poison Control. I'm not even sure why I decided that was the correct people to call - it was very much not an emergency situation since there were no visible injurjes, and who else knows about chemical exposure? Maybe the University EHS department, whose phone number is on the lab door, but really, I don't know who they are or what they do beyond picking up our haz waste. I'm told I made the right call but I feel really self concious about it - why did I call Poison Control, aren't they supposed to deal with small children putting weird things in their mouths, not lab techs with chemical spills? They seemed totally unphased though. And it worked out, they knew what to do, I didn't actually get hurt, I took all the precautions.

After I got off the phone with Poison Control - but before I knew for sure everything was ok, because apparently acid burns don't always develop immediately and they said they'd call me back in an hour - I went upstairs to the grad students' office hoping against hope my favorite PhD student would be there. For emotional support and to have someone around slightly more experienced in Lab Stuff than me. She was not there. However, the PI and a couple other people were having a meeting in the conference room across the hall, and noticed me, and asked if I needed something - I do not generally come to that part of the building. I told her the whole story, and she looked at my not-burn (it seemed completely normal) and told me I did all the right things and it seemed like everything would be fine and asked if I needed anything. Then I went back to the lab, panicked some more, and waited for the Poison Control people to call me back. Which they did 45 minutes late, but I guess they're busy and this was low priority. Fair.

I feel so... ugh. That I was never taught who you call about stuff like this. I know to run acid-affected skin under running water for fifteen minutes. (I even know WHY you're not supposed to neutralize an acid burn with a base: acid+base=water+HEAT.) I know - in theory - how safety showers and chemical spill kits work (I'm so glad I didn't have to test THOSE!). But as for who to call afterwards? It was always assumed someone who knew more than me would be around to handle it. I was the only person in the lab today, and I didn't even know there were other lab members in the building. If I needed help but it wasn't 911 levels of bad, what the hell was I supposed to do? Fucking improvise? If I could've left the lab I could've gone to the office where I know some people - but I was kinda trapped at the sink running my arm under water for a minimum of fifteen minutes. And what the hell do the office folks know about chemical spills anyways?

Is this what being an adult is always like? Constantly figuring things out alone even though you feel like there should be someone older and more experienced and more Trained For This Shit around to handle it?

We used to have a lab manager who I assumed would be around to help if anything like this ever happened. She left six months ago and I've been doing half her job ever since. I'm not trained for this. And on Friday I have to go back to work and keep doing shit I wasn't trained for - this time attempting to repair the ion chromatograph.

Part of me feels like I freaked out over nothing. One drop of acid on one inch of exposed skin. Part of me feels angry that I feel like that. It was fine. It WAS fine. But how was I supposed to know that? I just did what the best information I had at the time - the MSDS - told me to do. Kind of. In the only way I could figure out how to do it. I'm kind of starting to think the MSDS writers need to take a chill pill - I swear every time I end up really needing one, it says something really scary, I act accordingly, and then I feel like an idiot afterwards. (Long story.)

[shiningwonderland]

Reiji Kotobuki (All Star)

Translator: Belen (Twitter: reiharus)

Proofreader: Raine (Twitter: amagiyas)

Editors: Melanie (Twitter: melabonbon), Mae (Twitter: itoshikimaegirl)

Chapter One — Lunch Box Rhapsody

A week after the press conference, I make a visit to a TV studio.

Since I've requested to partner with Reiji Kotobuki-senpai, I've to greet him.

Today, Kotobuki-senpai is recording a variety show called “Welcome to Idol Las Vegas!”

I open the door to the studio nervously.

Haruka Nanami: Good morning!

The studio is bustling with people working all over.

Kotobuki-senpai…. Has he arrived yet?

As I restlessly study my surroundings, someone taps my shoulder from behind.

Otoya Ittoki: Good morning, Nanami! What are you doing here?

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Ittoki-kun. Ichinose-san. Good morning.

I hurriedly bow my head to the two smiling faces.

Ittoki-kun and Ichinose-san were my classmates at Saotome Academy.

After graduating, they debuted, joined the agency, and are now working as professional idols.

Tokiya Ichinose: Good morning. Are you here for work today?

Haruka Nanami: No, I'm here because I felt like I had to greet Kotobuki-senpai since I chose him as my partner for the Christmas Live and the Song Festival.

Otoya Ittoki: Whoa, I heard at the agency. You’re composing the unit song for the senpai group, right? That’s quite the task, huh, you have my support!

Ittoki-kun’s eyes glitter as he says that.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes…. That’s right…. Although the pressure is a bit….

Tokiya Ichinose: Are you okay? You look a bit pale.

Ichinose-san studies my face, looking worried.

Haruka Nanami: Yes… I’m fine….

Tokiya Ichinose: That said, having chosen Kotobuki-san as a partner…. You went for the high difficulty option.

Ichinose-san sighs.

Haruka Nanami: Ah? You think so?

Tokiya Ichinose: Yes, I had a hard time during the Master Course. He and Otoya would make noise all night, he'd change the room as he pleased….

Otoya Ittoki: What? I had a lot of fun. We would hold jam sessions with guitar and maracas and sing the theme song of Odorokiman.

Depending on who I talk to, I receive totally different opinions. I guess Kotobuki-senpai has a lot of facets to his personality.

Tokiya Ichinose: Well, compatibility depends on the person. Then again, he has a lot of experience in the entertainment industry, so you can learn a lot from him.

Tokiya Ichinose: However, even when we spent time together, I still never could never tell what he was thinking.

Ichinose-san sighs as he says that.

If he was able to elude the sharp perception of Ichinose-san, that means he's a remarkable senpai....

I’m really looking forward to meeting him now, but also nervous....

Haruka Nanami: By the way, what are you two doing here today?

Otoya Ittoki: Oh, we were invited as Rei-chan’s guests. It’s a talk corner about love advice.

According to them, the corner consists of Kotobuki-senpai answering questions from viewers on the topic of love.

As we're talking, I hear a lively voice coming from the studio entrance.

Reiji Kotobuki: G’moooooorning! Let's get crackin'!! Rei-chan is here~~!!

Tokiya Ichinose: He’s arrived....

Before long, Kotobuki-senpai sees us and makes his way over.

Otoya Ittoki: Morning! Rei-chan, we’ve been waiting for you!!

Reiji Kotobuki: The radio show I was at got delayed a bit, sowwy, sowwy~!

Tokiya Ichinose: Good Morning, Kotobuki-san. I look forward to working with you today.

Reiji Kotobuki: Oh~ Tokki! Yahhohho~~ Serious as always. Relax, relax!

Kotobuki-senpai pats Ichinose-san’s back as he says that.

Ah, the veins in Ichinose-san's forehead are….

Haruka Nanami: Um, I’m Haruka Nanami from the Shining Agency. Good morning!

Feeling the growing tension of the atmosphere, I interject.

Reiji Kotobuki: Yep, you are Kouhai-chan! G'mooorning!

Kotobuki-senpai grabs my hand and shakes it.

Reiji Kotobuki: I was informed by the agency that you picked me. Why is that? Choosing the comedian geezer idol, you’re a bit strange too~

Haruka Nanami: Eh?

Reiji Kotobuki: After all, Ranran is the electrifying rocker, so that’s an obvious choice…. And no matter what people say, Ai-Ai is young, isn’t he? He’s also mysterious and his straightforwardness feels fresh. And of course, Myu-chan has extraordinary charisma….

Haruka Nanami: Kotobuki-senpai is very charming as well!

I blurt that out and interrupt him without thinking. It might be a bit rude, but I just can't stay quiet.

Haruka Nanami: I can't explain it well, but…. It was like my heart was shouting: “It has to be him!”

I'm amazed by how unpersuasive my explanation is.

It's so frustrating that there are other things I like about him, but I'm unable to put them into words.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah. It was accidental, but that made you uncomfortable, didn't it? I’m sorry. For you, big brother will get serious! Let’s do our best together, okay?

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

I have to do my very best so I’m not a burden to Kotobuki-senpai.

Reiji Kotobuki: OK! So, today Otoyan and Tokki are here as guests.

As he's hyping everyone up for work, he scans the room.

Reiji Kotobuki: … Wait, it can’t be~ My right-hand man is… late?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Don't call me that, you idiot. As if I’d be late.

Kurosaki-senpai emerges from the back of the studio lethargically.

Reiji Kotobuki: Oh, oh, you heard what I said? See~ People can talk bad about you, Ranran. So if you're here, you should say so~

As he says that, Kotobuki-senpai pokes Kurosaki-senpai’s head with his forefinger.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Damn you….

The studio goes still.

Reiji Kotobuki: You’ve been in a bad mood all morning—you’re gonna ruin your handsome appearance, come on, smile, smile~!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: YA WANT ME TO BREAK YOUR FINGER, EH?

Haruka Nanami: K-K-Kurosaki-senpai, g-good morning.

I wanted to greet him politely to defuse the situation, but I'm so nervous that I tripped over my words.

I feel awkward, and Kurosaki-senpai scowls at me.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: The amateur composer that hasn’t been able to debut for a year and a half, why are you here?

Haruka Nanami: Ah…. Well….

Reiji Kotobuki: Wait, wait, Ranran. If you give Kouhai-chan such a scary look, she’ll run away. She’s here because she’s my partner, so be kind to her. She came all this way to say hi.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Not my problem. Just be quiet and don’t get in the way.

Kurosaki-senpai sinks into the nearby sofa, muttering.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Well, at least I can praise you for not choosing me. Sorry for the trouble. Just make do with Reiji.

Reiji Kotobuki: C’mon, don’t say things like that! After all, she has to work on the unit song with all of us. Kouhai-chan, even if he said that, the truth is he wants to help. “I really want to help you”! That’s how he feels, so don't worry about it. Because Ranran is not honest at all.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, okay….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Stop deciding things on your own. You too, woman, don’t be fooled so easily.

Haruka Nanami: S-sorry.

Tokiya Ichinose: Kotobuki-san, Kurosaki-san, everything is ready to start.

Ichinose-san must have been watching the situation and calls out to them at the right moment.

His words move everyone to take their recording positions.

Reiji Kotobuki: I’m sorry, Kouhai-chan. We must've surprised you. But this is normal for us, so don’t worry.

He holds my shoulders gently to soothe me like one would a child.

Haruka Nanami: …!

He’s so close, my heart jumps instinctively.

Reiji Kotobuki: We can go on a field trip if you want? Let’s go to the dressing room after the show and talk about our partnership.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes! Of course!

I wonder if I'm grinning as I answer.

Reiji Kotobuki: Good reply. Thank you for choosing me. You won’t regret it….

He whispers in my ear.

I feel a sudden chill and my mind instinctively comes to a halt when his sweet voice reaches my ears.

Reiji Kotobuki: OK! Thank you very very macchoccho! I’ll show you something good, just for you!

Kotobuki-senpai says that while putting his fist up in a triumphant pose and then he runs towards the set.

Today, Kotobuki-senpai and Kurosaki-senpai will appear in the variety show “Welcome to Idol Las Vegas!”

Kotobuki-senpai and Kurosaki-senpai’s free talks are popular.

Among those, the love advice corner called “Teach us! Love Professor” is the most popular.

The corner, which always features guests, consists of answering problems regarding love which are sent in by the viewers.

Kotobuki-senpai, in the role of the professor, throws a bunch of questions at the guests, who play his students.

Then, Kurosaki-senpai gives a nonchalant answer and Kotobuki-senpai follows up with an absurd answer.

I’m looking forward to seeing the recording today!!

Director: Okay, let’s start.

Senpai, Ittoki-kun, and Ichinose-san all join the set and everything is ready for recording.

Director: Ready, action!!

The pilot lamp flashes and the recording starts.

Reiji Kotobuki: Everyone, let’s go! Teach us!

The other three: Love professor!!

Reiji Kotobuki: Love professor, Rei-chan, Reiji Kotobuki’s corner. Today we have received a lot of mail from girls and boys! Now I’ll ask the love assistant, Ranran, Ranmaru Kurosaki-kun to read the first letter.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Tch, what’s with “assistant”…. Anyway, let’s do this. This is from love name: “Negikko.”

Kurosaki-senpai reads the email aloud.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Let’s see… “I’m a girl preparing for the entrance exams, and I came to like the same person as one of my closest friends. I want to confess, but I’m afraid to lose my friend, so I can’t convey my feelings. What should I do?”

Kurosaki-senpai quietly closes the letter and takes a breath.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: If you're a student, focus on reality and prepare for the entrance exams!

Kurosaki-senpai hits the desk with his fist.

Reiji Kotobuki: Now now, Kurosaki-kun, calm down. So basically, this is a love triangle.

Kotobuki-senpai imitates a professor and does a beard-stroking gesture.

Reiji Kotobuki: Now, Ittoki-kun! If it were you, what would you do?

Otoya Ittoki: Eh? I would… I’d be bold and confess, of course. If it’s a guy we’re talking about, I think it’s the most straightforward way.

Reiji Kotobuki: Hm, hm. Next! Ichinose-kun! What would you do?

Tokiya Ichinose: I think we should consider her friend. To make a move or not….

Reiji Kotobuki: That seems a bit aloof, Tokki.

Tokiya Ichinose: None of your business. We must consider the consequences.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: So, what’s your opinion? Would you say something or not?

Reiji Kotobuki: Well, in this case, the main point is what she desires, right?

Tokiya Ichinose: You suddenly reverted to your usual character….

Reiji Kotobuki: In any case this girl wants to confess, right? But also, she doesn’t want to lose the friendship, right?

Otoya Ittoki: Yeah, that’s it but…. Isn’t that difficult?

Reiji Kotobuki: So, this is what she should do. First, she introduces her best friend to another guy. Then, she asks the guy she likes to give her advice for her friend and then they get along in the process.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What are you, a demon…? How do ya come up with stuff like that?

Reiji Kotobuki: Huhuhu~ Kurosaki-kun. This is just the difference in experience between us.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I’m not impressed, I’m in shock.

Reiji Kotobuki: Trying to act all tough! Don’t you think it's better to just do what works and makes you happiest? Okay, done with the first question!

Having said that, Kotobuki-senpai strikes a pose.

Then the corner proceeds well.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Right, so the last letter is from love name: “I love Ranran.” Thanks.

Kurosaki-senpai sends a sidelong glance to the camera casually.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: “I’m a young woman in my twenties, but I can’t forget my lover from 10 years ago. I can’t fall in love because I’m too afraid to lose it again. My friends insist that time and dating more will cure my broken heart, but it seems to be no good at all. Am I going to be alone forever? Please teach me, love professor.”

After hearing the question, the studio goes dead silent.

I happen to look at senpai, who is staring ahead blankly like he's remembered something.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hey Reiji, get on with it.

Kurosaki-senpai whispers to Kotobuki-senpai.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah? Ah, sorry, sorry. I was just thinking about the sender, that must be hard, huh?

Tokiya Ichinose: What are we going to do if the professor is empathizing with the sender? Only you can solve their problems, right?

Otoya Ittoki: Rei-chan, what’s wrong?

I wonder if there's something bothering him. Kotobuki-senpai has fallen silent.

On the surface, there seems to be the usual light atmosphere, but he looks to be deep in thought.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What the hell, he’s out of it. Oh well, Otoya, answer.

Otoya Ittoki: Wha—me? Aha, so… are you doing your best to forget? Put all your memories in order.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: So basic. She’s already said she can’t. Next, Tokiya!

Tokiya Ichinose: If those memories are impossible to forget, why not just live with them? Someday they may fade away on their own.

Otoya Ittoki: I see~ Then, what do you think, Kurosaki-senpai?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Well, going with the flow is the best. Being able to forget or not? The more you lie to yourself, the harder it gets.

Reiji Kotobuki: Lie to yourself.... Right, that’s what I wanted to say! Let’s go with that!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What’s with the sudden comeback? And don’t steal my words.

Reiji Kotobuki: “I love Ranran”-san, even if you haven’t forgotten in 10 years, that doesn’t mean you can’t forget in 11 years. Maybe someone will appear tomorrow to save you. And the next day, you might meet someone who loves you. No one knows what tomorrow may bring, so keep on living believing in your own power and potential to overcome! Good!!

After that, Kotobuki-senpai poses for the camera.

Director: Okay, cut!

And so, the recording ends.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Reiji, what was that forced act, I had to keep up the flow!

Otoya Ittoki: I was totally worried!

Tokiya Ichinose: I’ve told you before, please don’t do things that we haven’t discussed in meetings. How many times do I need to say it for you to understand?

Reiji Kotobuki: Don’t be so angry~ I just got carried away. I wanted to show a new side of me—was it a bit melancholic?

The four of them return from the set after recording.

Reiji Kotobuki: Kouhai-chan, how was it? The ennui version of Rei-chan.

Kotobuki-senpai asks me.

Select the phrase!

I was worried (+ 20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Well… somehow…. You looked pained…. I was worried….

Reiji Kotobuki: Ooh, did I make you nervous? Huhuhu~ It was just acting, acting. A play. But it makes me happy to hear you were worried about me. I’m an adult, so I can do those sorts of things. Kouhai-chan! You shouldn’t be deceived. I’m a bad man after all….

Haruka Nanami: Oh…. Right, sorry about that. I totally fell for it.

So this is the world of adults…. It seems very complex.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Didn’t I tell you not to be deceived? You're so simple. Stuff like this always happens with this guy.

Reiji Kotobuki: OUCHIE! Stop with the violence, poon, poon!

Kurosaki-senpai hits Kotobuki-senpai in the back of his head mercilessly.

The force was so painful he tears up a bit.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I'm the one who should be angry. How can the host go quiet during a show? You’ll be disqualified as a pro, or get fired from the show.

Reiji Kotobuki: Wowowhoa! That’s…. O-okay, I'll take you to a good restaurant I know another time, alright?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Delicious food…. But hey you, don’t think you can get away just by talking about food.

Reiji Kotobuki: Now, now I didn’t say that. It’s just because I’m always causing trouble for Ranran, my feelings, feelings.

Kotobuki-senpai smiles as he says that.

It looks like things have calmed down, but was the sadness I saw in him really just my imagination?

After finishing the recording check successfully, I follow Kotobuki-senpai to the dressing room.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you for having me.

Kotobuki-senpai’s dressing room is tidy, with a lunch box placed in front of the mirror.

Haruka Nanami: That’s…?

Reiji Kotobuki: Yes? Oh, that? Yeah, it’s Kotobuki Bento’s special, the karaage lunch box. Since there was a catering service at another location, I asked them to bring one to my room. I was thinking of eating it after recording. The lunch boxes from home are good even when they're cold.

Kotobuki-senpai smiles happily.

His family owns and runs a lunch box shop.

It's also a popular catering option for location shoots, and is well known in the entertainment industry.

Especially the karaage lunch box, which is rumored to be so good that it is used by entertainers to get work in the industry.

Reiji Kotobuki: That’s not all! Today I had Kouhai-chan’s portion specially delivered as well.

Senpai points to the paper bag in front of the other mirror.

Haruka Nanami: Really? Thank you so much! I’m so sorry I didn’t bring anything.

Reiji Kotobuki: It’s OK, it’s OK~ We’re partners, right? There’s no need to be so stiff. In addition to meeting you, I wanted to talk about work and give you that tour, so I figured it would take a long time. I can’t fight if I’m hungry! So before work, let’s rest for a bit and eat.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you for your consideration!

He thought of everything and prepared for it in advance. I’m really happy Senpai cares this much.

Reiji Kotobuki: Yep! But first, question corner! First question.

Senpai holds his forefinger in front of my face.

Reiji Kotobuki: What is my favorite instrument ever? If you’re going to be my partner you need to know that much, right?

He looks at me expectantly.

One might expect that I would be the one asking the questions and he would be the one answering, but I guess that’s too generic—as expected of Kotobuki-senpai….

As an entertainer, he’s trying to be surprising and make things enjoyable at all times.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes….

I'm certain Kotobuki-senpai's instrument is….

Select the phrase!

The maracas (+30 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It’s the maracas for sure….

Reiji Kotobuki: PINPON, PINPON, SUPER CORRECT~! You get 100 points! NO, 1000 POINTS!

Kotobuki-senpai produces his maracas from thin air and starts shaking them while giving me the answer.

Haruka Nanami: T-thank you very much.

Reiji Kotobuki: Maracas are so good~! Just shaking them can boost your mood! Even if they look like this, they’re a complicated instrument.

It certainly makes me happy to hear the shaking sound of the maracas.

Ah, but….

Haruka Nanami: It is unusual for people to specialize in maracas. Why did you decide on those, Kotobuki-senpai?

He makes a very serious face after hearing my question.

Reiji Kotobuki: Kouhai-chan…. That’s the eternal se-cret. I’ll tell you when we're closer.

He shakes his index finger side to side.

I have to work hard so that Senpai tells me the secret behind the maracas.

Reiji Kotobuki: Now, next! The second question is!!

Kotobuki-senpai makes a V sign in front of me.

Reiji Kotobuki: What is my favorite collection of superhero stamps?

He smiles like the V sign he made.

Kotobuki-senpai adds that the hint is “____-MAN”.

Haruka Nanami: Wha—? Does this have anything to do with music production?

I expected the meeting to be about music, but I guess I was wrong.

It is true that it’s important to know more about your partner, though.

Haruka Nanami: Hmm….

Select the phrase!

Odorokiman (+30 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Ah… It is… Odorokiman… right?

As soon as I say it, Kotobuki-senpai's face lights up.

Reiji Kotobuki: That’s right, Kouhai-chan, you know it, huh!! Marvelous!

Haruka Nanami: Thank you very much.

Kotobuki-san raises his hands and starts clapping as I bow my head.

Reiji Kotobuki: Of course, my favorite is Yamato Prince. His feet are so quick that he can move ultra-fast! He always does his best too, although he’s a little clumsy, but you just can’t hate him.

Kotobuki-senpai says that while gazing into the distance, his eyes shining bright.

I can see he really loves Odorokiman.

I expected him to have an adult-like hobby, but he hasn’t forgotten that child inside of him. He always manages to surprise me.

Thanks to this quiz, I feel like I know even more about Senpai.

There’s still a lot I don’t know, but I want to get closer.

Reiji Kotobuki: Whew~ Now, this is a question from me. Can I listen to Kouhai-chan’s song?

He might have been trying to ease my nerves by leading the conversation and getting me to chat a bit first.

Haruka Nanami: Yes, of course.

I take my laptop from my bag.

With this, we can listen to the song and I'll get his opinion today, before next week’s meeting.

I start playing the song, feeling nervous.

Reiji Kotobuki: Hmm, I see.

Kotobuki-senpai finishes listening to my song and puts his hand on his chin, thinking.

Haruka Nanami: So… was it…?

Reiji Kotobuki: No, Kouhai-chan, the song isn’t bad~ Did you work on the audition at Saotome Academy all by yourself?

Haruka Nanami: Yes.

Reiji Kotobuki: Then you haven’t been able to debut due to a communication problem, am I right?

I instinctively look down after I hear his words.

He’s right…. I’ve always been shy and withdrawn….

That was why I couldn’t find a partner and debut….

Reiji Kotobuki: You are… the shy and withdrawn type, better at expressing yourself through music rather than words?

Haruka Nanami: Ah… How….

I look at Kotobuki-senpai, surprised.

Reiji Kotobuki: Bullseye, huh? I met someone like you long ago, so I'm familiar.

Haruka Nanami: Is that so….

Reiji Kotobuki: But compared to you, he was even more sensitive and fragile.

Senpai’s expression is unusually clouded.

I have to grow as a person so that I don’t worry him.

Even though I think that, I can’t respond to his words.

Reiji Kotobuki: Well, anyway, sound-wise, the song is passable. The composition could be improved. It sounds a bit monotonous.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, okay.

I hastily note down Kotobuki-senpai’s advice.

Reiji Kotobuki: For example, the motif of the hook is fine, but that portion is too slow so it doesn’t grab the listener’s attention. You have to think, like, when it’s sung by the four of us as a live opening, does it feel like the unit is special?

Haruka Nanami: I see, so if we focus on the impact at the beginning, the climax will come naturally.

Reiji Kotobuki: Yes, and also, I think that if we keep our image in mind for the arrangements, it will sound pretty cool.

Haruka Nanami: The image of the seniors…. Things like cool and mature…. Relying heavily on the synth drum….

Reiji Kotobuki: Yes, yes, it's good, right? Cool, mature, wild and dangerous!!

Kotobuki-senpai poses like a leopard and roars playfully as he says that.

Yes, Kotobuki-senpai is having fun.

I’m also getting fired up.

Reiji Kotobuki: OK!! I worked a lot and I’m happy I could also go over the song with you, but now it’s time to dig in!

Haruka Nanami: Okay!

Then, Kotobuki-senpai reaches for a pot to make some tea.

I pick up the paper bags with the lunch boxes but....

Haruka Nanami: Huh?

Reiji Kotobuki: Hm? What’s up?

Haruka Nanami: Nothing….

For some reason, these lunch boxes feel really light…

Reiji Kotobuki: Alrighty, nooow, enjoooooy your meal!

Haruka Nanami: Ah… Yes. Enjoy… ah?

When Senpai and I remove the lids of the boxes…

Reiji Kotobuki: WHAT? WHAAAAAAAAA-!! OH MY GOOOOOOD!

... Kotobuki-senpai’s scream resounds in the small room.

What should I say…?

I wonder what had been inside the boxes.

They have been eaten immaculately—not a single grain of rice remains.

Reiji Kotobuki: Wai—wha—WHAT’S THIS?!

After seeing the empty lunch boxes, Kotobuki-senpai remains stunned for a while.

Haruka Nanami: Then… this means there's… a lunch box thief… right?

Reiji Kotobuki: Lunch box thief?

Haruka Nanami: Hmm, are any other valuable things still here?

Reiji Kotobuki: Mmm, yeah, it seems fine. The room was locked as well.

Kotobuki-senpai checks inside his bag.

But, could there really be a thief that only steals lunch boxes?

Reiji Kotobuki: And I haven't eaten anything today… Boo hoo.

Kotobuki-senpai mutters while looking at the empty box.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You’re so damn loud, Reiji! I can’t take a nap with all this noise.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Kurosaki-senpai.

He slams the door open and comes rushing in.

I guess he was trying to rest next door until his next job began? He seems to be in the worst mood I’ve seen him in.

Reiji Kotobuki: Perhaps it was you who ate our lunches, Ranran?! So cruel, eating them behind our backs!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Lunch? The hell are you talking about?

I quickly explain the circumstances to Kurosaki-senpai.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Are you an idiot? Don’t go saying stupid stuff like that.

Reiji Kotobuki: But after all, Ranran does like the lunch boxes from my place, so you have a motive....

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Listen here…. Just before this, we were recording together, so I wouldn’t have had time to eat them!

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah, I see. Ranran has an alibi…?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Cut it out with that alibi thing! Don’t blame me for your mess. You probably forgot to lock the door.

Reiji Kotobuki: No way! I made sure~! I prepared everything so that it would be perfect for Kouhai-chan.

Kotobuki-senpai clenches his fist in frustration.

Reiji Kotobuki: It appears that Otoyan and Tokki are free from suspicion as well….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I told you to knock it off. No one could have taken it.

Kei Otonami: It’s a bit loud in here. What was that noise earlier?

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah? What are you doing here?

Kei Otonami: … Kotobuki-kun….

The man looks at Kotobuki-senpai, surprised.

He doesn’t look like an entertainer, but is he acquainted with Kotobuki-senpai?

Kei Otonami: I was in a meeting next door and I heard a strange scream…. Then I came to check out the situation, and it seems it was you….

He sighs loudly.

Hibiki Katagiri: Hey, what on earth… Eh… Reiji…?

Another man peers out from behind the other.

Reiji Kotobuki: Whaaat, you’re here too? This is such a coincidence….

Kotobuki-senpai says, surprised.

Hibiki Katagiri: So this is your dressing room…. Then that scream too….

Reiji Kotobuki: Yes, someone ate my lunch!

Hibiki Katagiri: Haaa… You were making a fuss about something like that…. You haven’t changed.

Reiji Kotobuki: "Something like that"? Even Hibikin is being this way! The lunch boxes from my place are really delicious. And I’m hungry.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Anyway, I don’t care and I have work to do, so I’m going back.

Reiji Kotobuki: Hnn, Ranran, but the culprit….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I don’t have time for this farce! Figure it out yourself!

Kurosaki-senpai leaves the room and closes the door violently.

I'm left in the room with the three acquaintances.

Reiji Kotobuki: Well anyway, we should celebrate this long-awaited reunion! Shall we toast?

Kotobuki-senpai smiles.

We take our seats at the table. On top of it sits the pot containing the brewed tea.

Kei Otonami: Seriously, you’re carefree as ever. Stardom doesn't change people, huh. You're still a child that cries over some lunch box.

His hearty laugh feels like an earthquake.

Hibiki Katagiri: Yeah, you made it sound like it was the end of the world.

Reiji Kotobuki: You two are so mean. Is that any way to talk to a friend?

After that, through many twists and turns, we make our introductions and explain the situation.

These two graduated at Saotome Academy as composers.

The tall man, Hibiki Katagiri, is now a freelance producer.

It seems that the other, Kei Otonami, is working as a freelance composer.

Today, they were in a meeting in the room next to Kotobuki-senpai’s.

Hibiki Katagiri: I thought that a robber had assaulted someone or something…. But a lunch box.

Reiji Kotobuki: It’s not just a lunch box! Since Kouhai-chan was coming today, I had it specially prepared.

Hibiki Katagiri: A karaage lunch box from Kotobuki Bento, huh? I remember, that's all we ate during our school days.

Kei Otonami: But a lunch box is a lunch box. A proper adult does not shout in a dressing room. Pull yourself together.

Otonami-san looks at Kotobuki-senpai with cold eyes.

Kei Otonami: It must be difficult for you, having a guy like him as a partner.

Haruka Nanami: No, I…. I requested partnering with him myself.

Otonami-san looks at me in surprise.

Kei Otonami: You…? Do you not know about his past?

Haruka Nanami: What…? His past?

What is he talking about…?

Kei Otonami: As far as you know he’s the kind and fun senpai….

Hibiki Katagiri: Hey, stop.

But Otonami-san ignores him.

Kei Otonami: It might be none of my business, but you should keep an eye on who you choose. Try to uncover the real him. Is the face that he wears his true self?

Reiji Kotobuki: Always saying that. It’s not like I can hate you for it, though.

Ignoring us, Otonami-san heads for the exit.

Something feels off about his words.

Hibiki Katagiri: Hey, Kei, wait!

Katagiri-san goes after him, and at that moment....

The door opens and Mikaze-senpai enters the room.

Ai Mikaze: Keep it down, Reiji. I’m trying to concentrate in my dressing room and I can’t.

Kei Otonami: A… Aine…?

Otonami-san mutters, stunned, when he sees Mikaze-senpai.

Aine…?

Hibiki Katagiri: No, that’s… Ai Mikaze. This is only my first time meeting him too, but... you’re right, it looks exactly like him….

Ai Mikaze: What are you talking about? Who are you?

Mikaze-senpai sneers at the remarks of the other two.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah… They are my….

Before Kotobuki-senpai can finish, Otonami-san storms out of the room, past Mikaze-senpai.

Hibiki Katagiri: Hey, I said wait! Well then, Reiji, see ya.

Katagiri-san runs after him.

Kotobuki-senpai, Mikaze-senpai, and I are left alone in the room.

Ai Mikaze: What was that, how unpleasant. Both you and your acquaintances were acting strange.

Reiji Kotobuki: Hm, we were, huh….

Ai Mikaze: In any case, keep your voice down, I can’t read like this. And you, watch over your partner.

Haruka Nanami: Yes….

After that, Mikaze-senpai leaves the dressing room and slams the door closed behind him.

Reiji Kotobuki: Haaa.… Today was terrible….

After Mikaze-senpai has left, Kotobuki-senpai sits down on the chair and lays his head down on the table.

Haruka Nanami: Senpai…. Are you all right?

Reiji Kotobuki: Haha, honestly? I don’t think I’m feeling very well. I guess I look really uncool now. I’m sorry, but could we wrap up for today? I really wanted to take you home today, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you next time.

Haruka Nanami: It’s fine, I can go by myself. But, Senpai….

Reiji Kotobuki: I’ll rest here for a while. Don’t worry.

Haruka Nanami: I see.

Reiji Kotobuki: We have a meeting about the unit next week. Let’s talk about the future then.

It’s my first time seeing Senpai so sad.

I wonder what happened between him and his acquaintances.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes… Thank you for today…. I’ll take my leave….

Kotobuki-senpai only waves his right hand, the rest of his body lying flat on the table.

Haruka Nanami: Haaa~ I was so nervous.

I thought I was going to get sucked in by that atmosphere, and now I’m completely exhausted.

I exit Kotobuki-senpai’s dressing room, and when I leave the TV station building through the back door, it's already nighttime.

Haruka Nanami: When that man saw Mikaze-senpai, he said “Aine.”

It seemed like the name of a person, so it must have something to do with what they were talking about.

I wonder what their relationship is? The mystery deepens....

Haruka Nanami: Even so, people in this industry have such strong personalities....

First there’s Kotobuki-senpai, then Ittoki-kun, Ichinose-san, Kurosaki-senpai, Katagiri-san, Otonami-san and finally Mikaze-senpai….

Haruka Nanami: I have to be strong if I want to communicate with these people.

A week later.

The Shining Agency office conference room.

Ryuya Hyuga: Hey you guys, the meeting is starting. Hurry and take a seat!!

Reiji Kotobuki: Yeees~!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Tch, annoying….

Ai Mikaze: I’m already seated.

Camus: Meetings like this are the height of folly.

Ryuya Hyuga: Speak one by one, the heck....

Hyuga-sensei looks over each unit member and sighs.

Today, we’re meeting about the Christmas Live unit.

Hyuga-sensei will determine the direction of the unit and then we’ll listen to the demo I composed.

I’m so nervous.

Reiji Kotobuki: Okay, so, first of all, we have to decide on a leader. Aaaand I present to you my candidacy!!

Ai Mikaze: Reiji, get a better grasp of your attitude. We decide as a group here.

Reiji Kotobuki: GAN! GAN!! Ai-Ai, Even if you feel that way, don’t say it like that!

Ryuya Hyuga: Guys, I’m telling you to listen!!

Hyuga-sensei hits the desk and everybody goes quiet.

Ryuya Hyuga: Anyhow, let’s decide the leader.

Reiji Kotobuki: We’re deciding after all!!

At the words of Hyuga-sensei, Kotobuki-senpai interrupts with his retort.

The other three ignore him.

Ryuya Hyuga: Obviously, you are all disorganized. Without a leader, everything will fall apart.

Ai Mikaze: But how on earth are we going to choose? We’re unlikely to reach a conclusion with the current state of affairs.

Ryuya Hyuga: Well… that’s true. Hey you, objectively, what do you think?

Haruka Nanami: Ah… me?

Ryuya Hyuga: Yes, if you had to choose a leader out of these four, who would it be?

Haruka Nanami: T-that’s….

Select the phrase!

Kotobuki-senpai (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Kotobuki-senpai, wouldn’t he be the most suitable?

Reiji Kotobuki: Great, Kouhai-chan, well said!! Splendid!!

Hyuga-sensei gives me a sympathetic look.

Haruka Nanami: Kotobuki-senpai is always energetic and motivating everybody. Plus, he’s the most experienced.

Ai Mikaze: I see, he's always hyper, at least he's good at that.

Camus: He’s certainly the oldest of us, and as an idol he’s almost there.

Camus-senpai laughs.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Well, when it comes to his career history, he’s certainly number one. He’s the senior. But he’s too much of a pain.

Reiji Kotobuki: Now don’t call other people old~! I’m an eternal 19-year-old, so isn’t that cruel~? Ai-Ai too, what’s with that "at least"! But if you guys say so, it can’t be helped. Now onto the next thing.

Kotobuki-senpai sums it up in an instant.

It seems like he’s suitable as a leader, after all.

Ryuya Hyuga: Even if we talk, we make no progress. You, choose one out of these.

Hyuga-sensei writes the names in a memo pad, folds each one separately, and hands them to me.

Haruka Nanami: Eh? Me? O-okay….

I gingerly take one of them.

Haruka Nanami: Waaa~

Reiji Kotobuki: Who is it, who is it?

Haruka Nanami: Kotobuki-senpai!

Reiji Kotobuki: YESSS!! Good job, Kouhai-chan!

Kotobuki-senpai rises off the chair in a triumphant pose.

Ryuya Hyuga: Well, no complaints. Now Reiji, you decide the next topic.

At Hyuga-sensei’s words, the other three nod reluctantly.

Reiji Kotobuki: Yes, yes-yes! Then, the next topic is… What kind of dance we should do~!!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Dance? You must be joking. I ain't dancin'.

Kurosaki-senpai frowns at Kotobuki-senpai’s words.

Reiji Kotobuki: Tch, tch, tch, Ranran, don’t be like that. We are I-D-O-L-S, after all.

Ai Mikaze: If we don’t dance what do you want us to do? Just stand there and sing?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I’ll play the bass.

Camus: While the three of us are dancing? Then you will look even more stupid, fool.

Reiji Kotobuki: Waait, if Ranran plays the bass, I can play the maracas.

Ryuya Hyuga: Stop with the nonsense. You’re not a comedy band.

Haruka Nanami: That’s right, if you play instruments, you will look like a band rather than idols….

Reiji Kotobuki: Well, that’s right…. But, then, then, Kouhai-chan, what do you think about the dancing?

Haruka Nanami: About that….

Select the phrase!

I want an intense dance (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Since you’re such a good unit, a flashy dance on the stage would be the best way to please the audience, right?

Reiji Kotobuki: Right, right, I agree! After all, dancing is an idol’s thing! I’ll show you my hustle!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hey don’t decide on your own! And you woman, don’t say unnecessary things.

Haruka Nanami: S-sorry!

Ai Mikaze: Honestly, I’m fine with anything. And Reiji will just do as he pleases.

Camus: It’s work, so it can’t be helped. You dance when you’re told to dance.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You’re both traitors.

Ai Mikaze: Traitors? You'd need an alliance for that.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: …

Kurosaki-senpai goes quiet at Mikaze-senpai’s words.

Reiji Kotobuki: Okay, it’s decided then! LET’S DANCING!

Kotobuki-senpai does a backflip.

… In the conference room…. He’s incredible!!

And thus, Kurosaki-senpai accepts that he will have to dance.

Reiji Kotobuki: I’ll talk to a choreographer that I know well, so even Ranran will be alrighty!!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I said I didn’t want to dance, doesn’t mean I can’t.

Camus: I don’t care as long as it’s not too inconvenient.

Ryuya Hyuga: Understood, then contact them from the office. Damn, we’re running out of time because you guys wouldn’t get along.

After saying that, Hyuga-sensei hands out the schedule to each member.

Ryuya Hyuga: For now, check over the schedule. Current state of public relations, schedule before and after the performance, and for other small details about the choreography, you'll be contacted later. Since there will be a lot of interviews, settle on your opinions properly.

Everyone agrees.

Ryuya Hyuga: Now, the song is crucial, should we listen to it?

Hyuga-sensei smiles at me.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes!!

I nervously connect a speaker to my laptop.

I open the music player and play the song.

SONG: "QUARTET NIGHT" (S RANK)

Reiji Kotobuki: Bravo!! Kouhai-chan, you’re fired up alright~ Isn’t it cool? Good, good~~!

Kotobuki-senpai does a banzai and applauds me.

W-what’s this…? I’m so embarrassed.

Haruka Nanami: Thank… thank you very much.

Reiji Kotobuki: If you keep at it, I’m sure winning the Song Festival will be easy as pie. Do your best!

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

I’m so happy Kotobuki-senpai praised me!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: It’s better than I thought. Compared to what I expected, I mean.

Ai Mikaze: I guess I’ll give you 68 points. If you keep working like your life depends on it, we may make it.

Well, at least it seems it’s not too bad.

Camus: Kotobuki, guide her well so that we don’t have to go through anything unnecessary.

Reiji Kotobuki: Yeah, leave it to me. From now on, I’ll guide her without holding back.

Ryuya Hyuga: Seriously… you’re in good form. It's certainly not a bad song—you’ve done well.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you very much. I wouldn’t have made it without Kotobuki-senpai’s advice.

Ryuya Hyuga: Oh, I see. What’s this, you’re acting like a good senpai?

Reiji Kotobuki: Of course! We’re partners after all!

Kotobuki-senpai puts his hands on his waist and puffs his chest out.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I guess the meeting is done. I’ll get going.

Camus: Me too, I need to be somewhere, so if you’ll excuse me.

Kurosaki-senpai and Camus head towards the door.

Ryuya Hyuga: Understood. Well, my work is starting to pile up. You do your best too.

Hyuga-sensei collects his things and heads towards the door.

Haruka Nanami: Yes.

Then, Hyuga-sensei, Kurosaki-senpai and Camus-senpai leave the room.

I remain with Kotobuki-senpai and Mikaze-senpai.

Mikaze-senpai….

Somehow, his face seems red….

Haruka Nanami: Mikaze-senpai, are you all right?

Ai Mikaze: What? Why ask that so suddenly?

Mikaze-senpai gives me a strange look while preparing to leave.

Haruka Nanami: No, it’s just… Your face seems red… I wonder if you have a fever….

Reiji Kotobuki: Maybe Ai-Ai has caught a cold~? Big brother will check~

Saying that, Kotobuki-senpai reaches for Mikaze-senpai’s forehead.

But Mikaze-senpai slaps his hand away.

Ai Mikaze: Watch the touching. It’s because you do things like that that people call you annoying. Anyway, I’m leaving too.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ai-Ai, so strict! “Annoying.” There are things you can and cannot say. Wai—Ai-Ai, good job today!

And so, Mikaze-senpai leaves too.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ha…. So cold, seriously.

Kotobuki-senpai sighs, looking after the direction that Mikaze-senpai went.

Haruka Nanami: Um…. Kotobuki-senpai, thank you so much.

Reiji Kotobuki: Eh? What for?

Kotobuki-senpai looks at me, surprised.

Haruka Nanami: For the advice on the song—thanks to your help, the other senpai have accepted it as well.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah, sure. But it was you who actually made it and fixed it properly....

Haruka Nanami: But it was thanks to you too. I hope you will continue to support me from now on.

I thank him again and lower my head.

Reiji Kotobuki: Yeah….

What… What was that….

When I raise my face, Kotobuki-senpai is staring right at me.

Haruka Nanami: Um….

After a few moments of silence, Kotobuki-senpai opens his mouth.

Reiji Kotobuki: The other day, I asked you why you wanted to partner with me. You said that you heart shouted “It has to be him!”, right?

Kotobuki-senpai tilts his head a bit and looks into my face.

Haruka Nanami: Yes… I’m sorry that explanation is no good.

Once more, it feels like no reason at all and I’m baffled by it.

Haruka Nanami: But now I believe that my intuition was right.

We’ll only be working on the production of the unit song for a short time, but I think he will become a senpai I can really trust.

Besides, I feel that I can learn to be more sociable and energetic from him.

Haruka Nanami: You are obviously talented… but also gentle and kind….

I do my best to gather the missing words. There’s also gratitude and appreciation.

Reiji Kotobuki: “He’s bright, we’ll have fun together, but he also takes work seriously,” right?

Haruka Nanami: ...!!

I nod vigorously at Kotobuki-senpai’s words.

Reiji Kotobuki: Was I right?

It's as if he read my mind. I feel drawn in by those eyes that seem like they've seen everything.

But… what is this…?

Senpai seems different....

Haruka Nanami: How did you know?

Reiji Kotobuki: That’s what I thought, so I just went ahead and said it.

When he says that, Kotobuki-senpai suddenly averts his eyes.

Reiji Kotobuki: But you know, you’re wrong.

Haruka Nanami: What?

The light in his eyes shimmers faintly. It's a cold gaze I haven’t seen before.

Reiji Kotobuki: I’m, you know…. Weak, cold, and a coward. So, Kouhai-chan….

Kotobuki-senpai looks right at me once more.

Reiji Kotobuki: If you want to win at the Song Festival, you shouldn’t partner with me.

He closes his eyes.

With that expression, I can’t begin to guess what he's thinking….

(Chapter End)

[findingvigilante]

Date: May 20, 2022

By the time morning rolled around, everyone in Evergreen knew that Peacemaker was a wanted man. It was all over the news and the police even held a second press conference to emphasize how wanted he actually was. As they mentioned the first time, they had every cop in the county and state on the lookout for him. I watched the conference on tv as I ate breakfast and it still didn't sit right with me, the way this was all playing out.

Why this was all playing out weirdly for me is hard to explain. I guess being a reporter and trying to link up all the stories and evidence while simultaneously trying to make sense of what was going on in the now, it's bound to get confusing at some point. It made sense that the police are only getting around to arresting Peacemaker now because he was in prison for the last four years. What didn't make sense however was why would he kill Senator Goff? Or those poor souls at Glan Tai? Was there something here that I just wasn't seeing? Looking back at my Wall of Nonsense, nothing made sense to me anymore. Nothing linked up and my story was falling apart before my eyes.

In other news, those weird alien messages have been popping up more and more on my laptop. Having no idea what they say, I merely delete them but they keep coming back. I can only assume they have something to do with the drive I found at Glan Tai, which I actually came up with a theory for not long ago. The theory in question: what if there's a top secret mission happening in Evergreen involving aliens? It would make sense considering all those people suddenly went missing at the same time. And it would also explain that weird green goo I saw at Glan Tai as well. Plus it very obviously explains the weird alien USB drive and the messages I've been receiving. I could be onto something. Or not. I'm not risking my life even more for something that doesn't involve me.

In other news, I overheard a few people at E-Z-P-Z Mart say they heard an explosion on 395 North near Contorinis Road, just outside of town. There's nothing but trees and the occasional house or two out there but other than that, there's no cause for anything to explode such as chemicals or whatnot. They also brought up the fact that when they tried calling 911, there was no answer. The cashier chimed in by saying he saw a little man dressed in green outside his store earlier that fought two guys harassing him (this is the first I'm hearing about a little green man but at this point, things like this don't surprise me. It's been a weird few days).

I decided to go to the police station myself to see why nobody was answering their calls. There wasn't a single car out in the parking lot belonging to a civilian or police cruiser. The inside was just as bare but the further I went into the station, my stomach dropped. The place was covered in blood. The ceiling, the walls, the floor. Everything was painted in the color red. Something in the back of my mind told me that neither Peacemaker nor Vigilante were involved in this and that it was something else entirely. Where was everyone? I was about to leave when a terrified corrections officer stumbled into the station shaking and crying. He said that he was in the bathroom when he heard screaming and yelling out in the hallways. When the noises finally quieted down, he crept out to see what had happened and he said the place was covered in blood the same way it was here. He told me there wasn't a soul around to tell him what happened. Even the prisoners were gone. The place was completely empty. "That's why I came here" he said to me. "To see if anyone knew anything. But it's like they were just....taken."

Charlie would have answers. They almost always did. So I text them and asked if they knew anything about missing police and corrections officers. The answer was immediate: shooting at Overview Lofts. Saw police outside. They just left. So naturally I headed over to Overview to see what had happened. From the outside, you would never have said that the police were even there to begin with. I searched around on the first and second floor until I saw a busted door with a body laying inside the room, sprawled out on top of the island counter with several bullet holes in his chest. I didn't touch anything for the sake of getting my fingerprints everywhere and contaminating the crime scene. Did the police do this? Who was this guy and what did he do to deserve to die this way? I texted Charlie to tell them there was a body in one of the rooms. They said it was no good to call the police because one: there's no one to answer calls and two: the police were the ones that did it. So it was best to just leave it for now. On top of there being a dead person in the room, it also looked like a fight went down as well. The bathroom was in a bad state; the shower curtain off its hooks. The toilet smashed to pieces. Whoever was in here put up quite the fight in a probable attempt at escaping their attacker. Maybe it was the dead guy in the kitchen. I honestly had no idea. It all seemed very suspicious. The police breaking in and shooting someone without calling the coroner. The empty police station and corrections center. None of this made sense or felt right.

Charlie also texted me about Paws A Moment, the local veterinary clinic. They said "don't ask how I know but there're three employees that were tied up there that I think you should talk to". Which is exactly where I went next for my investigation. Sure enough, Charlie was there with the three vets, questioning them about what happened. Their story went like this: they had been tending to a patient when three men barged into the building. One was very tall with an obviously dyed beard, another wore red and beige with a bird in the middle of his shirt, and the third wore a mask with a red visor and had a blue and white design on his chest. My heart skipped a beat. They were describing Vigilante. When I asked what the men wanted, the vets said they needed help and that their eagle was injured. Later after they patched up the eagle, two women showed up, saying something about Butterflies that needed to be stopped. I asked them if they meant butterflies as in the bug and the vets shrugged and nodded, also bringing up that the group was headed to Coverdale Ranch to kill a cow (this just kept getting weirder and the weirder the more questions I asked). I thanked them for their time and headed back to my apartment just to sit in silence as my brain tried to make sense of the information I was given. Butterflies. Coverdale Ranch. A cow. What the actual fuck was going on? I find myself asking that with every damn update but I have to. Because none of this makes any sense.

I need a nap. A long one.

[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Open Heart 2 - Chapter 4

Blind Spot

Another long week passed before an all-hands staff meeting was called in the conference room, a full month after Ethan had told Matthew to keep the budget crisis a secret. He hadn’t been in here since his ethics hearing last year and, as he sidled up to Bryce and Jackie, he realised just how small the podium was from the back row.

“They’re running a skeleton staff to get everyone here,” Jackie grunted as they shuffled down the line to make way for yet more doctors. “Must be important.”

Matthew hummed in agreement but didn’t say anything else. He had a pretty good guess what it might be.

Indeed, Naveen stepped up to the podium and announced that, despite Governor Rivera’s glowing remarks about Edenbrook, the state budget would be eliminating most of the subsidiaries that the hospital relied on.

“That’s not good,” Bryce said, his eyes wide as nervous whispering filled the auditorium. Jackie frowned, listening hard as Naveen explained changes to insurances policies and payroll. Matthew pushed his hair back.

“As for residents, second-years will stay on their intern salaries for the time being,” Naveen spoke, and then there was outcry.

“We’re not getting our raises?! They can’t do that!” Jackie gasped.

“We have to do our part Jackie…”

She whirled on him.

“Matthew, we do our part! We work eighty hours a week to save lives and, not only do they not even pay us enough to live in the city, they wait until the last possible moment to tell us!”

Matthew couldn’t argue with that as Jackie turned to the front and shouted: “Stop trying to screw over the lowest paid people and cut the senior staff’s salaries!”

This was met with a lot of agreement noise, even some applause. Naveen waited patiently for it to die down before explaining that changes would be made amongst the senior staff as well. Matthew kept quiet, feeling suitably told off. Jackie hadn’t been wrong, and he knew that the hospital had been sitting on this for a month.

“Man,” Bryce murmured. “How long have they been sitting on this bombshell?”

“Didn’t you guys on the diagnostics team know anything?”

The two of them turned to look at him. Matthew hesitated for a split second before deciding he was no longer obligated to keep it a secret.

“I heard from Dr Ramsey nearly a month ago,” he admitted, and he watched their faces fall. “I’m so sorry you guys, Dr Ramsey told me not to say anything.”

“Of course he did,” Jackie sighed. She nodded at Matthew and Bryce patted his shoulder reassuringly. Matthew relaxed a little.

Naveen continued to field questions from concerned doctors as Matthew felt his pager vibrating in his pocket. He whispered a goodbye to his friends and quietly made his way out of the auditorium and into the hallway where the man himself stood waiting.

“Thank you, Dr Valentine,” Ethan said as they walked down the hall. “I know keeping the news to yourself for so long wasn’t easy.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to last much longer,” Matthew warned. Ethan nodded.

“The important thing is that now everyone knows and we can focus on our patients properly.”

Ethan took Matthew up to the seventh floor where the diagnostic patients room was occupied by Baz, June, and a middle-aged woman with curly grey hair. June introduced her as Evelyn De La Vega and, when Ethan and Matthew greeted her, her head turned towards them but her eyes continued to search the room. It had been a sudden onset of total vision loss.

“It happened two days ago,” Evelyn said. “I woke up and thought it was still dead of night. And if it doesn’t clear up soon, I’m going to miss my first gallery exhibition.”

“Evelyn here is a painter,” Baz explained. Matthew’s attention caught.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It’s an awful thing to happen but when your life’s work is all about sight…”

“Almost poetic, isn’t it?” Evelyn said, with a dry smile. “I’ll find a way, somehow. Life is all about perspective.”

Matthew prepared to start a closer eye examination when June said: “I’ve heard you’re something of an artist, Matthew.”

Matthew flushed. “Oh…well…”

“Really?” Evelyn’s eyes hovered in the direction of his voice. “What kind of art?”

Matthew ducked his head, even though Evelyn couldn’t see him. “I just like to draw,” he explained. “I used to go out and draw from nature, but these days I just refer to photos. It’s always been a small hobby though, being a doctor doesn’t leave room for much else.”

Matthew fondly remembered his art teacher and his visible disappointment when Matthew told him he was dropping art to pursue medicine, and he’d begged Matthew not to give up completely. And he hadn’t; it had always helped him unwind. He’d done a coloured sketch of a group photo last year, that had been framed and put up in their living room…and then re-drew it to replace Landry with Aurora. But now that he thought about it, he hadn’t drawn anything in a while.

“Could I perhaps see some of it when I get better, Dr Valentine? If that’s alright with you.”

“Sure.”

The examination showed a negative for the common conditions, including opacification and hypertension.

“Any pre-existing conditions not on your chart?” Ethan asked.

“I’m pretty healthy for a sixty-year-old,” Evelyn shrugged. “Leg cramps, I guess, from standing at a canvas all day long.”

“Did you have chicken pox as a kid?” Matthew asked.

“Who didn’t?”

“Hmm…could be V2V coming back after dormancy in the nerves.”

Ethan told Matthew to run a test and report back with the results. As the doctors filed out, Evelyn told Matthew she owed him a portrait when she got better.

****

Leaving the test sample in the lab for the results, Matthew paged Esme to brief her on some new cases.

“…And here’s Mr Daniels in room 403.”

Esme scanned the chart.

“Looks to me like heart failure exacerbation.”

“Agreed. Are you all set? I gotta run and put five hours in at the clinic.”

“That sounds awful,” Esme smirked as she gathered her charts. Matthew snorted.

“Laugh it up now, but it will be you next year!”

Matthew was shown into his clinic examination room where he logged onto the computer and called on his first patient: a six-year-old boy and his exhausted mother.

“Id’s stuck!” the boy announced, thickly. Whatever it was, he was proud of it.

“Will put a lego guy’s head up his nose and I can’t get the darned thing out,” his mother explained, wearily.

“What did the lego guy do to deserve this?” Matthew asked, helping Will up onto the exam bed.

“He wuntd to explore!”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Matthew murmured, as he shone a pen light up the boys nose. The lego head wasn’t too far in. “My trusty sucker hasn’t let me down yet.”

Countless smear tests, blood tests, x-rays, eye, ear, nose and throat exams later, and Matthew’s five hours were up. He rewarded himself with a mug of coffee and as he was filling his cup, a familiar voice called out to him.

“Matthew!”

“Kyra!” Matthew almost spilled coffee as she bounded over to give him a hug. She was still bald from her chemo treatments, but her eyes were bright and her smile was as dazzling as ever. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I hear you’re married to the job these days,” Kyra said, and Matthew winced. “But don’t sweat it, we can hang out now.”

Matthew paid for his coffee and they sat down at an empty table.

“Are you here for treatment?” Matthew asked.

“Actually…I’m here for a job interview!”

“No way!”

“Edenbrook’s looking for an administrative assistant. It’s a temp job, but I have an accounting degree and a whole load of medical bills!” She laughed nervously.

“Go for it, why not?” Matthew said. “Except…do you think you’re up to working in your condition?” He didn’t want to discourage her, but he had seen how exhausted cancer patients could get…not to mention his poor sister, lying on the sofa and barely able to lift her head sometimes. However, Kyra seemed non-plussed.

“The chemo isn’t leaving me as wrecked as it used to and my oncologist thinks it’s OK. I put her down as one of my references, actually. Listen, Matthew,” she added, when he didn’t look convinced. “I really want this job. I’m so sick of being the cancer girl.”

“No one sees you as—”

“My other friends and family do! All they talk about is how brave I am. It’s like being wrapped in cotton wool.” She rolled her eyes. “Weird how my doctor friends are the ones who can make me feel the most normal.”

“We like to help however we can,” Matthew smiled. “Though I was gonna ask how your chemo is going…”

“Bah. Same old, same old. Nauseous, puking all over the shop, mood swings, weight swings, but it turns out I look great bald.”

“You’d look great in any style.”

“Thanks. But the main thing is, the doctors think things are going well. And since they told me that, I’ve actually started picturing a future. Like, I could go back to school and do a masters. I never considered that before. But…it scares me.”

Her fingers clenched, and Matthew gently covered her hand.

“The future is scary,” he agreed. “Especially with all the turmoil you’ve faced. But I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. Just remember to take it one day at a time and it’s less overwhelming that way.”

Kyra took a deep breath and her confident smile returned.

“OK. As long as you’re hanging around, you’ve got a deal. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take the first step towards the rest of my life!”

Matthew didn’t see Kyra for the rest of his shift. He felt slightly nervous as he sat in a Donahue’s booth with the gang, and jumped up when Kyra eventually walked through the door.

“Matthew told us about your interview!” Elijah said. “How was it?”

“I was so nervous that I called Doctors Philips and Wilcock Wilips and Philcock, so that was a good start,” Kyra said. “But I guilted them with the cancer thing a little, and they were kind of desperate so…they hired me!”

The group gave a big cheer, raising their glasses. Bryce bought Kyra a Shirley Temple.

“When do you start?” he asked.

“I started this afternoon actually. They wanted me moving the budget around as soon as possible.” Kyra’s smile drooped. She couldn’t hide the reality of the situation. “It’s…not great, you guys.”

There was a pause as the gang felt the weight of this statement.

“What are the worst parts?” Matthew asked, bracing himself.

“The clinic and the diagnostics team are probably the most expensive to run…”

“Hang on, the diagnostics team has a national profile!” Elijah said. “They must bring tons of patients to Edenbrook.”

“We take cases based on merit,” Matthew explained. “Patients pay what they can afford. Most of them end up pro bono.”

“Time to start praying for some billionaires to get seriously sick,” Bryce said, with a wicked grin.

“Way ahead of you.” Jackie’s grin was equally wicked and Matthew narrowed his eyes at the two of them.

“There’s some truth in that, actually…taking on more rich patients could off-set the pro-bono patients,” Kyra said, thoughtfully.

Sienna had been quiet, her chin propped on her hand, her gaze distant, but now she suddenly snapped to attention.

“Ooh! Gwyneth Monroe!”

“Who?”

Sienna grabbed her phone and showed Matthew a video of a beautiful young woman, sobbing as she explained about her mystery weight loss and how every doctor she’d seen had been unbearably dismissive.

“Why do people think that’s OK?” Matthew growled. “Doctor’s shouldn’t be dismissing anyone.”

“Agreed,” Sienna said. “But if you invite her to Edenbrook, she could probably pay a good amount. She has a huge following on social media…excuse me…” she added, around a yawn. “…and she has a make-up line, and a fashion line, and released a book last year. I think a second book is in the works too.”

“The problem is, Ethan’s adamant that the diagnostics team never invites patients. They have to come to us.”

“No offence Matthew, but I’m not sure now is the best time to be listening to Ramsey,” Jackie said. And once again, she made a valid point.

****

Back at the apartment, Matthew was researching ocular disorders when a knock at the door roused him. It turned out to be their landlord, Farley.

“Your check bounced!” Farley started as soon as Matthew had opened the door. “I swear, if this is some ‘tenants rights’ crap…” He continued ranting for a few minutes. Matthew had to shout to get his attention.

“FARLEY. My check hasn’t bounced. What are you talking about?”

Farley blinked and seemed to finally register that it was Matthew who stood in front of him.

“Yours is fine,” he said, gruffly. “It’s the other one that’s the problem. The Indian girl with all the leather.”

Farley continued to complain about bounced checks until Matthew placated him with a promise that it would be cleared soon. He closed the door on Farley and turned back to the living room. Jackie was already stood there, her eyes wet.

“Sorry about that,” she said, uncharacteristically quiet. Matthew waited a few minutes for her to speak, but she was avoiding his gaze.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” he said, gently. She rolled her eyes.

“Stop thinking you can fix everything, Matthew. Because you can’t. This is my problem.”

She slumped down on the couch, and Matthew cautiously sat beside her.

“I’m broke, Matthew,” she eventually admitted. “I thought I could manage…I’m paying off all the tuition interest. If we got our raises I’d be OK, but now…” her sentence trailed off and she stared at the ceiling, blinking hard.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“What would you have done? You’re all poor too, except maybe Aurora. Not that it matters, since I won’t take anything from anyone.”

Matthew frowned, and then reached for his laptop and opened up a new search tab; there had to be some kind of side gig available. Jackie looked sceptical as they scrolled through the results, until Matthew found one that sounded promising.

“A babysitting gig in our building! Jackpot!”

“But I’ve never babysat before…”

“It’ll be a piece of cake. I’ve babysat before and I was a teenager. You just put on a movie, make them something to eat, and then the kid goes to bed.”

Jackie groaned loudly and hid her face in the sofa cushions…but her need was too high and she agreed on the grounds that Matthew would come with her, at least for the first time.

The first time ended up being that night as Jackie ended up being the last hope for two harried parents, anxious about making it to an important work dinner. They fell on Jackie and Matthew with almost too much gratitude and left warning them that Lulu was complicated, but they had the power, and all the phone numbers they could possibly need were on the fridge.

“That was weird,” Matthew muttered, as the parents left. Jackie shrugged and knocked on the door to Lulu’s bedroom, where she was lying on the floor with a colouring book. She had a sweet face when she looked up at them.

“Hi Lulu, I’m Jackie and this is—”

“Why does your face look like that?”

Neither of them expected that. Jackie steeled herself.

“Like what?” The arched eyebrow was back.

Lulu propped herself on her elbows and looked at Jackie.

“You look sad and old,” she said. “Are you sad and old?”

“No, I’m annoyed and young,” Jackie said smoothly, as Matthew looked between them nervously.

“What’s your excuse?”

Matthew jumped as Lulu turned on him.

“For what??”

“Your eyes. You’ve got bags bigger than my backpack under them. And they’re dark, like you’ve been punched in the face loads.”

Matthew spluttered as Jackie gave him a silent but very pointed look. She knew he didn’t sleep when he was upset.

“I got a really good night’s sleep last night,” he protested, weakly.

“Tell that to the cave system on your face,” Lulu said, and Jackie sniggered.

“Sorry,” she said, when Matthew glared at her. “I can’t help it. This kid talks serious smack. Alright, you little monster,” she added to Lulu. “Let’s get you some dinner before we see the hangry version of this.”

Lulu lay back down on the floor.

“Or what, you’ll yell at me?”

“No, I’ll leave you here and go back to my apartment.”

Matthew couldn’t tell if Jackie was bluffing. Maybe babysitting had been a bad idea. Genuine fear was creeping into Lulu’s eyes, though she was trying not to show it.

“You can’t do that,” she said, uncertainly. “I’m not allowed to be left alone.”

Jackie shrugged.

“Kid, the only consequences of me leaving you alone would be not having to babysit again, oh no.” She crouched down in front of Lulu to meet her at eye level. “So how far do you wanna go?”

Lulu suddenly looked awed. Most babysitters tried to be sweet, which resulted in her being treated like a toddler, but Jackie wasn’t taking any prisoners.

“OK…what’s for dinner?”

Lulu’s parents probably would have preferred if she ate something nutritious, with plenty of vegetables, but when Lulu requested mac and cheese, Matthew decided it was not a battle worth fighting and found a box of it in the cupboard. Meanwhile, Jackie entertained Lulu with talk of med school, which Lulu found endlessly fascinating. She seemed to have decided that Jackie was the coolest grown-up she knew.

“So you’ve seen a dead person?” she gasped.

“Hundreds. We used the cut them open for surgical rotation at med school.”

“Did you see their organs?”

“Yeah, that’s what surgery is. I once saw a liver that had fully rotted inside someone. It was all slimy and disgusting.”

Matthew chuckled to himself as he turned off the stove, then he had a bright idea and searched the cupboards for food colouring. He found a bottle of red with the baking supplies and added a few drops into the pan before separating the mac and cheese into three bowls.

“Come and get your hot brains!” he called. Lulu raced over to stare at the goopy pink cheese.

“I hope you picked a smart cadaver,” Jackie grinned. “I won’t be eating moron brains.”

“Don’t worry, I checked the SAT records. This cadaver’s a bona fide genius,” Matthew said, as they took their bowls over to the table.

Lulu wolfed down her mac and cheese, as the doctors continued to regale her with med school stories, and within an hour she was showered and tucked up in bed, fast asleep. Matthew and Jackie flopped onto the couch with well-deserved coffees.

“You sure you should be drinking that, Cave System?” Jackie teased, but her smile faded when Matthew didn’t react. “I’m serious, Matthew, you need to relax a bit. When was the last time you got laid?”

Matthew spluttered.

“I am most certainly not going to answer that right now!” he hissed.

“Don’t worry, Lulu’s asleep.” Jackie nudged him with her leg. “C’mon, if a nine-year-old can tell you’re not sleeping, the situation’s not great. Have you thought about just hooking up? Bryce might be up for it—”

“I’m shutting down this conversation.”

Matthew picked up a book and tried to look dignified, which would have been much easier if he weren’t reading something called ‘The Diaries of the Rainbow Princesses’.

When Lulu’s parents came home another hour later, they were absolutely thrilled with how the evening had gone. Lulu’s father pressed $500 into Jackie’s hand.

“Please, this is way too much—”

“Consider it a down payment! It’s been so long since we’ve been able to go out! Please say we can call you again?”

“Sure. I mean, I can’t guarantee what my shifts will be like, but I’m sure we can sort something out. Lulu’s actually a pretty cool kid.”

Jackie tried to give Matthew half the money on the way back downstairs, but he refused. Jackie had charmed Lulu without his help. He just wanted her to promise that she would let him know if she ever got stuck for money again.

****

The next day didn’t start so promising, with Matthew’s pitch to reach out to wealthy patients immediately getting shut down. Ethan’s refusal was on moral grounds: the team was never about money, it was always the person in need, and he wouldn’t let them stray from that philosophy. This was then followed by pages of negative test results, which meant Evelyn would unfortunately miss her first exhibition after all.

“’The Way I Saw The World’,” she explained to them. “After so many years, people are finally paying attention. And I won’t be there to see it.”

Ethan looked thoughtful as they filed out the room.

“’The Way I Saw The World’…” he mused. “I wonder if that might actually tell us something…is anyone available tonight?”

Matthew had no plans so volunteered to go to the art gallery, and Baz said he would join him. Matthew was very impressed at Baz’s vintage mini, which was apparently named ‘Helen’ as they drove to a small art gallery in the North End. The room was full of suited waiters offering cheese and wine, art connoisseurs peering intently at various canvases, and members of the public milled around, discussing the paintings they liked. Evelyn would be thrilled to hear she had a full house.

“Good turnout,” Baz said, biting a cube of cheese off a stick. “I have to admit I don’t know much about art, though my ex-girlfriend once dabbled in sculptures.”

“What kind?”

“Pottery. She got a thing about making and painting vases to sell. And she was pretty good. I’ve still got one in my apartment.”

“How long were you together?”

“Not long, to be fair. It was during our residency that we started dating, but the relationship ran it’s course. You know how it is.” Baz shrugged cheerfully. “We’re still friends though. A bunch of us met up last summer for a reunion.”

“Too bad there aren’t any sculptures here,” Matthew said, looking at a landscape of a farm. It featured a rolling hill teeming with crops, surveyed by a barn. Evelyn’s use of colours and shadows suggested she had painted at sunrise. Matthew suddenly wanted to have another go at drawing natural landscapes.

“I miss drawing,” he said to Baz. “It was such a good stress relief.”

“Was?”

“I haven’t found the time. And I’m kind of lacking inspiration these days. Cityscape gets a bit repetitive after a while.”

“Maybe you could take a weekend vacation.”

The next painting was a portrait of a fisherman; according to the placard next it, Evelyn liked to paint people of notable professions.

“We’d make a great addition to her series, don’t you think?” Baz said. He stood next to the canvas and pulled a face like the fisherman. Matthew rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

“You wouldn’t be able to keep serious for long enough. This guy seems to have a lot of frown lines.”

“He looks a bit like my old science teacher, who had a secret soft side. I bet this guy’s not so bad.”

Matthew always liked how people could interpret art in different ways, and how it had always been that way and would continue to be so.

“Were you a class clown at all, Baz?”

“No, I was a good boy! Mostly. Maybe some teachers thought I was annoying but I’d call it passionate about a subject.”

“And nothing has changed.”

“I’m pleased to hear that!”

“Where did you study?”

“I studied at Dartmouth for undergrad and postgrad, then did my residency at New York Presbyterian. Stayed there until I transferred around two years ago.”

Matthew was starting to relax and properly enjoy the gallery now. He was losing himself in Evelyn’s world, and nearly forgot he was supposed to be there for work.

And then his eyes landed on a particular painting that featured a flowing river in the foreground and rows of houses in the background. A sidewalk along the river was lit up with streetlights. And right under the streetlight was the silhouette of a dancing couple.

Sharp pain closed Matthew’s throat. His eyes burned with memories of Rafael’s grandmother’s cosy living room, a plate of brigadeiros, Rafael’s happy smile as Matthew charmed his grandmother. How he had laughed when he taught Matthew to Samba dance in the middle of the street.

Something’s on your mind, I can tell. What is it?

Matthew stormed away from the painting to the other end of the gallery. His chest ached, a bruise as fresh as the day it was punched when Rafael broke up with him. It felt like a ridiculous joke when he thought about how happy he had been this time last year. Unlike Baz, who had laid his romance to rest and continued as friends, here he was in as much pain as he’d been in three months ago.

In his desperate search for distraction, he found a painting of a lighthouse…but he stared more seriously when he realised something was missing from it.

“Are you alright? You disappeared so quickly, I thought you might be ill…what are you looking at?” Baz had found him.

“I’ve seen that lighthouse before somewhere and I’m sure something’s missing…oh!” Matthew remembered. “There were bits of old shipwreck in that bottom left corner. I remember, I saw the lighthouse last year and couldn’t figure out if the lighthouse was bad at its job or if it was why they built the thing.”

“Huh. What do you know…”

Matthew got his phone out of his pocket and started looking up the landscapes referenced in Evelyn’s paintings. The first thing that came up was the farm: a stable was missing in the same corner as the wreck.

The two of them took their time, going through the gallery and comparing the missing landscape details. The blind spot seemed to get slightly bigger on the more recent ones.

“It’s a scotoma,” Matthew finally said, as if admitting a painful truth. “A blind spot.”

“Sudden vision loss wasn’t sudden at all,” Baz said, equally pained. “It must have come on so gradually that her mind filled in the blanks. I wonder what caused…ah. She told us. Remember she said she got leg cramps from standing all day?”

Matthew thought back on the many, many medications he had learned.

“Quinine,” he said. “Quinine toxicity causing a scotoma, leading to total loss of vision.”

“It stopped being recommended about ten years ago,” Baz said. “But I suppose old habits die hard. And if she’d already been taking it for a long time, she probably had no reason to believe she should stop.”

Matthew looked sadly at a small painting that featured a blue butterfly on a yellow sunflower.

“It’s not reversible,” he said softly.

“It’s not.”

Baz laid a hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t much, but it provided just a tiny bit of comfort.

****

It broke Matthew’s heart when Evelyn heard the news. She put on a brave face and reassured them that she was prepared for this possibility, but tears had pooled in her unseeing eyes and Matthew heard her crying when they left the room.

He checked in on her at the end of his shift. She was hooked up to a hemoperfusion machine, their last hope of regaining any kind of sight.

“I’m so sorry we couldn’t do anything more for you,” he said.

“Oh, stop.” Evelyn shook her head. “I know a thing or two about failure, and you only fail when you quit. You and your team never quit.”

She held out a hand. Matthew took it.

“Dr Valentine, I know you said you don’t have much time to draw anymore, but please promise me you’ll never quit.”

“I promise,” Matthew said, squeezing her hand. “I went to your exhibition,” he added.

“Oh really? Dare I ask how it went?”

“Evelyn…people loved how you saw the world.”

Evelyn’s mouth opened and closed in surprise. Then, with happy tears this time, she smiled. “I…I’m so pleased.”

Matthew patted Evelyn’s hand as she pulled herself under control and cleared her throat.

“I actually have a present for you. My daughter – she’s been helping me – said it’s on the chair by the window.”

The chair had been placed with its back to the doorway, and when Matthew turned it back around, he found a small canvas filled with blossoming colours of beautiful deep reds and oranges, sweet yellows, calming blues, and shining flecks of gold.

“I said I owed you a portrait,” Evelyn said with a smile. “It’s how you’ve appeared to me. How your spirit appears to me. My daughter’s very patient, she picked out the colours.”

“Oh, Evelyn…it’s beautiful.” Matthew wiped his eyes.

“People always told me I was stubborn, and stubborn people find a way. Even if they’re blind as a bat.”

Matthew hugged his portrait to his chest.

“It’s like you said. You’ll get by one way or another. There’s more than one way to see.”

For once, Matthew had a smile on his face all the way home. He went straight into his room and rested the painting safely against the wall, making a note to buy a hook the first chance he got. He felt he should dig out his sketch book and find something to draw, but Aurora called him into the living room for a group meeting.

“It’s not a chore chart is it?” Elijah groaned as he rolled into the living room.

“No. But that’s a good idea,” Aurora said. Elijah’s face paled.

Aurora was trying to play it cool, but she could barely contain her smile and Matthew realised what she wanted to talk about.

“I’ve been offered the chance to transfer my residency to Mass Kenmore…and I’ve accepted.”

“Oh my god…” Sienna breathed.

“Is…is this a prank?” Elijah asked, doubtfully.

“You called that guy from the diner!” Matthew said.

“Who?”

Aurora filled the group in on the details of her quick diagnosis that day and they looked on, impressed.

“Badass!” Elijah complimented. Aurora laughed.

“Have you told your aunt yet?”

“No, I’m trying to work out how,” Aurora said. “She’s just gonna have to deal with it. Oh, and I’m not planning to move out in case you were wondering,” she added, to Sienna’s relief.

“Well, you do you,” Jackie said. “But, why Kenmore?”

“Because I need to be somewhere where I won’t just be ‘Harper Emery’s niece. Dr Carrick didn’t know who I was when he gave me his card. It’s time for me to carve a new path.”

Although it was a little sad that they wouldn’t be working together anymore, none of them could fault her for wanting a fresh start and proudly wished her luck in her new role.

Aurora’s words played on Matthew’s mind all evening, and he decided to carve his own path before he went to bed. He opened up Gwyneth Monroe’s channel and sent her a message explaining who he was, the goal of the diagnostics team and invited her to come down to Boston for a consultation.

A/N: Baz deserved more <3 Tags: @sazanes @rafasgirl23415 @ceruleansnake0

[julia-edits]

“i know i shouldn’t be saying this, but i’m glad uncle murphy is gone, his stare was void of soul. he never said much, but the way he peered sent a shiver down my spine. i knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling. i guess i can’t blame him for doing what he did, i would do it too.

my daddy works a lot and mama’s a drunk - daddy says we can’t leave her alone - dad says him and maria will work it out one day, then it’ll be just me caring for mama. not like he cares about her much already. maria is fine. mama drinks so much cause of her, cause of maria. that’s at least what aunt hildy says

aunt hildy is kind of crazy, she hates mama. nobody truly hates mama, besides aunt hildy. speaking of mama, conner and patricia were asking about her this morning. said mama was “making a lot of noise”.

it was 1:08 am. i was sitting on the twin’s bed, or the couch. both work in our situation. bailey and texas were with friends, tommy with papa [pap-aw]. mama comes home slurring, yelling. i come responding, waving my hands, shushing. conner might wake up and then he definitely won’t make it to his soccer game.

my siblings. truly love.

tommy doesn’t know we have it bad though. he thinks his weekend visits with papa are a fun treat. lord knows how’d he’d respond if he ever found out. i i’m glad he doesn’t know. although soon i might got to tell him. he’s gonna have to start helping soon once maria’s baby comes along. daddy says it ain’t his, but we all know from his twitchin’ and mulling that fetus is his.

im truly alone in this. much like uncle murphy. i’d be where he is too if i didn’t have my people. mama, tommy, patricia, conner, toby, and the twins. soon enough ill have maria’s baby running around and i’ll be full over time.

mama won’t notice when maria’s baby gets here. she’ll be too drunk to get off the couch. not like she gets off the couch for her own kids anyways. she doesn’t notice us. i hardly thinks she knows our names.

we don’t blame her, mama is sick. thats atleast what i tell patricia when mama is yelling for her next case. we’re too poor for any good kind, she just does it so she doesn’t have to be a mother.

in case you were wondering, i’m the oldest. 13 years old. my birthday ain’t til september, but gran says im close to my permit.

after me comes tommy, tommy’s 8. he likes lightning bugs and the color purple. he likes tomato soup and shaved carrots. most of all, he likes mama. i wish he didn’t.

after tommy is patricia. patricia is 4 and she speaks primarily romanian. it’s the only thing she can gather from her cartoons. mama got a knock off tv from uncle murphy after he left, and daddy’s too cheap for american cable. patricia likes barbie’s and tiaras. her teacher lets her take home toys that have been around too long. i think it’s more for me than patricia at this point.

she sees my walking up to school, the twins and conner strapped into the wheeler, toby attached to my hip. she always smiles and tells me what a delight patricia is to have in class. i can tell she’s bluffing. i think i make it worse when i go to parent teacher conferences. daddy said he would but we both know it was a lie. maria first, then work, then kids.

the only barbie’s we have in our house is ones we make. taking some of mamas old marlboro boxes, sniffing in the stench now burning into the box. we would draw faces, sometimes add yarn for hair.

conner and toby are too young for that. conner is 2 and toby only 6 months. i do homeschool so i can take care of them real easy. i don’t have many friends, but i have my headphones. and buddy. buddy’s a stray who sticks by. he and i are similar.

we are both homeless.”

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 9

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky brings you and Mackenzie with him to an important meeting.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Uhhhh hmm work tension, sexual tension, idk Bucky and Mackenzie being annoying as usual lmao

A/N: ALSO I know I haven’t mentioned what the fuck Bucky’s company is all about because c’mon, I didn’t expect I’d get this far lmao so IDK there might be continuity issues or inaccuracies or whatevah, just ignore it lmao it’s fiction. ANYWAAAY, I just want to say how GRATEFUL AND OVERWHELMED I am with the amount of attention that this series is getting. I appreciate every feedback, every ask and every freaking debate about this shit lmfao. I love you guys. I can’t put into words how much I appreciate you all askcnasjkcnak bye

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Don't let Bucky or Mackenzie get to you.

Mark's advice rang in your ears like a chant as you watched Bucky and Mackenzie's exchange about the project. Joining them in the conference room for a major brainstorming session was you and a couple of people from your team with Beverly taking down the minutes of the meeting.

The upcoming project was a huge one, given that Barnes Group of Companies was a huge name in the automobile industry. Meanwhile, Wilson Enterprises is one of the biggest autonomous vehicle technology companies out there. This partnership was one for the books, possibly an industry changer too.

You wanted to be a part of it, wanted to spearhead the entire thing and watching Mackenzie take the reigns on this one was truly making your blood boil.

"That sounds like a nice idea, Kenzie." Bucky praised, nodding his head.

Mackenzie shrugged, "It's what I do, Buck." she said.

"Yeah, it's a great idea. I do have some comments though, if you don't mind?" you asked.

Bucky and Mackenzie exchanged glances before turning to you. You glanced at Bucky for a quick second before ignoring the way he was eyeing you with genuine interest.

"I know that bringing in a celebrity to endorse this brand new model would definitely create noise around the partnership. Although I think that would take the spotlight away from the actual product we're creating here. We want customers to focus on the brand new car model and the technology that Wilson Enterprises will be providing it with, not on the celebrity endorser." you explained.

Mackenzie hummed, "I get where you are coming from. That's a good point, actually. But a celebrity endorser will pretty much do everything for the brand. Have him up on billboards and different advertisements and you're all set." she further explained.

You chuckled, "But then how will people understand what the entire partnership is all about? Aren't we supposed to be communicating a certain message to our consumers? Wouldn't it be better to hold an event to launch the product instead? Invite the press and key opinion leaders to spread the word. Have Bucky and Mister Wilson talk about this partnership. They're famous and powerful enough to get the message across. Why waste the budget on a celebrity when we literally have everything we need to make noise?" you shrugged.

The entire room was silent after your feedback, even Mackenzie wasn't able to respond to your suggestion. Glancing over at Bucky, you saw that he was giving you the look-- the one with half-lidded eyes matched with a head tilt, the one that often resulted to him giving you a very nice reward once office hours are over.

Feeling your breath hitch in your throat, you quickly looked away and shrugged your shoulders, "I mean, that's just my two cents. Having worked here for years, I just based it on my experience. You're the expert here, Mackenzie." you offered a proud smile.

Mackenzie tried to brush it off and turned to Bucky, "What do you think, Buck? I'm still into the idea of hiring a celebrity. That's good publicity. And let's not get worried about the budget now," she said, placing a hand on top of Bucky's that was resting on the table, "I have a lot of connections so I can definitely get an endorser for a much lower rate." she reassured.

"We may have a huge budget for this, but that doesn't automatically mean that we have to use it all up. We can allocate it somewhere else, maybe start a CSR campaign as well? We are, after all, coming out with an environmental-friendly model." you suggested.

You heard Bucky when he took a sharp inhale, bringing his hands up to rub his lips as if in deep thought. He then turned to Beverly, however, his eyes remained on you.

"Take note of everything she says." he reminded her before standing up.

He asked everyone else in the room of their opinions, whether it was your or Mackenzie's idea that the company will go for. The team was divided in half, some of them preferring Mackenzie's celebrity pitch probably because they didn't want to do a lot of work.

Bucky nodded, "Well, I guess we'll have to discuss both ideas with my partner Sam and let's see where we will go from there. I have a meeting with him this afternoon, I need you and Kenzie with me there." he said, looking at your before turning to Kenzie with a charming smile.

Don't let them get to you.

-

You've never wanted for the ground to swallow you up until this moment as you stood behind Bucky and Mackenzie in the elevator. This felt so much more uncomfortable than when you shared it with Bucky after swiping right with him on Tinder. There was still tension and it felt so much worse now because you didn't know whether it was between you and Bucky or him and Mackenzie.

Fucking Mackenzie and her nicely manicured nails which always seemed find its way around Bucky's arm. You eyed her hands as they squeezed his arm, the both of them talking in hushed voices as if you weren't standing behind them.

"I've been dying to try this restaurant, I heard they serve good food. Do you want to go have dinner there sometime this week?" she asked Bucky.

"I'll check my schedule, which restaurant is this?" he asked.

When Mackenzie uttered the name of that restaurant where you celebrated your promotion, you and Bucky choked on your own spits at the same time. Warmth crept up to your cheeks at the same time Bucky's ears reddened.

"Oh, what's going on?" Mackenzie asked with a nervous chuckle as she looked at you and Bucky, struggling with your coughs.

You recovered first and shook your head, "Sorry, I get allergies. Anyway, I've been to that restaurant. They do serve good food, the staff was very hospitable as well. I'm sure Bucky would enjoy it there." you said with a smile, pushing your way past them when the elevators door slid open.

Mackenzie asking Bucky whether he was up for dinner was the last thing you heard. Good luck explaining to her why he's banned from there, you thought to yourself.

Bucky led the way to his car and it instantly brought certain memories back. You weren't going to lie, you missed the fucking and how Bucky always made sure to take care of your needs. Seeing his car was enough to make your thighs clench at the memory of him fingering you as he drove.

His gaze was on you when he opened the door to the passenger's seat, his eyes inviting as you approached him. And just as when you were about to slip in, he turned over to Mackenzie and gestured for her to get in.

What a fucking asshole, you thought to yourself as you took a step back to ride in the back instead. You tried to keep your expression stoic when you saw that Bucky checked for a reaction. He seemed perplexed when he saw that you didn't react that much to what he did.

One hundred points to Gryffindor.

-

The location for the meeting was at a nearby restaurant so you didn't suffer that much during the entire ride. Mackenzie was busy with her phone anyway, typing out messages with those manicured fingers you were beginning to hate.

By the time all three of you arrived, Sam was already there. He donned a navy blue suit and he was rocking it. You'd seen his photos on the internet and knew that he was good-looking, but seeing him in the flesh, you were stunned at how gorgeous he was. Sam stood up when he saw Bucky, offering a kind smile to you and Mackenzie.

You weren't sure whether you were just being assuming or what, but you noticed how his eyes lingered on you longer that it did with Mackenzie.

"Sam." Bucky greeted, shaking his hand before introducing you and Mackenzie.

Sam shook Mackenzie's hand first before he turned to you. You took his hand and introduced yourself, "Mister Wilson." you said.

"Please, just Sam." he told you as he gently squeezed your hand before letting go.

"Have a seat." Sam said to Bucky and Mackenzie before pulling out the chair next to him, motioning for you to sit down.

You thanked him and sat down; straightening up, you were met with Bucky's watchful gaze as he sat down across you. Your attention was taken away when Sam asked what you wanted to order, he even suggested a certain dish and immediately went to discuss that it was his favorite thing to order.

This was going to be an interesting meeting.

And interesting it truly was, because you didn't expect for Sam to be so laid-back and easy to communicate with. He wasn't one of those uptight CEOs who were very intimidating to work with. Simply put, he was the complete opposite of Bucky. While Bucky was ice cold, Sam was sunshine and warmth with his attitude.

When it came down to pitching your and Mackenzie's ideas to him, you suddenly got nervous. Sam wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth; from what you've read, he started off working regular jobs before he climbed his way to the top. He was a self-made man and he had extensive knowledge in the marketing industry, having a doctorate degree in the said area.

Mackenzie was the first to discuss her strategy about hiring a celebrity endorser. She said it was fast and straight to the point. When it was your turn, you started off a bit shaky but eventually found your pacing.

"We wanted to ask you how this should go on about. I know that the offer for a partnership came from our end and that we're supposed to pitch the details for it. But we wanted you to be involved in this as much as we are." Bucky further explained.

Sam nodded and let out an amused chuckle, "I really appreciate this, Buck. I was going to ask you if I can contribute with the planning as well. I'm very particular when it comes to marketing our products." he said.

"That being said, I loved both ideas. I think hiring a celebrity endorser is good." he said, making Mackenzie smile proudly.

"But I would rather hold an event to launch the product. You understand the product and what we want to do with it. It's not just a brand new car, it's an innovation and the messaging is very important. I'm very impressed." Sam said, his attention geared towards you.

"Wow, I'm honored." you laughed. "Coming from you, I mean I've read about the marketing studies you did. Pretty big deal to receive a compliment from you." you admitted.

It was meant to be a genuine reaction, really. You had no ill intentions for it, you didn't do it to make Bucky jealous or get the upper hand. However, your passion for your career and area of expertise seemed to favor you. It had Bucky on edge, seeing you and Sam get along so well.

You didn't even need to check for Bucky's reaction because he simply cleared his throat and excused himself to go to the restroom. Mackenzie seemed unbothered though, when Sam favored your pitch over hers. You couldn't read her, sometimes she'd come off competitive but right now, she was unaffected.

When Bucky got back, he was quick to finalize the meeting, "I guess it's a done deal then. We'll work on the details of the launch and maybe we can set another meeting for the major presentation for your approval?" he asked Sam.

"That sounds like a plan. I'm looking forward to working with you." Sam told everyone, although he did seem to be directly addressing you.

"Alright, I'm leaving too." Mackenzie announced after Sam left the restaurant.

"Oh, you're not heading back to the office with us?" Bucky asked.

Mackenzie shook her head, throwing her bag over her shoulder, "I have another meeting. You know how it is with freelance work." she said as all three of you stood up to head outside of the restaurant.

"My Uber's here, I guess I'll see you both sometime this week." she said and waved at you before turning to Bucky and pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm counting on that dinner, okay?" she reminded before slipping into her Uber, leaving you and Bucky to head back to the office together.

Alone with Bucky. In his car. The exact same car where plenty of fucking happened. Again, you chanted Mark’s advice in your head over and over again.

Don’t let Bucky get to you. And most of all, don’t cave in.

You quickly slipped inside the front seat of Bucky’s car before he could even open it up for you. The air was thick between you and Bucky and it almost felt like it was suffocating you. Reaching for the seatbelt, you tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge. Cursing to yourself, you tried again but to no avail.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing. Seatbelt’s just stuck.” you grunted, using both your hands to pull down at it.

“Here, let me.”

Suddenly, Bucky reached over to your seatbelt and tried to fix it. His face was inches away from yours and you literally felt your insides jump at how you were immediately drowned in his perfume. If you moved forward so much as half an inch, your lips would already be pressing against the corner of Bucky’s mouth. And that thought was sending your senses into overdrive.

Do not. Cave. In.

The loud click of the seatbelt made you relax and thank goodness that Bucky was quick to move away from you, fixing his suit before starting the engine. The office may just be nearby but the fact that you and Bucky were together was making it feel like it was going to be an hour-long drive.

“So what do you think about Sam?” Bucky asked out of the blue.

He was gauging you, trying to get a reaction from you. Maybe he was expecting you to be flirty with your response, or be defensive even? You weren’t going to give him that.

“I think he’s great. Like I said, I’ve read his marketing studies and they were very insightful. I learned a lot.”

Plain, simple and safe. There was no hidden meanings and no malice; you were doing great at this whole not letting Bucky get to you thing. You made a mental note to thank Mark for his advice.

“He seems interested in you.” Bucky said again, shrugging his shoulders a bit and trying to be as nonchalant as he could.

“Well we are in the same field of expertise and I was very straightforward about admiring his skills. I’d be disappointed if he brushed off my ideas.” you slightly chuckled.

“I liked Mackenzie’s idea better, honestly.” Bucky blurted out.

By this time, you had Bucky’s plans figured out. He was coming for your job, using it as a bait to get a reaction out from you. He knew how much your career meant for you, how competitive you were in your field. Whenever his other tactics wouldn’t work, he’d always go for the career aspect.

“It was good.” you agreed, turning to Bucky with a small smile. “I think we can do that for other campaigns. Just not with this partnership. I like her.” you said.

“You do?” Bucky asked in surprise before he cleared his throat upon realizing that he sort of broke his facade.

You shrugged, “She’s a headstrong woman. She reminds me of myself actually.”

If you were alone, you would have given yourself a high-five because that statement truly made Bucky think. His forehead creased as he drove, his hand rubbing his chin and his jaw clenching as if he was in deep thought.

It was silent inside the car for a brief moment, before it was interrupted by the trilling of Bucky’s phone. He fished it out of his pocket but before he could even answer it, it slipped out of his hand and disappeared beneath his seat.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed, both his hands on the steering wheel as he continued to drive, his attention divided between driving and searching for his ringing phone.

“Shit.” he hissed again, not knowing how to get his phone while driving. He quickly glanced at you before focusing on the road again. “Baby, can you get it for me?”

You almost missed the term of endearment. Almost. It was obviously a slip of the tongue because he genuinely didn’t seem to realize that he called you that. Bucky was more focused on the road rather than processing what he just said. You chose to ignore it the same way you did to the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Yeah, okay.” you said and reached over to him, bending down to look for his phone.

In a split second, your face was right in front of Bucky’s crotch as you tried to reach beneath his car seat. You tried to ignore the bulge that was staring right at you and let your hand do the searching.

“Can you reach it?” Bucky asked.

You straightened up, “No. Can you pull aside?” you asked.

Bucky checked the surroundings and then the rearview mirror, “We can’t. We’re at a no loading and unloading zone.” he explained.

The phone continues to trill and it doesn’t seem like it would stop any time now. You sighed and removed your seatbelt before stretching your body over Bucky, slipping underneath his arms on the steering wheel so you can fully reach under his seat.

From another car’s view, you looked like you were giving him a blowjob. Not that you haven’t done that before, in this same car.

Finally, you felt his phone at the tip of your fingers and stretched further, your free hand coming to grip Bucky’s thigh unintentionally. It was only when you felt his muscles flex beneath his trousers that you realized how near your hand was to his crotch.

“Did you,” Bucky cleared his throat. “Did you get it?” he stammered.

You still have a certain effect on him, how very nice. Biting back a smirk, you hummed in response before pulling back and then handing him his phone casually. Mackenzie’s name was flashing on the screen as the phone continued to ring.

“Sorry, can you answer it and put it on speakerphone?” Bucky asked again.

You shrugged and did as you were told, holding the phone near Bucky as he continued to drive.

“Hey, Kenzie. Sorry, I dropped my phone. What’s up?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, so my meeting got cancelled at the last minute. I was thinking maybe we can grab that dinner tonight instead?”

Bucky stole a quick glance from you but your face remained stoic, your hand steady as you held out his phone.

“Sure, how does around 7pm sound? I can pick you up.” Bucky offered.

“Sounds great. So are we checking that restaurant I was talking about?”

Bucky’s ears turned red again but he quickly recovered, “I was thinking of trying out a different one. I honestly didn’t like their dessert.”

Huh, that was weird. You and Bucky didn’t even make it to--

Fuck, he was talking about you, you realized. Clenching your jaw, you tried to keep calm. He was trying to get a rise out of you, don’t give in. Don’t react. Bucky’s conversation with Mackenzie didn’t last long and ended when they settled the location for their dinner.

The ride back to the office was quiet again, until your phone lit up from a notification. Bucky was already parking in the basement when you checked your phone, an audible gasp slipping past your lips upon reading the notification from LinkedIn.

Samuel Wilson wants to connect with you.

-

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[starshipsofstarlord]

Conference Room

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | Bucky gets a surprise when he realises that things that were looked down upon, and people were often disgusted by in his day and age, are wanted in this one.

Warnings | includes smut, blowjob, cum facial, Bucky being an insecure bb, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Everyone filed out of the meeting room, one by one disappearing into the maze of the compound. Bucky watched you with tender eyes, slowly following behind, as you headed for the door.

But instead of passing though the threshold, so that you could make your way on route to the kitchen, in order for you prepare yourself a well deserved drink after sitting through the small conference, you closed the door, and pushed down the latch.

The action itself made Bucky stop in his footsteps, and fix you with a confused expression. He wasn’t sure why you had locked the two of you in here. Only moments ago you had been on a group call with Fury, and now that he had signed off, all of you had been free to leave.

But that freedom that all the else had fled feebly towards, served a much different price to that for which you specifically had in mind for him. “Sergeant Barnes, I think the two of us need to have a little talk; our ears only.”

Bucky gulped, remaining upon the spot that he was stood in. He racked his mind for reasons that you would want to do this here, and not in one of your bedrooms. It would only make things more difficult for when he left the scene, heartbroken by you cutting him off, and finally pushing him away.

It was inevitable that it would happen somewhen; but it was too early. Things were finally running smoothly, he felt content and happy, and as though he were making a good difference to the world, which is all he ever wanted. However, it appeared that all of that was about to come tumbling down at his feet, in the same very moment.

The two of you hadn’t been dating too long, just short of three months. And during that time, the pair of you had never once gotten obscenely intimate. So in your case, as he viewed it, you really had nothing to lose. But he couldn’t pin point as to why you were dressed in a sly smile, and creeping ever so steadily towards him as though you had a surprise.

“Doll.” He spoke softly, thinking that it would be the last time he had the opportunity to describe you with that pet name. From the way that he addressed you, your expression quickly became more innocent and happy.

As you got closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss upon his material covered chest. “Baby.” You greeted him, moving to his lips next, and pressing a fluid peck upon them.

“What are you doing?” He unsurely asked, his voice cracking in the meanwhile, and his face scrunching up into a confused frown. Your hands rubbed down his chest, and plucked the band of his trousers, over again in a repeated motion.

Sucking your lip into your mouth, you looked up into his sky blue eyes, reading them for any signs of him being affected by your actions. Rather than feeling aroused, it seemed to make him confused, which was not at all your intention.

“You seemed tense Buck.” Your hands raked their way back up to his shoulders, soothing any apparent tightness that were held within his muscles. “I thought maybe... I could help loosen you up.” Fluttering your eyelashes at him, Bucky lightly groaned, rubbing his lips together as he mulled over what the pair of you could possibly get up to in this room.

His hands went down to the button of your jeans, but lightly, you slapped his hands away, doing the same to him, and undoing them. As your fingers toyed with the zip that helped the denim be adjustable to his size, your other palmed him through the blue material. “This is about you James. I want to make you feel good.”

Again, he swallowed his own saliva, he paid the utmost attention to your every movement, completely compelled with how you tossed your hair to the side by simply moving your head. “You want me to suck your cock, I promise I’m good at it.” A giggle erupted from your mouth, and Bucky clasped your chin in the feather light grip of his vibranium hand.

He pulled your lips to his, warming them up before slipping his tongue inside. It had been a long time, though he hated to admit it, since he had done anything even slightly sexual, and a part of him was afraid that he wouldn’t last long.

But the other was excited, back in the forties , blowjobs weren’t often digressed. The idea had always appealed to hun, however no dame had ever wished to dirty their knees before him, and take his sufficient length down their throat. It pained him a little, knowing that like most people he had encountered through his life, that they would take from him, but never return it with an ounce of kindness.

He’d perceive it as a dream come true, the woman that owned his entire heart, independently wanting to pleasure him in such ways that were looked down upon in his day. “Are you sure?” He pulled away, desperate for some clarity on the matter.

“Yes, of course I am.” You smiled, drawing him in for another locked lip session. After a minute or two of tasting his tongue, you trailed your direction down, running down his chin, and then his neck, until you completely dropped to your knees, rutting your hand against his growing cock.

Right then, from that image alone, Bucky swore that he would die. That innocent expression that was entailed upon your face had him mentally cursing, and he couldn’t help but groan to himself in a relaxed manner as you pulled his jeans down to his ankles, leaving only his boxers as the final barrier.

Lightly, you pressed a kiss to where you guessed his tip to be through the cotton, gently running your tongue down the shaft, and lower down to where his balls were stationed. “Y/n, please stop teasing.”

“Tell me Bucky.” Your fingertips cascaded up and down his v line, warming him up to what was to come(pun intended). “Have you ever been sucked off before?” His heart rate picked up, as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“How did you- that punk!” He said in reference to Steve, realising that he must have let the detail slip to you. But he couldn’t be made really, if the captain hadn’t digressed his secret to you, then he may have waited longer to experience the enthralling and dirty, as it had been known to be, engagement.

Without any pressure, you pressed your teeth upon his cock, dragging his attention back towards you. “Now that is no way to talk about your dear friend, I’d say he did you a favour.” He was getting ready to grumble in his Bucky manner, but was hit with your gasp as you suddenly pulled his boxers down, his dick slapping upwards, having your entire focus.

Reaching forward with a hand, you wrapped it around the mid section of his shaft, your palm hardly fitting around his girth. “It’s so big.” You gaped at the sight, moving your hand up and down to gouge a reaction out of the super soldier above you. His head leant back, his eyes screwing shut as he realised just how sensitive he was. He felt like a virgin all over again.

An obscene and loud moan was pulled from his mouth as you ran your tongue up his shaft, humming at the taste of his intimate skin. With the encouragement of his lie noises, you directed his tip towards your lips, rubbing it upon the cushioned flesh, before sinking him halfway in your mouth.

“Holy fuck!” He exclaimed, reaching down and on instinct entangling his metal hand in your loose hair. As though you were doing nothing, you innocently looked up at him with wide doe eyes., although he could feel you hollowing your cheeks around him, as you began to bob your head.

Only then did he realise how experienced you must have been within this department, for he noticed how you didn’t struggle nor gag the slightest around him, and it appeared that you were enjoying it as much as he was.

One of your hands planted itself on the thickness of his thigh as your other found homage with fondling his balls. His chest rapidly moved as he felt every slither of your tongue around him, and as you pulled slightly back, you began dipping it in the line of his slit.

“Baby, slow down, or I’m going to cum.” With his words heard, you took him out of your mouth, wrapping your hand around his saliva soaked rod, and began pumping him rapidly. For a moment, he swore his head was going to explode as he saw you stick your tongue out, awaiting his load that was soon to be delicious.

“Cum Buck. Want you to cum for me.” It was impossible for him to hold back any longer, and thus, his seed flew over the expanse of your tongue, whilst the rest spurted over one side of your face. “Hmm.” You mumbled, swallowing that of it that you caught, and scooping a swipe into your mouth.

“I swear to god that I’m in love with you.” He spoke breathily as you stood up, both of your faces flushed from the activity. He pulled you in for a few pecks, to which you could do nothing more than stare into his oceanic pools.

“Well that’s encouraging.” You laughed, reaching down and tucking his softening cock back into his boxers and jeans, giving it a loving pat before pulling away. “I love you too Bucky Barnes; always.”

“The conference room though, really?” He asked with a bemused laugh, causing you to shrug. “You’ve got to walk out of here now.” He said, motioning to the mess on your face.

“That is something that I didn’t think of.” You responded, your eyes darting a around the room, until your eyes landed on the box of tissues that Tony had brought in at the start of the meeting. Thank Thor for his cold! “Grab me some paper towels from the corner would you babe?”

He sent you a pleased, and you’d say very satisfied smile, before stepping back, and heading in the direction of the desk, picking a few sheets out of the cube, and walking back to help you clean up. He felt like he at least owed you that much.

[the-bau-quinjet]

My Only Girl

Summary: request! Reader has to decide between keeping her secret and saving the man she loves. In the end, it's not a hard choice.

Warnings: violence/blood

Word count: 3370

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! I put a screen shot of the request at the end just because I didn’t want to give away the whole story :)

You never would have guessed that today would change everything. It started the same as any other Thursday. 

You were seated at your desk right outside of Tony’s main office working on his schedule for two weeks from now. Your music was playing softly through your earbuds causing you to bob your head as you read email after email. 

Suddenly, a Starbucks cup appeared in front of your face, a metal hand wrapped around the cup. 

You swiftly pulled the earbuds from your ears, turning in your chair to greet Bucky with a hug. 

“Hi.” You whispered into his chest during your hug. “You are truly a gift.” You smiled, taking the cup with your go to order. You press a quick kiss to his lips only to be pulled back in for a deeper kiss by Bucky. 

“Y/N, do you know when my next press conference is?” Tony asked, walking out of his office while still looking down at his tablet. 

Bucky let you pull back from him just far enough to answer Tony. “Next Thursday. You wanted to announce the new post-mission protocol for ‘Damage Control’.” You chuckled at the title, knowing Pepper was still trying to talk him into changing it. 

“Right! Thank you.” He finally looks up, taking in the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. “Barnes! Let her work.” He nearly whined, playing up the annoyance. 

“I will.” Tony leveled him with a pointed glare, looking between you and your computer. “I will! I just wanted to say good morning to my best girl.”

You scrunched your nose at the term of endearment, leaning farther back from Bucky to look in his eyes.

“You don’t like being my best girl?” He sounded genuinely concerned, earning a small chuckle from you. 

“I like being your only girl. Best implies that there are others, and though I would love to be the best of them, I don’t want there to be others.” You nodded your head resolutely, taking on a serious expression. 

“Please, you’ve had this man wrapped around your finger from the second he saw you.” Tony scoffed. 

“He’s right, doll. And you are my only girl. I love you.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss to your lips, letting you remove yourself from his arms to continue working. 

“I love you too. See you for lunch?” He nodded as he walked backwards to the elevator, keeping his eyes on yours until the doors closed.

“Wrapped around your finger, I swear.” Tony laughed when you glared at him, retreating back into his office to make some phone calls. 

-

Sometimes it’s really easy to pinpoint the exact moment everything went to shit. This was one of those times. 

22 minutes before you were due to meet Bucky for lunch, the red emergency lights started flashing with an accompanying alarm blaring in your ears. 

Friday announced “The compound is under attack, enacting lockdown protocol.”

“Shit.” Lockdown meant you needed to use specific codes to get into or out of any room. It definitely makes your life harder. 

Tony left to meet Pepper 15 minutes ago, so to your knowledge you were the only one on this floor. 

Glancing up and down the hall to double check, you swiftly enter Tony’s office, pulling up the security footage to see who you’re dealing with. Three different sides of the compound are surrounded by mercenaries clad in black fighting gear. 

You watch the screens, contemplating the best course of action to subtly help when one of the mercenaries pulls out a missile launcher. He aims it quickly, firing into the side of the building. 

You feel the walls shake as you watch part of the wall collapse, giving them an opening to enter the compound through. 

“Shit.” You run from Tony’s office, heading for the action without another thought even though this is definitely the biggest problem you’ve ever helped them with. 

You phase through the walls, doing your best to make sure nobody will see you when you come out on the other side of the wall. If all goes well, you’ll be back at your desk before anyone even notices you were gone. 

Your powers are a secret, even from the team. The powers that be, meaning your boss, don’t want the Avengers knowing they have an Angel on their side. It took you enough negotiating to get yourself assigned to this “project”, you were willing to do it without telling anyone that you are a angel. 

You basically had to beg your boss to let the Avengers be the people you watched over. Typically, angels are assigned to help those who can’t help themselves. Your logic for this assignment was that keeping the Avengers safe would, in turn, protect millions of other people. 

The one stipulation you faced when finally being assigned the the Avengers, was that you couldn’t tell them what you are.

At first, You had no problem keeping the secret. Being Tony’s assistant hardly meant spending ample time with everyone. You didn’t need to befriend them to keep them safe. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Overtime, Tony broke down your walls. He convinced you to go to one of his galas, ultimately starting your demise. One look at Bucky had your heart soaring. Not telling him the truth has been eating away at you ever since he first asked you to get dinner with him. 

You pushed your guilt to the back of your mind, refocusing on getting closer to the attackers so you could figure out what to do. 

Typically, you use your powers to slightly change the path of bullets or hold off a bomb for a few extra seconds. It gives the team enough time to escape, not necessary unscathed, but with recoverable injuries. Plus, it keeps your powers hidden. 

It’s hard enough to hack into the video feed from various super suits without alerting anyone, you were definitely concerned about how to keep your powers hidden while using them so close to everyone. 

You skid to a stop just around the corner, listening as two of the mercenaries instruct the others. 

“Split up. You know who we’re looking for. If you find him, report in. First priority is getting out of here with him alive. All else fails, kill him.”

Immediately, you’re mind jumped to Bucky. Of course, Hydra scrum could be looking for anyone to use as a weapon, but Bucky made the most sense. When would they finally realize they can’t control him anymore?

You used your powers to confuse the men, making it look like whatever blueprints they studied were outdated. It would hopefully give everyone else enough time to get here and fight them off. 

You hid in a closet when you heard people approaching from behind you. 

“Sam, find Wanda and get to the east side. Nat and I will handle these guys.” 

You relaxed at the sound of Steve’s voice, waiting for the group to disperse before sliding out of the closet.

You ran back through the compound, heading for the lab. It was the closest place for you to retreat to in order to look through the security cameras again. 

“Friday, give me a rundown of what’s happening please.” You looked between the screens, intently listening to the AI’s voice. 

“The east side is being secured by Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Wilson. Based on projected outcomes, they will have everything under control in 7 minutes. Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are fighting on the south side, near the blast sight. They will have the area secure in 6 minutes.”

You nodded, following along as you looked between the cameras. 

“The west side is secure. Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton have cleared the area and are holding off any additional attacks.”

“Good. Where’s Bucky?” You looked between the cameras, but couldn’t find him. 

“Sergeant Barnes is on the roof, engaged in hand to hand.”

“What the hell is he doing on the roof?” You panicked, clicking between camera angles until you could see him. 

There were ten Hydra agents on the roof, surrounding Bucky as he did his best to fight them off. 

“How did he get singled out so fast?” You mumbled to yourself, trying to think of a plan. They had Bucky backed up to the edge of the roof, slowly pushing him further and further. 

You could see what was about to happen nearly in slow motion. You acted quickly, not thinking about keeping your secret, but rather solely focused on helping Bucky. 

You broke through the window in the lab, wings appearing on your back as you flew to him. Just as you arrived, one of the agents shot him three times, propelling him backwards off the roof. Sending a shockwave over the roof, you knocked out the remaining agents as you dove, hurtling through the air to catch Bucky before he hit the ground. 

You grabbed him around the waist, lugging his body through the air with some difficulty. It wasn’t the most convenient position, plus you were slightly rusty from hiding your wings for so long. 

“Doll?” Bucky questioned, glancing at you through fluttering eyelids. “I knew you were my angel.” He whispered before his eyes fell closed, the blood loss getting to him. 

You swung around the building, re-entering through the broken lab window and laying Bucky on the lab bench. 

“Lifting lockdown protocol.” Friday announced, the noise barely registering in your ears. 

“Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers is requesting a check in from everyone on the team, would you like me to update him on yours and the Sergeant’s situation.” Friday asked. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” You muttered, not really paying attention to the question as you did your best to slow the bleeding. You haven’t tried healing anyone in years, so it was taking more effort than it should for you to fix this. 

You closed your eyes, hands hovering over Bucky’s body. Your wings were still present, although no longer fully extended. 

You channelled everything you could into healing Bucky’s wounds, drowning out any outside interference. Your hands began to glow, a warm golden light surrounding Bucky’s body as his bullet wounds healed. 

A few minutes passed as his wounds fully healed. You nearly collapsed from the relief of seeing him no longer bleeding out. His color was returning to normal, heartbeat speeding back up. 

“Y/N?” You jumped at the noise, turning around to see nearly the entire team staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide, hand still clutching Bucky’s as you stuttered in an attempt to come up with an explanation. 

“You have wings.” Wanda pointed out the obvious, everyone still wearing matching expressions of shock. 

You looked over your shoulder, nearly surprised by their presence on your back yourself. You had been so focused on healing Bucky, you forgot to hide them again. 

“Your hands were glowing.” Sam’s brow furrowed, looking between you and Bucky. 

You nodded, still unsure of what to say. 

Suddenly Steve barged into the room, unaware of the tension. He ran right for Bucky, yelling for someone to get a medic. 

“Why are you all just standing there? Friday said he was shot! Three times! Get a medic!” He looked at everyone in a panic before turning to look for wounds on Bucky. 

His brow furrowed as he tried to find any of the bullet wounds. “Wha- Where are the bullet wounds... He’s covered in blood, but not bleeding? Even we can’t heal that fast, what’s going on?” Steve turns back to the team, mouth slightly agape. 

They all point to you. 

Slowly, Steve turns finally noticing your presence. “Y/N?” He looks between the team and you again, a double take so fast it would have been funny if not for the situation. 

“You have wings?” He says it with much more confusion than Wanda’s point blank statement. 

You nod, voice still eluding you. You finally manage to get the wings to disappear. 

“Care to explain...” Tony asks, pointing to where your wings just were, your hands, and Bucky, “All of that?” 

Before you can reply, Bucky jolts awake with a groan. 

“What the hell?” He looks around the lab, taking everyone’s confused faces. Even Nat looks surprised. “How did I get here?” He rubs his abdomen, slightly sore from the bullets. 

Everyone shakes their heads, looking to you for answers. 

“Y/N?” He turns to you, hand squeezing yours slightly. “You were an angel. I thought I was dying...” He trailed off, trying to makes sense of everything in his head. 

“An angel?” Steve balks. Everyone else nods, various expressions of understanding on their faces. 

“I mean, that makes sense.” Nat chimes in, ready to accept it. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that ever happened.”

“What?” Bucky asks, sitting up on the counter. “She’s not actually an angel. I just saw that as my... I don’t know, dying wish?” His face scrunched in confusion, trying to make sense of what he saw. 

“Well, I’m not dying and I saw the wings. And the glowing hands.” Clint speaks up, turning all eyes back to you. 

A voice in your head is suddenly booming. Your hands fly up to the sides of your head, trying to dull the ache of the screaming voice in your mind.

“Y/N L/N, you have broken the only rule bestowed upon you. According to contract 71, you are no longer permitted to enter the Angel Realm. Any attempts to return here will result in termination of your capabilities. Misuse of your capabilities on Earth or any other planet will result in termination of your capabilities.” Your boss’s voice was instantly recognizable. 

You didn’t notice the team crowding around you while you doubled over in pain, rubbing your temples as the message repeated. 

“Ugh, why did you have to say it twice?” You suddenly stared up at the sky, annoyed with the whole system. 

“Um, who said what twice?” Banner finally entered the lab, having been avoiding any anger inducing scenarios. 

Before anyone could jump in with what little knowledge they had, you started talking. 

“My Boss.” You winced, looking at Tony as he raised a brow. “My other boss... well, I guess not anymore. My former other boss.”

“Which is...” Tony gestured for you to continue. 

“Maybe you should all sit down, this could take a while...” 

Everyone followed as you lead them to the kitchen and living room. 

“Okay, I’ll just jump into I guess.” You took a deep breath, looking around the room at everyone’s curious and slightly impatient expressions. 

“I’m an angel.” You nodded, trying to reassure yourself that it was okay to say out loud. 

“Yeah, and? We figured that one out fifteen minutes ago.” Tony huffed, wanting more information. 

“Four years ago, I found out about the Avengers.” You looked at all of them, nervous for their reactions. “Angels are supposed to protect those who can’t help themselves, but I wanted to protect you all.”

“Why?” Steve asked, eying you curiously. 

“Would you all stop interrupting and let her explain!” Wanda whisper yelled, gesturing for you to continue. 

“It’s a valid question. Um, I guess I just thought you all put your lives on the line to help everyone else and I wanted to do what I could to help you. I convinced my former boss to let me come here. I told her protecting you guys would protect all the people you were bound to save, and that’s a lot of people.”

Everyone nodded, seemingly taking in the information. 

“I wanted to tell you. I really did, but it was my only rule. I wasn’t allowed to.” You nervously wrung your hands together, biting your lip as everyone took in the information. 

“That’s why it’s former boss?” Nat questioned. 

“Yes. She fired me?” It was a question to your own ears. “I’ve never heard of an angel being fired before. That kinda sucks.” Everyone chuckled at that. 

“And that was why you doubled over in pain in the lab?” Bucky questioned, concern in his voice. 

You nodded. “Yeah, she has a habit of yelling in my head. And she always says everything twice.” You glared at the ceiling again, knowing she had probably moved on from you already. 

“You’re not mad?” You looked back at Bucky, practically forgetting about everyone else in the room. 

“You caught me after I was shot off of a building and then healed my three bullet wounds. I think you’ve made up for the secret.” Bucky smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You nearly burst into tears at the relief you were feeling. “Oh thank God.” You squeezed him as tight as you thought he could handle, needing to feel him close to your for a second. 

You then turned to face the rest of the team, giving them an equally nervous look. “Are you guys mad?”

“Well, I didn’t get any magic healing.” Sam huffed, a smile on his face. 

“Nobody flew me around the compound.” Tony added on. 

“But, you can fly?” You gave him a confused expression. 

“Dammit” Tony muttered, thinking on his feet. “Tell you what, tell me what else you can do and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal... Maybe we can meet back here in half an hour?” You looked at their bruised and bloody bodies. “You all look like you could use a shower, and I for one would love to get this blood off me.” You gestured to the blood covering your jeans and shirt.

-

A half hour later, you were back in the living room. Tony ordered pizza, everyone crowding around the coffee tables and couches. 

“Alright. Get to it!” Tony called out, excitement clear in his voice. 

You stood up, turning to face the crowd. “Well, you know about the wings.” Your wings extended from your back with a woosh, spreading out before settling in a resting position. 

You heard various mutterings as everyone took in your wings in their full glory. You then floated slightly above the floor, wings gently flapping to keep you suspended. 

“How’s it feel birdman, her wings are part of her.” Bucky jested at Sam, a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, well mine are bulletproof.” Sam sneered, a smile on his face. 

“Actually,” you winced, “Mine can be bulletproof. Basically, I can do whatever I want, but only for short periods of time. Like if someone surprise shot me, it would hurt. But if I was prepared, it would bounce off.”

“Wow.” Steve looked at you, a mixture of surprise and wonder in his eyes. 

“Um, I can also walk through walls, create shockwaves, move things with my mind, hack into any computer- although it takes some actual knowledge to not leave a trail... I mean, I’m pretty strong, but I don’t have much training for fighting hand to hand or anything. Oh, and mind manipulation? Not like mind control or anything, that is definitely frowned upon. Just... like earlier I made the Hydra agents forget the blueprints so they wouldn’t be able to get around the compound as quickly.” 

Everyone jumped in with questions. You answered every single one, talking well into the night. You did your best to give examples of your powers, like moving the rubble around to fix the giant hole in the south side of the compound. 

After a few hours, Bucky cut in. “Guys, she’ll still be here tomorrow. Wait, you will still be here, right?” He looked at you in a panic.

“Yes, unless you all want me gone, I’m here to stay.” You smile at them. 

“Good. Now as I was saying, she’ll be here tomorrow. Ask her the rest of your questions then. Hell, make a list if you want. Just let me take my best girl to bed.” Bucky pulled you up from the couch, leading you out of the room. 

“Goodnight!” You called back to the team before turning to Bucky. “What did I say about being your best girl?” You playfully hit his side. 

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you while you waited for the elevator. “I’m sorry. My only girl.”

“That’s better.”

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

[skymaiden32]

Midnight Inferno

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 (Please ask if you would like to be alerted when I update or write new stories)

June's calendar story.

Several drilling rigs have gone up in flames in a newly tapped Southern Ocean gas field. Now, men working inside a control building are relying on Thunderbirds 2 and 4 to get them out. But can they do it with a sinister presence in the shadows?

------

Guess who went on holiday right after hiatus and forgot to write things?

That's right, 'twas me :3

Great to be back though! ^^

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

The airport was anything but silent that morning. A great many conversations merged to form a cacophony of noise. Within the chaos, Scott Tracy scrutinised the arrivals board as he tentatively sipped his third coffee in the past hour, arms folded while his foot tapped the floor. His immediate younger brother’s mannerisms were almost identical, save for his object of interest being the recent paper instead of the flights that were constantly streaming onto the runway. Anyone who would’ve seen them would say they were on edge. Scott huffed at the thought. Of course the brothers were on edge, although the majority of the people around them couldn’t know why.

“Well, this definitely feels familiar…” Virgil grimaced as he shoved the newspaper in Scott’s face, the headline clear and concise. The elder brother groaned when he saw it.

Southern Ocean platform fires continue!

They both remembered the Atlantic Rig rescues a little too well. It wasn’t something anyone in their family liked to dwell on, especially not Scott. The two of them exchanged a meaningful look, exchanging words without having to say anything, a sure sign of the close bond they’d shared since they were kids. John had always thought it fascinating, Gordon always said it was creepy. Alan had just stared in awe at how well the two eldest sons of Jeff Tracy worked together. He still did, although it had toned down as he’d matured.

Pushing the immediate issue aside, Virgil folded the newspaper and gulped down his own coffee, frowning when he found it had long gone cold. He sighed, now watching the arrivals come in with his brother. “No sign of Gordon’s flight yet, then?” Scott shook his head, concern etched into his expression.

“No, not yet.” Scott sighed. “It was supposed to be here 30 minutes ago. He’s on a Fireflash. It shouldn’t be taking this long…” Virgil barely managed to hide his amusement. It was just typical of the Smotherhen to get worried over a half-hour delay. Even for the fastest commercial plane on the market, Fireflash had delays from time to time.

The younger of the two shrugged. “Relax, Scotty. I’m sure everything’s fine. It’s only 30 minutes extra.” He gave up on trying to nurse some warmth back into his coffee cup with just his hands. It had been a shot… “Besides, if anything does happen, you and I both know that Gords could wrestle a sixth-foot monster to the ground.”

Scott huffed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right…” Gordon hadn’t been in the WASPs for years now, but the eldest Tracy brother knew a thing or two about military training himself. Neither of them had stopped the training regimens they’d strictly followed back then since they’d left WASP and the USAF. “Gordon could bench-press the strongest bodybuilders in the world at this point…”

Virgil snorted. “Yep. That’s our Gordo.” A flight dinged onto the board, getting the attention of both brothers. Scott, predictably, recognised the flight number first.

“He’s landed.”

The younger brother nodded. “Then let’s go and meet him.”

------

Gordon bounced up and down as he finally made it past Passport Control and collected his bags from the correct Baggage Reclaim. He was here at last! Almost back home. The aquanaut’s conference at Marineville had taken far too long for tastes. He’d really hoped he would’ve been invited as the aquanaut of Thunderbird 4, and not as an ex-WASP operative. At least then he could’ve gone home in Thunderbird 2 in the first place, instead of having to deal with the issues on the rapidly ageing Fireflash. It felt like just yesterday that the plane’s maiden flight had gone so disastrously wrong that International Rescue was pulled into their very first rescue.

He brushed the thought aside. No. He had been lucky he wasn’t there as an IR operative. Marineville had once been his stomping ground. He knew most of the people who had been in that hall. He would’ve been recognised easily as Gordon Tracy, and then the truth of the secret organisation would’ve been revealed. That was the thought he was left with as he came out of customs, managing to avoid the officers rifling through other passengers' bags. Not that he had anything to hide, but still.

He scanned for the throngs of people waiting for loved ones and people they were driving to their further destinations to see his brothers, waving at them as they caught sight of him. Pretty soon, he found himself swept up into a whirlwind of Tracy affection and hugs. He rolled his eyes as Scott and Virgil led the way out of the arrival lounge. The plan was to rendezvous with Alan at a relatively remote clearing about 20 minutes from the airport, where Thunderbirds 1 and 2 lay in wait for them. They all piled into the car, Virgil at the wheel. Their departure couldn’t have gone any smoother.

They had been on the road for a good 10 minutes before anyone said anything. Scott cleared his throat. “So, how was the flight Gords?”

Gordon shrugged. “Not bad.”

“Which, in Gordon Tracy language, means it was awful.” Virgil piped up from the wheel. Gordon smirked.

“You guys know me too well…” He sighed before continuing. “There were a lot of technical difficulties is all. Thank goodness it was Fireflash, or we would have been delayed even more.” The aquanaut smiled at his brothers. “Captain Hansen says hello, by the way.”

Virgil let out a breath. “I still can’t believe he knows who we are now…”

Scott leaned back in his seat. “Me neither. But he is a good friend. I’d trust him with my life, and I hope one day that all of you can do the same.”

Virgil scoffed. “We already do.” Gordon relaxed as well. “How fitting that a man we saved on our very first rescue becomes one of our most trusted agents.”

They soon turned in the direction of the Thunderbirds, going completely off-road. Thank goodness Brains had modified the car to be able to traverse all terrain. She controlled like a dream.

“Almost there, boys.” Virgil’s voice cut through the noise of the car's engine, as they were now going top speed. Just above the treeline, the forest green collection of metal and life-saving parts that was called Thunderbird 2 came into view. Virgil swerved up the ramp of the pod, drifting and skidding to a halt in the exact centre of the large container.

Gordon looked up to see their baby brother, white as a sheet as he stood frozen, thankfully, some distance away. Scott jumped out of the car and clinged to his youngest brother, checking him over for even the smallest scratch. “Virgil, you almost gave him a heart attack!”

Virgil had the decency to look ashamed. He wasn’t usually one to make a mistake like that. He’d had a lot on his mind this past month. “Sorry. His life reading was closer to One when I checked on the approach. If I’d known he was there, you know I wouldn’t have done that.”

Scott sighed. “I’m not the one you need to apologise to, Virg. Just be more careful. You’ve been taking way too many risks lately, and it’s scaring us.” The eldest brother tried to say that last part calmly, but it was impossible to keep the fear out of his voice.

“I know, Scooter.” Virgil sighed in regret, giving Alan a small smile. The blonde-haired astronaut had thankfully calmed down considerably. “You alright, Al? I’m sorry.”

Alan gave him a big grin, giving him the thumbs up. “I’m alright, Virg. And apology accepted.”

Gordon and Virgil got out the car, joining their brothers. Scott reached back into the car to grab the paper Virgil had been reading earlier, showing the front page to the two younger members of the Tracy clan. The photo showed a newly built drilling rig up in flames. And it hadn’t been the only one.

All four men present shuddered at the thought. All those lives… “I think we need a family meeting. Father needs to know about this…”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Ian Malcolm

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(When I tell you I love this man.)

- You and Ian meet when you attend the same STEM related conference; though it would be more accurate to say that you met while you attended a conference that he was lecturing at. 

- Nevertheless, you were both in the same room and wound up interfacing before the meeting was over; an interaction that would lead to a very interesting and at times exasperating relationship. 

- You found him fascinating; just like pretty much everyone else in the crowd, someone who had a big, entertaining personality in a field that so often lacked personality. You liked him the minute he opened his mouth. 

- He, in turn, thought that you were gorgeous and found himself falling for you the minute he locked eyes on you. He was looking forward to the moment he could slink off stage and find a way to talk to you. He did so right after he finished his speech and the applause settled down.

- He artfully found his way through the crowd and managed to convince the person beside you to switch their seat, taking it for himself after the starry eyed boy got up. 

- The two of you sat in silence for a little while before he leaned over and introduced himself, shaking your hand for a lingering moment before you both turned your attention back to the stage. 

- Another beat of silence passed between you before he leaned over and murmured a funny comment to you, reveling in the way you tried to hold back your smile. You spent the rest of the meeting trying to stifle your laughter as your new ironic commentator continued his jokes and flirtation. It certainly made the conference more enjoyable. 

- Once the shows over and everyone begins to clear out, he asks if you’re doing anything before asking if you’d like to go out and grab a couple of drinks or talk someplace. 

- That's how you find yourself seated next to him at the bar of a nice little restaurant, listening to him explain the chaos theory in detail and trying your best to digest everything that he’s saying; along with your drinks. 

- Along with his mathematical explanations, he also provides a lot of compliments and flirtation. You spend the evening feeling like the most important and sought after woman in the world

- Since you could easily; and very accurately, consider that little get together to be your first date, let’s move on to your first kiss. 

- It’s a date or two later that the two of you share it. You don’t want to give in too easily; even if you want to kiss him a lot sooner, so you play coy until you cant take it any more and the moment feels perfectly right. 

- Perfectly right seems to mean the middle of your kitchen after you invited him in for some coffee but hey, to each their own. 

- Nevertheless, you’d invited him into your home after one of your dates and gone to your kitchen to get the two of you your drinks. He’d followed you in and when you handed him his cup of coffee, he’d leaned in, pressed his lips to yours and given you a soft kiss.

- When he pulled away, he smiled at you, raised his mug, and gave you a somewhat teasing thank you before he lead the way into your living room. 

- One mug lead to another and you've been staying up late with each other ever since. 

- Ian suffers from a deplorable need to constantly be touching you. On top of that, he really isn’t too preoccupied with how other people feel so Pda is very common and performed very shamelessly.

- His arm is usually wrapped around you in some way, whether it be draped across the back of your chair, wrapped around your shoulders, or haphazardly thrown in front of you while a T. Rex is charging towards you.

- Tight hugs; which usually means that you’re being somewhat picked up since he’s so goddamn tall.

- Having your hair played with; oftentimes while he uses his flirtation on you.

- Knee squeezes. His hand belongs to your knee whenever he can’t wrap his arm around you.

- He loves cheek kisses. He loves the sort of showing off feel of them whenever you’re in front of someone else; and he just loves how soft and sweet they are.

- Slow, passionate kisses.

- Oftentimes, you wind up sleeping in the crook of his arm; usually with your head resting against his chest. That being said, the two of you also just cuddle haphazardly, snuggling in any which way you can, your limbs entangled and your bodies relaxed.

- He tends to call you honey or baby but, considering the fact that he calls his daughter Queen, my goddess and my inspiration, there’s room for a few more over dramatic pet names in your relationship.

- Waking up together. Ian's a math professor so, depending on both your schedules, you’re usually getting up around the same time. Although, if you get up earlier than he has to, he’d definitely; somewhat begrudgingly, adapt to your schedule.

- The two of you are attached at the hip a lot of the time. If you choose to go somewhere, he’s bound to follow; whether that be to keep you safe or just because he enjoys spending time with you is anyone’s guess.

- Working on separate things while you’re together. Sometimes couples just want to be in the same room while they do their own thing and I think that’s beautiful.

- Going shopping together. He’s a fan of clothes shopping, groceries, not so much.

- He likes trying out new things and going to all those different places that pop up in town so the two of you visit a lot of new restaurants and shops.

- Going out to dinner at nice restaurants. He’s the Rockstar of the math community so of course he’d want to take you to a few high end places; whenever he could afford it that is.

- Traveling around the world together. Whenever he has to go somewhere, he likes taking you with him.

- Being in the crowds of his conferences and public appearances. You like cheering him on and he appreciates the fact that you’re always there for him; even if he doesn’t necessarily need the support.

- Ian isn’t the greatest at keeping his word and he can get really caught up in his work to the point where he forgets important things, but he does always try his best to make things up to you whenever he can.

- Becoming close with Kelly. She enjoys living with you when her mother can’t be bothered and Ian’s bogged down by work. He loves both his girls dearly so the fact that you get along with each other is very important to him.

- You get to use the fact that you’re with Kelly as an excuse to go do stupid and somewhat childish things like visiting arcades and county fairs. Not that you couldn’t do that without her but I think you know what I mean.

- Movie nights; usually with him and Kelly.

- Museum dates.

- He genuinely thinks that your weird interests and quirks are endearing and fascinating. Other people would consider them strange, Ian considers them to be a compelling part of your personality.

- Seeing you talk about things that you’re passionate about is one of his favorite things in the world. He thinks that drive to learn and do and the intelligence that you possess is extremely sexy.

- Sometimes he’ll just look at you like he wants to eat you alive and it’s extremely problematic. Sir, we are in public.

- Lots of flirting. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, he still enjoys making you flustered and treating you like the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

- Unnecessary and frankly disrespectful noises. If he doesn’t stop making salacious growls at you, you’re gonna have to act up.

- Letting him explain all his different theories and findings to you. He loves showing off and having your undivided attention.

- Breaking rules together. If you aren’t keen on doing so, he’d definitely tease you for being a goody goody.

- He carries around a flask most of the time so the two of you can always just park somewhere and drink together whenever you feel like. Some of your best memories take place in his car, passing around a little metal container and talking about nothing in particular.

- Sarcasm drips from this mans every pore so you should try to get used to it. As annoying as it can be, it does make for some funny comments here and there.

- Snarky comments; whether they’re directed at you or someone else. Ian can be a bit of a bastard so don’t be surprised when his mouth opens and something mocking comes out. Just be prepared to occasionally slap his arm and stop him from being a total ass to people; even if it’s justified.

- Corny little jokes.

- Trying to keep him from verbally destroying people. He’s very verbal about his opinions so chances are, he’s going to speak his mind at one point or another and you might not want to be there when he does.

- He’s a voice of reason for just about everyone on Earth so if you need someone to tell you when you’re being stupid, he’s perfect for you.

- Sticking with him and being there for him after everything happens. He changes very drastically in the following years after meeting Mr. Hammond but you love him no less.

- No matter what people may think of him, you still defend him and proudly stand by his side. You’ve learned to ignore the opinion of others and not entertain their gossip.

- Helping him deal with the trauma that comes with almost getting fucking eaten.

- Ian doesn’t get jealous very often. He’s secure enough in himself and knows that you wouldn’t cheat on him, but every now and again, if you’re particularly close to like a colleague or something, he’ll show some signs of jealousy. Mainly, he’ll just ask a bunch of questions about them and your relationship; all the while trying to play it off as normal curiosity.

- Ian is incredibly protective of you; particularly after the events of Jurassic park. He’s willing to do whatever he can to keep you safe; even if it means endangering himself or doing something that scares the hell out of him.

- The two of you don’t fight extremely often; and you rarely have very serious fights, but you do have an argument from time to time. He may say something sarcastic or hurtful in the heat of the moment on occasion but he never means it and he always immediately apologizes.

- Very few fights last overnight. He’s usually so quick to apologize and try to sort things out that you’re back on track in no time. Under his egotistical shell, he’s really just a big softie who wants things to be alright between the two of you.

- He tells you that he loves you a perfectly average amount of times; not too much and not too little. And he loves hearing you say it back or just tell him that you love him for no real reason.

- Ian legitimately loves kids. Like he’s fully prepared to get married and start a family with you at any given moment. Believe me, you just say the words and he’ll pop the question.