#also my first ever proper cassidy fic

[celestialship]

Boosting Morale

Megan Lea and Cole Cassidy get their oddest Blackwatch mission yet: baking Christmas cookies.

word count: 1,291

content warning: christmas mentioned (although this focuses more on just baking cookies), light swearing, smoking

When they said Blackwatch needed a “morale boost,” Megan Lea’s first thought was that it was code for “this team needs extensive therapy.” It was hard to hear a sentiment that was equivalent to “you all need to be happier” without thinking of the fact that the Blackwatch team consisted of a cyborg whose human body had been torn apart, a geneticist with a serious lack of empathy for other living beings, and…whatever Gabriel Reyes had going on. But where Megan saw a solution as “hiring a psychologist to evaluate this team’s needs,” Blackwatch saw a solution as “let’s have a Christmas party.”

Megan Lea got stuck on baking duty. And Cole Cassidy was assigned with her.

It was hard to consider it a “morale boost” when it just meant extra work. Extra work pertaining to the actual job description Megan had as “Blackout” in Blackwatch as their sniper would have been no problem. But after years of living and breathing Overwatch’s covert ops division, it felt like the worst ever case of whiplash to now be getting orders to bake cookies. On the bright side though, they were not required to be in uniform for cookie baking. Megan wore her hair up in space buns to get it out of her face, and threw on a hoodie and some comfortable sweatpants, something she rarely got to wear. Cassidy meanwhile decided to wear a flannel and jeans. Even without him wearing the hat to indicate so, it was easy to tell that he was a cowboy.

“So it looks like we need two eggs…do we even have two eggs left?” Cassidy muttered, half to himself and half to Megan as the two stood in the kitchen, standing at the counter with bowls and mixers at the ready. Megan eyed Cassidy as she noticed he still had a cigar in his mouth.

“Cassidy, throw that thing out. Don’t smoke in the kitchen, that’s disgusting.” Megan wrinkled her nose as she turned to the refrigerator to rummage around for eggs. Considering this was the shared kitchen, she wouldn’t count out Cassidy’s speculation that there may not be enough eggs.

“What? It adds flavor,” Cassidy protested, but Megan could see him putting out the cigar as she glanced out of the corner of her eye.

“We do have eggs. Three, actually,” Megan announced as they found the eggs in a small carton stacked atop the various leftovers that had been in the fridge for an unknown amount of time.

“Nice work. Now, we just need a stick of butter…”

“We have like, half of one.”

“It’ll work.”

Megan and Cassidy went back and forth, naming off ingredients and taking turns grabbing them from various spots in the kitchen, preparing their space as they set the ingredients down. “So…you bake often?” Cassidy asked as the two reconvened at the counter.

Megan stared at him blankly. “Uh…not really.”

“…Me neither.” Cassidy chuckled awkwardly. Megan supposed that given the amount of time they spent talking one-on-one strictly related to work, it was an awkward position they found themselves in. Doing something more domestic like baking together felt very out of place for the both of them. It was not often Megan and Cassidy found themselves in a situation where lives were not on the line. It was almost inconceivable that Megan could be interacting with Cassidy in a scenario in which she did not have to focus on her heart rate and her breathing.

“No time like the present,” Megan offered, unsure of what else to say. “I mean, I’ve baked cookies before. Just not for a long time. You know how work swallows your life.”

Cassidy sighed. “Don’t I know it.”

“I’ve hardly even had time to do any reading ever since I joined up.” Megan cracked the eggs open over the measuring bowl and began to whisk the yolks.

“A reader, huh?”

“Well, not much anymore. But I was starting to get into horror books before life got too busy.” Megan looked down at the yolks she was whisking as she spoke.

“I like a good ol’ mystery novel. Can’t go wrong with those.” Megan looked over at Cassidy and saw him give one of his signature crooked smiles. “I ain’t never been much into horror.”

“It’s an interesting genre.” Again, that feeling of awkwardness still persisted within Megan, causing heat to rise in her body. It almost felt wrong to be having casual conversation with Cassidy like this. She was beginning to consider bringing up the last mission they went on together to make things feel more natural.

“I’d take some recommendations.”

Shit. He wanted to continue with this subject. “Uh…damn, I’m trying to remember any of the titles now,” Megan laughed, a bit nervously but she hoped it didn’t appear that way. “There was this one about the colony on Mars…and you’d think the horror would be about aliens, but it was more so about what the human mind can create to scare itself when facing the unknown.”

“Oh yeah?”

Megan put the butter in the microwave and set it for 30 seconds to melt. “I mean, it makes sense, right? Our imaginations can come up with far scarier things than whatever reality is. Hell, even just the aspect of not knowing what you’re facing can be scarier than whatever it actually is.”

“Tell me more.”

“Well, if I said that there was a monster around the corner…” Megan leaned on the counter as she spoke, waiting for the microwave to finish. “…And I described it to you, you might be like, ‘well that’s not so scary. I can handle that.’ But if I didn’t, your mind might run with the possibilities, and become more anxious of what could be around the corner.”

“I suppose so,” Cassidy chuckled. “Never thought of it that way.”

The microwave finished and Megan took the bowl of melted butter to add to the egg yolks. Next she scooped out some brown sugar to add to the mix. “So imagine that, but amplified, because you’re on another planet.”

“I bet.”

The tone of Cassidy’s last words made Megan whip around to face him, narrowing her eyes. Noticing that she was going to scoop out some white sugar, she stopped in her tracks. “You’re just trying to get me talking so I go on autopilot and do all the work.”

Cassidy laughed and put his hands up in defense. “What? ‘Course not, Blackout. I got way too much respect for ya than to pull something like that.”

“Oh yeah? Then go get the vanilla extract and baking soda and begin measuring that out.”

“But then I’ll miss out on hearing you talk. And I like hearing you talk about things that aren’t work-related.”

Megan scoffed and turned back around to the sugar they were scooping. “You can multitask.”

“Don’t get mad at me just ‘cause I wanna give you my undivided attention now,” Cassidy chuckled. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the fact that I’m actually gettin’ to know ya right now.”

“Just because I talked about a horror book doesn’t mean you’re getting to know me,” Megan retorted, sounding a bit more defensive than she intended. She felt like a house cat bristling its fur.

“My apologies. I suppose we should work on getting to a first-name basis first. But to your request, alright, I’ll work on those…vanilla and soda things you asked for.”

“Vanilla extract and baking soda.”

“That.” Cassidy began rifling through the cabinets as Megan turned on the mixer to blend the ingredients she had. She supposed this experience was not too much different from her day-to-day work, because she found herself focusing on her heart rate and her breathing once again here in this kitchen with Cole Cassidy.

[gattnk]

Hi hiii! Sorry to fill up your inbox once again, but I do have 2 questions "I Will Fly With You" wise:

1. Will Reina and Malachi be part of the plot ever? I was wonderinv since you refer to the comics more than the TV series and I know Malachi is in the comics but not Reina. If they will be, will we ever get a redesign? I love those!

2. Will the summer camp professors (?) also be there? I think they are in the fic (I haven't read it in a while SORRY!) but not redesigned yet? Will they also get a redesign?

So sorry for the long ass asks, I just really love your work and can't wait to see more of it when you have the time for it, of course. 😭🫂💜

OH MAMMA alright! love me some long asks, I like talking :D

Today's been a great day and I'm in a mood for spoilers. Or not, since it's actually in my fic tags!

Reina and Malachia are there, and they do play a big role in the story as well. It'll be a while before you see them, but I finished their redesigns some time ago! I didn't want to post them until they show up in my fic proper, but that'll take a while so I'll probably change my mind.

I favored the comic as my inspiration for the setting and world-building, since the comic is more rich and coherent in this aspect. However the series was my main frame of reference for the plot, since it lasted longer and the story itself is very compelling. MIND YOU, this doesn't mean I will include every aspect of either the comic or show into my rewrite, but I did my best to include as much as I could, and as organically as possible. The resulting plot is different altogether.

2. Ah yes, the summer camp professors, Scarlett and Terence! They're here, don't worry. In fact Terence shows up in the first chapter, he greets our angels on the rooftop with Arkan and gives them their mascots. He even tags along for the rest of the tour :D I originally thought about including Scarlett as well in the scene where Temptel shows up, but I decided against it in the end since she's not the type.

I'm currently working on Terence, Scarlett and the other teachers. There's five faculties in total and you've only seen Arkan/Temptel (heads of the guardianship fac) and Kubral/Cassidy (heads of the devil/angel departments as a whole), so there's still 4 pairs of teachers to go (Scarlett/Terence included)!

So there you go! I hope this scratches that itch for more AF. At least for now :V but if you do have more questions I'll be happy to answer!

[cyberrat]

74th Batch Of Fics: 4th Fill

Hanzo/Cole – Trucker AU – Epilogue – Will there be a Happily Ever After?

Can't believe Trucker AU is over :') it was very fun to write!

---

What did it mean when Cassidy had protected a stranger like Hanzo the same way that he had protected the man that had turned his life around so many years ago?

Hanzo looks away with a derisive click of his tongue. “He’s an idiot,” he says with bitterness in his voice.

“Sure is,” Reyes replies. He looks more satisfied now… as if he is happy with Hanzo’s reaction. “He’s already fucked it up big time. I don’t want to see him dead because of some yakuza flirt trying to get out of the gang life.”

Hanzo’s head snaps back around, heart immediately picking up in speed as he stares at Reyes. “How do you-”

He’s interrupted by the man all but crooning: “I’m not an idiot like the ingrate in my kitchen. I’m not going to do anything to you. Yet. I’m just saying that if he ends up dead in a ditch because of you – you won’t live for much longer after that, alright?”

Hanzo closes his mouth quietly. Their heads turn as Cole comes strolling back in, a beat up thermos of coffee in one hand and a few mugs in the other.

“Y’all done talkin’ bout me?” he asks in a lazy drawl.

Reyes scoffs softly but also doesn’t deny the accusation. In fact, he mildly replies: “Just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Hanzo does not say much during their stay with Gabriel Reyes. He thinks about what he has been told and just watches the dynamic between the two men. Reyes couldn’t seem more annoyed about their presence but there is just something about him that makes Hanzo feel like he is very pleased about Cole’s company.

To Hanzo’s surprise, he even bullies them into staying for the night. Cole puts up a pathetic little fight to get out of it but it’s obvious that he speculated on a proper bed for once and takes it after just a few back-and-forths.

The room itself is small but nice and clean. He has no idea how Reyes takes care of the place with that busted leg of his but as far as he can tell, the old guy has an unbreakable will and won’t be stopped by anything.

He sits on the edge of the bed, hands lightly brushing over the duvet. It occurs to him that it is the cleanest thing he’s been on since coming into the US in the first place. All he’s known are the passenger seats of trucks like Cassidy’s and dingy Motel rooms.

He listens to Cassidy in the bathroom. When he comes out, Hanzo looks up to see him with nothing but a towel around his hips. His hairy gut is hanging over it, probably keeping the thing in place.

Hanzo watches him as he moves around the room and is disturbed to find that he is turned on by the sight of him.

He frowns and looks down at his hands, curling them into fists and then relaxing once more.

Cassidy sits down next to him, his voice lowered so Reyes probably won’t hear them, wherever he’s gone off to now: “What’s goin’ on in that pretty li’l head o’ yours? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

Hanzo keeps staring at his hands. The scent coming off of Cole is different than usual. He smells clean, for starters.

“I am thinking about where to go next.”

“What do ya mean? I got my route planned out already.”

“Yes. Your route. But what about mine?”

“... I ain’t followin’.”

Hanzo sighs deeply and looks up at Cole’s face. “We’re done here, aren’t we? You helped me find Genji just like I wanted you to. And I paid you plenty for your services.”

At that, Cole’s face becomes stormy. He throws out an arm, gesturing toward the door as he half-shouts: “The fuck did he say to you?!”

Hanzo narrows his eyes and turns his head away. “He just confirmed what I already knew: that you’re an idiot that has no sense for self-preservation and I’m not going to be the one that gets you killed, alright?”

There’s a few beats of silence as Cassidy ostensibly tries to wrap his few brain cells around what Hanzo just said. Then a heavy hand curls around the nape of his neck, fingers squeezing on either side just shy of painful.

“You want to leave because you’re worried about me?”

Hanzo bristles at the incredulousness in the other’s voice. He can feel a flush starting to crawl up his chest which he fights tooth and nail against.

Cole continues: “You do know I’m roughly double your age. Let me make my own damn decisions.”

Hanzo feels himself get pulled into Cassidy’s naked chest. He struggles against it but it is very half hearted.

“Fat bastard…” he mutters softly.

Cassidy does not reply immediately; he just keeps squeezing the back of Hanzo’s neck which is… surprisingly soothing.

Hanzo closes his eyes slowly and finds they are too tired to open up again so he simply listens to Cassidy’s heartbeat, calm and strong in his chest.

“Ya should stick to sellin’ your pussy for information if that’s the extend of your intelligence,” Cole mutters eventually. He starts to maneuver them around which ends in Hanzo pretty much lying on top of the old fool. Cassidy grunts softly and mutters something about Hanzo being way heavier than he looks but Hanzo elects to ignore that.

He tries to think about how disgusted he had been with the fat bastard upon meeting him and while that isn’t even that long ago, it’s not quite possible for him to get into the same mindset as he had been back then.

Cassidy is disgusting. He exploited Hanzo’s situation for sexual favors – unashamedly at that – and even let other people have at him.

…But it’s not like Hanzo didn’t enjoy it all. The degradation, the objectification… the simple life of being a cock warmer.

The fat bastard keeps muttering under his breath as he drags the blanket out from underneath them and then pulls it over Hanzo’s head, cocooning him into warm darkness.

Hanzo’s hand slowly brushes over the stiff little hairs on Cassidy’s chest and down to his belly, following the furry trail until he comes to the edge of the towel.

Slowly, he opens it up so he can curl his fingers around the warm shaft. It feels soft and spongy in his hand and weirdly comforting. Cassidy grunts above and, surprisingly enough, lets him be.

For a few minutes they just lie in silence before Cassidy says in a low tone of voice: “You’ll come with me.”

It’s worded as an order but the uncertainty in his deep voice makes it sound more like a question.

Hanzo inhales deeply and starts to relax in what feels like for the first time of his life.

“Yes,” he mutters into the darkness. “Yes, I will.”

[villa-kulla]

Fic Writer Review

Tagged by @fontainebleau22, thanks for the tag, sorry for the delay!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26 at the moment.

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

722 309. I’d have thought it would be more considering how long some of mine seem to get, although looking at other people’s answers to this meme, I guess 26 isn’t really a huge number!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

My first fic ever was a little Lord of the Rings experiment for an exchange thing. But my first proper dip into writing for a fandom would have been Breaking Bad, where I wrote for a couple of years before it felt like my ideas had run their course. Then there was a Kingsman fic, and then Mag7 where - similarly to BrBa - wrote feverishly for a couple years until it felt like the well had been plumbed. Oh yeah and then jumped into the Marvel fandom to drop one Marvel fic before immediately jumping back out lol.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

So the Marvel fic has officially just become my most kudoed fic, which is kind of hilarious considering it was a SUEZ! CANAL! FIC! But in my opinion, a good one lol. So yeah, it would be 1. The SamBucky Suez Canal fic, 2. The Kingsman soccer AU, 3. Desert Sand, 4. Chisolm’s 7, and 5. Blue Devils. That last one surprises me, but I guess it was an early one for the fandom, so I think it became an automatic read.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not

I do! It’s possible I’ve missed some here and there, but generally I try to get them all.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think any of them! While my fics definitely include angst, ideally it’s still in a fun way, or at minimum, bittersweet? I don’t generally want the last taste in a reader’s mouth to be angst. ALTHOUGH. I really really wanted to include an epilogue to the selkie fic that’s kind of angsty. Basically the story would end, but then many years later we’d see an old man get off a bus on the coastal road, carrying a suitcase. He’d be wearing a suit, clearly back from many years travelling. He’d walk to the coast, back over a hill where there’d once been a little fishing cottage, long since torn down. He’d walk down to the beach and into a little cove where he’d kneel by the water he knew better than anyone. Opening the suitcase he’d take out a box which he’d then empty into the ocean, ashes spreading across the water. He’d take out a folded bundle of cloth and wrap it around his shoulders. Then he’d dive into the water, disappearing into the waves, leaving nothing but an empty suitcase behind him, and a folded pile of clothes.

I loved that ending but I’m still not 100% sure if it was keeping in tone with the actual ending, so I left it out. Maybe one day I’ll go and add it as en extra chapter snippet.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t know if I’d call them ‘crossovers’ exactly, although I did stick Goody and Billy into a Some Like it Hot ‘jazz band on a train’ situation, and I also did a Breaking Bad one that used some elements of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Those feel more like ‘AUs’ though. I like situational crossovers, but I’ve never been super into fics where characters from different fandoms actually interact.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully not. The most off-putting comment I’ve gotten was someone who - despite being very complimentary - decided to make a full-on laundry list all the anachronisms in a chapter lmao, like what. Stuff like "interesting that this character used this expression when XYZ would only been invented 10 years later!” etc. I’m positive they didn’t realize how it came off, but still, that was kind of hilarious in its.....obliviousness lol. It was special.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do. And I guess I’ve done the full spectrum of ‘fade to black’ to ‘describe every bead of sweat in pearlescent detail’. It really depends on what the fic calls for! I’ve done some I’m quite proud of tbh, but there are others I’d like to go back and have another stab at, just because they felt kinda cookie-cutter.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

There’ve been a couple! I can’t remember which ones specially, but I had some people asking to translate some Breaking Bad ones, and I think a Mag7 one too. I remember someone messaging to ask permission like “We love your fics in Russia!” and that was a very sweet and wild thing to hear.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, I wrote one with @yoporkchopsandwiches! Our Victorian opium dens Breaking Bad AU lol. I was just thinking of that recently actually and remembering how fun it was to read what the other wrote! We plotted out most of it together, and then took turns writing chapters or scenes. But of course while writing you come up with other details or ideas, so we’d then present the new chapter to the other with all the new bits added. And it was so fun to read what the other came up with like ‘omg no way didn’t see that coming/good idea!’ and then picking up their idea from there. In that sense it was almost like improv but for writers.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

That I’ve written? I think I’ve had the most fun with Goodnight/Billy, partly for the time period, partly for the dynamic, but mostly for the plausibility. While I really enjoyed writing BrBa, it felt more like it came from enthusiasm for the show, not the central ship lol. Don’t get me wrong, the chemistry and its potential was extremely fun to write in a fic setting, but I don’t find I actually shipped it while watching the show itself. Whereas it’s been nice with Mag7 to write for a ship that’s actually....more believable lol. 

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ugh I can’t beLIEVE I have an unfinished fic up on ao3 lol it haunts me. I was sure I was done with Goodnight/Billy, and then early quarantine last year I had a train robbers AU idea, so I posted a couple chapters. But I don’t think my heart was super in it, I was more just messing around with the idea. I don’t want to delete it, but I’m also not super motivated to finish it haha, but we’ll see what happens. But tbh I like the poem summary better than the fic itself:P

15. What are your writing strengths?

Plotting, keeping things moving, and making stories feel visual maybe? They’re almost all movies in my head anyways, so I think I have good instincts for ‘cinematic moments’.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I’m a little lazy, and also ‘end-product oriented’. In some ways it’s helpful to picture the whole fic before you write it, but sometimes it results in some scenes feeling slightly slapdash because I’m just trying to get them out to move onto the next. Like ‘everyone did everything I wanted to in this scene? Great, next.’ I could stand to ‘stop and smell the roses’ more while I write, and actually see what else I can do to improve a scene.

(also if I use a word once it sticks in my head I end up using it like 5 other times in a scene and don’t notice lol, I need to stop that)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

All for it! Depends how it’s done though. I personally find long scenes of dialogue where you have to constantly jump down to the author’s notes for the translations to be distracting. I like when it’s integrated more naturally where actual translations aren’t super important. Like in River Grit, Billy overhears this little exchange between Goodnight and his childhood nanny:

“Ah c’est vrai, mon petit Bonsoir! J’en peux pas le croire!” she cried out and laughed as she embraced Goody. Billy realized with a start that he actually recognized one of the words: ‘Bonsoir’. Goodnight. (insert brief flashback of Goody teaching him the nickname) / “Ma Serafine,” Goodnight said with a laugh. “C’est vrai que tu ne vieillis pas. Tu vas me rendre jaloux, heh?” / Billy had no idea what Goodnight was saying, but he sure as hell recognized Goodnight’s tone for flattery, and it was confirmed when the old woman laughed and smacked his arm.

What they’re actually saying is: “Oh it’s true, my little Goodnight! I can’t believe it!” / “My Serafine, it’s true you never age. You’re going to make me jealous”. But it doesn’t matter because this fic is from Billy’s POV so it’s about how he experiences the language around him, which is why I wouldn’t have included a translation for the reader. If you understand it then it’s a bonus, but the words themselves aren’t really the point! 

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That lil Lord of the Rings fic.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hmm for Mag7 I’ve always liked River Grit and love how it turned out. I also think Ashes feels very complete as a fic and I liked the flashback format. And while it’s not my favourite fic, in hindsight I’m impressed with the Kingsman football fic and how I had to write about 5 different soccer games and make them all feel different and exciting, and not just some variation of ‘He kicked the ball!’ I’m really pleased with how those sequences all turned out.

La fin! Not tagging anyone this time, but please feel free to do this if you see it! I love when people just take initiative to do these things without waiting for a tag (also please tag me in it if you do, ‘cause I love reading these things lol)

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: An Auspicious First Meeting (Little Miss Verse)

In which a new friend is found and the beginnings of a plan are discovered.

A/N: I’m so excited to finally add this character to this verse.

_________________-

She’s expected the library to be empty.  It usually was, during a party.  Not even the men with their cigars were so uncouth as to smoke in the library; there was always a parlor for that.  After missing a dinner party and a ball Belle had known better than to say no to another social occasion; her father, Ariel, and Mr. Aston would all be upset with her for their own reasons.  She wasn’t in the mood for the cricket game, though, and had snuck away as soon as everyone had started to make teams.  Apparently she wasn’t the only one with the plan.

“I’m sorry, mister…” She had seen the young man before, at one of the parties.  If she remembered correctly he was a friend of Eric’s, or at least seemed to arrive in town at the same time.  She tried to remember his name, but wasn’t sure she’d learned it.

“Neal.  And there’s no reason to apologize unless you’re here to fetch me for the game.  I don’t know how to play.”  There was something about his eyes that were familiar, when she looked at him more closely.  It didn’t make sense; there was nothing else familiar about him.

“I’m sure they have enough players already, Mr Neal.  I won’t tell them you’re here.”  If he didn’t want to be found then she seemed to have the reprieve she was looking for.

“Actually it’s Mr. Cassidy if you want to be formal, but I’m used to being Neal.”  He shrugged.  “I guess not knowing how to play cricket isn’t the only way I don’t fit in.  I should have known better than to say yes to Eric when he invited me to join him.  I don’t belong here.”

“You can know everything they know and live here half your life and still not belong.”  It was quiet in this part of the house.  Belle decided that despite the fact that they hadn’t been formally introduced no one would notice if she sat down and talked with him.  “Your friend must have thought you belonged.  He invited you.”

“Our plans were more of boating than balls.  There was supposed to be just the one dance, but then there was this girl he’d seen before and finally talked to, and you know how that goes.  Next thing they’re dancing and now he goes anywhere he think she might go.”

“And she goes anywhere she thinks he might.”  Belle laughed.  If only it was always that simple.  “Ariel was my roommate in school.  Was Eric yours?”

“Not hardly. We went to school together, but he was the son of the king and I was allowed to attend class as long as I was earning my keep in the kitchens.  The closest we get to being roommates is adjoining berths down below on the ship.  Eric offered me a job after school; he’s a friend but we live in different worlds.”  Neal Cassidy looked out the window where the lower lawn was barely visible.  “If I had better manners I would have asked your name already, instead of talking your ear off.”

“It’s Belle French, but I don’t mind listening.  It’s good to have someone who listens; Rum listens to me even when I say the most nonsensical things, and it always makes me feel better afterwards.”  She wasn’t sure that was true of their conversation the other night, when she’d told him of her father’s hope that she’d accept Gus’s proposal when he made it.  She’d upset him, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“Is Rum the tall one with the red coat and the pack of dogs?”  He hid it quickly but Neal didn’t seem to find Gus to his liking.

“Oh no, that’s Mr Aston.  He’s courting me, I suppose.  Rum is my father’s butler.”  It was the last way she would have chosen to define who Rum was, but she couldn’t tell a stranger that her father’s butler was also her best friend.  And something more, though she didn’t quite know what ‘more’ was.  “He’s known me since I was a girl.”

“You don’t seem to be very fond of the idea of being courted.”  There was a chessboard on one of the tables in the room.  A grand thing, nothing like the worn wood carving that was one of the many treasures in Rum’s room.  The set he’d used to teach her to play.  She wondered if it was an accident that Neal picked up the black king.

“Men are able to choose their own fate.  I wish I had the same freedom.”  She would travel, if she could.  Not all the time.  She would have a home so much cosier than a mansion, full of books and treasures collected around the world.  Perhaps Rum would agree to be her butler.  Perhaps, even better, he would live with her as a friend.  Or…

“Some men have a great deal of freedom.”  Neal set down the chess piece, not seeming to care that it wasn’t in the right square.  It lay in the middle of the board, resting on its side.  “Your Mr. Aston…”

“Not mine.”  At least not yet.  She couldn’t stay away from him for forever, and at some point he would ask her a question and expect an answer.  Her father had led him to believe that the answer would be the one he wanted.

“The ship is docked not far from here.  We could both escape.”  His grin was such a change that she found herself smiling back even as she shook her head.  He looked younger suddenly.

“I can’t leave; there are people I would miss.”  One person, more than any other.  She didn’t want to think of how Rum would feel if she went away without a word.  He fussed and worried when she was even a few minutes late.

“And I don’t suppose we would get very far with the contents of our pockets.”  Neal patted his pants, which Belle suspected didn’t hold much.  Her own bag held only a few small coins.  Her father preferred that she charged what she needed at stores, and only grumbled when it came to paying the bill at the book shop.  “We’ll have to stay.  I’m running out of excuses, though, when people ask me to dance, or to play games I’ve never seen before.”

“I could teach you.  Only if you wanted, you don’t have to know any of it, and some of it is tedious, and…”

“Why would you do that?”  He cocked his head to one side, looking at her, and again Belle was struck by the fact that he looked familiar.

“It would make Ariel happy, if she got to see Eric more.  No one would say anything if the four of us spent time together.  And I might as well do something with all the hours I had to spend learning the dances and things.  I like you, Neal.  I think we could be friends.”  And then Belle froze, her eyes growing wide.  “Oh!”

“Oh?” Neal asked.

“Is there anyone you’re attached to, Neal?  Anyone here you wish you might spend time with?”  She had an idea.  An illicit idea that would disappoint her father.  Ariel would be confused.  She didn’t even dare tell Rum, at least not yet.  She hoped she was right about Neal being someone she could trust.  

“I wouldn’t dream of it, not here.  And there’s no one at home either.  Living on a ship most the time isn’t the best way to meet people, and I’ve moved around a lot ever since I was little.”

“So no one would be hurt if you pretended to court me.”  Belle beamed.  It really could be the best way to take care of her problem.

“If I what?”  He was looking at her as if she hadn’t spoken English.  Or she had more than one head.

“Pretend to court me.  I know it’s asking a terrible favor and you don’t know me very well, but it wouldn’t have to be for very long.  And you would only have to dance with me once of twice and no one else would ask you for dances.  If you wanted to play any of the games I could help and if you didn’t want to we would just have to say we were taking a walk.”  She was speaking too fast.  Belle stopped and forced herself to take a breath

“And your Mr. Aston wouldn’t bother you?” Neal guessed.

“He’s going to ask me to marry him soon.”  She already felt like she knew Neal better than she knew Gus.  And she could learn to know him better, as a friend, and not worry that he was after her money.

“But would anyone believe us?”  He didn’t say no.  Belle caught her breath.

“Ariel and Eric saw each other for the first time in Normandy.  Why not us as well?  We could say that we are renewing our acquaintanceship.  My returning home had forced us to part but now we have found each other again.”  It sounded like one of the books she had borrowed from the maids when she’d been trying to learn about kissing. “The only people to know any different would be Ariel and Eric, and they wouldn’t tell.”

“I’m not a rich man, not like the peacock out there.”  Neal nodded toward the window.  Belle had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing when she imagined Gus as a peacock.  He did like to strut.

“You have something more important, Neal.  You have mystery.  No one knows anything about you but for the fact that you’re a guest of Eric’s.  You could be a prince from a neighboring country.  An owner of emerald mines.  Captain of a ship that sails to the spice islands.  Perhaps you have coffee plantations or own the largest emporium in Europe.”  They wouldn’t need anyone to believe them for that long, just long enough for Gus to become interested in someone else.  Belle knew her father would find someone else, after that, but it would take time.

“A world famous cat burglar?” 

“Like Robin Hood, only going after rich peacocks.”  Belle laughed, not bothering to hide it.  Neal’s eyes were twinkling.  “Would you consider it?  I would owe you a favor.”

“My papa told me never to make promises unless you knew what was on the other end of the deal.  Let me think about it.”  There were voices in the hall; it looked like their sanctuary wouldn’t last much longer.  

“Thank you.”  It wasn’t proper, but she couldn’t help taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.  “Just talking to you has made me feel better. Neal Cassidy.  Thank you for that.”

“You’re not like anyone I’ve met before, Belle.”

“Thank you.”  A moment later the door opened; it was Ariel and Eric, come to look for them both.

[ive-always-been-a-pirate]

Standing In The Outfield (1/2) + A CS Fanfic

A two part fic about baseball, the friend zone, and what happens when your unresolved feelings bring you home after five years away. Inspired by the song 'The Outfield' by The Night Game.

Rating: T/M (pretty tame for now, but it gets steamy in the second part) Word Count: 3.5K

Hello out there! I apologize that it’s taken me so long to write/post anything. The past couple of months have been insane (school starting, a death in the family, various other drama, blah blah blah) but I’m back! I have a few little stories like this that I’m hoping to post between updates of my multichapter stories.  Here’s the first part of this one - also on FF.net and AO3.

To this day, Killian still couldn't exactly figure out how they'd ended up in such a comfortable yet confusing relationship. Ugh, he hated that term - relationship. Well, it was Emma who really loathed that word. He'd just come to share the opinion because….well, because he liked sharing things with her.

Many things. Okay, all things.

Sharing was perhaps a vague way to put it though. She rarely asked for much and he'd always been all too willing to give her everything he could - several answers to the dozens of tests Mr. Gold administered in their junior high algebra class, the black windbreaker he tossed over the fence to her when she came to every single one of his baseball games, and even some really crappy dating advice when it came to who she should go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with. He should have asked her to be his date before the lead pitcher of the varsity team managed to, but he didn't - and therefore, he'd had to support her choice to accompany Storybrooke High's most eligibly overrated idiot to the decorated gym he was now sure as hell going to avoid come Friday night.

It wasn't like he wanted to go anyway. With the first round of the playoff tournament scheduled for the following Monday, the batting cages were probably a much better place for him to be. After all, it wasn't like Neal Cassidy was going to be throwing consistent strikes if he was out all weekend trying to score with the girl Killian had dropped the ball with for years now.

Sure, he loved America's favorite pastime, but as thoughts of figurative "bases" crossed his mind, Killian realized how much he truly hated sports analogies.

It had been tough to encourage Emma to accept Neal's invitation, but he was fully convinced that karma was paying him back in good faith when she still ended up on his doorstep after the formal. He'd been surprised to see her standing there in her post date glory, her pale pink dress clinging to her figure and her tangled blonde hair loose against her shoulders. With her lightly colored high heels hanging from her fingers, she'd asked if she could come in - and once again, he couldn't deny her - not that he actually wanted to.

Their pattern of give and take with no protest picked right up as she changed into a pair of his sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt she plucked from his dresser drawer. He'd tried not to smile at how tiny she looked in the baggy clothing, using the distraction of making hot cocoa and trying not to read the 'SB Sluggers Club' title that stretched across the front of the shirt too many times.

He hadn't ever struggled quite this much when it came to staring at her as she scanned his limited movie collection. Her fingers skimmed the titles lightly, tracing the letters as she contemplated her options. He wasn't sure what had brought her to his humble home's living room after a night out with that Cassidy git, but he liked the outcome - the fact that she'd seemed to end up there with him so automatically.

"It's amusing that you're pretending to think this through, love," he grinned as handed her a mug and flopped onto the couch. "I'm pretty certain that any other film beyond your usual choice would be….inconceivable."

She smiled big at his fast conclusion, plucking the movie case from the shelf and tossing it to his lap. Taking her seat at his side seemed rather easy and he allowed himself to relish the way her leg bumped against his when she tugged a light quilt over her body.

"I know you don't like it as much as I do," she acknowledged as she snuggled beneath the blanket. "You can turn it off when I fall asleep."

He rose quickly and cued up the old movie player before glancing back with a dramatic eye roll. Killian admitted silently how much he loved her little retorts and facial expressions as he pressed play. Yes, refusing her requests was an ability he'd lost years ago….or maybe he never had such a skill in the first place.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he shook his head, moving back to the sofa and enjoying the way she leaned into him. "Staying here then, love?"

"Maybe," she mumbled with a yawn, his arm tucked around her. "Probably."

He'd never been quite so quick to accept such perplexing circumstances - well, at least not up until then. It would be a lie to say he ever thought twice about it after that.

He should have kissed her though - and lord knows he thought about the fact that he hadn't many times after that night.

Though he wasn't certain how they'd grown quite so close, the roots of their friendship were simple and perhaps even a bit fated. Emma lived only a few streets away and the sunny days of their childhood had brought her to the baseball field that sat on the block between their two homes. He was one of the youngest players on the club team and still very much a bench warmer when he'd first noticed her climbing the bleachers. It took him less than two innings to determine who she was - the younger sister of David Nolan, the three time captain of their rather talented group of athletes.

The fact that he'd ended up being such good pals with the popular leader of their team was something that still perplexed Killian, even now that David was competing at a junior college level a few hours away from their small hometown. The timing of their friendship had evolved when Killian most needed it - a mere two lonely months after his own older brother had passed tragically in a military accident. David had taken him beneath his wing quickly and with the man's consistent will to keep an eye out for his younger teammate, Killian soon found that he almost fit in perfectly with the Nolan family.

They spent loads of time together - summer days at a nearby lake, study sessions with friends and dozens of snacks, and even an occasional holiday gathering or two. Killian's own father was often working late nights or drowning in rum fueled misery which made accepting an invitation to a pick-up game in the park or the Nolan family's annual Fourth of July celebration an easy thing to do. He was beyond grateful that David had taken a liking to him and even more so when Emma seemed to as well.

It didn't take him long to like her just as much - well, maybe even a little more.

By the time David graduated, Emma had instantly stepped up to fill the role of Killian's best friend. If they weren't playing catch and quizzing each other on SAT prep, they were making late night movie plans and debating the proper amount of salt needed on some freshly popped popcorn. He made sure she always had a ride to school in the morning while Emma made sure he knew how to get the grass stains out of his uniform pants. She was always there for him whether he needed a pep talk after a tough game or a high five over the fence after he closed out a tough inning. Killian had never imagined he'd ever meet someone who understood him the way she always seemed to.

There was something about Emma and the way she made him feel - something wild and exciting that he couldn't totally explain. She made him feel hopeful - like maybe he could be something more than just Killian Jones, the relief pitcher for the Storybrooke Knights. He sure as hell wouldn't ever be meant for shining armor or hero status, but Emma almost made him believe in happily ever after - maybe a new beginning that even somehow included her. Well, maybe if he could ever work up the courage to suggest it.

He didn't though. Instead, April turned to May slowly, the green grass of the baseball diamond and a need to keep his curveball sharp about the only things keeping Killian from spending every second with her. Emma never told him about the dance or the date she'd apparently ended earlier than expected, not even the one time he'd worked up the courage to ask.

He was kind of grateful for that - he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

Their senior year floated by in some sort of odd dream that Killian allowed himself to get used to - probably one of his more naive mistakes - and when she'd show up to his typically lonely house to indulge in a poor romantic comedy from the eighties or when she'd swing by the field to walk home with him after practice, he tried to convince himself that getting comfortable was a bad idea. It was a near impossible task when she observed him with those deep green eyes and a clever smirk. It was completely impossible when she fell asleep against his shoulder or took the leap of being candid with him about some little detail of her life.

He'd wanted to tell her how he really felt for ages by the time she mentioned another date with Neal. Everyone deserves a second chance - that's what she'd prefaced that conversation with. Then once she'd rescheduled their movie night again, Killian couldn't help the speculation that perhaps the third time really was a charm where Neal Cassidy was concerned. It only took one solitary and very repeated viewing of The Princess Bride to realize how much he loathed that number.

He knew he owed her his honesty, but giving in - maybe even telling her the whole truth about what she meant to him - wasn't a fear he ever dared face. It was cowardice in its worst form and Killian wondered why he was so afraid each time they ended up in one another's company on the porch swing to the side of his front door.

They were in that exact setting the night before the semifinal game when it all came to a head and he realized that his failure to put himself out there had led to an awful conclusion. Emma was his teammate's new girlfriend - yes, that teammate - and that meant his own position was now extremely obvious.

Killian Jones had somehow become trapped in the friend zone - and lord knows, he had absolutely no one to blame but himself.

"Bloody hell, mate," Robin grimaced, tugging his glove off and shaking his catching hand with a wince. "Save it for the mound."

Killian let out a deep exhale as he ignored the warning of the first baseman. Lifting his forearm, he wiped the light sweat from his brow before adjusting his cap. The blue brim felt firm between his fingers as he tugged it down over his stare just a bit. Emma had told him once that his uniform hat matched his eyes and he wasn't sure if he'd ever forget the way her mouth had curved at the corner when she'd said that. He peeked over toward the packed stands briefly as he reminisced that moment and immediately found himself grateful for the barrier the baseball cap was providing from the view that had him fuming.

"A few more, Jones," Robin nodded, crouching down with his mitt as he noticed what had Killian distracted. "I wouldn't be surprised to see you get called up tonight, especially if Cassidy doesn't get his head in the game."

He huffed at that, trying to ignore the comment as he wound up and threw a fastball right down the middle into Robin's glove. The loud smack of the rubber and cowhide against the inside of a leather mitt was a decent diversion, but it didn't totally keep his mind from wondering just what Neal was flirtatiously saying to the beautiful blonde standing just behind the fence.

Killian wasn't actually sure that the pair were an official item, but they'd certainly been spending a fair amount of time together for the past couple of weeks. He'd seen less of her, something he noticed rather quickly - especially on the nights they usually spent with a well known film or immersed in endless conversation. Killian supposed he missed her and as he peeked over to where she was chatting with the captain of their officially undefeated team, he admitted silently that he was getting awfully tired of it.

She looked beautiful all clad in casual jeans and a t-shirt with the name of the school he'd played for since their freshmen year. It was a familiar outfit she'd once completed with his jacket, the borrowed article of clothing drowning her in a wealth of black fabric. She looked almost incomplete without it and he tried to ignore how much he wanted to dig the old windbreaker out of his duffel bag. Maybe she didn't need it anymore. Maybe things were different now - and lord, that thought hurt.

"Looks like we better go," Robin said with his head tilted toward the dugout. "Ready, Jones?"

"Aye," Killian answered with a start toward the cement enclosure, knowing full well that his initial position on the field would be right between second and third while Neal lined up on the pitcher's mound. "Let's go."

He looked at her one more time as he jogged toward the bench, his feet snagging slightly on the grass when her gaze drifted to his. He could almost swear he saw it then - how much she'd missed him and their curious friendship - and he entertained the idea of telling her he felt the same way she seemed to.

Maybe he would. Maybe someday he'd be that brave. Maybe eventually he would finally spill his feelings to the girl watching him from a distance...or maybe he'd always stay in that same place - standing quietly in the outfield, sometimes literally and almost always figuratively.

They'd lost the game - not that the defeat was the hardest part of that evening. No, that honor belonged to the moment when he'd looked up to catch her reassuring gaze while walking toward the dugout and saw only a glimpse of her long hair blowing in the breeze as she jumped down from the bleachers to meet her boyfriend. The sight made his heart sink as his cleats grew heavy and he tried to settle with the knowledge that this was just how it was going to be now - she wasn't his. They were just friends.

Killian spent the rest of their last year of high school realizing how difficult it was going to be to accept that - but after three years in the minor leagues, two hundred miles of distance, and five years apart, he decided that maybe letting go of the golden haired girl from his small hometown was truly outside of his talent range.

But she was happy from what he could tell - and that was all that mattered, even if such a conclusion broke him into pieces.

He wasn't sure why he'd decided to take the coaching job at Storybrooke High when it opened up. The longtime patriarch and leader of the team, Marco Wood, had finally stepped down to pursue a well deserved retirement and when that announcement had caught his eye in the Daily Mirror - which he still subscribed to despite the fact that he now lived in New York - Killian had found himself with an odd desire to consider it. The sudden idea of returning to Maine was almost surreal. He hadn't crossed that town line in years and he'd certainly done his best to leave that life behind, but it was almost like a sign - and it wasn't like he had anything going for him since he'd opted to throw in the towel on his baseball career.

It wasn't much of a career anyway - several seasons of riding the pine and concrete in the minor league dugout for the New York Pirates, a relatively unknown team that rarely led anyone to the majors. Sure, the opportunity had allowed him to remain close to the game he had always loved, but it had pulled him away from the girl he probably could have loved if given the chance.

He'd likely never forget the night he'd told her he was leaving. The few tears she had shed and the image of her forced supportive smile didn't make up a fond memory.

He had managed to pick up a job for a local athletic magazine in the off season, his need to stay busy prodding him into being okay with reporting game scores and stats for sports he didn't know extremely well. The work was easy enough, but giving two weeks notice and moving out of his apartment one weekend in late February was even easier. It was probably all a bit impulsive - how he'd jumped at a chance to move back with very little prodding, especially when he had left Storybrooke in a very similar way only half a decade earlier. He couldn't help the way it just felt right and as he loaded up his car with a few sparse boxes and his old memories of home, he decided not to fight it.

It was a task that turned out to be rather easy once he settled into his new role back on that familiar field, fresh chalk lines and intricately moved grass a welcome view. The school's new principal - another town native named Archibald Hopper - was thrilled to have him there and made it known by updating the team's uniforms and equipment before the first practice took place in March. He'd even offered Killian an office….well, the small room attached to one of the abandoned locker rooms in the old wing of Storybrooke High. It was a quiet space and Killian found out instantly how much he valued that while he organized his things on the built in shelves and the old desk that rested near the single window.

There wasn't much to display - his few team photos from over the years, several small trophies, and a couple of baseballs signed by players he'd idolized as a younger man. He was sorting through his box of collected cards when his fingers fumbled over an old picture, one he'd almost forgotten about until that nostalgic moment.

It was her - well, them, and the faded film provoked an elated memory of the first summer tournament win he'd been a part of. The image made him chuckle softly - and not just because David had managed to sneak into the picture by jumping up behind them. Killian himself had been a sweaty mess when the candid shot had been snapped, his buttoned jersey half untucked while covered in dirt and grass stains. Emma looked brilliant, of course, with her hair woven into a loose braid but covered partially by a beat up baseball cap. She had one arm flung around his neck while her other hand held up a finger claiming they were number one. He remembered how he'd sure felt like it in that instance as she pulled him close, not caring that he was downright filthy after playing his heart out. He'd pitched two perfect innings and brought in a few runs with his triple in the eighth, but neither of those stats were the ultimate win of his evening.

No, that highlight had been the way she'd cheered him on all night and the way her face lit up when he'd winked at her while crossing home plate. Seeing her so proud and happy meant more to him than any victory.

He quickly dug an old empty frame out of the box he'd plopped down near his feet. Sliding the photograph behind the thin glass, he took one more glance at it before stationing it carefully on the second shelf with a sigh. It seemed like the proper place for the past to sit and remind him - or perhaps even haunt him. He wasn't sure which was preferable.

"Nice picture," a soft voice offered from the doorway. "I haven't seen that one for a long time."

Killian froze briefly, the air leaving his lungs in a surprised gasp as he worked up the courage to turn and face the words he hadn't expected to hear. He knew that voice though - even if he hadn't heard it for a number of years. It was the same one that played as the soundtrack of his childhood and the one he'd thought about more than he could ever admit. It was the one he had let slip away, but ultimately, it was the voice that had truly called him back here anyway. With his heart pounding in his tight chest, he spun slowly to meet the owner of the smooth tone and those gorgeous green eyes.

"Emma," he breathed, wondering if he sounded half as wrecked as he felt. "Hi."

Tagging some folks: @optomisticgirl, @xpumpkindumplingx, @laschatzi, @jennifer-morrison, @spartanguard, @teamhook, @kat2609, @thesschesthair, @timeless-love-story, @its-like-a-story-of-love, @shady-swan-jones, @kmomof4

[in-madhouses]

so i was tagged by @whimsicalstylesfics for @mackabees‘ new tag game! apparently isbah thought it would be cute to tag the couple (liam and mackena) from a breakup fic (on the line) that so far only has the prologue up. so, fair warning, this is a non-canon future where these idiots get shit together and end up together.  

rules: choose a couple of fave photos/gifs/manips/etc of your ship! copy and paste the questions down below! answer as if you’re the characters that have been tagged! then tag some more of your fave ships/characters to answer next!

i love me some women of colour so i’m tagging @whimsicalstylesfics for alisha and zayn, @lifesbetterasamermaid for rei and harry, @loveinthewriteway for ariana and louis, @dotsandstripesxo for cassidy and harry, as well as @madminniefics for riley and niall. 

WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO:

Make breakfast: Probably a tie. Both of them are early risers and picky eaters. 

Cuddle the other for no reason: Liam. Mackena is not as physically affectionate considering the issues she’s had trying to prove herself in a man’s world. 

Sleep on the couch after an argument: Definitely Mackena. It’s hard to believe how much pride a person can contain. It’s also almost hard to believe how much spite a person can contain. She knows how much it annoys Liam when she does it, which is exactly why she does it. 

Drive and who is most likely to ride shotgun: Liam drives, mostly, much to Mackena’s dismay. She likes having control, but he’s too much of a gentlemen to allow himself to be chauferred by a woman.

Choose the music in the car: [I just realised I didn’t answer this one proper and left Isbah’s answer int here but] Liam, he likes to impress and that’s one of the few ways he can truly impress her because he’s always pulling out new songs and artists and fun little anecdotes about them.  

Get jealous: They get equally jealous, but Liam is easier to tip over. Mostly because Mackena prides herself for being cool and collected, at least publicly. 

Break the expensive gift rule: Liam. He’s accustomed to a certain type of living. But Mackena is never too far behind, she’s got discipline but the girl loves to splurge. 

Remember anniversaries: Liam. Although in Mackena’s defense, anniversaries are quite vague and Liam has a lot more headspace for things like anniversaries and grudges. 

Sneak sweets in the shopping cart: Liam. Mackena has too much discipline. She’s also worked way too hard to let herself go with momentary lapses. 

Hog the covers at night: Liam. Even though he’s always warmer, he’s constantly a tangle of sheets and limbs. 

1. What do you do when the other is upset?

Liam: I used to panic, because Kena’s prevailing emotion is anger, and she picks at me when she’s upset. She’d get riled up and she’d rile me up and then it’s over and we move on. Kena was upset that I was late to pick her up for a show once and we argued midway through the comic’s show over whether or not feminism has a place in comedy and a couple behind us asked if all our arguments are like that because they heard us arguing over the pronunciation of ‘vitamin’ before the show started. 

Mackena: I get stupid and I try to make him laugh even though it never works. I mean, I don’t even know what to do with myself when I get upset, it’s hard to deal with another person’s emotions too. 

2. Who is more romantic? Give examples.

Mackena: Definitely, definitely Liam. He’s all big romantic gestures, sweeping speeches, and expensive presents. It stems from the fact that he’s so grateful, always of being able to live his dream I think. 

Liam: Yeah, romance is definitely me. I remember thinking ‘I’m such a sap.’ when we first started dating because I’d go into overdrive thinking where to take her and what to get her and Kena’s just like ‘I’m good with pizza.’ and I’d be thinking I need to get this girl THE BEST PIZZA ever. 

3. What do your families think of your relationship?

Liam: Her dad isn’t quite that happy that we’re doing this whole dance again, but her mum is great. I think she always wanted us to end up together. 

Mackena: Yeah, she is over the moon about it. And I think his family’s just happy that he’s not out there dating a different pop star ever other week. 

Liam: It was a phase! And you know I was ever only dating those people because I wanted to try to make you jealous.

Mackena: Oh yes, and that turned out remarkably well. 

4. If you had to wear a couples costume for Halloween, what would you go as?

Liam:  If it were up to me, I’d look up the lunar cycle and say I’m a werewolf. Or put on glasses and just say I’m a nerd. This is totally Kena’s thing.

Mackena: It is, Liam’s hopeless. I like to put a little thought into it and incorporate a current trend. Costumes are funnier when they’re on trend. We went as the gay family emoji recently. 

Liam: I looked amazing in a wig. 

5. Are you both earlier rises? Or do you both sleep in? Or is there one of each?

Mackena: We’re both pretty early risers.

Liam: Breakfast is a good time. We cook and kind kind of get into the groove of the day together. Among other things. 

6. Do you have any routines at night? Before bed, in bed, etc.

Liam: There isn’t much of a routine, we’re normally quite knackered. But when we’re not, I guess we read? Among other things. 

Mackena: Yeah, we have quite a bit of sex because I’m apparently dating a sixteen year old. 

Liam: I was being subtle. 

Mackena: As a bus, Liam. 

7. What nicknames do you have for each other?

Liam: Not particularly. I’m about the only person who calls her Kena though, so I guess that. 

Mackena: He also likes ‘love’ which I’ve kind of adopted. I use ‘babe’ quite a far bit too. 

8. Say you had a child, who is the strict parent and who is the lenient parent?

Mackena: I’d have to be the strict parent, I just know it.  

Liam: She’s right. 

Mackena: I always have to play bad cop. Always. It works though, because I like the control. 

9. Would you rather go to a fancy restaurant for a date or stay at home and watch movies with pizza?

Mackena: I’m more of an at home person. Past experience has taught me that public spaces are fair game, and I don’t like to share. 

Liam: I want to say fancy dates, but it hasn’t quite worked well for me in the past. The media is quite needy and greedy and I only have space for one needy and greedy —

Mackena: HEY!

10. What first attracted you about the other person?

Liam: I could tell that she was different the moment I saw her. From the get go, there was just this fire and passion in her that made me want to be better. She’s smart and driven and completely out of my league. I mean, she made me dizzy.

Mackena: It’s true, I was assistant coach and I had the team do suicides on a muddy pitch. 

Liam: She wasn’t afraid to get dirty either. If there is one thing that I learned from Day 1 it’s that Kena will outlive God to have the last word and I was just completely enamoured by this specimen. 

Mackena: I was in turn enamoured by this completely fit looking guy on the pitch who should by all counts be really confident but was oddly shy around me. He was a mess of contradictions and the physical attraction was quite clear, and so we kept our distance, at least, in the beginning. But then when we finally got to explore the other side of who we were and it was just magnetic. He’s very perceptive. It makes you wonder what it’s like in his head. It’s.. It’s very disarming.