#And Subway mentioned my lack of a mouth so now I need to post this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simmerandwrite · 3 years ago

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strangers - steve rogers x reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment and non-consensual touching, swearing.

Word count: 4870

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: When your subway ride home takes a turn for the worst, you hope a stranger in a coffee shop will help you out.

Notes: If you saw a snippet of this the other day, here’s the full thing! I wanted to tackle some ‘in need of saving’ tropes and this just sort of happened. I’ve never posted straight up on Tumblr before but I’m a bit lacking in my experience with reader fics, so I figured this was a good place to share it. no beta, any mistakes are my own! If you like it, let me know - thanks for reading!

—

Steve Rogers liked his days off. Not that he had a set schedule week to week anyway but when things aligned correctly, he could do whatever he wanted. No world saving, no training, no report writing, no meetings.

He had scoped out a small little coffee shop in Brooklyn where he liked to spend these quiet afternoons. Usually with a book in hand (he had so many books to catch up on) or some music loaded to his phone (Nat was currently educating him on 90s punk rock) or a notebook and pencil. People watching served as wonderful inspiration to sketch.

He sipped his cappuccino, eyes tipped downward at the book ahead of him on the table. He was interrupted just moments later as someone dropped into the chair across from him.

Now, Steve wasn’t intentionally hiding out at this hole-in-the-wall cafe. But he did put on his laughable disguise still - a beaten up Yankees cap and his prescription-less thick framed glasses. He liked the anonymity. That didn’t always stop people from recognizing him.

As he opened his mouth to question the person who was suddenly joining him for coffee, she slid her phone across the table to him. Her hand shook. His eyebrows flexed into a curious frown as he looked at the screen displaying a plainly typed note:

‘Do you mind if I sit someone is following me home sorry to disturb you’

—

As if your day hadn’t been absolutely terrible enough, you spotted the gremlin of a man on the subway watching you again. You knew he worked somewhere in the same office building as you because he always trailed a few paces behind you when pushing through the revolving doors in the lobby. It wasn’t uncommon to see the same people on the same subway line at the same time every day, but this man’s presence had become an unwanted downside.

He was always there. Worse than that, he seemed to be always watching you. Today, it was even more obvious that he was following you.

When that thought first occurred to you, it had been really easy to shrug off. He was just a guy taking the subway. But when he happened to be on the later train with you one day, an uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach.

And now, as the car was filling up even more after the second stop in DUMBO, he had moved to stand and put himself even closer to you.

You had been going through so many Next Steps. God, that phrase was the bane of your existence. Next steps, next steps..

Maybe you could tell him to fuck off. You could make an appointment with Leanna in HR and see if there is a way to figure out the name of this guy - though he didn’t work for your company so that was likely going to be a dead end. You could start taking the bus to the village before grabbing the train. Maybe you could Uber home some days instead of taking the subway. Not that you could afford that but this guy was..

You stiffened immediately.

This guy was touching you. In the midst of the crowded subway car, he was pressed against you entirely. And was he.. His hips were moving against your leg and.. Wait, that was two hands on your hips now.. Hot breath whispered against your neck and -

Fuck.

You threw yourself through the mob as the train came to a stop. With hurried feet you ran onto the platform and up the stairs, doing your best to weave through the flow of people, like a fish trying to make it upstream. You tried not to be obvious but as you snapped your head over your shoulders to look back, you saw him there again.

He was smirking. No, snarling.

Next steps, next steps.

You joined a sea of people crossing the street, taking your first left to try and steer yourself into a particular direction. You were still a far walk from your apartment but with this man on your heels, you didn’t want to lead him anywhere near there.

You grabbed your phone from your jacket pocket, unlocking it quickly and scrolling through the contacts. Surely there had to be someone you could call but even then, what could they do? Offer advice?

It didn’t occur to you until then but would it be valuable to call the cops?

Despite the late day sunlight, you suddenly felt very aware of the emptiness of the sidewalk on that side street. You needed to be around people. It definitely wasn’t logical to be anywhere near alone with this guy and -

It sounded like his footsteps were getting closer. With a panicked gulp, you yanked on the door of a little hole-in-the-wall cafe. Your eyes scanned the space quickly once you were inside. You probably shouldn’t sit alone, you couldn’t run to the bathroom if you aren’t sure where it is or if you needed a key. There were too many variables.

You needed something. Next steps..

You spotted someone sitting at a small table near the window and without thinking, you sent out a silent prayer to whoever might be listening and you rushed over. The man was clearly alone, a half consumed ceramic mug of coffee sitting to the right of his book.

Swallowing hard, you quickly typed on your phone and slid it across the table to him after you sat. You tried your best to stay very calm and hoped that he would play along. God, what if he didn’t play along and -

Behind you, the door chimed once more and you desperately wanted to see if it was that man - if the gremlin had followed you inside. You clasped your hands together in your lap and forced a smile on as you looked at the stranger sitting across from you.

Despite not knowing him, there was a familiarity about his appearance. Behind his thick glasses, soft blue eyes searched you carefully. His eyes flicked to the screen once more, stiffening in his chair as he looked past you towards the rest of the cafe.

With his right hand, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a small notebook and a pen. He scribbled something quickly and turned the page towards you.

Are you hurt?

You shook your head quickly. He offered you a tight smile and wrote once more.

Buzzcut, grey jacket?

Your eyes blew open wide and you tilted your head into a nod.

I’m Steve

He flipped the notebook closed and extended his hand across the table, palm facing up. He leaned forward just slightly, meeting your eyes with a reassuring smile. “Play along.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand and you slowly unclamped your own, grabbing his on the table instead. He was doing an impressive job splitting his attention between you and his surroundings, eyes scanning the room. He squeezed your hand very gently, brushing his thumb against your knuckles.

“Tell me about your day.��

You sucked in a hard breath. You weren’t entirely sure what his strategy was but something told you this guy was in your corner. Though despite that, you could feel another set of eyes on you.

“Uh,” you started quietly, letting the air escape your lungs. “Surprisingly, I didn’t think it could get worse before I got on the subway after work. I had a review meeting that was not great and we had a free catered lunch that was not vegetarian friendly. Missed an important email and deadline and… well, here I am whining about it and interrupting your day. Listen, I’m going to-

You moved to stand up but Steve shook his head, grasping your hand. “Give it a few more minutes, I think he’ll give up and leave.”

His words were casual but had an authoritative tone. Once more his eyes left you, looking towards the front of the cafe. He raised his free hand and motioned to one of the baristas. You weren’t certain if this was the type of place who served people at their seats but clearly he had a comfortable rapport as the young girl approached with a warm smile on her face.

“Hey Tia, could I get another?”

“Anything for you?” The barista turned her head as she asked, pony tail moving from side to side.

“Uhm.” You paused and thought. You certainly had no desire to even consider a coffee order when you felt someone’s linger gaze boring into you. “A decaf con panna, if that’s possible.” The girl confirmed it was with a nod then left the table side.

“Con panna?” Steve’s lips pulled into a curious smirk. Something about his smile calmed you.

“Espresso with whipped cream on top,” you answered. “Short and sweet.”

“I’ll have to try that next time.”

Steve sure had a soothing smile. When his thumb stopped tracing against your palm - when did that even start? - you felt an empty sadness about the loss. Wow, what did that even say about your standards when a stranger was brushing his thumb against your hand that you were so grateful for? Well, it was a thousand times better than someone rubbing his -

You winced at the memory, biting down as you clutched your bottom lip between your teeth. Though that shameful feeling hadn’t disappeared, you managed to keep it at bay. But now, it seemed to have left an image you were unable to blink away.

The sweet smell of whipped cream and the shuffling of paper cups broke you from your trance. You reached for your bag to fish out a few dollars but when you looked up, Steve was waving a hand to stop you.

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate his kindness. You did. You really, really did. But given the last half hour, you still had a hard time settling your nervous mind.

“Thanks, Tia.” Steve’s eyes were jumping around the place as the barista grabbed the cash he offered. A loud stomp of footsteps drew their attention as the Subway Gremlin saddled up beside the table.

“Sorry to be a bother, darlin’ - any chance I can borrow your phone?”

You couldn’t help but look at him. Though his words were directed at the barista, he made a point to glance over at you.

You felt Steve’s hands grip yours. When you looked towards him, his eyes were very carefully watching the man. How did he manage to -

“Sorry, we don’t have a dedicated line available to customers.” Tia politely shook her head, pointing towards the door. “There’s a CityBank up the street that can help you, I’m sure.” She shrugged and headed back to the coffee counter.

The man stood still, opening his mouth to argue.

Steve sat back, shoulders broad and steady. “Did you need directions there? I think it’s just two blocks. Maybe 500 paces.” His tone was flat. “Just out the door and you’ll be on your way.”

You kept your eyes on Steve. He kept his stare directed at the man. Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, the man moved his feet. He turned on his heel, though not before stopping to look at you again.

“I will see you tomorrow, dar-

Steve released your hand and pushed his chair back, standing quickly and grasping the man’s shoulder.

Steve towered over him. “You have five seconds.” The man pulled away from Steve’s grip then finally stomped away. You kept your eyes tightly shut until you heard the chime of the bell indicating the movement of the door. Then, you collapsed onto your arms on the edge of the table.

Steve, meanwhile, headed to the door and kept watch for a few more moments to ensure the man actually departed from the area. Then, he stopped at the counter and exchanged a few words with Tia before returning you.

You were still doing your best to encourage the floor to open up and swallow you whole. How had this even escalated? The worst part was your mind seemed clouded with doubt. This man, you hadn’t even interacted with him before. Why was he suddenly so invested in you? To a point where he might follow you home? Were you just another target or had this been intentional?

You considered yourself a fairly observant person and yet..

You twisted your hands together in your lap and tried to consider what was going to happen now. Next steps, next steps..

“Hey.” Steve returned to his chair. Your eyes flicked up towards him, noticing he was sliding a bottle of water towards you. Your sad little espresso and whipped cream treat was deflated next to it. “Are you okay?”

You reached for the water bottle, twisting the cap open and taking a long drink. “I don’t know.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you shook your head. “No, actually. I’m not. It somehow feels like my skin is on fire and my lungs are failing me and I’m sweaty but I’m not and - and -

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Steve spoke so calmly and evenly. “Just take a slow breath with me, okay?” You closed your eyes once more and followed his instructions as he walked you through a few breathing exercises. “That’s great, you’re doing great-

When he stopped speaking so quickly, you opened one eye to look over at him. His cheeks were a warm shade of pink and his mouth was twisted into a frown. “What?”

“It just occurred to me I didn’t get your name.” He paused, as if to consider his next thought. “Although, given what just happened with that man, you are under no obligation to tell me anything about yourself. I just.. I’d like to help.”

His genuine concern for you was surprising. You allowed a small smile to stretch across your face. “You’re very nice, Steve.”

You gave him your name and he smiled back, repeating it to himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your smile turned downwards when you looked towards your phone. “I should probably get going. Again, I’m really sorry for dragging you into this mess but I appreciate the… solace.” You took a deep breath and pushed your chair back, pausing to tip the lukewarm espresso into your mouth. “I owe you one.”

You winced when you heard yourself and sighed. Why did you say that? This stranger, this friendly, broad shouldered, tall, handsome stranger who’s day you interrupted, did not need your weird backhanded flirting. In fact, even though every signal in your brain seemed on edge after, well, everything, the only thing that seemed to ground you now was the kindness of Steve. So you tried to will yourself not to ruin it with any additional commentary.

You weren’t entirely sure what had driven you down this particular street into this particular cafe and towards this particular man. But, you were certainly grateful. “Actually, do they have gift cards here? I’d love to buy you one to say thank you and -

“Are you going to walk? Wherever you’re going right now?” When you looked over, you saw that Steve had stood, too. You saw his eyes move towards the door and the far windows up the street where the man from the subway had gone. “I don’t want to overstep but I hope you’ll let me walk you home. Or far enough away to have cleared his radar.”

“I feel like I’ve already wasted enough of your time, Steve.” You truly felt worse and worse for interrupting his afternoon.

“Please, I insist.” Steve tilted his head, half a smirk on his lips. “You just said you owe me one, so. I’m cashing in the favour.”

“The favour repayment you’re cashing in is.. you doing me another favour? Do you know how favours are supposed to work?” Admittedly, you knew you would feel a lot safer having someone walk home with you. And something about Steve made you feel very secure, his presence like a comforting shield.

“C’mon,” Steve replied with a laugh, nudging his head towards the door.

When you stepped onto the sidewalk, you stopped to think. “Let’s go this way.” You turned to the right and Steve followed, staying on your shoulder closest to the street. You walked in a comfortable silence - which made you nervous at first. Then, as your steps fell into a pattern, the quiet soothed you.

You pushed your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you turned down the next block. You looked over at Steve, who turned his head towards you as you shifted. “You didn’t ask anything else about the man.. Who followed me.”

A quiet hum came from Steve. “I didn’t think I should. You seemed shaken up enough.” He shrugged, peering down at you through his glasses. “If you want to talk about it..”

“I work in this big office building in Midtown. The Clifton building?”

Steve motioned his hand diagonally. “Little bagel place downstairs? That’s right down from The Avengers tower, isn’t it?”

You nodded along. Right. Stark Tower was The Avengers Tower, now. It was the most iconic landmark on that block. “Yes. Actually, I work on the 40th floor, which makes for a great angle to see Iron Man coming in.” Your smile was fleeting when you continued on. “It’s a huge building. I work in human resources for this pharmaceutical company.. But there’s a law firm in there, too. Insurance companies, start ups.. Hundreds of people in and out all day long. Yet, that man on the subway has managed to..” You stopped yourself before your chest got too tight. “Let’s just say I’ve seen him around before.”

“Do you know his name?”

“That’s the thing!” You couldn’t help but laugh now, shaking your head in dumbfounded confusion. “No. I have no idea who he is. But he often gets on the same subway line as me, watches me from across the crowd then today..” You stopped and dragged a hand down your face. “It’s a sad truth but I would say most of my friends have been.. Touched inappropriately on the subway before. I guess it’s a weird right of passage or something..”

“Wait - what?” Steve stopped in his tracks and reached his hand out to grab yours. You stopped and looked up at his eyes, somehow both soft and dark with concern. “He touched you? What do you mean?”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering if his ask was authentic. When you saw the disappointment in his face, eyes flooded with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you realized his reaction was genuine. You opened your mouth to explain but suddenly it seemed impossible to find the words.

Steve let go of your hand as he absorbed your lack of response and reached for his phone. “You can file a police report, right?”

“No, no.” You stopped him, placing your hand on his as he held his phone. “Trust me, that’s just paperwork that goes nowhere. Without the guy's name, absolutely nothing would come from it anyway.” You shook your head. “It’s fine, really. I might just adjust my work hours and change my route home for a few weeks. Maybe he’ll give up.”

Steve muttered something to himself, shaking his head. His face shifted from concern to something else, like his brain was working on a different trail of thoughts. He spoke your name quietly, drawing your attention to him again. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Steve’s kindness was a strange contrast to the entire experience on the subway. How one man could have such questionable intentions while another apologizes with sincerity for it was nearly jarring. Although, it did suddenly occur to you that Steve was just as much of a stranger.

“The worst part is.. men like that sever any opportunity for trust in other people. Especially blind trust. Like me telling you, a stranger, where I work and walking you to where I live. Funny enough though - every wire in my brain should be telling me not to and how it was a bad idea but.. I guess there is something about you.”

Steve sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he considered his response. “When you walked into the coffee shop, you could have asked the barista for help or tried to hide out in the bathroom. But you sat next to me instead. How come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, there's just something about you, Steve.”

You walked in silence again, feet falling into a pattern once more. The sky was growing darker, the air cooler. After crossing the street again, you looked at him. “How do you feel about Prezio being traded to the Orioles?” You reached out and tipped up the brim of his Yankees hat. “A tragedy, right?”

A quiet laugh escaped him as he tipped his head. “I think it was a huge mistake. Don’t you think we’ve had a hard enough year as it is?” Your silence was filled with baseball talk instead and it seemed to put both of you at ease.

“This is me.” You stopped outside of a short apartment complex, pointing a thumb to the door.

Steve smiled, one hand in the pocket of his jacket as he studied you. Was this it? After the wild rollercoaster of emotions you had spilled onto him in the last hour, parting with nothing else seemed empty. Lacking. He opened his mouth and closed it, once then twice.

Finally, you cut in. “Thanks again, Steve. Really. If you hadn’t played along and scared him away.. well, I’m not sure where I would be right now. It means a lot that you cared enough about a stranger to make sure I was safe.”

Steve sighed out your name. “I’m sorry your barometer for kindness is so low.”

You sighed. “Yeah, me too.” Part of you wanted to do something. Say something else. Linger a tiny bit longer. But your feet shuffled and your hand reached for the door. “Have a good night, Steve.”

—

“I need a favour.”

“Well, good morning to you, sunshine. Did you lock yourself out of your computer again? FRIDAY can help with that.”

“Tony, this is serious.”

“Okay, okay. I recognize that scowl. How can I help you?”

“If I provided you some video footage from a security camera, can we track someone down? Figure out who they are? For full transparency, it’s just a civilian.”

“Sounds like we’re operating outside of the law, Rogers. Can you provide me with more context? I don’t mind the grey area - I just like the drama, too.”

Steve sighed, then reluctantly explained himself. The cafe. Your panicked message. The stalker of a man. The way you dismissed it all as a normal, unfortunate side effect of existing as a woman. His barista friend provided him with camera footage but he wasn’t sure it was enough.

Tony pinched between his eyes. “Men are scum. And I say that as someone in the practice of trying to be better. Recovering scum, if you will. I’ll see what I can do. FRIDAY, how quietly can we get into the security database at the Clifton building?”

—

Although you hadn’t lied to Steve, it occurred to you on your journey home that your guard should remain up. Which is why you had actually allowed him to walk you to your aunt’s apartment, instead of your own. She was happy to see you burst through the door and insisted you stay for dinner. That was a tiny silver lining to the whole mess.

The next day though, the thought of going into work was suffocating. So you opted to spend the day working from home instead, which your boss had been agreeable to, at least. One day rolled into two and you successfully avoided the office building until the following Monday. But then, you needed a plan. Next steps, next steps.

You took an Uber to the office early and left late at the end of the day, leaving out the back stairway and crossing a few blocks to take a different subway line home. It was unfortunate you had to cater your life to the chance you would run into this goon again, but your sense of security was slowly returning. That had to count for something.

Things shifted later that week. There was a sudden new policy sent out to all the staff in your office outlining new building ownership and training about sexual harassment policies.

“It’s a long time coming,” you heard someone mutter out in the elevator as you headed down towards the lobby.

“Guess Tony Stark just wants to own the whole block,” their coworker chirped back, pulling to loosen his tie.

There was even more commotion when you exited the elevator and walked towards the large glass doors. A team of NYPD officers were standing outside, shoving someone in the back of their cruiser. Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t be certain but from that angle, you certainly recognized the bad buzzcut. Your eyes darted around the lobby anxiously and across the room, a small crowd of suits and officers had formed near..

Tony Stark, himself.

Before you could even try to understand what was going on, you heard someone calling your name. You turned your head and saw someone who looked a lot like -

“Steve?” You took a few steps towards him, pausing to glance from him back at Tony Stark and.. “Oh my god. You’re Steve Rogers. Why didn’t you say something?”

Captain America had walked you home. Hidden behind glasses and a hat. And you always considered yourself observant.

Steve just smirked, shrugging a shoulder. “I didn’t think it was important.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Should I be thanking you for all of this chaos?”

Steve furrowed his brow in mock confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe I’m extrapolating here but the same day my subway stalker gets taken away in cuffs, Stark Industries buys out this building and mandates a new policy and code of conduct.”

Steve pursed his lips, swallowing back a mischievous smirk. “Here’s the thing. It occurred to me that your best choice of action after that day was changing your entire life to avoid that man. And I couldn’t help but think about how broken that system was.”

You sighed. It had occurred to you, too. While you were relieved to shake the man from your trail, your mind considered he would probably turn his attention to someone else. And that wouldn’t be fair.

“Well, Cap. Job well done. That scum of a man had priors in Jersey, too.” Tony Stark himself had walked to where you and Steve stood. His hand clapped on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re at least going to ask her out, right? I mean, I bought an entire building for you - make a move, pal.”

Steve flushed pink and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“I’m getting a bagel. You want a bagel?” Tony raised an eyebrow from you to Steve again, smiling proudly.

“I’m good. I recommend the poppy seed though!” You called as Tony flitted away, narrowly avoiding a proper looking blonde woman who seemed very tired.

You turned your attention back to Steve. “He seems like a lot.”

“He is.” Steve nodded, motioning his hand. “I know it’s only one thing, maybe a ripple in making a difference but.. I’m hoping one less inappropriate person on the subway can give you peace of mind.”

You smiled again. Though you had seen many appearances by Captain America on the news, seeing the man in person was different. It seemed Steve Rogers walked the walk. After parting ways with him before, though he had crossed your mind, you didn’t anticipate your menial issues leading to this.

“Thanks. Really. Even one person makes a difference.” You reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, Steve.”

“I’m sorry about Tony, though. His comments about asking you out and.. that certainly wasn’t my goal here.”

“I don’t know. You just did me a huge favour getting rid of that gremlin. I think I owe you.”

Steve caught your cheeky smile and stood up a bit straighter. “Well, in that case, the Yankees are playing the Sox tomorrow night. Tony never uses his tickets and the seats aren’t half bad. What do you say?”

“You’re cashing in this favour to take me on a date? Usually people ask for help moving or a ride to the airport or something.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Sure. I guess you can take me to the game, Steve. If you ask politely, I’ll probably even hold your hand.”

After work the next day, Steve met you outside and you took the subway together to the stadium. You knew this wasn’t the end of it for you or anyone else worried about their personal boundaries being crossed. But, as you gripped the subway pole and your fingers grazed against Steve’s, you could finally breathe again. For the first time in a while, you weren’t anticipating next steps.

It was just you and the kind stranger from the coffee shop.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x oc #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #reader fanfiction #idk yall #simmerandcry #simmer writes

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romantic-barnes · 4 years ago

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strawberry & tape | part six

| part six - take a shot, cherry schnapps |

Pairings: dark!biker!bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has the town in his hands and a lot of blood. All you have is a cafe your mother left you after her passing. But as Bucky’s attention moves to you, do you have the strength to pay revenge for his wrongdoings? Does your push into the dark paradise end in love or blood?

Warnings: mention of suicide, possessiveness, violence This is dark bucky! please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics mentioned above!

A/N: I know this is a little short but believe me it’s worth it. The next part will be the last and I cannot wait to show you how it ends! Please don’t read if you are under 18!

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

'Cause if we don't leave this town We might never make it out I was not born to drown Baby come on

It was early when you woke. Eyes opening heavily, focused on the window. You sensed the emptiness beside you, but fear still struck, soaring through your veins. You rolled onto your back, head slowly turning to find Bucky gone from beside you. But you knew he was just there mere minutes ago, his perfume lingering on the sheets, swirling in the air.

You dressed yourself, washed your face and walked out of the room. The dining room looked like a distant nightmare to you, but this time the chairs were empty; except for one: Bucky’s. He sat with his arm resting on the table, shovelling food into his mouth. The floor beneath you creaked as you stepped further into the room, a betrayal from the house with love. Bucky’s head rose, gaze roaming over your body.

You sat opposite him, afraid to move too fast. Bucky’s eyes met yours briefly before travelling down your arm to your hand laying atop the wood. A smile creeping onto his face at the sight of the diamond adorning your finger. His proud prize, his bride to be.

You ate in silence with the eyes of Bucky following your every move, the plate clearing of food painfully slow. Once you finished, you rose from your seat trying to find the words but as your eyes met his, every single word you’ve ever known escaped, fled from your head. Bucky’s eyebrows raised at your silence, arms resting beside the plate. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked curiously, but you caught the sarcasm.

You nodded, opening your mouth. “I’m going into work today.” Your mouth tasted like cardboard. “Darling.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up, a flash of silver in his iris. “Good for you. It’s important to be busy. You might want to look for someone to take over the cafe though. Better start looking now before it’s too late.”

Your breath caught itself in your throat. “Why?” You squeaked out.

“Because once we have children you won’t be able to take care of a business. I need you here full time. Take care of my offspring and the house, then it will be your responsibility.”

The thought alone frightened you. This house wasn’t a home, its wasn’t a place for children to grow up and you knew that no one should grow up having Bucky as a father. A man so wicked and demonic it was impossible to imagine him running around town with a baby in his arms. The possibility of him killing the child was too high and him strangling you in your sleep was way too possible.

You started to see the cafe with your mother’s eyes. The first glance, shiny and cute, fading with every blink. The paint chipping at the corners, chairs crooked and the smell of your mothers dead body in the back slowly making it’s way through the vents.

You got everything ready for opening, but your mind was anxious about Mrs Wilson’s arrival, eyes jumping to the door in hopes to see her walking up the stairs, but she wasn’t there. Hours and hours went by and no sight of her. The possibility of an escape became slippy, flowing through your dry hands.

You stared out of the window, lips parted and chapped. Your breath the only prove that you’re alive, the rising and falling of your chest, shaky but there. The beating of your heart confirming the life inside you, but the rest of your body was still, limb. Outside the sun was shining, rays of sunlight flowing through the trees, passing branches on the way down to the ground.

The sound of the clock brought you back to life. Time. You looked over at it, hope further slipping between your fingers. It was time to clean up. Like you were in trance you started your routine but movement from the corner of your right eye surprised you.

And there she was. Mrs Wilson climbed the stairs to the door and as the bell rang she stepped inside dressed in blue. Her eyes met yours and her face lit up. “Y/n, good to see you.” She stood in front of you. “Sorry for being so late I was held up by Stephen at the post office he- are you alright?”

You shook your head slightly to focus. Her eyes staring into yours with worry. “I- yes I’m fine. Just worried you wouldn’t come that’s it.”

“You look sick.”

You wiped your forehead, the back of your hand coating in sweat. “I just want to know that your plan is going to work.”

Mrs Wilson reached over the counter to place her hand on your shoulder. “Sadly I can’t promise anything, but it’s worth a try. The plan is safe as long as it stays between us.” Her lips curled to a reassuring smile but worry still found it’s way into your blood, flowing through my arms and down my legs. “So you agree to it? You’ll be there?”

You simply nodded your head.

“Alright. On Saturday you are going to work just like you did today, at one fourty-five you’ll leave but make sure you keep everything as it is. That means lights on, food still on display. You have to take Elsberg street instead of Köpenick street, it’s that weirs smelling ally to the right.You’ll come out to the back of Magnolia Flowers and that’s where he’ll meet you.”

“Does he know that I’m escaping?”

“No, he just thinks he’s giving you a ride to the city to visit family. Once you’re in the city though, my friend Ally will take you in, she owns a pet store in the east and will take you there.”

You swallow thickly. This plan required you to leave not only Dawn, but also move to the other side of the country.

You started cleaning up as soon as Mrs Wilson left and a sense of hope lit within you, a light sparking in you heart. You turned off the lights in the back and heard the bell chimed gain thinking it was Mrs Wilson gain you walked to the front, but instead of her it was Bucky standing in the middle of the cafe.

He stood there with flowers in his hands and as you approached him you thought the light within you would die, but it didn’t. It kept on burning.

“Come one, darling.” Bucky handed you the flowers and gestured for you to leave. While you walked towards his bike, Bucky’s demeanour frightened you. What if he heard you and Mrs Wilson talk? As if the walls turned to linnen, thin enough to hear the words of betrayal in his ears.

Your couldn’t read his face as you sat behind him on his bike, flowers in one hand and the other holding on to his body for dear life. The houses passed you with speed, wind blowing beneath the helmet and all seemed so easy. You had no idea where Bucky was going but you didn’t care about that either. Tomorrow was coming and with the sun lowering behind Dawn you were reassured it was.

The calm of knowing that you will be gone from here.

Bucky came to a stop and you looked at the destination ahead of you. A small bar with motorcycles standing all around it. The neon sign flickering with every letter. With the flowers in hand you walked behind Bucky into the gloomy atmosphere, a change of scenery from the dull environment you were usually in. A place foreign to you.

Bucky led you through the room to a table full of familiar faces. You didn’t know their names nor did you need to. A quick glance from everyone and you sat down, laying the flowers atop the table.

Bucky ordered round after round, encouraging you to take a drink as well, but you knew you needed a good nights sleep for tomorrow. So Bucky and the other Howling Commandos kept their stomachs full of beer and the air full of words. You sat quietly, observing the people around you until someone mentioned your name.

“Are those flowers from Magnolia? Bucky you’re a gentlemen.” Your head turned to the flowers on the table and it was true. They are from Magnolia flowers. Lana. She worked there.

“Yes, they are.” Bucky’s arm swung around your shoulders. “Best flower shop in town.”

Your chest tightened at the mention. You looked at Bucky and his smirk stopped the blood flowing through your veins. It was intentional. It has to be. Satanic. That’s the only word you could describe his intention. Bucky’s lack of sympathy and the maniacal actions he had shown you over the moths you’ve known him were driving you to near insanity. He was mad.

You looked back at the flowers, staring at their petals of red and yellow. “I want to go.” You murmured.

“What was that?” Bucky asked.

“Can we please go?” Your gaze met his and Bucky travelled your face, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Sure, darling.” Bucky said and rose from his seat. You took the flowers from the table and took one last look at the group, hoping that this would be the last picture of them in your mind.

As you made it to the house Bucky walked ahead of you, up the stairs to his room. You found it strange since he never goes to bed with you at the same time. You entered the room, placing the flowers on the table and heading straight to the bathroom to get ready for bed, but Bucky’s hand stopped you.

He turned you around with one swift move, the look in his eyes making the blood shoot straight to your head.

“Get on your knees.”

If the sun don't shine on me today And if the subways flood and bridges break Will you lay yourself down and dig your grave Or will you rail against your dying day

[ next ]

[ taglist closed ]

#dark bucky #dark!bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #biker!bucky #biker bucky #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #dark!mcu #biker AU #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #clair writes

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spencersstrawberryjello · 3 years ago

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Inside Scoop (Chapter One)

Chapter One - The Greatest Regret of my Life

Previous Chapter < - > Next Chapter

Chapter Summary: Dahlia Silvers is on her way to work when she makes a horrifying discovery that will change her life... and lead to her getting tangled up with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of corpse (violent death), police interactions (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 2417

A/N: Yay new story!! Ok, two quick things I need to mention before we get into it: one, I have absolutely no clue about the roads in DC and I merely listed two ones that I knew were on a corner. And two: I also have no clue where the Washington Post office is, and am not trying to make any claims about the company in any way, it’s just a reputable news place in DC so I wanted to use it for the story (please don’t sue me Jeff Bezos). Ok that’s all - hope you enjoy!! :)

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It was raining.

I knew we were supposed to get a short shower this morning, but I still groaned as I walked out into the disgusting downpour bombarding the streets of DC.

The only positive thing about days like this was the lack of people on the sidewalk. Generally everyone was dashing to the subway before they could get too soaked, but I only lived a few blocks from work. So I elected to walk.

Usually, that was fine. I had my umbrella, and I got into the office in about fifteen minutes, give or take a few. After that I got my writing assignments for that day within ten, and I got to work.

Usually.

The smell hit me first. Initially, I thought it was just rotten fruit, or something similar that someone had thrown out, but the closer I got the more it smelled rancid, impossible to describe.

The next thing I noticed was the bag.

The woman’s purse had been thrown from her hand. Or maybe it had fallen, I had no way of knowing. All I knew was that I saw it sitting on the sidewalk at the mouth of the alleyway I was about to walk past.

One of the greatest regrets of my life was picking up that purse.

Because when I picked it up, I had to turn and see who it belonged to. And that’s when I saw her.

I wasn’t sure how long the blood had been pooled around her body, but it was dried on the concrete. Her head was twisted at an unnatural angle, revealing the deep slash wound across her throat. Her hands were bloodied, and I had no way of knowing if it was her blood or someone else’s. All I knew was that this woman was dead, and there was no way in hell it was due to natural causes.

The combination of the sight in front of me and the smell of decay permeating the air sent a wave of nausea through my body, and my eyes watered as I turned away, vomiting on the sidewalk not far from where the woman laid. I fumbled to pull my phone out of my pocket, my hands shaking as I dialed 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“Someone’s dead. It’s a woman, she - I was on my way to work, and I just found her - holy shit…”

“Ok ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down please, everything will be ok. Can you tell us where you are right now?”

“Yeah, yes,” I forced myself to breathe, stepping out to the edge of the sidewalk in an attempt to read the street sign in front of me. “Right by the corner of 9th and G Street NW. There’s an alley a few feet away from the intersection. She’s…” I turned back to the woman’s body for a moment before forcing my eyes away again. “I don’t know what happened. It looks bad, I -”

“It’s ok ma’am. What is your name?”

“Dahlia. Dahlia Silvers.”

“Ok Dahlia. Is there anyone else with you? Or around you?”

I scanned my surroundings before responding shakily, “No.”

“Is the woman alive?”

“No.” I don’t know of anybody who could survive their throat being slashed.

“Ok. A team is on their way, but I need you to stay calm for me, ok?”

I nodded, despite the fact that she couldn’t see me. “Alright.”

“Good. Can you stay on the scene so that investigators can speak with you when they arrive?”

My first thought was that I was going to be late for work. It’s actually kind of funny, in retrospect, how unimportant that is compared to the discovery I just made. But the thought was still there.

“I think this would be a valid reason to call in sick.” I replied. The woman on the other end of the phone laughed lightly.

“Yes, I think it would. Would you like me to stay on the phone with you until the team arrives?”

“No, I’m just… I’m going to walk away a bit? Is that ok? I can’t… I mean, I’ve seen pictures and videos of stuff like this, but I didn’t think it would be so -”

“As long as you’re nearby, everything should be fine. It’s understandable that you would need to move away from the body.”

“Ok. Ok,” I took in another deep breath, “I’m ok.”

“A team should be there in a couple of minutes.”

The line went dead, and I sunk down against the wall of the building by the alley, far enough away that the smell of death couldn’t follow me. I felt like it was in my clothes, in my hair; for a second I thought I was going to throw up again, and I put my head in my hands, forcing myself to breathe until the investigators arrived on the scene. I had half a mind to realize that it wasn’t raining anymore, but I couldn’t be bothered to figure out where I’d dropped my umbrella. My clothes were sticking to my skin, and everything on my body felt viscerally wrong.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen images of dead people before; I was a young adult, and I liked movies. Obviously I was used to gore. But the stench… nothing could’ve prepared me for that.

I was surprised at the sheer number of people that showed up: I mean, there was a CSI van, which I expected, but a black car pulled up behind them, as well as two city police cars. Immediately, the CSI team got to work, and the rest of the people began piling out of their cars. The first person to take notice of me was one of the police officers, and he immediately made a beeline for where I was sitting on the sidewalk.

“Are you Dahlia Silvers? The woman who called in the body?” He asked. I nodded, and he held out his hand to me, helping me up on unsteady feet.

“Thank you.”

“‘Course. Now, I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s ok?”

I nodded again, and he began a surprisingly long tirade of questions. Why was I passing by, where was I going, did I walk this street every day, what did I see first, did I touch anything on the scene, did I know the woman, had I seen anyone else - everything I should’ve expected but didn’t even think about in the wake of everything I’d just witnessed.

I answered accordingly: work, work, yes, the purse, the purse, no, no - I mentioned that the vomit was mine, and that I’d picked the purse up with the intent to return it to whoever dropped it. I mentioned that the first thing I picked up on was the smell, and that I had no idea what happened. Only that my day was perfectly normal, and then -

“Excuse me, officer?” A new voice cut into our conversation, a woman. I turned to look at her, noticing the FBI logo on her jacket immediately. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Silvers for a moment, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course Agent,” He nodded, rejoining the larger group that we were standing a bit away from. I knew he was still watching me, but I couldn’t be bothered to worry about my status on this case’s suspect list right now. I was still trying to process the fact that there was a fucking dead body about five feet away from me.

“Dahlia Silvers?” She asked, as if she didn’t already know. I nodded, and she smiled, introducing herself as well.

“I’m Special Agent Prentiss, I’m with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Immediately my brow furrowed with confusion. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, we study -”

“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve been clearer: I know what the BAU does. What is the BAU doing here, in DC?”

“We’re investigating a string of recent murders, and we believe that this one is most likely connected to the case.”

“... If there have been enough murders here that your team needed to come down, why aren’t any of the news stations covering it? I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“We’ve put a block on most of the press until we can gain a better understanding of the situation. I understand why you might feel betrayed by the media -”

“It’s not like that at all,” I rushed to correct her, not realizing I’d cut her off again, “I’m a journalist. I work for The Washington Post. Our office is like three blocks away, that’s where I was headed when - when I saw her.”

The woman nodded, a sympathetic expression on her face. “I’m sorry that you had to see all of this.”

“Thank you,” I gave her a small smile. I did appreciate it, but honestly, I’d recovered from the sight pretty quickly. I’d started working in crime journalism recently, and that came with it’s fair share of gruesome images and stories of tragedy flooding my computer. Hence the reason why my lack of knowledge on these murders was a concern. “I’m just confused as to why I didn’t hear about the murders, while working for a news site. It would make sense for a few stories to slip through, or for our CEO to announce something to us writers - how the hell did you manage a full media block?”

She laughed a bit at my bluntness, but said, “We got here very shortly after the first murder. We were able to restrict almost all stories about the event immediately.”

“Almost all? No, you guys got all of them - I have a keyword filter set up on Google to email me whenever a seemingly newsworthy event happens in the surrounding area, and I feel like ‘local murder’ would definitely count as newsworthy.”

“That’s… surprising, but it makes sense. Never underestimate the power of Jennifer Jareau - that’s our press liaison, she handles -”

“Oh yeah, I know her! I’ve spoken with her a few times when you guys have had cases in DC.”

“Right! Yeah, she’s great…” She got a sort of far-off look in her eye for a moment before she cleared her throat, “But that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about. I know that you spoke with the local police already, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to return to the station with us so we could interview you a bit further - you’re not under arrest, you’d be free to go at any time, we just have a couple more questions.”

I was hesitant, but at the same time, there was an itch in the back of my mind. An itch to know more. If this was a chance for me to find out what’s been going on, no way in hell I’m saying no to that.

Plus, if I did say no, that would be incredibly suspicious.

So I nodded, allowing Agent Prentiss to lead me back to the black vehicle that arrived with the slew of police cars. She opened the passenger door for me before shouting to someone who I’m assuming was one of her coworkers.

“Reid! Stay here and investigate the scene - I’m going to escort Ms. Silvers back to the station, and I’ll be back to pick you up.”

I heard a faint response before she shut the passenger door, climbing around to the other side and allowing me a glimpse of whoever she was talking to.

He was standing on the pavement, still looking at the car, nodding as I’m assuming Agent Prentiss said something else to him. The blue sweater he had on over his button up presented an interesting contrast between the pantsuit I’d seen Prentiss wearing, and the ridiculous query of the nature of the BAU’s uniforms crossed my mind before I turned my attention back to the matter at hand.

The matter at hand being, of course, discreetly staring at the man in front of me.

His curly hair rested almost at his shoulders, and I was mesmerized as I watched him speak, one hand flying and the other holding onto a thin wooden cane. Finally, he nodded definitively before turning back to the crime scene, and my eyes snapped to the driver’s side door as I heard Agent Prentiss slide into the seat next to me.

“Oh please, don’t let me interrupt your staring at Dr. Reid,” She held up her hands in mock defense, trying to keep herself from laughing, “I’m merely the driver.”

“Sta - what, I wasn’t staring, I -” I immediately started to defend myself (even if I totally was staring at Dr. Reid), but Agent Prentiss laughed again.

“Relax, Ms. Silvers. I’m only teasing. He is quite a good-looking man, isn’t he? Not my type, but I’m not blind.”

I blushed, acknowledging her statement with a nod as she put the car in drive, pulling away from the curb. As we started down the road, the full weight of the events that just occurred finally hit me.

I found a corpse.

I was on my way to a police station.

I might be the main suspect in an ongoing murder case. I hadn’t actually asked about that yet.

It was almost as if Prentiss had noticed the shift in my mood - honestly, there’s a chance she actually had, she was a profiler - because she broke the silence with a question.

“Ms. Silvers? How are you feeling?” She asked. I just shook my head.

“Please, call me Dahlia. And honestly, I have no idea how I’m feeling. I… well, I’m sure I don’t need to say that nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

“I’d be surprised to hear you say it had,” She laughed. I laughed a bit too, though I couldn’t ignore the anxiety eating at me.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t processed it yet,” I said honestly.

“You’ve gone through a lot in the last hour,” She agreed, “And I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to go through a little bit more. We’re here.”

We pulled into the police station, and she put the car in park, hoping out. I followed suit, and we both headed up the walkway to the front doors.

I was practically trembling with nerves, but at the same time, excitement coursed through my veins at what I might learn.

The BAU might’ve put a blockade on the media from the outside, but I was getting the inside scoop.

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

sober - m.barzal (pt. three)

a/n: onto the next one for reposts :)

Two - Four

Game Days were busy.

There were a few things about a Rangers game day that were always consistent. Someone always kicked a soccer ball into one of the rafters, usually Mika who thought his girlfriend’s soccer skills were rubbing off on him. You couldn’t speak to Hank but you knew where he was because he did the same thing every game day even if he wasn’t playing. Trouba would ask you some sort of dumb question when you tried to get footage of him walking into MSG so you couldn’t post it online. Finally, Chris would follow you around and then claim it was part of his own superstitions.

“So you just left him?” Chris clarifies, somehow always sticking his nose in your personal life.

“Yeah I went home,” You shrug, sipping your coffee to hide the fact that you were flat out lying to someone you really did trust.

“You just went home?” Chirs quips a smirk on his own face, “Because you’re in an awfully good mood today Y/N.”

“If you really must know Chris, I am capable of getting myself off,” You remind him, sarcasm dripping from your voice while Chris chuckled behind you.

“Alright Ice Queen,” Chris rolls his eyes, “We get it, you don’t need a man.”

Nobody does. You thought to yourself while you pushed Chris into the Rangers locker room to get him out of your hair for the rest of the night. It was something you reminded yourself constantly, your happiness didn’t need to depend on someone else. If you could just remember that, then there was no way anyone could ever hurt you. It drove your own mother crazy, and the romantics in your life always seemed to be annoyed by your lack of commitment, but you didn’t care. You were never going to be the girl who cried on the way home in the back of some taxi because a man broke your heart. Your life wasn’t going to be the sad part of a romantic comedy that was set in New York, because you wouldn’t let it.

The Rangers lost, one of the grueling overtime losses that you hated to even walk past the locker room after. You stood by the exit, watching the sad faces of the team leave to greet their significant others and see their kids. It made you soft for just a moment, your thoughts broken by a text to your phone from a number you should have deleted. It was from Mat, the location of a bar downtown attached.

Tough loss… come for a drink?

Does that drink come with strings attached?

If you’re asking me to tie you up, I’m in.

I cannot stand you.

You won’t be able to stand, just come and see me.

You bite your tongue, holding in the thought of asking Mat how many other girls didn’t answer him before he finally landed on you. Maybe he had a list, or maybe he just scrolled through Instagram until someone’s thirst trap caught his eye. Those seemed too logical for Mat, so you settle on the idea that he probably plays contact roulette until he finds a way to get his dick wet. A part of you screamed not to go, just to get on the subway back to your apartment and pack it in for the night. But you ignored your logical side for just a minute, grabbing a cab and giving the driver the address Mat sent you.

Mat, in a weird sense, was like a safe bet. Sure, you could have gone out and taken someone else home, it was easy in a city as big as New York. But, Mat was good in bed, and you’d be damned if you let him know that. You were letting your pussy take over for you, screaming that at least you were going to get off a few times.

“You’re here!” Mat cheers, scoping you out from the moment you stepped into the bar. He reeked of booze and bad decisions, his arm wrapping around you.

That was when the group he was with caught your attention. Standing on the other side of the bar were a few of Mat’s teammate’s who you knew of.

“Are those your fucking teammates?” You grit out, your lips as close to Mat’s ear as they could get.

“Would you relax? I didn’t mention what you did for a living, as far as they're concerned you’re just another girl,” Mat scoffs, his large hand landing on your lower back.

“Keep your mouth shut or I’m never speaking to you again,” You scold, wagging your finger at him while you walk over to the bar.

Mat’s teammates were interesting. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, or that they were anything less than kind to you. It was that it felt so wrong. Just a week before that, you were sitting between the benches during warm ups listening to Matt Martin roast Trouba from the blue line and now you were listening to him gush about his pregnant wife. It was like you’d entered some alternate universe and you found yourself having a better time than you even anticipated.

“You’re too cool to be here with Barz,” Tito chirps, cheering you on while you took your third shot of the night.

Mat’s smile was dopier than normal when he threw his arm around you and pulled you into his chest, “It’s because I’m her conquest not the other way around.”

You roll your eyes, tucking your head into Mat’s arm and nibbling at it lightly to get him to shut up for just once. Mat smirks, leaning to whisper in your ear, “That’s a turn on princess, wrong move.”

“How about I just kick you in the balls?” You grit back, Mat’s eyes widening at the threat.

“If you come home with me, you’re free to do whatever you’d like,” Mat chuckles, turning you around and pouting, his hand resting on your hip.

You bite your lip, if you went home with him you knew what that meant for you. It meant Mat was getting what he wanted - a spot on the roster. The problem was that Mat was probably better in bed than anyone else you were currently seeing, and admitting that was the equivalent of defeat. Another part of you screamed, that maybe he was just perfect for casual.

Mat Barzal was dumb, smug, and hot. Three characteristics that you thought made someone a good fuck-buddy. Mat wasn’t boyfriend material, and he was never going to get to meet your friends because no one could know this was happening. Mat was smug in the way that he constantly wanted to win, and while it meant his personality could be unbearable sometimes, it also meant he was excellent in bed. Finally, Mat was hot in the way that it reminded you that god really does have favorites. But, Mat was like sleeping with the enemy. He was going to make you lie to people who you trusted for the first time, and was that fair to do yourself just so you could get laid?

“We’re setting some ground rules here Barz,” You finally land on, Mat’s eyebrows raising in surprise with your lack of protest, “Starting with if you ever force me to hang out with your teammates again, I’ll cut your dick off.”

“Noted,” Mat nods, “Anything else princess?”

“Yeah, that nickname has got to go,” You say, because princess irritated you more than any pet name, “And no sleepovers-”

“But we live in two completely different boroughs,” Mat protests, “And what if it’s late?”

“I’m a grown woman,” You remind him, “I can get home safe on my own.”

Mat rolls his eyes, “You’re a real pain you know that? Anything else?”

“Yeah, this stays between us, I’m not some pawn you can use to talk shit next time someone from my team hurts your feelings,” You say, poking him in the chest to make your point, “I’m serious.”

“You got it captain,” Mat nods, saluting you while he chuckles, “Now can we go? I’ve got plans for you.”

Mat’s use of the word plans made your pussy drip in excitement while you bid your goodbyes to his teammates. His teammates who had no idea that just a week before that you were sitting on the bench during warm ups with a blind hatred for each of them in your heart. His teammates who’d also fallen under your spell that maybe you weren’t a cold hearted bitch all the time.

“My place or yours?” Mat hums, pulling you closer while you waited for a cab.

“Yours, I don’t want you within thirty feet of my apartment,” You smirk, even though you hated Mat’s apartment because no one deserved those floor to ceiling windows if they had decor as terrible as his.

“You talk a big game for someone who left some nasty scratches on my back the last time I saw you,” Mat reminds you, nudging his nose with yours, “But, I can remind you why.”

Mat’s words lit a fire in you, if he thought he was so good, you were going to remind him that you were better. Two can play at that game. You grab Mat’s hand, pulling him into a cab while you waited for him to give the driver his address. Once the car started to move, the streets of New York lighting up on either side of you, you lean over and let your hand creep up Mat’s thigh.

“No,” Mat mouths, shaking his head while the cab driver makes small talk with him. You smirk, lightly using your fingers to land right over the bulge that was threatening to peek out in Mat’s too tight jeans.

“No what?” You whisper in his ear, a blush creeping up his neck. You had him so hot and bothered that everything before that seemed to make sense. It had clicked why Mat put up all the shit you gave him, he could have anyone he wanted with a smirk and a wink, but he wanted you - at least for the moment.

The rest of the cab ride was agony, after hitting about every red light from the bar to Mat’s building, he had you pinned against his door the second you got inside, “That was a dick move.”

“It just seemed like you needed a reminder of who was in charge here,” You whisper, your mouth close to his neck, “And who’s going to be screaming who’s name.”

“Yeah okay,” Mat scoffs, “There isn’t one thing you could do that would get that to happen.”

“Wanna bet?” You counter, sliding down the wall and stopping to unbutton Mat’s jeans. You pull them down, leaving kisses right above his boxers before they slid off too.

All it took was one lick on the underside of his cock for Mat to let out a moan that was so loud it echoed in the obnoxiously large bachelor pad he lived in. Mat’s hands ran through your hair, pulling it up so he could guide your head. You bobbed your head in a perfect rhythm, your hands digging into Mat’s thighs while you tried to get grip. Your head game was nothing short of spectacular, and you’d be damned if you were going to let Mat Barzal think anything less.

“Fuck Y/N,” Mat groans, trying to push your head back to give himself a break before he came way too early. This only egged you on, taking his whole length into your mouth, “Babe, I’ll cum right here if you don’t stop.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?” You look up at him, tears brimming your eyes from his dick in your mouth.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” Mat asks, pulling you up to place a kiss on your lips.

“And no one will even know it was me,” You smirk, slipping out of his arms and making your way down a hallway that was becoming way too familiar, “Now c’mon Barz, I thought you had plans for us.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Eat me out.”

“Actually you can tell me what to do.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #my writing

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cultureisdarkbeer · 4 years ago

Text

We Will Remember; From Out of the Ashes

From my Rooted in Friendship series, this is Mulder on 9/11/2001

It was September. Mulder had spent the summer wandering aimlessly. Using the identities The Lone Gunman had given him he roamed from one menial job to the other in one town to the next. Every day was spent looking over his shoulder and every night dreaming of Scully and William. Hesitant to make contact, he hadn’t even checked his email for fear of a trace. It didn’t even matter. There was nothing for him to say that wasn’t already said. He wanted to come home. To be with them again. The only positive, if there was any, was that he was meeting different people from all kinds of backgrounds and philosophies. There were more people out there that believed than he had realized. Some circles had even mentioned him by name as a crusader. If they only knew. If he was on a crusade it was to return to his family. The only way to do that would be to discover what destroyed human replacements and stop them before it was too late.

Mulder opened one eye and squinted at the time. He thought it read 10:37. He was thinking that it must be A.M. as there was sunlight shining into the window. Sometimes it was an arduous task to simply discern one day to the next. Today was Tuesday. He knew this since his last day at the mill had been yesterday and the guys had gathered at the local bar for a going away bash. The last thing he remembered was being dropped onto the couch by Randy after having too many drinks to maintain the ability to walk let alone drive a car. His head was still buzzing, but he did recall crying into a beer or two over Scully. He slowly rolled into a sitting position on the most recent couch he called home. Rubbing his neck, the stiffness reminded him that he needed to buy a pillow. Thinking of stiffness, he stared down at ol’ reliable standing at his usual attention. Not that he had much use for it. The times he did partake he usually ended up in a worse depression than before and he wasn’t in the mood for tears today. He rubbed his face and the scruff that had formed cut into his calloused hands. Blindly, he turned on the small picture tube in the room and went to the bathroom to empty his bladder. When he returned he had a toothbrush hanging from his mouth and disbelief in his eyes. The news showed smoke rising from where the World Trade Center once stood. There had been an attack on the Pentagon as well and in Pennsylvania. The next couple hours he spent glued to the television absorbing everything in front of him. His first instinct was to contact Scully, but he knew he couldn’t. The FBI had to be heavily involved at this point. Thoughts of human replacement involvement crossed his mind although most evil didn’t land from the sky, but that from within. It was then he decided his next destination would be east to NYC. If nothing else, they could use his help.

As he got dressed he accidentally glanced at himself in the mirror. He usually avoided mirrors as they reflected his heartache. Today he looked at himself as if from afar. It was the first time in a while he felt he might have a purpose again. Tanned from working in the sun, his skin glowed golden and his abs had a harder cut to them than usual. The muscles in his arms and chest were wider. Scully would be impressed he thought as he ran his hand over his chest. The pain of her absence began to culminate in his heart and he quickly resumed getting dressed frantically trying to push his mind onto another track. Any thoughts of Scully resulted with tears, anger and unending sadness. He walked outside and flung his bags into the back of an old Buick sedan he had purchased for a couple hundred dollars. The plates and registration were phonies Skinner had retrieved from FBI storage, but they got him wheels. He sat the picture Scully had given him in the corner of the instrument panel wishing he had one of William as well. Straightening his rear view mirror he gave the rural landscape one last look, put on his shades, and headed out.

A few days had passed before he had reached New York traveling from Kansas. He had stopped to visit Sheila and Holman. At least there he got to share good memories, eat some home cooking, and be the proud papa as he told them about William. He had given Holman a package to mail to Scully so she knew he was still alive and took off for New York.

As he entered NJ, he took heed of the solemn atmosphere. There was an eerie quiet looming. When he finally pulled the car into a parking spot he was near Liberty State Park. The air was cold, a frigid day with no wind, the only breeze being from the echoing of voices from the dead and the screaming hearts of the living. He came upon a spot with candles burning. Pictures and cards hung everywhere. There were notebooks too. He picked them up and read them. Poems and prayers, wishes and requests, all to missing loved ones. They were beautiful and he felt his anger rise up with the sadness. The monster inside him was winning. He spun around when he felt a tap on his arm. It was a woman with tears in her eyes. She hugged him without words. A total stranger holding him, greeting him like family. They cried in each other’s arms for each of their losses without sharing words. Others came to pray, share hugs and photos, and leave messages. Everyone was leaning on the other. Mulder had witnessed many things in his life, but such a beautiful reflection of humanity he never would have guessed to find in the vicinity of so much that was corrupt.

“Hi. My name is Lauren.” A tall slender woman dressed in what might be considered hippy attire held out her hand for Mulder to shake. “Do you have missing loved ones?”

“No… I, uh. I came to help.”

“Yes. It seems there are people from all over the country some from other parts of the world that have traveled to help. I’m from Long Island myself. There’s a group of us meeting here in a while to make the trek over into the city. From there we will meet up with the firefighters.”

“What will we be doing?”

“You’ll see.” She replied with a warm smile.

For lack of any ideas, Mulder wandered into the city with them. The streets were covered in ash. What looked like snow was more ash falling from the sky. A post-apocalyptic feel gripped at his fears. This was not cruelty from an alien force, but only that capable of man. They walked the streets. Lit candles covered every street corner accompanied by flowers, cards, letters, and poems. The walls of every business and billboard filled with pictures of loved ones.

Children, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, friends, wandered the streets searching. Some came as he did. From a pull that they did not know. From a pull to be together, for comfort from the sadness. To mourn the loss, embrace each other. When they finally settled on a street corner they waited. The firefighters were changing shifts. The truck stopped at the corner and the firemen got out as others piled in. They carried with them shovels and masks. The news stated it was an attempt at a recovery mission, but Mulder knew better. It was to dig up the dead. To find evidence of who had died, to attempt proper funerals. Most would remain where they died, their tombstone a memorial and another skyscraper to once again reach out to the heavens on the backs of their souls. The returning firefighters had it all in their faces. The people cheered them like superheroes upon their return. Those people were there for one purpose. To hug those men, to give them their strength back through their love. Total strangers giving the only thing they had to give to the men that had lost so many of their brothers. The firefighters in turn cried into the embrace. Falling apart in their arms. Real giants did exist and they walked the streets that day. It was the men in red and those in blue that ran towards their impending doom as others ran away. To now be represented by those from all over sifting through the ashes, not giving up on a chance of resurrection. If there was a place Mulder felt at home since leaving D.C. it was there among the mourning. They gave him strength to go on. To know that he was blessed to have Scully and William still alive waiting.

After sharing handshakes, more prayers and kind words, he left as soft music played bouncing off the resilience of the tall standing buildings of downtown. The Empire State Building glowed red, white, and blue for all to see that we still stood tall. People had brought their instruments, boom boxes and whatever they had, playing the music throughout the night to let everyone know they were not alone. The spotlights boomed into the sky like a signal to batman calling for a savior when the only one to answer was from inside. Mulder continued to wander the streets, like he was searching, but for what he had yet to know. He got to a large rock near central park and sat down. His heart started to race as butterflies beat furiously in his stomach. “Scully.” He said to himself out loud.

“Mulder” Scully said as butterflies grew in her stomach at that familiar feeling.

“What is it Dana?” Monica asked concerned at the upset look on her face.

“Nothing. I… I just got a strange feeling like Mulder was here.”

“Maybe he was.”

“Maybe. I miss him Monica. Not a second goes by….”

“You have to stay positive.”

“I know.”

Scully and Monica were two blocks from Mulder’s rock in Central Park. They had come to see the tragedy with their own eyes and unknowingly came within steps of Mulder. Monica waved down a cab and got in. Scully paused for a second longer, the butterflies still beating in her stomach. “I know you’re out there Mulder. I hope you feel me too.” She whispered more to herself than anything else. She joined Monica in the cab and they headed to the airport to return to D.C.

Mulder got up from the rock looking for the subway to take him back to his motel room. A kid in his twenties in a gray hoodie came up behind Mulder and tapped him on the shoulder startling him.

“Excuse me. You’re Fox Mulder!”

“What? No, I’m sorry you have the wrong person.” Mulder picked up his pace taking longer strides to get away from the attention this guy was bestowing upon him. The kid only ran to keep up.

“No, I know you’re him. You were friends with Max from NICAP. I’m from NICAP too.” The kid said extending his hand to Mulder as they walked. Mulder kept his hand in his pockets and didn’t slow his pace.

“Look I’m kind of undercover. I’m not really able to talk right now it could compromise my position.”

The kid nodded, but didn’t back away. “My name is Josh. We’re having a meeting tomorrow if you’re interested. The topic… alien hybrid kryptonite.”

This stopped Mulder in his tracks. “You’ve figured out how to stop them?”

Josh looked hesitant. “Well that’s what the meeting is about. We have reports that some of the members have seen them turn into one of those magnetic desk sculptures. You know what I’m talking about?”

“Not exactly. They might have thought they killed them, but these things rejuvenate. I’ve seen them crushed into a tiny cube and come back to full capacity.” Mulder countered.

“According to our latest reports, this destroys them. If you come to the meeting, you can speak with these men yourself. Ask all the questions you want. It would be quite an honor to have you there. You’re kind of a celebrity in our neck of the woods.”

Josh handed him a small NICAP business card with an address and time. “See you then”

As Josh walked away, Mulder looked around nervously. If I guy from NICAP could locate him, anyone could. He wouldn’t be able to stay much longer.

After a restless night’s sleep in a rundown motel, Mulder went back over to ground zero and put in some hours helping with the recovery. At a little after 7 he headed over to 8th avenue where he found a building with windows nailed shut by wooden planks covered in Broadway posters. He went down a dark alley, down a flight of stairs to a locked door. He knocked on the door and a 400 lb. man with a Spiderman t-shirt answered. “It’s the second star to the right” He said to Mulder. “And straight on ‘til morning” Mulder answered.

“Please turn around and expose your neck.” The heavy set man answered. Mulder turned around and lowered his jacket so the man could observe the top of his spine. He then handed Mulder an alcohol swab and a disposable blood lancet. Mulder punctured his finger so the man could witness that his blood was red. Lastly he ran a wand over him for evidence of weapons, tracking devices, or taps. When he was satisfied that Mulder was clean he let him proceed. The man opened the door to let Mulder in. “It’s an honor to meet you Fox Mulder” the man winked and smiled. As Mulder looked around he realized he had found the greatest collection of outcasts the planet earth may have ever known. Once everyone was checked in, the meeting commenced. There was a lot of formalities, new business, old business until finally they got to eyewitness accounts. Each person would go up front and speak of their experience. It was nothing new and all things Mulder had heard several times before.

“And now the moment we’ve been waiting for.” Said the meeting head. “Eric will be reviewing his latest information on Hybrids.”

He started his speech telling of first accounts of hybrids being birthed from human mothers using mutated eggs. He told of stories of embryo implants through abductions and contaminated water supplies. Most of it Mulder was aware and some seemed skewed or misguided. Finally, he got to what Mulder really wanted to hear. “We have some exciting news today. It’s been confirmed. We have dead hybrids. They were turned into a metallic dust. It happened at ground zero. What we believe is that when the twin towers fell, they exposed the Manhattan bedrock which is millions of years old. Folded into that bedrock is an iron ore, remnants of an old meteor. We believe that if we could mine meteors that contain this same iron, we may be able to build a weapon to combat these hybrids.”

“So where do you find this iron and how are you going to test it?” Asked one of the members.

Eric turned on the projector. “This is a Map of all the meteor dustings in the past two million years. As you can see the largest concentration is in Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada. This is where we should concentrate our efforts.”

“But how do you know this iron stuff will kill them?” Asked another member.

“Because we have it on video and we have the dust sample.”

The room became silent as he hooked up his video camera.

The video took place after the first tower fell. There was a considerable amount of smoke and it was apparent the video had been taken by someone in law enforcement. Two men with FBI jackets were running into the smoke and the camera was shaking widly. You could see them enter the building and go down steps where the mall once stood. Ash was everywhere and smoke filled the hallways. It appeared they were in search of something inside the mall. Then one of the FBI agents froze like he was magnetized to the floor. With tremendous force the two men crumbled as if from the inside out like a huge magnet drew them downward. You see the man holding the camera yell and pick up their clothing which now contained only dust. He let out a few expletives and the camera shut off.

Even this made Mulder miss Scully. He wished she was there to witness the tape. He wanted her opinion. He also wanted some of that dust. She would be able to dissect it in the lab and find the answer. Not this time. This time he would have to prove it on his own.

“What happened? It was like terminator was struck with a light saber.” Shouted Josh, the kid he had met in the street.

“We don’t know. This is all we have, but the rock that was scraped up from the site had a high concentration of a form of magnetite. If we could fashion a weapon, we may be able to use if against them.”

Walking back to the motel Mulder didn’t know what to make of any of it. Was there a way to stop them? There had to be. Nothing was invincible. Except maybe Scully. He went to put the key in the door and it creaked open with a push. Someone had already been there. The place had been ransacked, but from what he saw nothing was taken. His first instinct was to ensure the intruders had left, but they were gone. His suitcase full of cash was still intact. He searched his luggage finding a tracer. He also found a bug inside the lamp on the nightstand. They had located him. His time in NY had run out. He grabbed his stuff, packed it into the car, placed the picture back on the instrument panel, and headed west in search of magnetite and an old friend.

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javajunkieao3 · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll Be Seeing You: Chapter Nine (A Post-Endgame Steggy Story)

Peggy and Steve seek out more Pym particles to return to their past, but things do not go as planned.

------

Scott Lang woke up that morning thinking it was any average Tuesday. He washed his face. Brushed his teeth. He and Hope ate a casual breakfast, idly talking about their plans for the day. They were considering an afternoon at Central Park, or maybe a movie if the weather turned too warm. All in all, it was shaping up to be a pretty uneventful day. And then, there was a knock on their front door. And Steve Rogers did the knocking.

“Holy shit,” Scott blurted, nearly dropping his very full mug of coffee. “Everyone said you were gone. But you’re here. On my stoop.”

“Hi Scott,” Steve said. “Can we come in?”

“Can Captain America come into my house?” Scott said broadly, grin wide. “Of course, he can. Are you kidding me?” He stepped backward to let him and Peggy in. “Come in, buddy.”. He winced at his blunder and quickly corrected himself with, “I mean, Captain.”

Hope walked into the foyer, wondering what all the commotion was about, and stopped short when she saw Steve Rogers and a brunette female in the foyer. A quick glance at Scott was all she needed to see that her boyfriend was nearly imploding at the prospect of Captain America in his foyer. She couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. Hope clasped her hands behind her back and said, “Nice to see you, Cap.”

“Thank you, Hope. It’s nice to see you, too.” He placed his hand on the small of Peggy’s back and said, “This is Peggy Carter.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Peggy said.

“Can I get you anything?” Scott asked hurriedly. “A coffee? Water? I think we have orange juice…” he looked over at Hope who shook her head. “…sorry, no orange juice, but we can get you some!”

Steve smiled slightly. “We’re fine. We’re actually here to ask about Hope’s father.”

“What about him?” Hope asked.

“I was hoping to talk to him about some of his Pym particles. Peggy and I both travelled here from the past –“

“Why would you do that?” Scott asked. “Not that we don’t want you here. Because we do. Obviously. But...” he trailed off. “I’m sorry, you can just keep going.”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Peggy said, grinning softly when she glanced up at Steve. “But the short part is that we both came here without more particles.”

Steve nodded. “We were hoping your father could help us with that.”

“I’m sure he can make you more, but he’s out of town right now. He’ll be back next week.”

“We can wait,” Steve said, glancing down at Peggy who nodded with agreement. “If he comes back earlier, you can call over to Bucky Barnes’ apartment. We’re staying with him.”

Hope nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Well, we won’t impose on you any longer,” Steve said. “Thank you for your help. We really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Hope said.

“Hey! Why don’t you guys stay for lunch?” Scott enthused. “We were planning sandwiches and have way too much. What do you say?”

Steve looked down at Peggy who shrugged in response. She wouldn’t mind getting to know a bit more about his old avenging friends. Besides, Scott and Hope seemed friendly enough.

“Sure, thanks a lot.”

They walked in, Scott talking about some new business venture he was starting, when Peggy nearly collided with an ant that was much too large for her liking.

“Bloody hell!” she said, backing up into Steve.

“Oh, sorry about that,” Scott said. “She doesn’t bite, I promise.”

When Scott turned away, the large ant moved even closer to Peggy, its antennas moving almost quizzically. Peggy pressed herself back as much as she could against Steve, and cleared her throat before she asked, “Is this normal?”

Scott looked back and said, “Hey, knock it off!” He took a hold of the ant’s leg and pried her away from Peggy. “We talked about this. Personal space, remember?”

The ant bowed its head down, almost apologetically, and walked away. Peggy relaxed with the large creature squarely in another room, and Steve dipped his mouth to her ear as he whispered, “I didn’t know you were afraid of bugs.”

“Yes, well, they’re usually not the size of a Buick.”

“Sorry about that,” Scott said, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. “Anyone ready for some lunch?”

BBBBB

After lunch, Peggy and Steve made their way back to Bucky’s apartment. They took the subway, Peggy nestled against Steve as they snaked their way through the city. She placed her hand on his knee and he covered her hand with his, threading their fingers together.

“Show me some of your favorite places,” she requested, looking up at him.

“I honestly didn’t have a lot,” he said. “I pretty much just spent all my time on work. There was a church where I did some grief counseling.” He shrugged. “That’s about it.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment.”

He laughed and said, “Okay, let me think.” He paused for a second and said, “I guess there was a bar that Nat and I used to go to. It’s this total dive, but we had some good times there.”

He mentioned Natasha more often that the others, and Peggy softly said, “You must miss her.”

“I miss them all,” he said.

“Is it difficult for you to be back?” she asked.

He paused for a second and then shook his head. “We’re here because of them. You. Me. Everyone, really. It’s a privilege to be here.”

“So, are you going to take me to that bar?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Sure, Peg. I’ll take you to that bar.”

BBBBB

Steve stayed true to his word and took Peggy to the dive bar in Queens, Peggy assuring him that the lack of ambience was more than made up for by the heavy whiskey pour. After a few drinks and many handfuls of stale peanuts, the pair made their way back to Bucky’s apartment. It was well past sunset, and Steve fished for the keys in his pocket when the door opened of its own accord, Bucky standing on the other side with a pinched expression.

“Thank God,” he said in a low voice. “We need to get you a cell phone again.”

Steve immediately sensed something was off, and asked, “What is it?”

“You’ll see. Come on.”

Steve and Peggy exchanged looks and then followed Bucky into the apartment. Steve didn’t know what to expect, but even his wildest guess would not have included Natasha Romanoff sitting on Bucky’s couch. Her face was badly bruised, caked blood evident on her hairline.

“Nat?” he breathed out.

She looked up and offered him a watery smile. “Hi there, Rogers."

“How is this possible?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, that’s the easier question to answer,” Rocket said, walking out of one of the side bedrooms. Peggy stared at him with wide eyes before he griped, “What are you looking at, lady?”

“Come on, man, you don’t have to be rude,” Quill said, following him out into the living room.

“That was rude? Really? I’ll show you rude. I’ll-“

“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?” Steve interrupted, voice hard.

Behind him, a voice deep as thunder said, “The end of the world.”

“Well, that’s dramatic,” Rocket said. “Although not entirely inaccurate.”

Steve turned around to face Thor. “What do you mean the end of the world?”

Thor clapped a large hand on his shoulder. “We have a lot to fill you in on.”

-----

Did I bite off too much here? Very possibly. Is Howard Stark still popping up somewhere in the future? Yes. Will I actually tie this all together? There is like a 67% chance. Anyway, if you enjoyed this please like/reblog!

#I'll be seeing you #steggy #steggy fanfiction #avengers endgame

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nexttrickanvils · 6 years ago

Photo

Day 5 of @shuharuweek: AU/Song & Dance

Yup it’s time for more roleswap AU. So enjoy Haru starting up the Empress Confidant. ;)

Title: Foolish Empress: Empress Confidant Rank 1

Characters: Fool!Haru, Empress!Akira, Morgana, others are there briefly

---------

It was official… the Phantom Thieves were low on money.

Then again Haru shouldn’t be too surprised. After all between buying new weapons for everyone and buying a cell phone for Yusuke so he could actually communicate with the rest of the team it was no wonder that their funds were low.

Haru pulls up the group chat to let everyone know what was going on.

HARU: Some bad news. I just looked at our funds and we’re running low. We may have to make do with our current equipment and supplies.

ANN: Can’t we just hold up some Shadows in Mementos?

RYUJI: Yeah but we just finished up Madarame’s palace. I wanna take a break before we get back to work.

HARU: I agree with Ryuji-kun, I don’t want you all to overwork yourselves.

YUSUKE: I apologize. I know you three had to use that money for this phone and equipment for me.

ANN: Yusuke, don’t. You needed a phone and like hell was Madarame gonna give you one.

RYUJI: Yeah and we couldn’t let you face shadows without good stuff. Plus we all bought new junk so it ain’t all on you.

YUSUKE: I appreciate your words but that still leaves us with our current situation.

HARU: I guess the best option would be take a job. I saw some job postings at the subway, maybe I can take a look at those.

ANN: You sure Haru? You just said you didn’t want us to overwork ourselves.

HARU: I’ll be fine Ann-chan, thank you.

With that Haru closed the app and put her phone away. From his spot next to her on the bed, Morgana gives her a concerned look.

“I think Lady Ann has a point. You can’t lead Les Fantômes if you exhaust yourself.” said Morgana

Haru smiles in response and starts petting her (not) feline companion

“I appreciate that you’re all looking out for me but we can’t solely rely on the Metaverse for our money. I promise that I’ll be looking for something that’s simple and won’t take too much time.”

“...Well I should come with you and help, just in case.”

Haru briefly thinks of saying to Morgana that he’s always with her outside but instead she just thanks him.

---------

“How about this one? It’s that beef bowl place in Shibuya.” Morgana said as he looked at the flyer from over Haru’s shoulder

“I don’t know. I’ve been there with Ryuji once. It was so crowded and there weren’t a lot of people working that night.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad if they hired more people.”

“I suppose, let’s consider it a “maybe.””

So far the job search turned out to be more difficult than Haru thought. There certainly wasn’t a lack of openings but for one reason or another they simply didn’t fit what Haru was looking for. One didn’t work because she was too young to apply, another was too strict with its scheduling, and so on.

“This one won’t do at all.”

But she refused to give up.

“Hm… not this one.”

There had to be something…

“No...”

...Just right…

“Oh! Mona-chan look at this one!”

Rafflesia Flower Shop Now Hiring!

Located in Underground Mall at Shibuya Station

Looking for charming employees to build and give our customers their dream bouquets.

Willing to provide flexible hours

Starting salary is 3200 yen.

Haru smiles as she pulls out her phone and calls the number on the flyer.

---------

“Thank you for taking this position, Kurusu-chan. I can tell that you’ll be a very good fit for Rafflesia.”

Haru gave her thanks to Hanasaki-san as she tied the apron around her waist.

“Now Kurusu-chan since this is your first day, I’m going to ask you to shadow me and Amamiya-kun. We’ll do the work and you observe us and try to learn the ropes.”

“Amamiya-kun?”

“Another employee, he’ll be here soon. Just keep your eye out for a young man about your age with dark hair and glasses. Now let’s get to work shall we?”

Haru did as she was told for the shift, learning as much as she can about the job from Hanasaki-san, and all the while keeping her eyes out for someone matching her co-worker’s description.

She was in the middle of watching her boss put together a bouquet of scarlet roses, care-nation, and justice jasmines when Amamiya-san arrived.

He was just as Hansaki-san described though Haru couldn’t help but giggle a little over how his headband was just barely containing his mess of hair. Thankfully he didn’t seem to hear (or mind) Haru’s laughing and instead went straight to their boss.

“I apologize for taking so long Hanasaki-san.”

“It’s no problem. Kurusu-chan, this is Ren Amamiya. Amamiya-kun, this is our new hire, Haru Kurusu. She’ll be shadowing you for the rest of the shift. So give her a good example to follow, alright?”

“Heh, heh, don’t worry I will.”

Amamiya then turned to Haru and smiled. For a brief moment she felt her breath caught in her throat.

“It’s nice to meet you Kurusu-chan. It’s good for have an extra set of hands here.”

“Oh! I-I I’m glad to be here.”

For the rest of the shift, Haru watched and followed Amamiya-kun. His passion for the job was something to be admired. He happily explained the different meanings of each flower, connecting those meanings to the type of bouquets people wanted, and really laid on the charm for the customers.

Honestly Haru found herself blushing more than once.

She was so focused on him, that she almost didn’t notice when Hanasaki-san approached her with an envelope of money.

“Here’s your pay for today. It’s just standard wages. Good work, Kurusu-chan. Come back again when you have the time.”

“Thank you, I will.”

She waved good-bye to her co-workers and made her way to the train back to Yongen-Jaya

---------

As soon as the bell rung, Haru made her way upstairs to meet with Ann and Ryuji to discuss going into Mementos today.

Just as she reached the second-year’s floor, Haru found herself nearly crashing into another student.

“Oh, my apologies...!”

“It’s fine Kurusu-chan I wasn’t looking where I was going and...”

Wait “Kurusu-chan?”

Haru looked up to face the student and found herself at a loss for words.

The boy in front of her wore a black sweater over his school turtleneck but what caught her attention was his messy dark hair and grey eyes. If he pulled his bangs back and wore a pair of glasses he’d look just like...

“...Amamiya-kun?”

“I-I’m sorry! Y-you must have me mistaken for-for s-some... ” and with that the boy rushed downstairs.

---------

The next day, Amamiya-kun didn’t arrive at work. Hanasaki-san had said that he called in sick but after what happened yesterday, Haru couldn’t help but worry. Why did he run away when she recognized him? Not to mention how different he was from the charming confident young man at the flower shop. Was he hiding something?

Whatever was wrong, she wanted to help him. She wasn’t going to let someone struggle in silence.

For the next few days at school, Haru kept her eyes open for Amamiya. She tried to ask around about him but anyone who was actually willing to talk to her only seemed to vaguely know who she was talking about.

She finally found him one day, exiting the library with a small stack of books.

“There you are!”

The dark-haired boy froze and looked at Haru with a nervous expression.

“Please don’t run away. I just wanted to talk, I’ve been worried about you.”

“Wait… Worried? About me?”

“You haven’t been to work since we bumped into each other the other day. Is there something the matter Amamiya-kun? Please whatever it is, I want to help...”

With some hesitance, Amamiya walked toward Haru.

“I’ll explain, just follow me.”

The two make their way outside the building and eventually sat down in one of the alcoves by the vending machines.

Amamiya looks around to see if anyone was near, takes a deep breath, and faces Haru.

“The truth is… my name isn’t Ren Amamiya. It’s Akira. The glasses and the headband are part of the… mask I wear for lack of a better word.”

“Why use a fake name? Why disguise yourself… are you in trouble Ama… I mean Akira-kun?”

Akira sighs, “No but I would be. Certain people in my life… wouldn’t approve of my choice of hobby. They want me to be more of a proper gentleman and well “proper gentlemen ” don’t plant and tend flowers. So I came up with the disguise so I could just get away from my regular life and do something I love. When you recognized me here, I was afraid that word would spread and everyone would find out.”

Haru sadly stares at him. She can’t imagine what it must be like to hide your passion in such a way. Without even thinking, Haru places her hand on top of Akira’s.

“Kurusu-chan?”

“Please, just call me Haru. And I promise Akira-kun, your secret is safe with me. You obviously care about working at the shop and it makes you happy. I never want to take that away from you. And if you ever need someone to confide in, I’ll be there.”

A tinge of pink covers Akira’s cheeks before he smiles.

“I… thank you Haru-chan.”

Haru squeezes Akira’s hand as she can feel a new power within her and time seeming to stop.

---------

She felt dizzy, her mouth was dry, and everything hurt.

Haru faced Niijima-san who seemed to pondering something.

“One of your later jobs involved probing into a certain conglomerate. There’s a possibility you even infiltrated their company building. Perhaps you had some sort of connection… Tell me about this person.”

Just as before with Niijima-san’s previous questions about her confidants, Haru stayed silent.

---------

I am thou, thou art I…

Thou hast acquired a new vow.

It shall become the wings of rebellion

That breaketh thy chains of captivity.

With the birth of the Empress Persona,

I have obtained the winds of blessing that

Shall lead to freedom and new power…

Akira cleared his throat and Haru immediately pulled her hand away.

“I’m sorry, I just kind of...”

“N-no it’s fine. I just… I know I already said it but thank you. I’ll be back at Rafflesia in a couple days. Then… then maybe I’ll take you up on your offer. I should head home now, my father’s… well I don’t want to worry him. I’ll see you later, Haru-chan.”

“See you later, Akira-kun.”

She waved goodbye as Akira walked away. However she soon heard a familiar laugh from her bag. Haru quickly opened it up and found Morgana grinning like… well like the cat that caught the canary.

“Mona-chan, I thought you were napping! How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone about your boyfriend.”

With that Haru zipped her bag back up, stood up, and made her way to the station. All the while ignoring Morgana’s protests.

#Persona 5 #Shuharuweek #Day 5 #Haru Okumura #Akira Kurusu #Anvil Doodles #Anvil Writings #OTP: Partners in Crime #Roleswap AU

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darklightsworld · 6 years ago

Photo

So, I have been back from Kyoto for a while now, but I was just too tired to catch up with and post on tumblr. Those five days went buy incredibly fast, probably because I was traveling or sitting in the conference from morning till evening.

I had to realize once again, Kyoto is damn far away. Actually this time I had a four-hour transfer time in Tokyo, so it was really like leaving in the morning and arriving in the evening - twice. Unluckily the place I usually eat at in Tokyo was closed for renovations and I had to improvise with hardly working internet on spot (since I used my bandwidth up due to the lack of internet in my place previously). I wanted to go to Shibuya Mandarake, so I choose a vegetarian curry place there - I tried the less than Indian cheese nan for the first time, it's good, but very heavy. As for Mandarake, usually I find many great oldies there, but this time it wasn't as good, I almost regretted going because of the train and coin locker fee, but I had to go somewhere for lunch anyway. Actually I realized only on the way back, that with the type of ticket I had for Shinkansen you could use JR lines in Tokyo for free, so I shouldn't have used the subway in the first place.

Kyoto was burning hot, I hated it, we had 32-33°C with blazing sun all weekend - just the usual. I got a room at Hearton Hotel close to the Museum - like three minutes away close XD It was a bit older, but okay, and there were two pillows! Albeit with a single sized bed. Usually my problem with hotels is, that they have big enough, at least semi-double beds, but only one pillow, so it doesn't make much sense - here it was the opposite ^^; I got breakfast too, which I used, of course, cause you needed the energy for the conference. But usually I don't eat in the morning, and it didn't really agree with my body this time either ^^;

A problem with such conferences is, that there's only one hour for lunch and that's not enough for me! There aren't many (good) vegetarian places near MM and/or there's a long wait either in line or for the food (or both), so I was always late for the keynote speeches >< There was a get-together one evening, too, as usually without many vegetarian options, but I knew for the first time you can fry quail eggs!!! And they taste good, too o_O There was a running gag in my family in my childhood: my mom asked what she should cook for lunch and when I refused every idea she offered she always asked 'Fried crocodile eggs?' in her frustration as a joke. Well, fried quail eggs are not that far off for me XD

There are the pics of my lunches. The first one is a cafe that opened in place of the vegan restaurant I went to for the first time when I arrived to Japan. The old place was _that_ good, so after I while I didn't got there anymore. The new place is more on the expensive side with okay dishes. Won't really use them much, I guess. The second is a place I used to frequent in Kyoto, but with a long waiting time. The third one was new, relatively close to MM. It's natural food (shizen shoku), and I imagined it would be organic like everywhere, so I ordered the vegan plate - and the worst lunch of my Japan life happened XD; Not because it was bad, but because it didn't agree with me. There is one thing I absolutely hate: dead food... like rotten dead food, euphemistically called fermented food. I'm okay with pickles, miso, but anything more dead is just a no go - I can't eat kovászos uborka (frequently made in Hungary in summer) either. In this restaurant the whole plate was made of fermented food XD;;;; The rice and the miso were good, and the mixed whatever on the upper left was okay, too, but otherwise there were: natto, kimchi, salad with natto dressing (who the hell got the idea to make natto dressing????? ^^;;;), the really rotten pickles that taste like death in your mouth - all horrible!!!! Oh there was tofu, too, but it had to much of that strange too salty spice on it. Fermented food is really trendy in Japan and they think it’s healthy, but I just don’t believe it... I have no idea how I managed to eat it, but never again XD;;;;;;;

Before the trip I was actually planning to visit the Lipton cafe at least twice, but I managed to go only once and got the strawberry dome - yumm. It became my reward after the conference together with come kriek beer :D Of course I didn't have an opener, so I was trying to find alternative ways to open it, but then I could borrow an opener at the front without problems XD;

Being this busy I hardly had time for shopping, but I still managed to get a huge haul (went only a few times, bought a lot XD;). Fortunately I had to buy a new bag too, so I could carry all the manga in that back home. My bags were so heavy, also because I bought four packs of my fave nuts mix I couldn't find here, and that added 2 kg to my luggage XD;

On the backtrip I left Shibuya alone and since Nakano and Ikebukuro were too far away I went to Akihabara, even though there's usually nothing for me (and it's a male otaku's mecca anyway). There was a ramen place offering vegan ramen, so I went there for lunch and it was yummy! And surprisingly I had some nice things to buy at the Akihabara Mandarake (and Lashinbang), so it wasn't that bad at all! My manga bag became so heavy I could hardy carry it back home ^^;;; (The manga stuff will come later in another post.)

As for the main, the conference, it was big with many people. Some presenters didn't show up, like the other Hungarian who was supposed to attend. There was not even a message from her, and I found that very strange. In Japan you would be scolded for such a thing, but it was a US-based conference, so they were pretty loose ^^; I wasn't done with my presentation till the night before, so it was very stressful, but with the moving and the lack of internet that was the best I could do. Being the very last one in the program was unfortunate, because not many people would stay, but my historical topic is usually not interesting for most people anyway - the most popular fields are still fandom studies, BL, cross cultural approaches and such. Oh well, nothing to do about it.

Takemiya Keiko was also having a keynote speech (with huge audience of course), and she was talking about paneling though her career - or her career through paneling. Of course it was very interesting, but I couldn't help but be bugged by her simplification of pre-70s shoujo manga! She choose very simple panel layouts and claimed these were universal. Although the weeklies were indeed prone to more simple layouts, it is not like other techniques were not known and not used! There were artists, who used overlaid images, more unusual panels, and it's a gross over-simplification to disregard these and mention the most regular ones only. Just like it is an oversimplification to claim the complicated panel layouts they were using in the 70s were universal, because they were not, more simple layouts existed, too, heck, they were more mainstream than the complicated ones. I know it's not her intention, but it was just like another speech to strengthen the myth of the 70s and the Year 24 Group. I have also been wondering why Ikeda Riyoko is always missing from her myth, even though she was using very advanced, new techniques in the 60s already. Or Miuchi Suzue's early works - and a few others... Anyway, I might post some of the images she used later. Btw paneling was big among the Japanese keynote speakers, as Itou Gou was also talking about that - it was basically the paneling aspect of Tezuka is Dead, nothing new. These strangely tied in to my presentation, because I was also talking about paneling, but more in the context of media.

Anyway, it was a long but fast trip, and I met a lot of acquaintances in Kyoto. It was like going home, but not quite. Interestingly I will be back this month for Manga Gakkai as well, but it will be a two days one night trip only. I didn't want to burden my new workplace anymore, but this year's theme is manga of the digital age, and I'm quite interested in that (especially since my Mechademia presentation had scroll manga, too).

#kyoto trip #conference #food

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welllpthisishappening · 7 years ago

Text

We'll Take a Cup (defense) of Kindness (1/2)

It’s one night. New Year’s Eve. And a whole list of rules. Because Regina might have actually lost her mind. Or maybe that’s just Emma. Because they’ve played a million games in two days, or it’s at least felt that way, and planning an outdoor practice a few weeks before the Olympics seemed like a good idea at one point. Now it just seems insane. So she’s going to wear this dress and kiss her boyfriend. A lot.

He’s good. Better than good. Great. The greatest. It’s New Year’s Day and, yeah, sure it’s freezing, but Killian hasn’t actually tried to push Scarlet on the Subway tracks yet so that seems like a step in the right direction. So he’s a little distracted a few weeks before the Olympics, but that’s fine. It’s good. Or it’ll be good. Eventually. Soon. In the meantime he’s probably just going to kiss his girlfriend. A lot.

Rating: Mature. They swear. They kiss. They drink. Then they kiss some more. Word Count: 9K’ish. It’s a lot of words AN: Guess who’s back?! It’s the hockey! So this (mostly) happened because the New York Rangers continue to ruin my life and held a practice outside earlier this month and I was like…you know who should do that? These other Rangers. So that’s what they’re doing. Only on New Year’s and it (hopefully) sets up the sequel, which will start posting in late January. This entire hockey world would be absolutely nothing without @distant-rose & @laurnorder who read and flail and listen to me plot ridiculous ideas. Also on Ao3 because this is a series now.

“You realize this invitation was grammatically incorrect.”

Emma glanced in the mirror, smile tugging on the sides of her mouth when she heard Killian hum in confusion and it wasn’t the first time she’d pointed out that the invitation they’d received was, in fact, grammatically incorrect.

The door to the bathroom was still closed – because she was fairly certain she was going to rip her hair out eventually if it didn’t decide to stay in this updo thing that she’d been trying to accomplish for the better part of the last forty-five minutes and she’d really rather not have Killian witness that – but she could hear him pacing and she wasn’t entirely sure how he was still standing.

It had been a month, in a bolded and italicized sort of way, a string of games that included more overtime than any team should play in one season, let alone a few weeks, and they’d only just wrapped up a six-game-in-nine-days-streak that was equal parts exhausting and exciting.

They won five of six games.

They won the night before.

In a shootout.

On the road. And the Prudential Center wasn’t really far away – 36 minutes on I-95, or so Google maps told her the night before, but that was a lie because I-95 was some kind of parking lot masquerading as a highway no matter what time it was and it took nearly an hour and a half to get back uptown and they’d gotten, approximately, four hours of sleep.

Add in a Christmas Eve and Christmas Day extravaganza at the brownstone the week before – painfully adorable kids, and an air hockey title to defend and a bread pudding that, this year, wasn’t quite as bad as the first time around – and it was some sort of medical marvel that any of them could even form coherent sentences.

They’d gotten, maybe, twenty hours of sleep in the last week.

Emma could barely lift her arms up anymore. This updo was way more work than it was worth. And she probably should have asked Mary Margaret for help.

“Scarlet isn’t going to shut up about his goal,” Killian grumbled, brushing right past Emma’s issues with the grammar of the invitation that was sitting somewhere in their apartment. “If I punch him at some point, do you think that’ll go against the rules we’ve been given?”

Emma laughed, closing her eyes lightly and that was a dangerous game because she wasn’t sure she was beyond just falling asleep on her feet.

It would be an actual miracle if any of them made it to midnight.

And it didn’t really matter anyway – the invitation told them they needed to be out of…wherever they were going at one o’clock.

She was kind of grateful for that rule. She didn’t need half-asleep hockey players on the ice for her New Year’s Day event in Central Park. If any of them got hurt before the Olympics, the entire league was probably just going to rain down literal hellfire on the entire island of Manhattan.

“Swan,” Killian called, knocking lightly on the bathroom door and her eyes snapped open. “I’m almost being entirely serious about punching Scarlet in the face. Your lack of response is concerning.”

“Yeah, well, you’re ignoring my grammar concerns, so quid pro quo or whatever.” He made a noise, something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a yawn and it might have been the most endearing thing she’d ever heard. They were exhausted and there were a questionable number of games, but they kept winning and there was a metaphor in there that made Emma’s pulse pick up.

“I’ve listened to all of your grammar concerns, love,” Killian promised, the bed creaking slightly when he, presumably, dropped onto the edge.

She hoped he’d tied his own tie. She wasn’t sure she had the mental faculties to tie it without inadvertently choking him.

“And,” Emma prompted. She pursed her lips, staring into the mirror like that was going to change something, but her lips still looked incredibly red and, well, maybe she looked pretty good.

All things considered.

God, she was tired. And she needed Merida to answer her text messages about the event in Central Park on New Year’s Day.

Planning an event in Central Park on New Year’s Day was, suddenly, looking like the worst idea in the history of the entire world.

Emma just wanted to sleep.

“And,” Killian echoed, grunting softly when it sounded like he was trying to force his heel through his shoes. “I still don’t think you should mention that to Gina. Or Robin. Or anyone with a Locksley-Mills in their last name.” “Is that the right order?” Killian made another noise, probably shrugging and this whole conversation likely would have been easier if the door was open. Or Emma wasn’t trying to avoid stabbing herself in the eye with her own mascara wand.

“Depends on who you ask, I suppose,” he laughed. “Isn’t that what the invitation said?” Emma shrugged, well aware he couldn’t actually see her and the cut of her dress left her ring hanging over fabric, twisting just out of her eyeline and it felt a little bit like a flashing, neon sign. She wasn’t sure what for, but it was there. “I was way more concerned with the grammar of the invitation to care about the order of last names,” she admitted. “You can’t have a first annual anything. That doesn’t make sense. Also it’s a very long name. Way too wordy.” “To be fair, I’d put some fairly good money on the assumption that either Henry or Rol came up with the name of the event.” Emma’s eyes flashed, like she was trying to look through the back of her head and out the door and the words were out of her mouth before she even realized what she was saying. “You want to put an actual bet on that?” she asked.

“You want to bet about a New Year’s Eve party?”

“It was your idea! And I’m telling you first annual cannot be a thing! It doesn’t make any sense. You’ve got to have something happen at least once before it can be annual. This should be the first-ever Mills-Locksley fancy dress competition.” “Or the other way around, depending on who you ask,” Killian added and she rolled her eyes towards the ceiling because the whole thing was so absurd and so this team in some kind of ridiculous way that she was surprised this was the first time anyone had suggested something like it.

“Have you memorized the invitation?”

Killian clicked his tongue, but that was an answer and it was difficult to fine-tune wingtip eyeliner when she was so busy swooning in her own bathroom.

The invitation landed on Emma’s desk just before the stretch of games, a small stack of cardstock that probably cost a questionable amount of money and was actually tied with a gold ribbon. Scarlet laughed about it for what felt like several hours in the restaurant after the win against the Stars and Emma was actually concerned Regina was trying to turn him to stone with the force of her glare.

He stopped laughing when Robin smacked the side of his shoulder and demanded he read the rules because they’re all for you anyway.

That, however, was a lie.

The First Annual Mills-Locksley Fancy Dress Competition and New Year’s Eve Party. Or the other way around depending on who you ask was slated to be held at a very fancy loft that, probably, cost more than the invitations and required several different rules for everyone on the Rangers roster:

You must arrive downtown no later than 7:30. This rule is for you Cap, don’t be late.

You must be wearing an outfit that would be acceptable at the NHL Awards or Casino Night. No t-shirts. No team-branded.

There will be awards for things, but don’t make this weird Scarlet.

You are encouraged to bring your own alcohol.

You are required to bring your own alcohol.

You are not allowed to talk point totals, standings, Cup defense, or, at any point during the night, start teaching Henry and Rol how to check. Seriously, Scarlet, no.

We will all pretend like any of us have interests outside the aforementioned non-discussable points.

You will leave by one in the morning because you have to be on the ice in Central Park on New Year’s Day.

“I’m honestly surprised there are only eight rules,” Killian said. “That seems a little low for Gina standards, doesn’t it?” Emma twisted her hair over her shoulder, pressing up on her toes in a misplaced attempt to try and get used to the idea of whatever heels she was going to have to wear all night. It didn’t work. It just hurt her calves.

“Yeah, you want to tell her that?” she asked and she really needed to open the door. They were totally going to be late.

“Of course not.” She smiled, body falling forward slightly with the force of her laugh and she was glad there was a sink there because her hands fell on whatever the sink was made of, glancing at her reflection and hoping that the lighting in whatever fancy downtown loft they were going to would help hide the bags under her eyes.

There was a sound on the other side of the door – something that sounded suspiciously like a shoulder colliding with wood – and she had to jump back when she twisted the handle, Killian nearly falling forward when there wasn’t anything to brace his body against anymore.

“God,” Emma groaned, but she was still smiling and maybe her exclamation wasn’t so much about the professional hockey player falling towards her and more because the professional hockey player she was living with looked so goddamn good in his suit. “What were you doing?” He hadn’t actually tied his tie.

And the suit was blue or navy or whatever, with a white shirt underneath and it did something stupid to the color of his eyes, made them sharper or more obvious, and it all looked incredible and wasn’t quite the same as the one he’d worn to the season opener last year and he must have ordered something too.

They were never going to leave their apartment.

“Waiting to hear the terms of your bet,” Killian said, but his eyes didn’t meet hers and Emma bit her lips when she realized his gaze was trailing across her dress and the ring hanging from her neck.

The ends of his lips quirked up when he glanced back up at her and she’d never been to prom, but this kind of felt like that.

“Swan,” he breathed, taking a step towards her until he was in her space, a hand landing on her hip. The dress was black and vaguely festive and maybe Emma was a not-so-secret, enormous sap because she hoped it called up memories and feelings and something about new starts with new contracts and a new apartment and a new win streak, but she wasn’t ever going to say any of those things out loud.

It absolutely did not matter.

He totally knew.

“Something wrong, Cap?” Emma asked, tilting her head slightly and his eyes got bluer or more intense or something else that definitely was not possible, but it was difficult to think about any of those things when his hand tightened.

Killian shook his head slowly, lips pressed together and maybe if Emma just spent most of the night blushing, that would help mask the distinct look of exhaustion she was fairly positive was just sitting on her shoulders at this point.

“Absolutely nothing,” he said softly. “The opposite in fact. Swan, you look….” “I know.”

Emma smiled, a rush of something that felt distinctly like confidence shooting down her spine and maybe they could leave whatever downtown loft they were already supposed to be on their way to early – so she could spend most of the night kissing her boyfriend. And getting her boyfriend out of the suit that fit incredibly well.

She tugged on the front of his jacket and he hadn’t managed to actually finish getting dressed, but there were lapels and he moved when she pulled like there were magnets involved somehow.

Killian ducked his head, dragging his lips against the side of her neck that wasn’t covered with her hair and maybe she should have worked more on the whole updo thing if that was something that was going to happen. She wasn’t sure when she’d pushed up on her toes again, only aware of height differences when she dropped back on her heels, and Emma laughed when he made some kind of absurd noise in the back of her throat as soon as she moved.

“This is going to be incredibly distracting,” Killian mumbled, mouth moving down to her collarbone instead and they were all a very violent group because she was going to punch him if he left a mark.

“Which part?” Emma asked. She hadn’t let go of his jacket yet, one hand still twisted up with fabric and the other arm slung around his neck and she suddenly realized she was bent back slightly, precariously close to the sink and they couldn’t just start making out in the bathroom.

Again.

They’d been in the apartment for nearly five months and half a season and while there were almost always games and events and things to plan for, there were also moments that seemed to make everything else worth it – a space that was theirs in some sort of way that nothing had ever really been and Emma was, clearly, losing her grip on her own sentimentality.

His laugh was warm on her skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake and that only led to more laughter and a circle of flirting that probably wouldn’t ever end because Emma was so goddamn happy it still made her head spin just a bit.

“Any of it,” Killian admitted. “When did you even get this?” Emma shrugged, or at least tried to shrug and it only left her nearly elbowing him in the chest. He nipped behind her ear in retaliation. “Jeez, you are a menace,” she said, doing her best to sound as frustrated as she absolutely was not.

She felt like…she was on fire or something and that didn’t make any sense at all because they lived together, for God’s sake.

She grumbled about his penchant for trying to organize her boots by the front door and he couldn’t really stand that she refused to put her toothbrush in the toothbrush container, but he’d also been the first one to promise the Central Park idea was fantastic and Emma was fairly certain her heart actually stopped when he went through concussion protocol in November.

And they’d already made out in their own bathroom. More than once. That felt like a sign.

For something…permanent.

She wasn’t thinking that. At all. No.

Emma was happy as they were with their boots and their toothbrushes and two bedrooms and so what if Ruth asked about the ring around her neck at Thanksgiving and then proceeded to question the potential for other rings and other plans and Emma’s stomach had jumped into her throat and Mary Margaret stared at her like some kind of ticking time bomb waiting to go off in the middle of the restaurant.

She hadn’t – until Killian got hit up against the boards by some asshole in Arizona and missed the whole third period and Emma nearly dislocated her thumb slamming her phone screen in an attempt to figure out what was going on.

It was fine.

They were fine. She was just tired.

Killian was still moving his mouth against her jaw, fingers doing something decidedly unfair on the fabric of her dress and they’d moved without her realizing it, Emma stumbling over her own feet when he walked them out of the bathroom.

“Were you really being serious about the Scarlet thing?” Emma asked, mind not entirely in her control anymore and that might have been for the best considering what she’d been thinking about. “Because that’s going to make tomorrow weird if you’re punching him tonight.”

Killian hummed and she could feel the hint of a smile on his mouth when he dropped back to the curve of her shoulder. “I honestly can’t remember anything before seeing you in this dress,” he muttered and it was, easily, the worst line she’d ever heard.

It absolutely worked.

“Almost heavy-handed, don’t you think?” Emma asked, hoping the vaguely sarcastic laugh in her voice would mask whatever it was several different internal organs did at the way his hand kept moving like he was trying to trace her for posterity.

“And,” she added. “There’s this new fangled thing called the internet, which makes it almost too easy to buy things on car rides from the Garden back home.”

Emma pulled back slightly, twisting her eyebrows in a feeble attempt to imitate Killian and she wasn’t entirely prepared for the lock on his face – like he was stunned or awed or a mixture of both and neither one of them was helping her mind stay in the present.

God.

She needed to go over the party rules again.

They needed to get out of their apartment.

“What?” Emma asked cautiously, her back protesting at the arch she was in. Killian’s hand moved, wrapping around her waist and tugging her back up and one of them made some kind of absurd noise when they practically crashed into each other, but she was far too busy kissing him back to be too worried about anything else.

Her eyes fluttered shut when she felt him tilt his head and it would surprise her if they were even allowed into the loft. They probably looked like they’d spent the last five minutes making out in several different rooms.

Emma’s fingers scraped over the back of his neck, drawing a sound out of him that was some sort of ridiculous ego boost and she ignored the stretch in her calves, pushing back up on her toes to reach him better, a mess of lips and tongue and hands everywhere.

If he had a tie, she would have tugged it.

“We need to work on your media training,” Emma mumbled, mostly against his mouth because she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull away again. “That wasn’t even close to an appropriate answer. That was a non-answer.” He grinned at her – or at least she thought he did, was fairly certain his lips moved against hers, but that might have just been an attempt at more kissing. “I’m not sure that’s an actual term, Swan,” Killian said. It was definitely a smile.

“We could bet on that too if you want.” He laughed, burrowing his head into the crook of her shoulder and she wasn’t even really touching the ground anymore, supported by his arm and several different emotions that were determined to get her to think about things in big, future type ways.

“That’s cheating,” he countered. “You’ll ask Lucas and she’ll side with you by default. Also, I already know that I’m going to win whatever the terms of the first bet were so I don’t want to threaten that victory.” “You’re win obsessed.” “When they’re guaranteed.” Emma rolled her eyes, but the emotions were still there and, possibly, growing or mutating or something. “Seems awfully confident,” she muttered. “And you can’t just attack makeout once we get downtown.” “We could just…not go downtown.” “We can’t do that.” “Sure we can. We’re already going to be late. That was rule number one. There’s almost no point in going now. Plus, we’re both lacking on sleep. We stay here. We discuss this dress some more and then…we sleep after we don’t sleep. And then we’re all prepared for tomorrow.”

“I think you’re trying to use my own event against me.” “I wouldn’t do that, love,” he grinned and she wasn’t sure if he licked his lips to try and prove his point or because of some unconscious thing, but she’d probably think about it for far longer than she should. “Literally two seconds ago you were talking about terms of a bet that would require you to go downtown,” Emma argued, not entirely sure what she was arguing since most of her wanted to stay in the apartment as well, but she was also kind of competitive and she wanted to win the bet and maybe show off the dress.

If there were awards, she kind of wanted to win.

Maybe the rules should have called her out too.

“Ah, semantics,” Killian said, waving his free hand through the air. “Don’t you kind of want to blow off the prom, Swan?”

She felt her eyebrows fly up her forehead and he knew – she had no idea how he knew, but he did and the quirk of his mouth when he realized she knew that he knew or whatever was, easily, the most attractive thing she’d ever seen in her life.

So, naturally, Emma swatted at his shoulder.

“What?” Killian asked knowingly and she just widened her eyes until the smirk turned into something a bit more genuine. “It feels a little bit like prom, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I was kind of busy being a ward of the state and avoiding most of the high school to go to prom.”

Most of Midtown was closed because of the day and balls dropping and people who had, likely, been standing outside for hours already, but Emma kind of felt like she was standing in the middle of Times Square anyway – the force of Killian’s smile equal to several different lit-up billboards and Broadway marquees.

“Exactly,” he said and they were walking again, his fingers finding hers to tug her back towards the front of the apartment and the kitchen and he left his tie on the bed.

She nearly fell four more times down the hallway and they really did have a questionable amount of square footage for two people. “You’re going to pull my arm out of the socket,” Emma muttered, voice just a bit more breathless than she was hoping for when she skidded to a stop just on the edge of the kitchen floor.

And she absolutely did not expect him to open the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” she asked and she was going to have to redo her lipstick. She’d have to do it in the car. It was already after seven.

Killian glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows twisted and amusement practically rolling off him and he had something in his hand. Emma took a step forward, careful not to trip over her dress or run into the Conn Smythe sitting on the counter and he beamed at her when he held the plastic container out in front of him.

“For you,” he said, twisting his wrist slightly and she hadn’t really been holding her breath, but she exhaled loudly anyway, a mess of romance and feeling and wannabe prom on New Year’s Eve.

It was a goddamn corsage.

Of course it was.

“When did you even have time?” Emma asked, whispering out the words and reaching her hand forward to trail her fingers over the plastic like it was actually gold or filled with jewels instead of a few roses that seemed to match her outfit perfectly.

“You’re the one who was telling me about the internet, love. Although I would like to add in the ability of the internet to contact other people in order to deliver things, making it all a bit easier for those of us who had to be on the ice at ten o’clock this morning.”

“You were just mad you couldn’t check Scarlet in practice.” Killian made a dismissive noise, an agreement without actually agreeing to the words, and Emma glanced up, doing her best not to fall into the deep end of emotions and sentiment and she hoped there was a lot of champagne that night.

“He’s going to talk about that juke he made all night,” Killian grumbled, flipping up one of the plastic tabs and for someone who was clearly frustrated by the schedule and the team and the rules, he managed to be almost delicate when picking up the corsage.

It did something absurd to Emma’s heart.

“That’s because it was a good move,” Emma said and she hoped her hand didn’t shake when he slipped the flowers over her wrist. That would have been embarrassing. “I mean…not the move you made, but a good move. And, technically, the game-winner.” Killian’s shoulders shifted when he laughed, eyes darting up towards Emma before falling back on her wrist and her left hand and it was all just a little heavy-handed, but she hadn’t been able to get Ruth’s questions out of her mind entirely in the last few weeks.

“Nice save,” he murmured, tugging her hand up to brush his lips over her knuckles and that felt like eighty-two jukes in front of the net and several different shootout victories and a direct line to winning the President’s Trophy. “We’re really going to be late though.” “Worth it. Maybe.” “Maybe?” “Can’t inflate that ego too much.”

He flashed her another smile, lacing his fingers through his and her heels were by the front door. He absolutely was not going to wear a tie. Or, apparently, stop surprising her. “You know,” Killian continued, doing his best to shrug into a jacket without actually letting go of her hand. “I never went to prom either.” “What?” Emma asked and he shrugged slightly, tugging her own jacket off the peg next to the door and she tried not to flatten the flowers on her wrist. “How is that even possible?” “Was that a compliment, Swan?” “Have you seen yourself?” He barked out a laugh, head thrown back and body shaking slightly and Emma wasn’t entirely sure she’d actually grabbed her phone. They were a New Year’s Eve disaster. “Oh shit,” Emma mumbled and Killian’s eyebrows were going to sustain permanent damage if he kept moving them that much. “We didn’t get any alcohol.” Killian was still laughing when he kissed her, easy and certain and he’d bought her roses, God and all she could do was shout obscenities and question why there wasn’t a line to the brownstone door with teenage girls wanting to ask him to the prom.

A New Year’s Eve disaster.

“This whole thing is absurd,” he said, like that was that and it kind of was and Scarlet was totally going to make the awards thing weird. “C’mon, love, the sooner we get downtown, the sooner we can leave.”

It took them a small eternity to get downtown and Killian grumbled about that for most of the ride, several pointed opinions as to Regina’s event planning skills and ability to make this as difficult as possible for everyone involved and he wasn’t impressed when Emma pointed out that the Mills-Locksley family, or the other way around depending on who you asked, lived four blocks away from the event space just off Union Square.

“It’s the principle of the thing, Swan,” Killian said, not for the first time, when the car came to a stop in front of a brick building with fairy lights in the plants outside and she rolled her eyes when he held out his hand expectantly for her.

“Yeah, so you’ve mentioned. How late are we, exactly?” “It’s after eight.” “Jeez.” It didn’t really surprise her that they were immediately met with voices and shouts, but she jumped slightly anyway, Killian kissing the top of her head when they walked towards the questionably large doors of the building.

Liam was leaning against the wall just inside the lobby, a burgundy tie that looked suspiciously similar to Minnesota colors and his feet crossed at the ankles and he just lifted his eyebrows when they walked inside, a silent judgement about their arrival that was louder than anything else he could have actually said.

“This is just ostentatious,” Killian muttered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and nodding in Liam’s direction. “Are you…waiting for us out here?” Liam rolled his eyes hard enough that Emma was momentarily worried they were going to freeze that way and the Vankald-Jones stayed in New York longer than last year, invited to the prom or the party or whatever it was – and there was some college tournament happening at the Garden when three of the Rangers six road games happened.

And the Vankalds were incredibly doting grandparents who, when presented with a brand-new grandchild and a first Christmas, seemed to rise to an occasion only previously reached in fairytales and made-for-TV movies.

“Drew the short straw,” Liam muttered, crossing his arms and it was definitely a Minnesota tie. “How come you’re not dressed up? You look nice, Emma.” Killian lifted his free hand, waving across his body like that was an answer and it was freezing in that lobby. “Thanks,” she laughed. “Nice tie.” “Where did you even find that?” Killian asked, leaning them both forward to try and tug on the fabric, but Liam just swatted his hand away.

“Get out of here. This is a perfectly acceptable tie. Which you aren’t wearing. You just out to break every single rule tonight or…” “Shut up. I feel like there should be a gopher on this tie or something. Oh, no, it’d be better with gold stripes. What color is El’s dress? Is she wearing gold up there?” Liam narrowed his eyes, an unamused look on his face. “You are wearing Rangers blue. You weren’t supposed to wear team-branded. Every, single rule Killian.”

He froze, eyes darting towards Emma and she groaned loudly, her whole body sagging slightly when she realized Liam was right – they were all red and blue, some kind of abstract version of a home uniform that would probably draw several minutes worth of laughter out of Scarlet when they, finally, got out of that lobby.

“Why’d they send you down here?” Killian asked, but there was an edge to his voice that probably didn’t belong in the question. Emma widened her eyes. Liam didn’t blink.

“We were fairly certain you were just going to blow it off,” he shrugged. “I had some confidence that you weren’t a total ass, so I didn’t argue my aforementioned short straw too much. Plus, Gina making us all schlep down here on New Year’s Eve is just cruel and unusual.”

Emma groaned again, but Killian let out some kind of sound that was a mix between a whoop and just general victory and she was shaking her head when he mumbled I told you, Swan in her ear.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, pulling on Killian’s jacket and ignoring whatever it was Liam was doing with his face. As if he knew something. Some reason that they would blow off a New Year’s Eve party with the entire team and fancy dresses. Killian kept staring at him. “So,” Emma continued slowly, dragging out the word and both Jones brothers nearly dislocated something in their determination to listen to her. “We going to go upstairs or nah?”

“Sure,” Killian said brusquely and Liam’s face did something else, gaze flitting down towards Emma’s arm at her side.

She tried not to ask more questions.

The room was, as expected, filled with most of the New York Rangers roster and front office, all of them spinning on the spot when Liam shouted he’d found them, finally and Emma was fairly sure she hadn’t imagined Killian’s arm tightening.

“What the hell, Cap?” Robin yelled, marching across the room with what actually appeared to be a top hat on. “Where’s your tie?” Killian rolled his whole head in response. “Somewhere at home. Probably next to Swan’s phone.” “Em,” Ruby called, but the name came out a bit like a growl when she dodged between actual uniform-wearing waiters touting appetizers and pre-dinner spritzers. She had to use Robin to stop, slamming into his back with an over exaggerated oof and she was was wearing a tuxedo, dressed in head to toe black that probably matched Dor’s outfit. With a bow tie. “Did you really not bring your phone? Is that why you weren’t answering?” “We were running late,” Emma explained. “We didn’t want to break all the rules.”

And it was clearly a mistake because she could hear Scarlet cackling from the other side of the room, Roland barely visible when he sprinted towards Killian launching himself up with a not-so-quiet Hook that drew the attention of the entire wait staff.

Killian groaned when a dress shoe collided with his thigh, but he barely even moved when Roland worked his way over his shoulder and Robin mumbled something under his breath about playing favorites. Will was still laughing at them by the time he worked his way across the room.

He had two drinks in one hand.

“What the hell, Scarlet?” Killian asked, rolling one shoulder to try and even out Roland’s weight.

“Where you been, Cap?” Will grinned and he was already making the awards thing weird because his suit wasn’t so much a suit as it was a tuxedo with tails and a tie that was closer to metallic than any other adjective Emma could think of. “Where’s your tie?” “What is everyone’s obsessions with ties? I am not wearing a tie if it is not a league-mandated requirement or league-sponsored event.” “Jeez, bah humbug. You need a drink, Cap?”

“Where did you even get a tuxedo like that?” Killian continued, nodding towards the jacket and Will looked like he was ready to actually spin on the spot. “Why is any of this happening?” Roland was still hanging upside down and it was only a matter of time before Regina realized that, but Will had his phone out and was tapping his thumb on the screen. “For the likes, obviously, Cap,” he said and Robin rolled his eyes. “Give the people what they want. You know how many followers I’ve got now? A shit ton. Sorry, Rol.”

“You are the least mature person to ever play professional hockey, you know that?” “I think you’re jealous of my social media following and my ability to promo this team. I mean, Lucas totally is.”

“You’re insane. And that tux is ridiculous.”

Emma did her best to swallow back her laugh. “Just as an aside,” she added. “If you guys check each other in front of the crowd at Central Park tomorrow. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“That makes two of us,” another voice yelled, someone that dimly sounded like Arthur, but also sounded a little bit drunk and Emma gaped at Killian. He shook his head.

“I’m not going to check Scarlet tomorrow,” he promised. “I just want to know where he got that outfit and why we decided to have some kind of fake prom on New Year’s when we could have just stayed at home.” Ruby snickered, shaking her hair off her shoulders and nodding when a waiter offered something on a cracker. “You’re kind a homebody now, aren’t you Jones?”

Killian glared at her, but the words did something to Emma’s ability to stay on her own feet and they were drawing a crowd.

Elsa wasn’t wearing a gold dress – it was silver and kind of blue’ish and obviously gorgeous and it, somehow, still managed to match Liam’s tie. “Hey,” she said brightly, tugging Emma towards her as if they hadn’t seen each other two days before at the Garden. “Look who finally managed to show up. Where’s your tie, KJ?” “Oh my God,” Killian sighed. Emma took a step back, letting her back brush against his chest and she grinned when his arm found its way back around her waist, some kind of human anchor in the absurdity that was the Rangers not-quite prom on New Year’s Eve.

“Was I right?”

“I have no idea what you’re asking me, El. Where are your kids?”

“With Mom and Dad, obviously. Stop avoiding my questions, KJ.” Emma let out a sound that was more understanding than an actual gasp, but the realization hit her suddenly and they probably should have just stayed home because Killian was going to mumble under his breath all night about the distinct lack of morality on this team.

“Traffic or which direction we came?” Emma asked and Elsa’s eyes practically lit up. Will took more pictures.

“You’ve got to be honest too,” Liam said. “Because there’s an entire plane ride’s worth of sleep riding on this.”

“Wow, big stakes.” “Is this why you were actually downstairs?” Killian demanded. Liam shrugged. “Oh my God.” Emma let her head fall on Killian’s shoulder, some kind of unspoken support that was a bit more of a challenge when there was still a kid hanging off him. “We took Henry Hudson because we couldn’t go any other way and, yeah, I mean it’s New Year’s Eve. We hit a ton of traffic.”

Elsa actually punched the air in celebration, getting a few inches on her jump and Killian stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “I knew it,” she shouted, twisting her head between either Jones brother and her smile was infectious. Even Killian looked entertained. Kind of. “I told you they wouldn’t be able to get down on the West Side.” “Well, that’s dumb,” Liam mumbled, scowling at Will’s camera when he pushed the phone in his face. “Do not document this, Scarlet. I want this forgotten and that Uber driver…arrested or something.” “‘Tis the season,” Ruby chuckled, directing a waiter with around the group and demanding more alcohol in these spritzers “Can we still say that?”

“I think it still counts because we’re still in the week that includes time off from school,” Robin reasoned. He made a noise in the back of his throat, when Will turned his phone on him, grabbing the thing and stuffing in his back pocket in a move that was so dad it made Emma wonder if all of them were going to get grounded by the end of the night.

“What the hell, Locksley?” Will snapped and both Elsa and Ruby clicked their tongues, nodding almost in tandem to Roland.

Roland, however, seemed far more interested in trying to talk about standings and point totals and Emma was sure, somewhere, Regina was glaring at something.

“Yeah, you’ve got to give him that back, Locksley,” Killian muttered. “How else is going to calm the masses clamoring for all of our pictures on the internet?” Emma made a face and he shouldn’t have been able to tell, but he knew she’d been thinking about this like prom and probably just had some kind of Swan sixth-sense at this point, so she wasn’t remotely surprised when she could feel Killian’s questioning stare on the side of his head.

“Scarlet and I kind of have a deal,” Emma explained, chancing a glance up and he was smiling. Idiot. Maybe she was the one who was going to attack-kiss him at this party. Waiting until midnight seemed kind of pointless.

“And it’s really important, right Em?” Will asked. Ruby rolled her eyes.

“It’s…helpful.” “And includes Scarlet’s, apparently, very strong social media presence?” Killian suggested. “Lucas, your face is going to get stuck like that if you keep doing that thing with your eyes.” “You’re not a doctor, Cap,” Ruby hissed, leaning around Will to pull his phone out of Robin’s pocket. “Where’s A? I bet she can prove my point.” “That word.” “Scarlet was right, you really do need some alcohol. Where’s Arthur? I think he’s honestly hoarding it.”

“Anyway,” Emma said sharply and Killian kissed her hair again. “At the risk of somehow making Scarlet think he’s even more important than he already is…”

Will scoffed. “That’s rude, Emma. I won us that game yesterday.”

“You made one move and caught a garbage goalie off guard. Can I explain what we’re doing now?” He nodded, slinging an arm around Ruby in a not-so-subtle attempt to get his phone back. “Anyway,” Emma repeated. “Scarlet is actually kind of funny on Instagram and people follow him because he posts all kinds of stuff about the team and things that Mulan obviously won’t get when we’re all following the rules, so tomorrow he’s in charge of the social media stuff before practice. Live stuff when we take the train uptown and then more photos and probably some ops with fans because we really did give out a shit ton of tickets. Sorry, Rol.”

Roland didn’t seem all that upset about the less-than-responsible adults around him and Will grinned at Killian like he was getting ready to challenge him to some kind of Instagram duel. “Plus, Cap,” he added, ignoring Emma’s sigh when he wouldn’t shut up, “You’re popular subject matter. Like four of my top six photos this year have you in them.” Killian quirked an eyebrow – the only sign he heard Liam and Robin’s uproarious laughter the slight twitch of his mouth and he tugged Emma even closer to his side. Roland almost kicked her in the waist.

“Your feet mate,” Killian mumbled and Emma was dimly aware of Ariel’s screech a few feet away. “God, Red, you’re going to break everyone’s ear drums.”

“And you’re going to break both of you shoulders,” Ariel argued. She reached up to try and tug on the back of Roland’s jacket, but that just seemed to get him to dig his heels in – literally and metaphorically, working another hiss out of Killian when he, presumably, made contact with the slightly purple bruise on the side of his hip.

“Is that even possible?” Emma asked. The conversation had, officially, fallen off the rails and she grabbed one of the glasses in Will’s hands before he could even begin to object. “I need this more than you do.” Will lowered his eyebrows. “I won us that game yesterday,” he argued again and Killian didn’t even try to disguise his sigh. “I should be able to drink whatever I want.” “I’m not questioning either of those things. I am, however, telling you that I’m fairly certain I’ve got tendonitis in my wrist from signing forms for tomorrow and I want to drink as much champagne as possible. Also, Robin, we didn’t bring any alcohol.” Emma wasn’t sure who looked more impressed – Robin or Will or, possibly, Killian, but she couldn’t see him when he ducked his head to press a kiss against her temple, a particularly impressive feat with an almost eight-year-old draped over most of his body.

“Yeah, I figured that when you guys showed up empty-handed,” Robin grinned, barely even flinching when Henry collided with his side. “It’s fine. I won twenty bucks.”

Killian’s eyes flashed, rolling his shoulders and Roland laughed when he nearly fell back on the floor. Ariel clicked her tongue in reproach, muttering about holding your form if you’re just going to start squatting kids now, but Emma was far too focused trying to make sure Killian didn’t actually punch two linemates in the span of one conversation.

Liam was laughing. Ruby looked a little smug.

“What could you have possibly bet on?” Killian growled, gaze darting towards Liam who just held up his hands and something was going on.

“Well, we all knew you weren’t ever going to show up on time,” Robin said. “But Scarlet figured you’d at least remember the alcohol rule if only to try and make sure Arthur’s eyes bug out of his head a little bit later on tonight when he realizes we’re breaking those rules as well.” “You’re a rebel, Cap,” Will added, mumbling something unintelligible when another waiter walked by with drinks on a tray. He handed one to Emma without asking. She finished it in three swigs.

Robin waved his hand through the air. “Anyway,” he continued. “I disagreed with Scarlet, knew you totally forgot about the alcohol rule when you asked if you actually had to wear a jacket last night and figured I’d get something out of it.” “That’s insane, you know that,” Killian said, but his eyes widened when Emma started to laugh and the alcohol had worked its way through her much quicker than she expected. “What?” “You wanted to bet about the name of the party,” she shouted and half a dozen pairs of scandalized eyes fell on Killian.

He might have blushed.

The tips of his ears went red.

And Emma wasn’t aware she could get buzzed from two drinks, but it was New Year’s Eve and that probably required fresh starts and brand-new tolerances for alcohol.

“I’m sorry, what?” Robin asked, a challenge in his voice and if they all checked each other on Central Park ice the next day because they were upset over team traditions, then Emma was going to be the one punching people.

Roland kicked Killian again. Henry was barely staying upright.

Ruby looked positively overjoyed.

“Traitor,” Killian mumbled, glancing at Emma, but there was still a ghost of a smile on his face. “And we didn’t even settle terms, Swan. That should nullify it all.” Emma shrugged, appreciating whatever sort of metaphorical fire had settled in the pit of her stomach and she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the flowers or the way he looked at her – like she was everything New Year’s Eve should be in some kind of absurd, emotional way.

She was definitely buzzed.

“I think you’re trying to back out of a bet that was your idea because you’re trying to stay on some kind of betting high horse,” Emma challenged. Roland, finally, dropped back on the ground, staring up expectantly at her, and she rested both hands on his shoulders when she turned back towards him.

“Rol,” she said seriously and he nodded once. Will did his best to turn his laugh into a cough. “I need you to tell me something and it’s super important, ok?” “Ok,” he answered, nodding again with wide eyes and someone was taking pictures. It was probably Ruby. Or possibly Mary Margaret. Oh, shit, they should find David and Mary Margaret.

“Did you and Henry come up with the name for this party?”

Roland lowered his eyebrows in confusion and Emma wasn’t quite as steady on her heels when she crouched down to his level, Killian’s hand on her shoulder sending a shock of something very particular down her spine.

The fire in her stomach was an inferno and she couldn’t stop thinking about prom and after prom and spiked punch.

She wished it was closer to midnight.

“That’s what you were betting on?” Elsa asked, a hint of something on the edge of her voice that Emma didn’t entirely understand and the Vankalds knew something. Something big.

She was kind of glad Anna was on some mountain somewhere. She wasn’t sure if she could handle a concentrated attack.

“God, Cap, you really need to get off that high horse,” Robin muttered. “And obviously. First annual isn’t a thing. You think Gina would allow grammatically incorrect names if our kids didn’t come up with it?”

Emma yelped, nearly crashing onto the floor and there was another camera shutter when Killian tugged her back up. “I told you,” she muttered, talking mostly into his jacket while she tried to wrap her arm around his waist.

“I think it’s a wash, Swan,” Killian said, hooking his chin over the top of her head. “You knew the grammar and I knew it was Henry and Rol’s idea. Plus we never did really get around to setting terms. Can’t win anything if there’s nothing to win.”

Will growled – or possibly gagged – and Ruby started shouting bring the alcohol over here, Arthur and no one was breaking more rules than the head coach of the New York Rangers, eyes just a bit glazed over when he stumbled towards them.

“Where’s your tie, Jones?” Arthur asked as soon as he stopped in front of them, holding out a bottle of what appeared to be very expensive champagne towards Ruby. “Lucas, you’ve got to take this if you’re going to demand it.” She saluted in response, taking a not-so-small sip straight out of the bottle. “Gina, didn’t see that, did she?”

“I think she’s talking to that Garden of Dreams person.” “Arthur, do you not know Aurora’s name?” Emma asked, wiggling her fingers when Ruby didn’t immediately start sharing the champagne. It was very expensive champagne.

He shrugged in response, all three first-liners and Liam both snickering under their breath. “Three sheets to the wind,” Killian whispered, barely even loud enough for Emma to hear. “Give me some of that, love.”

She mumbled a few curses under her breath and her eyes widened when Killian’s drink was closer to a gulp, a shiver working through him when the alcohol landed. “We won last night, Arthur,” he continued. “How come you don’t remember Aurora’s name? She’s been engaged to Phillip forever.”

Emma stiffened slightly at that and Killian’s sixth-sense must have gone into overdrive or something because he glanced at her, eyes narrowed in confusion or, possibly, intoxication and the champagne had already been passed on – Robin taking what looked like a double straight out of the bottle.

“We’re all going to get the flu,” Ruby grumbled, but the bottle was in Liam’s hand and, well, ‘tis the season for caring or sharing or drinking very expensive champagne at some kind of world-record pace.

“If we all get the flu, you can’t put that on Instagram, ok, Scarlet?” Emma asked. Her shoulders still felt tight. She was never going to forgive Ruth Nolan.

“Yeah, I know how it works, Em.”

She opened her mouth to make an almost well-thought-out response, but there were heels coming towards her and Regina looked somewhere in the realm of murderous, Mary Margaret and David half a step behind her with drinks in their hand.

“Reese’s?” Emma chanced, but she didn’t respond before Regina yanked the bottle away from Elsa and…promptly drank the rest of it. Will and Robin both tried to make sure she didn’t drown herself in champagne, but she just held up one finger, somehow managing to keep drinking while shaking her head and Mary Margaret looked a little shellshocked.

Regina exhaled when she, finally, finished the champagne and very-drunk Arthur was hysterical, whistling when the empty bottle was handed off to a waiter who also looked a little impressed.

“Did she try and show you her Pinterest board?” Arthur asked knowingly and Regina practically snarled. He nodded in understanding.

Emma had no idea what was going on.

“She’s not going coming with us to the Games right?” Regina demanded. The whole group shrugged.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Gina,” Killian muttered after a few more moments of confused silence. “Are we actually talking about Aurora?” Regina nodded again and Mary Margaret actually mumbled words under her breath that weren’t complimentary. “Jeez, Reese’s,” Emma breathed.

Mary Margaret just widened her eyes. “And you thought my appetizer count was extravagant. Just wait until Aurora corners you.” She paused, furrowing her eyebrows when she realized most of the roster was standing in front of her. “Did you buy that tux, Scarlet?”

“It’s good, right?” he grinned. “I’m totally going to win all the awards.”

“We said not to make it weird, Scarlet,” Robin sighed, wrapping an arm around Regina and she seemed to almost visibly deflate. Or at least start to breathe again.

“Ah, well, Cap broke all the rules anyway. Plus, I won that game yesterday, so the rules don’t apply.”

“Oh my God.” “Can we get drunk now, please?” Ruby asked, jumping when another waiter appeared next to her with more spritzers as quickly as if he’d teleported there. Emma groaned. “You know, a responsible amount of drunk. Not enough to screw up the event tomorrow. Sorry, Rol.” Roland wasn’t even standing there any more. He and Henry were tucked into a corner, a phone held in between them and they were definitely watching a game.

“You are all terrible at following rules,” Regina muttered, but she took a glass anyway. “Should we toast now or closer to midnight? Detective?”

David nearly snapped to attention when he was addressed, eyes wide and Emma wasn’t sure who looked more proud – her or Mary Margaret. “Oh, right, yeah,” David stammered. “I mean, no shame in doubling up on luck, right?”

There was a general murmur of agreement and David toasted twice – once in that circle of team and family and feeling and then again, at midnight, with Times Square just barely visible through the window of the loft and Killian’s arm around Emma’s shoulder, lips pressed against her temple. He kissed her at midnight.

Will and Ruby won awards for their outfits, pictures posted on Instagram and several hundred likes and Killian didn’t even grumble much when he agreed that the top six photos of the year weren’t all that bad.

And they definitely got drunk, stumbling out of the cab they definitely overpaid for because it was after midnight and traffic was the worst and neither one of those things seemed to matter when their apartment door slammed shut, Emma’s back pressed against it and her fingers already trying to tug off Killian’s belt.

“I’m not going anywhere, Swan,” he laughed softly, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. “And I’d really rather this didn’t happen against the door.”

“I’m not entirely opposed to the door.” He grinned at her, tongue pressed into the corner of her lips and it did something absurd to her heart and her pulse and her ability to form coherent sentences and she’d settle for just getting his jacket off him at that point.

They left a trail of clothes in their wake that they’d both be equally frustrated and entertained by the next morning, but it didn’t really matter in the moment, as long as she got to keep touching him and Emma gasped when she landed in the middle of the mattress, knocking off pillows and his tie and her phone sounded like a boulder when it landed on the ground.

“If my screen cracked, I’m going to be really annoyed,” Emma mumbled, but the words seemed to get caught in her throat when he dragged his teeth over the strap of her dress. “That’s cheating. Jeez, fuck, do that again.”

Killian laughed and he did – trying to push her further up the bed in the process and her hair was everywhere when she tried to work her foot in between his legs to push his pants off.

It all felt vaguely familiar and brand-new and, maybe, just a bit hopeful too and they were still winning.

It was the most sentimental thing she’d ever thought.

Until she breathed I love you as soon as his fingers curled around her thigh and tugged up her dress and she could feel Killian’s smile against her neck when he started kissing out nonsensical patterns on her skin.

“Where is the zipper on this?” he asked and Emma was pleased to find his voice nearly as wrecked as hers, the words scratching their way out and reigniting that fire in her stomach. He traced his hands over hips, trying to work his fingers under her back and laughing probably wasn’t the most romantic thing she could do in bed on New Year’s morning, but it made sense and he was so goddamn impatient.

The muscles in her face were going to get stuck in a permanent smile.

“Swan,” Killian muttered, fingers moving again and tracing across the inside of her thighs. Her hips practically bucked up and she wasn’t sure who made what noise, but she nearly forgot about all the reasons she’d been frustrated before and Killian’s smirk seemed to move across his face in slow motion. “The dress, love. It’s got to come off.” “I thought you were here all night or something.” “I’m not disputing that, but I’d very much like the dress out of the way.” Her eyes darted up, trying to take stock of his face or something equally absurd, but she was glad she did because he was staring at her like she was everything and then several other adjectives and she was so happy it felt like she might actually burst with it.

And she really wanted the dress out of the way too.

She smiled, letting her fingers trail across his arms and down his side, brushing over the distinct lack of clothing and several different bruises and it felt like she’d won when his eyes fluttered shut.

“Emma…” “There’s no zipper,” she whispered and Killian’s whole body froze. His eyes snapped open. “It just…kind of fits.” “Fucking hell,” he mumbled, mouth crashing on hers while he tried to tug fabric away and make sure he didn’t crush her or the flowers on her wrist.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on.” “Swan.”

“You bought me a corsage, you can’t ruin it while trying to undress me.”

Killian laughed, head falling next to hers on the mattress, but Emma could still make out the hint of a smile on his face when he twisted to look at her. “I wanted to do it right,” he said. “There was always…I was at a training facility in Colorado for the U-17 team when I maybe would have gone to prom. If we were going to do this, it only made sense to follow through on some 80’s rom com.”

“You totally would have gotten asked to prom.” “I would have asked you to prom.” “God, what a line.”

He did something absurd with his eyebrows, fingers moving again and Emma’s mouth dropped open slightly when his hands shifted back in between her legs. “I love you, Emma,” Killian said, quiet and determined and she’d have to look up how to preserve flowers eventually.

Maybe after the event in Central Park.

And they’d been living together for months, she’d heard those words more times than she could count, but it didn’t really matter because Emma was fairly certain her stomach would always do that swooping thing whenever Killian’s voice did that genuine, earnest thing and she put the flowers on the nightstand before they started kissing again.

“I love you too,” she said in between kisses and hands and more pillows falling on the floor. They didn’t really get that much sleep.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs #cs fic #captain swan ff #cup defense #blue line one shots #there is so much kissing in this #i put way too much thought into will scarlet's instagram

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kingsoftheweb-blog · 5 years ago

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Top 5 Things We Discovered at The EX (CNE Toronto) 2019

New Post has been published on https://kingsoftheweb.ca/top-5-things-we-discovered-at-the-ex-cne-toronto-2019/

Top 5 Things We Discovered at The EX (CNE Toronto) 2019

The EX – CNE Toronto 2019

It’s not just an experience – it’s a FEELING

Yes, it’s that special time of year again. As the summer comes to a close (sorry, we had to mention it) anticipation grows as Torontonians get ready for the Canadian National Exhibition (aka-CNE or The Ex). No matter what name you choose, there is often a nostalgic feel that comes along with it. Ask any Torontonian what the summer means to them. Besides the fact that it’s short-lived and humid, you will often hear a common phrase “summers are simply not complete without spending at least one day at the CNE”. And for good reasons.

It’s safe to say that most of us who were born and raised in the city, grew up with The Ex. I myself, remember my first experience very vividly, and it is deeply ingrained in my memory. I must have been no older than 10 years old, heading to the CNE with my mother, via the TTC subway. We rode in the front car, sitting right at the front seats (it’s the best view, of course). I was beyond excited, so the 30min train ride felt like an eternity! However, I didn’t really know what to expect. All I knew was what my mother told me beforehand, which was “the food is amazing, the rides are fun, and there are A LOT of games”. I quickly found out, she was telling the truth.

In addition to the fact that I had a wonderful and positive first experience, it was the start of a feeling. A very personal and intimate feeling of what the summer signified for me. Fast forward many (many!) years later, and I still find myself visiting the CNE almost every year. Did you know that the CNE hosts 1.5 million visitors, annually? And I am certain most of them (just like me) have stories to tell, with the same nostalgic feeling.

Views from the CNE – The Toronto Skyline

Tell me more

The Canadian Nation Exhibition is short-lived. Some people complain that it’s not long enough, but I feel it’s one of the things that gives it appeal. This year in 2019, the CNE runs from August 16th to September 2nd. Expect to pay $35 for parking, and $19.99 for general admission (14-65yrs). Costs include ground admission and shows (games, rides, food, ect is extra). If the cost of parking is hard to swallow, you can always take the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission) for $3.25 adult fare (kids are 12yrs are free).

If you’ve never been to The Ex, you’re in for a real treat (no pun intended). The Ex is famously known for a few things. If your taste buds are feeling brave, you will find lots of “exotic”, weird, and downright crazy foods and snacks. If games and prizes are your thing (gigantic Panda stuffy, anyone?), the CNE will not disappoint with hundreds of games at your fingertips. Bringing the kids? They are sure to be entertained with plenty of rides. Have a shopping itch that needs to be scratched? That won’t be a problem with over 4000+ retail exhibitors. And we simply cannot forget to mention the MASSIVE number of vendors selling everything and anything you can think of (and can’t think of!). You are sure to feel the contagious happy vibe under the Torontonian skies.

This year, my husband and I ventured to the CNE for a fun-filled day of good weather, tasty (strange) eats, lots of laughs, and a massage chair (will explain later lol).

Now let’s get to the list …

TOP 5 THINGS WE DISCOVERED AT THE EX

1. Epic Multiculturalism

The CNE – “Canada’s largest community event and one of the top agricultural fairs in North America” – is located in Toronto, Ontario. With a population of 2.8 million, Toronto is considered to be one of the most diverse cities in the entire world. Enter through the tall gates, and you will automatically notice people from all different social and ethnic backgrounds. At The Ex, everyone is welcome and discrimination is non-existent.

The welcoming atmosphere is extremely apparent when visiting the International Pavillion. This marketplace is MASSIVE, coming in at around 110,000 square feet. If you really want to absorb everything this market has to offer, be prepared to walk (a lot). Featuring “treasures” from all around the world, you will see a vast assortment of clothing, food, jewellery, hand-made crafts, furniture, statues (just to name a few!). I was particularly biased towards the cool Egyptian booth. I mean, who could resist a small Pyramid figurine? Actually, my husband is Egyptian, and so I regard Egypt as my second home.

After all that walking, you might have worked up quite an appetite. Experience “tastes around the world” at the Toronto Star Food Building. Resembling a giant food court with at least 100 food stands, you can choose from a variety of international cuisines such as Indian, Lebanese, and Jamaican. The food building accommodates all food preferences, including vegan, halal, and gluten-free. Which then leads me to number 2 …

The Egyptian Booth at the International Pavillion

2. Endless Food Supply

CNE is undoubtedly known for its’ food, food, and more food. Did we mention food? The grounds are literally swarmed with food stands, food trucks, and food vendors, selling any type of food you can dream of. It can be pretty overwhelming, but also mesmerizing (and mouth-watering!). I wish I was exaggerating here. In fact, you won’t be able to walk 10 feet without coming across a delectable treat. Speaking of which, every year the CNE introduces a new list of “crazy” foods. Some of the foods on the wacky list includes cotton candy tacos, apple cheesecake poutine, frozen spaghetti, pickle pizza, and pickle lemonade. If you’re feeling adventurous and looking to stimulate your taste buds, you’ve found the right place to do it.

Everyone who visits the CNE on the regular, has at least one or two (or three+) food items that they MUST eat before the day ends – NO EXEPTIONS. This is serious stuff, people. With that said, you will come across people that fit into one of these 3 categories, without fail:

THE REGULARS (aka- boring eaters) – they will eat the same food every year, and only indulge in the foods they know and prefer. They are not up for trying new foods. They take the safe and comfortable route.

THE EXTREMISTS (aka- yolo eaters) – you know that “wacky” food list? It has their name on it. They make it a life mission to try every single weird food available to them. They will often be found in large groups (they need lots and lots of witnesses, pics, and vids).

THE BALANCERS (aka- cool eaters) – they will always eat their favourite treats, while introducing 1 or 2 new foods that they haven’t tried before. The new foods may or may not be on the crazy food list. They like to live on the edge, but only a little.

If you’re wondering what we ate, our menu consisted of: corn dogs, curly fries, Jamaican Jerk chicken and rice, waffle ice cream, Krispy Kreme donut burger, Tiny Toms donuts, chicken fingers on a stick, and pickle pizza. My husband and I shared and

sampled everything! It feels good to know I am partnered with another foodie. So, I have a food confession to make. Every visit to the CNE must include my absolute favourite waffle ice cream ( I WILL NOT leave the premises until I get it). Every other food is negotiable, however I do like to indulge in new foods that tickle my fancy. This year, it was the pickle pizza and donut burger.

The pickle pizza is actually delicious, believe it or not. The fusion of flavours worked extremely well, and the dough was INCREDIBLE. The donut burger, you ask? Meh, not a big fan. First off, we found the Krispy Crème donuts to be stale (you know stale buns ruin the entire burger). The burger patty was very tasty, however it was overshadowed by the sweet, sticky, stale donuts. I am all for sweet and salty mixes, but this one was an epic fail. Sorry.

One last word of caution: be prepared with comfortable clothing (you will regret tight waistbands) AND cash. Unfortunately, the majority of the food trucks, vendors, and stands, only take cash as a form of payment. Which the leads me to number #3 …

3. Cash is King

If you hate carrying cash these days, you better love it at the CNE. One unfortunate thing we encountered was the lack of interact machines in the Toronto Start Food Building, and most of the food stands/trucks. You will see signs that say ‘Cash only’. This includes all the games (unless you purchase ticket coupons). It would not have been such a big deal, except for the fact that we didn’t expect it and clearly unprepared. Luckily, you will find plenty of ATM machines around, so no worries. However, keep in mind the ATM fees have a charge of $4. Bringing cash with you before you enter the CNE grounds, and avoiding the ATM machines, would be the better (cheaper) option.

Speaking of money, unless you plan on just walking the grounds without spending a dime, the CNE can get quite costly (this does not including the entrance fee or parking). The truth is, the temptation to buy is high. There is just so much to see and do (and eat!) that it can be easy to get carried away. Be warned – the indoor and outdoor markets and shopping pavillions can be a dangerous trap for shopping. And it starts out quite innocently. You will go into one of the buildings with no expectation to buy – simply to just “look around”. And before you know it, you have decided a jacuzzi is a necessity in your life, and you must own one. We didn’t get a jacuzzi (maybe next time) but we DID end up buying a massage chair pad. I mean, can you really blame us? Those things are life-changing.

You probably won’t end up buying a massage chair, but the odds of spending money on food is pretty big. An average meal at the Toronto Star Food Building is $10 or more. Even a “cheaper” alternative like pizza or fries, can set you back $8. Treats and snacks from the outdoor food trucks or stands are also around $6-$10. A bottle of water or pop is $4. The point here is, it all adds up pretty fast if you’re like us and eager to sample all the goodies.

Money rules – cards drool

4. Good Shoes is a MUST

The EX is hosted at Exhibition Place – a 192 acre site, beautifully situated along Toronto’s waterfront. Here is a quick link to the CNE grounds map.

We arrived at the CNE at 12:15pm, and didn’t leave until 7:30pm. During these 7 1/2 hours, we did a whopping 22,000 steps! (the step counter watch does not lie). It was safe to say we walked the entire CNE grounds more than once. We even ventured to Ontario Place, just to get a breather from the congestion of people and noises.

The weather at this time of year in Toronto is very warm and sometimes extremely humid, so you will want to dress appropriately. The best attire will be light and comfortable, with REALLY GOOD walking or running shoes. If you plan on spending the day here, it is an absolute certainty that you WILL be walking A LOT. The last thing you want is a painful foot blister or rash, or even Plantar fasciitis. This will literally ruin your entire day, so be wise with your shoe choices!

By the end of the day, we were completely exhausted. Our lower body had gotten a nice little workout, but it was sore as heck! It’s been 3 days since then, and we’re still recovering. Bottom line: WEAR GOOD SHOES.

You will walk a lot ! Don’t say we didn’t warn ya!

5. Vendors and Online Businesses’ Galore!

The number of vendors or “Retail Exhibitors” this year was astonishing! The Ex featured 4000+ vendors, located in several indoor pavillions (buildings) and outdoor markets. Most of the vendors were “small businesses”, offering unique products or services. They seemed to project a very outgoing, friendly, and social vibe. However, some of them were a little “pushy”, and very eager to sell their merchandise. Nonetheless, we found it extremely enjoyable to walk amongst these lanes of small shops, browsing the plethora of goods. We would most definitely agree this was our favourite thing at the CNE.

Upon speaking with some of the vendors, we learned that more than half of them did not have a website for their business! This is an astonishing figure, considering online precense is EVERYTHING in this day and age. Let’s put it this way, if you’re not selling/promoting your business online in 2019 and beyond, you are really missing out. We then asked if they were interested in or would consider having a website for their business. Most of them expressing similar feelings, “I don’t want to be bothered” “it’s too hard to maintain or update” “we don’t understand it”.

When we started explaining to them how easy the process is. And how laid back they can be once the website is live, since the website company ( Kings Of The Web ) will be taking care of everything else. A lot of them got very excited, and actually some of them signed up for website package, and the rest promised to sign up once the ex is finished, and they are more free on their time.

That’s a wrap, folks! We look forward to CNE 2020, with new foods, new fun, and a new top 5 list.

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mahogany-siel · 7 years ago

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september 5, this weekend i got dumb high in bed stuy

Have you ever met someone that makes you see all the things you want to be in them without even trying? I have and just in case this blog ever gets famous I will use a pseudonym for her name and call her Lisa Winton.

Lisa is the type of black excellence that parents all want their daughters to grow into. She’s like Yara Shahidi but like not famous and completely out of reach. Lisa is beautiful, she is multi-talented, has great time management and most of all, is black AS FUUUCK. Not only did she organize a black activism lecture as a f*cking freshmen, but she also snagged an RA position, the same one I interviewed for and later got rejected. She also went to Cuba this summer. Yeah, she wanted to study abroad with other black and brown people because thats how real she is! Oh and how could I forget! She is double majoring in both fashion design (the hardest design major offered at Parsons) and a liberal arts degree (probably in Global Studies or Ethnicity and Race or some other socially conscious shit) and currently has a 4.0 GPA. She has blemish-free glowing cocoa skin and her hair is all natural of course. It’s long too, just like mine would be if I didn’t get that shitty perm when I was ten. But above all of these impressive things, most importantly, she is adorned by the black population of our school. She is like the “Queen of the Black Folk” and is treated by all of her peers as such. This bitch is damn near perfect and it feels like I am confronted with this every time I turn the corner BECAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS HER AND IS ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT HER.

It may sound like I am immensely jealous of Lisa, and that’s probably because I am. Lisa Winton is who I think I want to be like. She seems to have all her shit together and knows who she is. All I want to do is know myself better than I do now and be able to convince people to love me for my authentic self. Lisa always seems to be like herself, she seems genuine and real and I think that is why so many people flock to her. I would love to have a multitude of people flock to me because of how authentic I am. I would love to give an aura of warmth by just being my damn self. Almost every time I talk to someone not my race, I feel like they are judging me in comparison to Lisa. I hate this because I know she represents a lot of the qualities I feel I lack, and I also know I will never be her. I wish white people (and other races) would stop creating such limited archetypes for black women and expecting the different ones to fit these few popularized molds.

Here’s what I think the real problem is: I am trying to be one or two archetypal black women instead of embracing my own interpretation of a black woman. I am Chanel Burns. I am a black woman and I am quirky and weird and I am sometimes uncomfortable to talk to. I have a white man’s sense of humor and my joke and story delivery is flawed. I am not perfect, and that should be okay.

Wow I swear I am making real revelations on this site let me tell you.

Another black woman I obsessively compare myself to is nineteen year old Kaye Meredith*. She is the earthy, ethereal, always nurturing, carefree black girl type. She speaks with warmth and seems genuinely invested in whatever you are saying. She always adds something interesting or thoughtful to the conversation and you after speaking to her you always walk away with a positive impression, feeling just a little bit better about yourself. She is a Virgo. She is a healer. She lives in Crown Heights and wears braids with funky colored fibers intertwined. She is an illustrator and has a developed aesthetic. She seems to be the mother of her friend group and can be seen as a “melanin goddess” by her adorning Instagram followers. Kaye is from a PWI background but has somehow found a way to navigate the social atmosphere both black and white people with ease. She works at Urban Outfitters, and even though she recognizes the company’s flawed messages, she still is considered cool enough to work in the most stereotypical “cool kids” store. I could only wish.

I want to be that girl that people flock to for guidance. I want to ooze sunshine and light when I walk in a room or speak. I want to have a lovely sense of style, a beautiful face, and be a strong artist. I want people to see how creative I am and just how well I can pull a vision together. I have so much good shit brewing in my head that I haven’t released yet because I do not know how. I need to carve out time to experiment outside of the Parsons curriculum.

That brings me to my other point.

When I was in Brooklyn this weekend with Halley and her roommate, I got really reallyyyyyy high that night. In the span of a few hours, I was in Bed Stuy, on 34th Street at a Korean BBQ restaurant, and then on the train coming home to my lovely Greenwich Village dorm with a thing of cotton candy Cold Stone ice cream with gummy bears in it in my hand and all around my mouth. During this very intense high, that I for one, can say I have never experienced before, I came through with a lot of revelations. Most of which are just straight non-sense such as vividly seeing my best friend as thumb person from SpyKids (remember those guys???) for like fifteen minutes and throughly believing I was living in a black and white movie, the whole walk to the subway from Halley’s friend’s house. However, the most repetitive thing I wrote down in my notes was that I need to move to Brooklyn and paint more. I want to be a fine artist as much as I can, but in order to get into the program minor at my school and actually level up with my classmates, I need to dive into this field. A Brooklyn apartment is not necessarily crucial to accomplishing this, but I think living outside of Manhattan may give me some type of break from this fast paced life that would positively influence my mind and my art. I was talking to my RA this afternoon and the two main points she gave me about moving to Brooklyn is scout out areas well before you decide to move and to get a place close to a line near The New School (in other words the L,ACE,BDFM,123,456).

I kind of have a packed week ahead of me which is refreshing. Tomorrow I have a Student of Color Meet Up which I decided to go to since I unofficially vowed to myself that I would go to every meet up offered in order to build a ~community~ with other black people. Can introverts comfortably fit in a community filled with effervescent extroverts? I guess we will see in coming weeks. I decided to go to one of my former classmate’s launch party on Friday night. I wasn’t sure if I should go since we aren’t really close friends at all and a lot of my black second year folks will be there having fun and conversing leaving me to feel like a f*cking weirdo. But there’s free drinks so...Imma just show my face at least haha. Saturday night I am getting tacos with a guy on Tinder. Is this self sabotage or is this me experiencing what’s out there as a truly single woman? The world has yet to tell me, but God has let me know that it is most likely gonna be the first and not as much the second. Oh well no one’s perfect! Or at least thats what I’ll tell myself for feeling less gullible. Anyway I’ll give more details on these upcoming events and the following topics in my later blog posts:

white boys and relationships with them, community, books that make me feel less lonely, the window lights on telling the stories of the New Yorkers I live across from, companionship and art, my desire for a man, why I shouldn’t always be so down on myself and whatever the hell else comes to mind! Stay tuned.

*her name is not Kaye Meredith.

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kingsoftheweb-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Top 5 Things We Discovered at The EX (CNE Toronto) 2019

New Post has been published on https://kingsoftheweb.ca/top-5-things-we-discovered-at-the-ex-cne-toronto-2019/

Top 5 Things We Discovered at The EX (CNE Toronto) 2019

The EX – CNE Toronto 2019

It’s not just an experience – it’s a FEELING

Views from the CNE – The Toronto Skyline

Tell me more

This year, my husband and I ventured to the CNE for a fun-filled day of good weather, tasty (strange) eats, lots of laughs, and a massage chair (will explain later lol).

Now let’s get to the list …

TOP 5 THINGS WE DISCOVERED AT THE EX

The EX is an Epic Multiculturalism Hub

Endless Food Supply

Cash is King at the CNE

Good Shoes is a MUST

Vendors and Online Businesses Galore!

1. The EX is an Epic Multiculturalism Hub

The Egyptian Booth at the International Pavillion

2. Endless Food Supply

sampled everything! It feels good to know I’m partnered with another foodie. So, I have a food confession to make. Every visit to the CNE must include my absolute favourite waffle ice cream ( I WILL NOT leave the premises until I get it). Every other food is negotiable, however I do like to indulge in new foods that tickle my fancy. This year, it was the pickle pizza and donut burger.

3. Cash is King at the CNE

If you hate carrying cash these days, you better love it at the CNE. One unfortunate thing we encountered was the lack of interact machines in the Toronto Start Food Building, and most of the food stands/trucks. You will see signs that say ‘Cash only’. This includes all the games (unless you purchase ticket coupons). It would not have been such a big deal, except for the fact that we didn’t expect it and were clearly unprepared. Luckily, you will find plenty of ATM machines around, so no worries. However, keep in mind the ATM fees have a charge of $4. Bringing cash with you before you enter the CNE grounds, and avoiding the ATM machines, would be the better (cheaper) option.

Money rules – cards drool

4. Good Shoes is a MUST

The EX is hosted at Exhibition Place – a 192 acre site, beautifully situated along Toronto’s waterfront. Here is a quick link to the CNE grounds map.

You will walk a lot ! Don’t say we didn’t warn ya!

5. Vendors and Online Businesses Galore!

Upon speaking with some of the vendors, we learned that more than half of them did not have a website for their business! This is an astonishing figure, considering online precense is EVERYTHING in this day and age. Let’s put it this way, if you’re not selling/promoting your business online in 2019 and beyond, you are really missing out. We then asked if they were interested in or would consider having a website for their business. Most of them expressing similar concerns “I don’t want to be bothered” “it’s too hard to maintain or update” or “we don’t understand how it works”. These are all legitimate concerns. For a new (or even existing) business owner embarking on the first website journey, it can be overwhelming and even daunting.

Then we started explaining to them how easy the process can be if you choose a good website design and development company. Not to mention how relaxed you can be once the website is live, with a company that “has your back”. Rest assured, Kings Of The Web is that company – we take care of everything! And so a lot of the vendors we spoke with got very hopeful and excited. Some of them even signed up for a website package, and others promised to sign up once they had more free time, after the CNE was closed. All in all, we were happy to spread the word about Kings of the Web; we are proud of our website design and website development company, and we have A LOT to offer!

Sure we bought a massage chair pad (don’t judge), but we came out with so much more. If you’re a business that does not have a website, we encourage you to consider (or reconsider). We simply cannot stress this enough, ONLINE PRESENCE IS EVERYTHING in this digital age. There can never be enough exposure for your products and/or services, and the internet is THE BEST platform for it.

That’s a wrap, folks! We look forward to CNE 2020, with new foods, new fun, and a new top 5 list.

And here is an extra goodie – A 10 mins footage of our cne toronto 2019 tour

youtube

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