#anyway in a couple weeks my field season begins and i need to shift my sleep schedule back 5 entire hours

[asgardian--angels]

maybe someday i’ll stop being berated and ridiculed for being a night owl

[ohheyitsokay]

home

part 10 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco (Frankie, Catfish) Morales x reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: so so soo much fluff. clouds and clouds worth. kissing, implications of sex (blink and you’ll miss it)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you and Frankie finish the season and the summer, and know it’s only the beginning.

notes: thank you all so much for supporting this little story of mine! I genuinely am blown away by how kind everyone has been! originally I planned on this series just being a couple of one-shots set in the same universe, but it got away form me, and I can’t believe so many of you came along for the ride. some of those stories will come in time, but thank you thank you thank you to everyone who stuck around this long! all the love for all of you!

>>

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was shining and for once your bones weren’t shaking with the rumble of the stadium as people stomped and cheered. In fact, the majority of the noise was from Frankie’s momma as she chattered across your lap to your grandfather. The two of them were discussing gardening and how well season was played, how proud they were, the best of friends. It was peaceful, almost, and most of the flashing lights and roaring crowds were away – it was the final game, a charity fundraiser, all fun.

You could see your catcher as he turned, looking at your section like he couldn’t help but search for you, and you smiled, heart as full and as warm as the sun on your shoulders. His curls were sticking out from under his helmet haphazardly, the pads on his shoulders and thighs making him even more solid, and it was a sight that you’d never get tired of. Combined with the smells of warm pastries, jalapeños and melted cheese, contentment settled into your soul like a hand in a glove, a perfect fit.

It was the of the ninth and they were playing well, encouraged by the cause and playing for the love of of the game instead of a paycheck. Behind you, you heard someone mention just how well Frankie had batted this season, and you brushed pan dulce sugar from your lap.

The players had told you last week after all the big games were done why Santi had offered to pay for you and James to fly to see their final games. At the time, it had baffled you how intensely they insisted, how eagerly the pushed it, and how your boyfriend had looked equal parts embarrassed and hopeful, but eventually you agreed, assuming you could get the time off from work. When the secret came out you laughed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

They had exchanged smiles and shrugged and shared knowing glances as they let you explain away what they knew was true. You were their luck.

The thought was long gone from your mind now though, as Ben was doing weird poses on the field, and you heard chuckles ripple through the crowds. Fans of him and the team alike were endlessly charmed, and you knew you’d catch comments about it for months to come. His brother was just standing, and still you heard dreamy sighs of Will’s name, and made a mental note to tease him after the game about his “blonde halo”. Whatever that meant.

Santi threw a perfect curveball, and when it landed firmly in Frankie’s glove, you heard a girl swoon, “That’s my man!” and the laughter of her friends, as they called her “Mrs. Morales”.

“No!” his momma was glaring over her shoulder tugging on your elbow, as if physically fighting them was a viable option. You tugged back, making soothing noises as she protested, “Mi frijol.” The sweet lady muttered something else and before your heart could latch on to what you could’ve sworn was something about the future and tu marido you moved on.

“I know, I know,” you were saying, when James leaned over, glint in his sweet, aging eyes.

“She’s right, honey,” he said, only encouraging his friend, and you grinned.

“He’s my boy,” she said again with an air of finality, “and yours."

Looking at your grandfather sheepishly, you pointed at your shirt and shrugged as he said, “Right again.”

You were wearing his backup Jersey.

Cheesy as it was, it felt good to have the little claim of his over your skin, and while it wasn’t obvious to everyone, you wore it with pride. Comments from his fans slid off it like raindrops on a tin roof, and while you apricated her inclusion, you didn’t need it to know he was yours, as you were his.

Jimbo leaned towards the woman at your side and whispered conspiratorially in her ear, and she settled, and you left it, enjoying their friendship. The day was too lovely for anything else, anyway.

Catch, catch, walk, look for his girlfriend, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

Nothing so eventful happened the last few minutes of the game, and as the Will went out for his final bat, you felt a surprising wave of bittersweet nostalgia for all that had passed since the opening game, cold as an evening breeze.

Then the ball cracked against the bat, and the sound snapped you back, and you felt a fire under your breastbone, reminding you the best was yet to come.

Frankie’s mom finished her final cheers enthusiastically, all annoyance long gone, and she pulled you into a hug.

“Nieta is calling. Hug Francisco for me, hija, and I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nodded, squeezing her back almost as hard. You and Frankie were using his first real day off to babysit and get some quality time, and both of you were well aware this was hardly goodbye. You gave a gentler hug to your grandfather, who was going with her, whispering “Bye Jimbo,” as you kissed his cheek. He had conspired to let you stay out for the evening, and while you’d miss driving him home, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Seeing them safely as far as you could, your feet danced with excitement. Like it had been more than handful of times, they knew the path to the locker rooms, carrying you so light you were almost floating. When you slid into the waiting room, Frankie was already clean and looking for you anxiously. Maybe you should’ve given him a little wave from across the room, but you could do better.

You ducked away from his line of sight, and snuck around behind him before say, “hey, batter, batter.” He whipped around and before you could even register the grin on his face, he was pulling you against his chest.

“Hey yourself,” he said, and the two of you got one sweet, slightly needy kiss before you heard good-natured groans.

“It’s been like month,” Santi said, ruffling your hair as you stepped back, “Aren’t you guys done flirting?” You stuck your tongue out at him, wondering if you were fast enough to flick him in the forehead.

“Don’t bother,” Will said, his tone resigned but playful as he hugged you too. “Be happy he got her to stick around.” You pulled a face, and Benny laughed. They all knew by now that it was more than a summer fling, even Tom, who you realized hadn’t come out yet.

When you asked, they winced, and you dropped the topic, knowing they would tell you in their own time. Frankie pulled you back to him, his warm fingers lacing with yours as you herded them towards the door.

They were still working on things, still trying to figure out what their next steps looked like.

For now, you owed your baseball boys a dinner.

-           

 It had taken you a couple of times cooking for them to get the portions right. The Miller boys ate like they were hollow, and after a game was a testament to that.

Thankfully, you had more than enough this time, having been preparing their favorites for days with the enthusiastic help from Frankie’s mom, and begrudging help from his sister as a thank you to her hermano. The piled into your little space and ate gratefully, telling you about the game like you knew what they were talking about.

“Benny, why were you –” his deep laughter cut you off, and your hand shot out to grab Will’s wrist mid-throw. You had a rule against projectile food to keep them from squabbling like children at your makeshift dinner table. The dinner roll fell to his plate as Benny tried to explain, and Santi deadpanned.

“I was stretching, and I got distracted –”

“You were flirting with the entire stadium, Ben.”

“No! Well –”

It was warm and bright, eating dinner with them like a family, teasing and laughter filling the space like clear broth in the cool of night.

Frankie’s hand found your knee under the table.

The best part about these replacement-parties was watching them all try to help clean up. You were lucky professional athletes had fast reflexes, or you would’ve lost more than a few dishes to their shenanigans. They insisted, wouldn’t let you help, and things probably would’ve been put back correctly if you had, but it was great, letting things play out however they may. Maybe years and years down the road, you would tell a younger generation that you had some of the world’s most desirable athletes fighting in your kitchen over where you kept your dish soap refills.

And after, they would collapse in your living room, unearthing all the games from your shelves. One of your favorite moments from the summer was coming through thrift stores for games, ignoring the stare of jealousy and making ridiculous bets.

All the while, Frankie kept as close to you as he could, too busy watching you with wrinkles in the corners of his eyes to be embarrassed of his rambunctious friends.

When you and Will won the first game of the evening, he accidentally hit you in the face with the back of his hand as he flung his arms open in triumph.

It hadn’t hurt as badly as it would’ve if his brother had been the one talking with his hands, but Frankie had still thumped him in the back of the head before he followed you to the kitchen.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Frankie,” you laughed, but he was already taking the pack of frozen peas from your hand to press it against the lump forming on your temple. He was gentle, and the air shifted, like there was more on his mind than your minor injury. Brown eyes searching yours, you wished you knew what he was thinking.

“Francisco?” Your hands had settled on his chest but the moved around his neck when he moved the ice to ghost his lips over the spot. He didn’t answer for a moment, just setting the peas aside, and carefully trapping you against the counter.

There were noises of good-natured arguing coming from the living room, and you knew he was taking advantage of their distraction, carving a little pocket for the two of you in time.

“Te adoro,” his lips were almost hot as they pressed into yours. “I love you,” he said, so close you could feel the hairs on his upper lip still.

For the past month, your relationship had been fast, jumpstarting to serious and staying that was, but this was new. It was one thing, for him to tell you he wanted something real with you, wanted you to be a part of his life, and another to hear him say he loved you simply, without abandon. Still, you didn’t hesitate.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you again, unhurried, and you almost couldn’t return it, you were smiling so widely. Your bump was long forgotten.

When the two of you came out the kitchen, the others had barely noticed you were gone and Ben immediately was accusing you of cheating, but Santi shot you a knowing smile.

-           

There was a gap of time when a season ended, when Molly’s inbox was mercifully void of emails. It was a time when the chaos of her job slowed, for a bit before she began her work for the off-season, and she relished it with every fiber of her being.

This particular gap began wrapped up in sheets with Tom, her Tom, kissing and wishing the world outside was a simple as this, in the little bubble of her room.

She could always tell though, when his mind was no longer filled with her, and the other sides of him began to leak through the cracks. His eyes moved with urgency instead of appreciation his hands moved a little slower and then in sudden jerks, and when he trailed off mid-sentence, she sighed.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

He rolled onto his back; his gaze pointed towards the ceiling.

“Right after the game,” he confessed, and she sighed again, sitting up. If nothing else, for him, she had endless patience.

“How’d that go?”

Her love was silent, thinking only of the embarrassment and defensiveness that had reared in his chest. The tilt of Santi’s head, Frankie’s slow nod. He wished Benny had been disappointed, wished Will had thought it was a joke.

“They understood,” Tom didn’t add that he hoped with all his considerable might that they had reacted stronger, hoped they had told him not to, said they needed him to stay, but they hadn’t. It wouldn’t have been true, anyway. They were growing, going somewhere he couldn’t follow.

Her hand ran over his chest as it filled with air, stilling over his heart.

“It’s time,” one of them said, and the other nodded.

Counseling. Rehab. Retirement.

Slowing down to coach at a local college.

He clenched his hand into a fist, and then relaxed, palm falling open, upwards.

The love of his life kissed his forehead.

It was time.

-           

The first stop of the day was with James, spending the morning helping him around the house. Before this summer, you had thought you were his favorite grandchild, but he had essentially adopted Frankie months ago, and already liked him more than you.

The little old man talked excitedly about baseball and lectured your love on enjoying his off-season. He dragged him into the yard, talking his ear off about the benefits of different teas and the importance of volunteering with youth programs, and you settled inside, throwing away expired things from his fridge. Their absence was your only opportunity for the chore.

Honestly, the two of you needed to leave sooner than later and you weren’t sure how much time you had.

“Honey?” You dropped a can of whipped cream from a month ago guiltily.

“Yeah, Jimbo?”

He eyed you suspiciously but seemed too excited to be deterred by you.

“I put this together for you!” He said proudly, and you noticed a flash of the same mischief from yesterday in his eyes. Your grandfather handed you a box, and made you promise not to open in until you left. You hugged the sweet man, and smiled when Frankie did, too, before saying your goodbyes, thankful beyond words for him.

If it weren’t for him, you were sure you wouldn’t be climbing into the truck of your boyfriend, and certainly not having the catcher’s hand slide into yours. When you opened the box, the gratitude didn’t shrink, but your embarrassment rose.

Frankie laughed so hard you thought he was going to have to pull over.

It was full of Francisco Morales merchandise, signatures and memorabilia ranging from his very first baseball card to his most recent bobble head.

-           

Frankie kissed your knuckles for the second time since you climbed into his truck, which was silly since it had only been three minutes since you left his mother’s house.

He could feel your look, answering before you even asked.

“I’m good, just… I love you,” he said, unable to keep his eyes on the road when he said it.

“I love you too, Frankie,” you said, wondering what prompted him.

“Could we… would you want to get dinner?” He looked thoughtful and you laughed.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Your hand was lifted to his lips again, sending electricity up your spine as he confirmed.

The two of you had a bag full of Anita’s best by the time you entered his home, and he still hadn’t told you what was on his mind. The two of you ate, sharing stories about the day’s adventures, helping his mother around the house and watching, Bianca, his sweet, tiny new niece. You had a great conversation with his mother, and despite her excitable nature, she surprised you by asking you about your boundaries and promising not to overstep.

Frankie told you about his hermana, and her slowly opening up to the idea of letting him help her out, not as charity but family, and letting him shoulder some of the responsibilities. You watched the warmth in his eyes as he talked and wondered how it was possible for a single person to feel so safe.

Eventually the talking slowed, and you found yourself half falling asleep against the stretch of his chest, is hands slowing their wandering paths.

“Love?” he murmured into your hair. You hummed in response.

When he didn’t say anything, your mind woke, and you pulled yourself up, and into his lap, straddling him.

He looked up at you for a moment before you felt him sigh against you.

“I have this baby,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at his phrasing. Santi always said it was melodramatic. “Do you… is this all too much?”

His expression mirrored that of your first date, and you told him the same thing as you had then.

That you would stay, as long as he would have you. That you would navigate alongside him, that you were happy to. This time, you added that you loved him, and you felt him shift under you, anxiety leaking out of him, allowing solid adoration to replace it.

Frankie said, “Thank you,” against your mouth, and like a prayer. In the dim evening light, you kissed him, and as his hands slipped under your shirt to hold your sides, he held you for the first time like you were real.

And you were, this was something that wasn’t going away.

For the first time in a long time, it was a perfect day for something new, and his heart was here, beating under his hands.

 <<

translations:

pan dulce: pastries

mi frijol: my bean

tu marido: your husband

nieta: granddaughter 

hija: daughter

hermano/a: brother, sister

te adoro: I adore you

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen @stuckontheceiling

[astridthevalkyrie]

summer rain: chapter 4

Your days in the Training Corp aren’t too out of the ordinary. You make friends, you train hard, and you eat dinner every day.

Oh, and you’re also hellbent on getting revenge against Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

Chapter 3, Chapter 5

i have finally found the two perfect songs for this series and that’s everytime by chen & punch and talk love by k. will so go give those a listen because damn if it isn’t these two idiots.

anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Nothing is right anymore, and yet people are so quick to adapt to any sense of normalcy they can. It’s marveling to watch how, in two measly days, the refugees have quieted down and stopped fighting for food. Stopped fighting, period. Now they seek comfort in one another, a sense of camaraderie in knowing that they’ve all gone through the same thing. And holy hells are there a lot of them.

Because soon after Shiganshina was torn through because of the monster they were calling the Colossal Titan, Wall Maria itself fell. Ploughed straight through by something called the Armored Titan as though it was made of feathers. The refugees here are safe - for now - but there are countless of people who weren’t lucky enough to get behind Wall Rose, and they’re out there dying right about now. No one knows if Rose is going to hold either. No one knows anything. So with the kinsmanship comes a heavy pretense of safety, in which everyone ignores how scared they are in favor of counting themselves lucky that they get to live even a single day longer.

You’re doing what you can. Obeying orders without so much as a single complaint. Of course all rations are to be given to the refugees, so you’ve only had one eighth of a potato in the past twenty four hours, but it’s better than nothing. For once, you can’t find any fault with your situation, because no matter how terrible or hungry or scared you’re feeling, there is undoubtedly someone feeling worse.

Such as Ricky.

His mother and old sister managed to get to the boats. His father and younger sister weren’t so lucky.

The two of you had been stationed inside the base together, to watch and hand out resources to the refugees, but you’d immediately taken full responsibility and told Ricky to stay with his family. He’d pulled you into a bone-crushing hug and ran off, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Unfortunately, they’re pretty unpleasant.

Captain Erwin Smith is famed for bringing home soldiers who are still alive. That and Levi’s raw skill with his ODM gear makes you hopeful enough that he’s alive, so you try not to think of him. Frankly, it’s selfish to worry about a single person when there’s so many people at risk, so you bury the troublesome thoughts and focus on your job.

The Garrison has done a good enough job with the resources they have, but the Military Police’s presence is aggravating more than anything. They’re here to keep order, not to keep people safe, and everyone knows it. You wonder if your mother would prefer if you joined with these bastards instead of the choice you’ve made for yourself.

There you go again, being selfish. It’s always been about your life, and your absolute disdain for boredom. Out there, good people are laying down their lives. And you? You enlisted in the Training Corp as some form of self-fulfillment. It’s the first time you’re feeling this overwhelming guilt, as you realize just how ignorant your point of view is. You’ve never even so much as seen a titan, and yet you fancy yourself a soldier.

What a stupid girl you’ve been.

A tug on your uniform makes you snap out of your thoughts, and you look down to see a small girl with black hair wrapped in a scarf that’s too big on her. You blink, and try your best to smile reassuringly.

“Hey. You need something?”

The girl’s voice is quiet, soft, as though she’s trying her best not to be a bother. “They said you were giving out blankets here. May I have four of them, please?”

You nod, leaning down to check the crate by your feet. Unfortunately, you’d been swarmed by people asking for blankets just a few minutes earlier, and you’re just one short of how many the girl needs.

“I only have three left,” you begin apologetically, biting your lip, “but wait here, I’ll go check with someone else.” But you know that’ll be pointless, all the other stations have probably run out too, and if they haven’t, they’re saving for themselves. Calling them out won’t make them give it to you, that much is for sure.

Even the little girl seems to know that much. She shakes her head, taking the three blankets you offer her. “It’s alright. Three is enough. I’ll give them to the others.”

You frown. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter much. But you know that you would hardly be so selfless in the same situation. Hell, you would have wanted two blankets to yourself - these thin sheets are only going to do the bare minimum to keep people warm. The girl piques your curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

She hesitates for a second, then says, “Mikasa.”

You hum as though you’re thinking about it. “Pretty name. Who are the blankets for?”

She smiles faintly at the compliment. “My friends, Eren and Armin, and Armin’s grandpa.”

Not her parents. Your heart breaks for her. You’re not going to pry, the girl has probably seen enough, but you admire her maturity and willingness to spend the nights cold. It must take a lot to love some people so dearly that one would give up basic comfort. To risk getting sick, which, given the circumstances, may just be a death sentence. Yes, that kind of love is truly special, and you wonder if you��ll ever love someone that much.

You want to be a little selfless, too.

“Here.” You shrug off your uniform jacket, draping it over her shoulders. “I know it’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Mikasa’s eyes widen. “But don’t you need it, ma’am?”

“Eh. They can make me another one.” You shrug. “Besides, to tell you the truth, orange isn’t really my color.”

Her eyes shine tiredly at the unexpected kindness. “Thank you.”

You watch her run off, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. One person helped, out of thousands. It shouldn’t matter - you’re probably never going to see that girl again, you wouldn’t even know if the dumb uniform would do her any good. But there’s a part of you that can rest just a bit easier now, knowing that a child won’t be completely exposed to the harsh winter coming in. If the conditions of Wall Rose are anything to go by, you know that the refugees will be put to work in the fields very soon. It’s going to be a cold season indeed.

There’s been no time to process anything, which you’re almost grateful for. If you stop to think about the effect this is going to have on the fate of humankind, you might scream. There’s too much to think about, and there may be no time to think about it if things get even worse. For now, all you can do is try to help as many people as you can.

As Grumman always tries to drill into your head, it’s about dedicating your heart.

____________________

The new base and training areas are nice. That’s about all you can say for them. Losing the old one was akin to losing your home, and you know your comrades feel the same way, considering how awkward and depressing the shift has been. It feels stupid to start training again like the world hasn’t gone to shit, but you suppose it’s more necessary now than ever.

Everyone’s usual hijinks have stopped. Ophelia doesn’t cross her eyes and make faces whenever Grumman turns his back. Gunther’s habit of making finger guns every time he successfully slices a cardboard titan’s neck has ceased to exist. Even Traute, never one for jokes, seems even more morose and serious than usual. Everyone feels the loss keenly.

Ricky’s gone silent.

You don’t know how many people everyone has lost, and the worst feeling you’ve ever experienced is the relief that you haven’t lost anyone. It’s an ugly impulsive thought, but it trumps all the others in your head. Just overwhelming, horrible comfort.

It gets even worse when the Scouts return, almost three weeks later. There’s no cheers and hollers this time. Each and every single one of them is drenched in guilt and shame along with the blood coating their capes. Titan blood evaporates, you realize with a deep shudder.

The commander carries the same pain as the rest of them. Already, there’s been whispers of Commander Erwin, murmurs that Shadis is losing his touch and a younger, more clever man is needed. You don’t see how it matters who leads - titans are fucking titans, and they certainly don’t care. There’s no tactics that will make them stop being giant man-eating monsters.

You’ve been waiting for days to see Levi, but when you finally make him out, you quickly look away. The horrifying relief blooms in your chest again, and you curse and bless the circumstances that have brought you here. So he’s alive. So the constant anxiousness that has kept you up these last few nights is soothed. So what? Not everyone is as lucky as you. Things will never, ever go back to normal. You have no right to be happy about this.

When you glance at him again, you suck in a sharp breath when you see he’s gazing right back at you. There’s no brightness in his eyes, the rare spark that you’d seen in the moments the two of you shared is long gone. It seems like it was centuries ago. He’s seen too much. They all have.

There’s a question he seems to be asking you, but you have no idea what it is. You want to walk up to him, but a heavy force keeps your feet planted right where they are. All you can do is give him a confused expression, brows furrowed. It’s not like you’re telepathic. If he wants to ask you something, he’ll have to actually ask you.

But he doesn’t. He just looks away, seemingly conflicted, and continues to follow the others. When everything around him is hell, you wonder if you’re even important enough to be worth more than a couple of seconds of his attention. Thankfully, the thought isn’t painful like you imagined it might be. In fact, it’s a bit freeing to let go of this stupid, ridiculous, pointless plan. Your grudge against the lieutenant is about the least important thing in the world right now, so insignificant that you wonder how you ever thought it was worth your time in the first place. There’s no need to make yourself feel more like the foolish, self-centered bitch that you’re realizing you are.

The only problem that comes with letting go of this plan is that you’re letting go of Levi, and it’s a serious problem that the thought gives you such an aching pang in your chest.

____________________

Stephen is gently shaking you for a good ten seconds before you snap out of it, looking at him with a bewildered expression.

“Aren’t you going to go for your walk?”

You look around. Dinner is nearly over, and a few people have already filed out to go back to their dorms. You must’ve zoned out, like you have been ever since the Scouts came back earlier today. You’ve never been so unfocused in your life, simply because you didn’t like not knowing what was happening around you. This is so unlike you, but you’re not sure what to do to stop it. A dark cloud has settled over your shoulders, and you have absolutely no idea how to get rid of it.

“Yeah.” You sigh and stand up, squeezing his hand in thanks. “Ricky went to bed already?”

Stephen nods, with a concerned frown on his face. “I know you’re worried about him, (F/N). I am, too. A lot.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to have to worry about you too.”

You wince apologetically, running a hand through your hair. “Shit, I’m really sorry. Look, I’m fine, I am. I’m just...thinking a lot lately, that’s all.”

The last thing you want is to have your friends take time out of their day to schedule an intervention for you. You’re not the one who needs it. It’s as though everything just makes you feel worse and worse - it’s just that you feel fucking useless all the time, and now you’re an emotional burden to Stephen, who just has to be sweet to everyone.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says kindly, “just take care of yourself, okay?

“Yeah. You too.” You squeeze his hand again and then head out, beginning your aimless walk around the grounds.

The moon is shining brightly, an unwanted beacon to the despair brewing inside you. Truthfully, you’re spiralling, and you haven’t spiralled in years, not since you decided to take control of your life. There’d been no trigger then, or maybe life itself had been the trigger, and you’d holed yourself up in your room as your head spun out of control. Cheesy questions like what am i doing here and what is my purpose and am i ever going to do anything meaningful rose to your mind then, and they do again now.

Back then, you’d decided that the answer simply lied outside of Stohess. You still believe that, to an extent. Going back isn’t going to solve anything, but...what did leaving accomplish? Your desires are fulfilled, but there’s no purpose to any of this. Not when people were and still are dying out there. Is the only way forward to dedicate yourself to the noble cause of saving humanity? There mustn't be a person alive who can give themselves that goal and actually hope to achieve it.

Well, except one.

This time, you’re the one who finds him.

He’s standing by his horse, stroking the fur gently. Somehow you’ve walked all the way to the stables without realizing. You take a step back, intending to walk away, but the selfish part of you that you’re starting to loathe doesn’t let you go any further than that. You’ve missed him, so much. You’ve missed his bad attitude, his amused smiles, his tantalizing gaze. You want it back, selfishness and selflessness all be damned. Now that he’s here in front of you, it’s too hard to resist.

“Lieutenant.”

Levi looks at you, and his shoulders droop as he stares wearily. He looks like he’s aged several years, and you consider that he probably doesn’t want to see you right now.

“Sorry to disturb you.” You take a deep breath, willing your hands to stay still by your sides and stop clenching. “Were you going for a ride?”

“Yeah.” He takes in the sight of you and then lets out the slightest of sighs. “Do you want to come?”

“What?”

Never in a million years did you expect him to offer going on a horse ride with you, and never in a billion years did you expect yourself to want to accept. You’re so taken aback that it doesn’t occur to you to note the little stool he’s using to hike himself up (as though he can’t pull himself on - it’s a formality more than anything). Levi’s looking at you, waiting for an answer, hand outstretched like he’s actually trying to live up to the fucking prince charming title you’ve given him.

“Okay,” you agree softly, not really knowing what the hell else you’re supposed to do.

You take his hand and he helps you on - really unnecessary, you can get on a horse by yourself - and you swallow when you realize he’s placed you in front. If he wants, he can observe your every reaction to him, and see...well, you don’t know what he’ll see or what you’ll do, but you know it’s not anything you’re willing to show him.

He gets on behind you, an arm snaking around your waist before he instructs you to hold onto the saddle tightly.

Neither of you speak. The horse trots peacefully, never going too fast. The poor thing’s probably done enough running to last it a lifetime. You caress the fur gently as you enter the forest, the moon now cloaked by the towering trees, stealing away your capacity for sight. It’s not something you inherently mind, honestly, it feels good to just close your eyes and relax.

But deep under the guilt and midlife crisis (probably more than midlife given the world you live in), you’re still you. And you get restless easily, not to mention you’ve been craving a conversation with Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, and you don’t want to pass up the chance.

“How bad was it?”

Okay, maybe not the conversation started you should have chosen.

“Bad,” Levi answers without much hesitation, “really bad.” He releases a shaky breath and on impulse you place your hand over his, immediately feeling awkward right after. Do you grip his fingers? Pat him in a show of solidarity? You don’t know, so you don’t do anything, but you don’t remove your hand either.

After a beat, he says, “I was wrong.”

You wrack your brain about what he could be wrong about. Maybe about asking you to come with him just now. Your company hasn’t exactly been what you would call pleasant.

“About what, sir?”

When Levi responds, you feel his hot breath on your neck and you barely stop yourself from shuddering. He shouldn’t be in such close proximity to you. Doesn’t he know what he does to you when he gets this close?

“I said I wanted to see the day that smile got wiped off your face. Now that the day’s here, I wish I could take it back.”

You whip your head around, not even bothering to make sure you don’t accidentally hit him. Luckily you don’t, even though he’s not far from you at all, just a centimeter closer and the tip of your nose would touch his. In the dark, you can barely make him out, but the grey eyes that have fascinated you for so long are discernible even without any light. He’s watching you, so intently that your face burns up, and you pray to whoever’s up there that he can’t see you too well without the moonlight.

But can anyone blame you? Lieutenant Levi, the man who’d punished you for smiling, was now claiming that he missed the very smile that had made you the bane of his existence. You can’t chalk it up to his usual mood swings, because you know it’s not that. You know he’s trying to tell you something, and you’re so close to figuring it out.

You don’t even flinch when his finger curls under your chin and tilts it up just a bit so he can appreciate the view properly.

Even in the dark, you know his lips are just a mere inch away from yours. You wonder what he tastes like.

No.

You turn back around, heart pounding wildly in your chest. It’s wildly inappropriate to think about doing something like that. You can’t, not when he’s your trainer and lieutenant and humanity’s savior. Whatever this is, you have to reel it in control.

“I can’t,” you say, and then quickly clarify so he doesn’t get the wrong idea, “I can’t smile. Not when so much has happened. How can I smile when people...when they’re out there...when you and the rest of the soldiers have sacrificed everything and I’ve done nothing?”

It’s not as though you expect him to give you the most motivational speech in the world, but when he answers, “You’re going to sacrifice plenty in the future,” you feel overwhelmed with guilt, and you just want it to stop. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know your plans, your motivations, or why you’re here at all. He thinks you’re someone that you’re really, truly not.

But you’re not brave enough to tell him any of that. So you opt for the other truth, the less relevant but equally as pressing one.

“I’m not strong enough.”

“No,” Levi murmurs in agreement, “but you’re going to be.” Both his arms are curled around you, and there’s something uplifting in his tone when he says, “4 AM tomorrow, understood?”

Just like that, your goal changes.

If the lieutenant thinks that you can actually be useful, then maybe...maybe you actually can. You’ve somehow gotten in the top ten without even meaning to, so it’s not too much of a stretch to think you could be really good if you actively tried. And he’s still willing to train you - even after all that’s happened, he doesn’t consider you an added bother to his already difficult life. And you plan to value that, now. You’re going to get better, stronger, faster. No more passivity. And maybe if you do this, you can ease the guilt brewing inside before you completely drown in it.

“Yes, sir.”

Determination has risen back inside you, but a ghost of a smile only reappears on your face when you hear him yawn, something you’re one hundred percent sure you’ve never seen nor heard before.

“Are you actually sleepy, Lieutenant?” you tease quietly, “it’s not even 11 PM yet.”

“You should be happy,” he mutters, “all your efforts trying to chase away my insomnia and it’s finally worked.”

If not for the trees providing you safety in the form of the absence of light, you wouldn’t be as bold to do what you do next. Closing your eyes, you lean back and hunch down, resting your cheek against his chest. He stiffens a little at the close contact, but doesn’t say anything or push you away. You won’t kiss him, but you can allow yourself this much, just to seek comfort in the safety he provides just by being there. He’s so, so warm.

The horse rides on, and Levi keeps his arms around you and on the reigns.

Truthfully, as you listen to his heartbeat, you don’t think you’ll ever know who comforts who most tonight.

____________________

The next morning, you’re there before he is, on your fourth lap by the time he walks up. If Levi’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. He only takes his new spot on the new grounds at this new base, and watches you from afar.

Naturally, he still barks at you that your stance is sloppy when you start doing your squats, asking you snidely how many times he’s told you that you need to squat down at a ninety degree angle and just what you did in your early mathematics classes if that’s what you think ninety degrees is. He still presses you into the ground with his foot when you attempt to do a push-up without going all the way down. And he absolutely still withholds your water privileges until you’re practically dizzy from your activities.

Except this time, you have no complaints. You do what you’re ordered.

And maybe stop to give him one or two pointed glares.

When he dismisses you, you find that you’ve still got a bit of energy left. You’re certainly not sleepy.

“Will you spar with me?”

Levi raises a brow, unimpressed. “So you can get your ass handed to you again?”

“I’ve improved!” you cry out indignantly.

“Oh yeah, you’ve made great strides.” He snorts, digging his heel into the ground and raising his fists. “Okay, (L/N), give me your best shot.”

With Lieutenant Levi, the thing that matters most is the element of surprise. Last time, you went for his legs, so he’ll see that coming. You quickly scan his stance - how is it that you two have spent so much time together and you still haven’t located a single weakness of his? Not that that’s what you’re doing anymore, but it would sure be helpful in a fight. Needless to say, you need to think fast.

So before either of you can move, you cry out in pain, clutching your side. “Shit! I - I think I pulled a muscle - ow, fuck -”

Levi’s beside you in an instant, hand reaching down to inspect your stomach. Damn, you’re a better actor than you give yourself credit for. As soon as he reaches out, you grab his bicep with both your hands, plant your feet, and yank up as hard as you can.

No, you probably can’t throw him over your shoulder. But you can at least try to whirl him around you and then tackle him while he tries to regain his balance.

Well, you could if Levi didn’t twist his arm out of your grasp within a single second and grab you in a chokehold.

“Playing dirty, are we?” he whispers in your ear, “naughty girl, I should keep you here an extra hour just for that.”

Gasping for breath, you pat his elbow repeatedly in defeat. Surrender, you surrender! After holding on to lord his victory over you just a little longer, he lets you go, and you suck air into your lungs desperately.

He doesn’t make you stay any longer, but nonetheless, you certainly lose your brawl. How disappointing.

“I’ll...get you...next time…”

Levi’s lips quirk into what can be taken for a smile. “No, you won’t.”

“Yes I will!”

____________________

You lose the next time.

____________________

And the next time.

____________________

And the next.

____________________

It’s a whole two months later when Ricky laughs again.

There’s nothing funny about the situation at all - everyone is freezing their ass off in the middle of nowhere and questioning just how surviving a snowy mountain is going to improve their combat skills. No one was brave enough to ask this question before, though, so now all they can do is deal with it. The problem is that your group is definitely lost.

“Well, this is great,” Gunther groans, sinking on his knees into the snow. You wonder how he can handle the cold biting past his clothes and into his skin.

Ophelia, who’s been pessimistic since the beginning, seems to take this as her permission to sling her bag off and completely give up. “We’re going to die up here.”

You huff. “We’re not going to die, but yeah, we’re gonna lose some merit. They’ll probably send a search party by morning.”

“T-tell us, (F/N),” Gunther says in that smarmy tone of his that makes you pity his parents, “how exactly are we going to make it till morning? You got a fur coat hiding away in those custom boots?”

Ophelia snorts and you narrow your eyes at him. “If I did, I wouldn’t share it. And they’re not custom, it’s actually a very popular brand item.”

“Well, mind trading with me? All I have are these ratty ones.”

“I do mind, actually.”

Ricky hasn’t said anything, only observed your interactions with a blank expression. You let out a pained breath, filled with disdain at seeing your precious oxygen visibly. Yeah, you’ve decided you’re not a fan of the cold, not one bit. You’re already one of those people who is cold all the time, and this isn’t really helping. Apparently no one has any idea, and although Gunther was assigned team leader, you decide to step in.

“We have two options.” You hug yourself, rubbing your arms in an unsuccessful attempt to warm up. “We could try to find some shelter and stay alive till morning, or…” You sigh, not really a fan of all the work that goes into option two, but it’s still the one you’re leaning towards. “Or we get our shit together and find out how to get back to the cabin tonight.”

You’ve got something to prove, after all.

Ophelia’s teeth are chattering as she says, “W-where the h-hell will we find shelter out here?”

“Nowhere. That’s why we’re gonna go with the other idea.”

“Someone’s eager to hold onto her position,” Gunther accuses, “even if it means sacrificing her team!”

“Oh my God, who am I sacrificing? Who have I sacrificed so far? No one!”

“Yet!”

You make a rude gesture and stalk off on your own. The others call after you, but only Ricky follows, grabbing your shoulder before you misstep and tumble into the icy ground. You groan loudly, this is so not how the night was supposed to go. You have to make it back.

“You’ve changed,” Ricky says all of a sudden. “I’ve known that for a while, and I know that we all have, but you’ve done a complete turnaround. I mean…” He hesitates, considering his words carefully. You wonder if he knows that just by doing that, he’s showing that he’s changed quite a bit too. “You would have decided to give up on this by now. So what’s the deal?”

Honestly, it’s surprising that it’s taken him this long to ask. Nonetheless, these days you’re glad to hear Ricky speak at all, so anything he says is welcome. That doesn’t mean you know how to answer his question, though.

“Like you said, we’ve all changed. I just decided to…” You trail off and shiver, rubbing your hands together.

“Give a shit?”

You give him a weak smile. “Yeah.”

Ricky nods, looking satisfied enough with the answer. There’s a slight shift in his expression as he peers at you. “It’s not out of pity, right?” When you look confused, he clarifies. “Not out of pity for me. I know I don’t matter that much to you - I just mean, if you feel bad for everything that’s happened, to everyone, you shouldn’t.”

Scoffing, you glare at him, with crossed arms. “Who said you don’t matter to me?”

“Do I?” He grins, looking genuinely surprised. “Me, the outer city peasant?”

This time you allow yourself to speak without thinking. Sometimes, the moment just calls for it. “Yeah, well, we rich folk have to do some charity work sometimes.”

That’s when Ricky laughs, and oh, how you’ve missed the sound. He throws his head back, looking up to the sky like he’s praying. Snowflakes coat his cheeks, and when he looks back at you, his eyes are bright, and he’s gazing at you in the same way you’re sure he once gazed at his poor, lovely little sister who couldn’t make it long enough to see her brother step up and become a hero of humanity.

Then he grabs your arm, yanking you forward.

“Come on, twerp.” He ignores your protests that his hand is freezing. “Let’s get you off this mountain.”

____________________

Okay, Petra definitely knows that you’re trying to compete with her for the number one position. She’s just too nice to say anything, so the two of you just silently try to outdo each other in every which way. Teacher asks a question in class? Either your hand or her’s will fly up right away. Grumman walks by? Well, the two of you are saluting faster than anyone else can even ball their fist. There’s an advanced exercise at 2 PM? You both finished your exercises early and are there at 1:30.

You’re not even sure when you started competing with her, but here you are.

And to be fair, you’re neck and neck with the star student. In classes, you’re basically equal, her because she works hard and studies and you because you retain information well and can play suck up rather well. As for hand to hand combat, you pretty much top your entire Cadet Corp except maybe Traute. When people are paired up to train to steal the knife from each other, no one ever wants to partner up with you (which both hurts and is rather flattering). Yeah, in a fight, you’re pretty much secure. It’s the 3D maneuvering where Petra has you beat.

Now, you’re not bad at using your ODM gear, not by any means. She’s just a damn natural. Any maneuver that takes you five days to pull off is one she can manage in three. A part of you wishes that she actually was a horrible person - then you could at least use your dislike of her as a motivator to beat her. Alas, you’re quite fond of the other girl.

These complaints are what you find yourself telling Levi one morning, after requesting that he watch you fly through the forest. Nowadays it wasn’t entirely unusual for you to stay past 6 AM, either doing extra training or just talking to him. He’d complied, and you’d gotten gear for the both of you to use in the forest.

Seeing him in action only serves to make you even more grouchy about your own skills. Levi’s already fast enough on his feet; with the ODM gear he seems nearly invincible and you have an inkling he’s not performing to the best of his abilities just to monitor you. When you finally tire yourself out, you grumpily toss the gear off, head out into the grass, check for bugs and flop down onto your back once you’re sure it’s safe. “I don’t get it,” you moan unhappily, “why can’t I do it as well as you can?”

Levi steps in front of you, his head blocking out the rising sun. Ah, perfect. “It’s because you enjoy it too much.”

“Oh, is that your professional diagnosis?”

He sucks in a long breath, which you know translates to you’re so fucking difficult, damn shitty brat. “My professional diagnosis is that you’re a dumbass.”

“Aww, thanks, sir! But I only take medical advice from licensed professionals.”

Levi notes your position and moves out of the way to allow the sun to blind you. You wince, squinting in the sunlight, and your hand comes up to shield your poor eyes. Averting your gaze, you peer straight up. In the middle of spring, from the open grounds down below, the clouds have never looked more beautiful.

“Wanna lay down with me? It’s therapeutic. The grass feels great.” You beckon him down next to you, but he shakes his head, instead choosing to deliver a small kick to your side. You hiss - someone seriously needs to do something about the lieutenant’s violent tendencies.

“Do you think I’m doing this so you can look at the pretty sky?”

Tossing your arm over your eyes, you say, “No, you’re doing this because you’re interested in me.”

The sound that Levi lets out is so strangled that you immediately look at him, concerned. He turns away from you for a second, scoffing with his cheeks tinted slightly red, and that’s when you realize he took your statement in an entirely wrong way. You’re a bit offended nonetheless, he doesn’t have to act like it’s disgusting to even think about you in that way. People have been interested in you! It’s happened, you’re a delight! He’s just blind, that’s all.

“I meant interested in me as a subordinate.” You sit up, knees hunched to your chest. “Now that Commander Erwin is in charge, everyone knows you’re going to get promoted soon too. Get a whole squad all to yourself.” Grinning at him, you let your palms rest on the blades of grass beneath you. “Hunting for your own lieutenant, Captain Levi?”

Huh. The title rolls right off the tongue. It suits him pretty well.

He looks at you strangely for a second, before holding his hand out. As you tug yourself up, he mutters, “Please, if I was going to have a lieutenant, I’d need someone competent.”

“Well,” you drawl, not bothered, “I’m not interested anyways.” At least there, you’re being truthful. Even if the thought makes you feel ashamed.

You and him continue to bicker as you walk across the grounds to put the gear back in the shed. While you don’t exactly walk slowly, you don’t go at your fastest pace either, itching to prolong the time that the two of you share. A stark contrast to the first few weeks you trained with him, when all you could think about was going back to bed. Now, nearly a year and a half later, you’re not sleepy, you’re not angry, and you don’t hate him.

When it’s time to part ways, you pretend as though you’re studying him carefully.

“What?” Levi snaps, but there’s no bite to his bark.

“I stand by what I said earlier, about you wanting a lieutenant.” A small smirk spreads on your lips. “But I also think you just have a crush on me.”

He stares at you. A second passes. Two seconds.

Three seconds.

You burst out laughing, hitting his shoulder. “You should see your face! Did you think I was serious?”

He looks at you with his eyes narrowed crossly, only serving to make you laugh louder.

“Minx,” he finally says, shaking his head, “a fucking minx is what you are, (L/N).”

____________________

“It’s raining!”

The excitement with which you squeal those words has nearly everyone rolling their eyes, but they follow you out anyways. It’s nice of them to abandon their lunch for this momentous occasion, rain during the summertime. You feel a rush of love for your fellow cadets, specifically for the three people who are right besides you. Of course you’ve always considered Millie your best friend, but Ricky and Stephen had filled a piece of your soul that you didn’t know was empty. This is your family, and you love them.

“Stephen!” Millie’s voice comes, scolding next to you. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“He still doesn’t know what regiment he wants to join.”

“Leave him alone,” Ricky asserts, taking a swipe at her that she ducks.

“I know what I want to join,” Stephen mumbles, “I’m just not sure…”

Somehow, you know exactly what he’s considering. The rain gives you courage.

“The Scouts are wonderful.” Stephen turns to you, surprised, and you let out a giddy laugh. “They’re amazing. Brave, and heroic, and they kick ass. You’d do really well there, Stephen.”

You’re rambling, but by some miracle, Stephen takes your words to heart and makes his decision.

“Okay,” he says, with a wide smile on his face. “I’ll join the Scouts.”

Ricky coughs into his fist, something that sounds suspiciously like kiss ass. You’re too enthralled by your current environment to notice that, or Millie’s disapproving glare.

Bathing in the rain, you spin around until you’re dizzy. Droplets pour down your face, soaking your hair, your uniform, and you couldn’t be more thrilled. This, really, is what happiness is. The chance to fool around in the rainfall, to throw your hands up and feel precisely just how little of a speck you are in the vast, wide world. Slipping a hand into your bun, you let your hair down, closing your eyes as you soak up the thrill.

Everyone is chattering in groups around you. No one is mourning the lunch that has been long forgotten in the mess hall.

There’s grey eyes watching you when you open yours, a fond smile that you think he probably let slip past the tough exterior on his face. No one can resist this weather.

Maybe third time’s the charm. Even if it’s not, it doesn’t hurt to try, right?

You raise your hand and wave at him.

From the distance, still watching you closely, Levi sighs softly and then waves back.

Something you’ve never felt before bubbles up in your chest. It threatens to consume you as the others become a blur in the precipitation around you. You feel light on your feet, almost as though you’re not even touching the ground anymore. Affection? Adoration? For him?

Maybe it’s because of the stupid way he holds his teacup. Or maybe it’s the way he looks at you like you’re the funniest, most ridiculous person he’s ever met. It might be how his touch always lingers, how he’s always warm, and how he never fails to catch you when you stumble. How about that dumb cravat, why is he always wearing that?

His sarcastic quips, always ready to fire back at you. The way he brushed your tears away that time he’d found you crying. How he never pushes you to open up more than you want to, and how truthful he is. The feeling you get when he smiles or laughs at you, knowing it’s a rarity for him. His eyes, a blend of silver and charcoal that you could stare into for hours and still never get tired of.

It’s here, dancing in the summer rain, that you realize something that really should have been painfully obvious. There’s a reason you notice all these things. There’s a reason your heart is fluttering right now. There’s a reason that time has frozen, and there’s a reason you feel like you’re floating a thousand miles up in the air.

It’s because you like him. You really, really like him.

Oh, shit.

reader on her first day: wow levi’s eyes are beautiful

reader whenever levi is in front of her: damn he is so alluring

reader every time levi so much as glances at her: does he like me?

reader for two years: if levi asked me to have sex with him i would

also reader: omg i have a crush on him??? how is that possible?????

falling for a guy just because he finally waved back at you after like sixteen months is kinda weird but you do you girl.

one chapter left! :O

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— HYMN OF THE LOVESICK ; PART 5 / ?

( gif from this beautiful gifset by @knightwayne )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Alfred definitely knows something about Bruce that you’re not willing to think about and Bruce has an epiphany that changes the way he sees you.

A/N: Guess who forgot which day pbr is usually posted? This idiot here. God, I’m sorry and this chapter can be boring. Next chapter will have a lot more going on, I promise. Also, this might end in the next chapter or two. Enjoy, folks.

WARNINGS: Kinda dramatic because I’m dramatic.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Driving through the Wayne estate gives you a sense of much-needed peace. The never-ending tunnel with walls of identical colossal pine trees as you faintly hum to Aretha Franklin over the low whirring of the running engine. It’s a quarter to noon, and the sun doesn’t seem to shine in the city of Gotham—clouds of grey constantly shield its optimum shine, only to ever allow rays to seep through the gaps in the moving Autumn wind. You don’t mind it and you never did, growing up in the city left clouds unnoticed to you unless it signified the arrival of a thunderstorm. Weather and nature are the least of your concerns but you would appreciate it now and then.

The tunnel of trees comes to an end as a clearing of extensive fields emerges into view. What is left of the Wayne Manor still stands with ostentation, despite its skeleton along with its dignity rotting away to be eventually consumed by mother nature herself. There’s a sense of eeriness to it; you find it odd how a building could seem so alive at times, like it's watching you, despite its apparent decay.

You turn your head away and focus on the road.

A glance at your hand on the wheel, you’re reminded of last night, when his hands held yours—it burns at the mere thought of his gentle touch. And the drive home, silent with the occasional glances and small smiles. You recall how the passing streetlights cascade hues of orange on his wearied expression and how his eyes were bright when they flit to your figure in the passenger seat for just a moment. Something must have changed between the two of you, but you can’t quite tell what. Maybe it’s your undying love for Bruce. Maybe he feels the same way. You snort to yourself, alone in your car, one can only dream but it doesn’t mean they all come true. Bruce may love but he doesn’t commit. You can’t commit too. Now, you’re starting to believe you’ve been lying to yourself.

The glasshouse comes into view as you steer around the bending road and into the driveway. It contradicts everything the manor was but only shared its sense of glory. You like the glasshouse, less deafening and structured with the purpose of bareness and vulnerability but its dark furnishings keep it grounded and secure. Its sense of balance tricks your mind into thinking you’re stable. His car is still around, parked by the porch but you don’t see him, ambling around the household.

Switching off the ignition, you snatch the paper bag from the passenger seat and clamber out of the car. Darker clouds begin rolling from afar, your hair flying in the strong wind. A storm is coming, you’re sure of it. One of the rare times it rains during the season. You dread the thought of having to drive back into the city and across Westward Bridge. Driving over bridges built over the water in the rain scares the heck out of you.

As you swing the car door to a close, you hear the shuffling of feet amongst leaves behind you. Alfred, with a barrel of chopped wood—stocking up for the winter. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes albeit startled by your sudden presence. He mentions your name with endearment; you greet him with a small smile. You always liked Alfred. You enjoyed his company.

“What a pleasant surprise seeing you here,” he says, pushing the barrel aside as he nears you. “I’m afraid you just missed Bruce. He left for Metropolis an hour ago—duty calls.”

You nod, ignoring the clench in your heart. He hadn’t told you anything but frankly, you weren’t expecting him to anyway.

“Well, I just came by to drop off this,” You lift the paper bag, swaying it a little within your grasp. “As a thank you gift, you know.” Alfred smiles at this, gestures towards the house in a beckoning manner. “Come on in, I’ll make you some tea.” Before you could even protest, he’s gently guiding you to the door by the shoulder. It’s hard to say no to Alfred, especially when he offers tea.

-

Your mind wonders as you watch the drizzle of rain form ripples in the lake. You sit on a chair with a contemporary structure to it; it digs into your lower back, due to your bad posture. Uncomfortable but nice-looking and great armrests. Contradicts everything a chair should be. Alfred emerges from the kitchen with a black ceramic mug in hand, steam from the brewed tea lingering above it. He holds an identical mug, for himself. With two hands, you clasp onto the mug with acceptance, a radiant appreciative smile upon your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Alfred shoots you a look of disdain, “I’ve told you many times, Alfred is fine.” Taking a sip, you shake your head, a smile still lingering. “No way. I have too much respect for you to call you by your first name.” Alfred mirrors you, settling for the chair to your right, swiftly sliding the scatter of papers to the corner of the table. You find it easy to fall into a natural conversation with the older man—the two of you are mutuals after all of a certain billionaire. Yet, Alfred is more of a father figure, having practically raised Bruce and you, well, it’s complicated. It always is. You don’t know where you stand in his life, and you're not sure if you want to know.

“Anyway, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” It’s true. The usual sight of the butler sauntering around the glasshouse or somewhere in the Wayne Estate was absent during the last two weeks. Alfred is always around, his disappearance was glaring, impossible to go unnoticed.

He shifts in his seat, placing his mug on the table, teaspoon moving with a soft clang. “I was visiting family back in England. I appreciate that you have noticed my absence,” An eyebrow raises, your laugh comes out more like a huff. “Always, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Family. Mother. Dinner—you remember the dinner with your mother on Sunday night, and you’re the host. The host hasn't decided on the menu for tomorrow’s meal. Oh God, it’s tomorrow. Procrastination is your friend but your family’s expectations for you aren't. If you pop enough wine bottles, maybe she'll be too drunk to be disappointed by the end of the night.

And the wedding. The mere thought makes you sick. You don’t want to bring a date, but you don’t want to be alone. Weddings, love, couples—it makes you tick. It’s a glaring reminder of how your love life is an absolute disaster and your inability to maintain relationships. It’s hopeless, you’ll die a spinster and everyone lives happily ever after.

“Are you alright?”

It’s funny how those three words have been the most frequent words you would hear from those around you. You appreciate the concern, really, but you can’t help but feel there’s a stronger and deeper meaning to those words. It’s a question of assurance, a reality check, and a realization that you might be broken. Everyone is broken—in their own ways.

Although you seem reserved to some people, your tendency to open up about your issues to those close to you contradicts that though you instantly regret it. Especially when people tell you to change. You hate change. It’s terrifying.

You pause, suddenly feeling...fidgety. Yet, in the words of Bruce: In Alfred, you trust.

Remember, keep it light. You don’t want to haul all this luggage of yours onto an aging man. He’s already got Bruce’s luggage.

“My cousin’s getting married in two weeks and,” you sigh, he listens intently. “And as pathetic as this sounds, I really don’t want to go to it alone.”

Your words are direct, straightforward and you sound like a whiny teenager or the main character in a Wattpad story but truth be told, there’s an underlying meaning to it and you know, Alfred knows it. You just don’t want to admit it.

He takes a beat, assessing your sentence like he’s a therapist, wanting to select his words carefully. “Well, I don’t think you’re pathetic. It’s...understandable,” he flashes you a pointed look and you find yourself straightening your back. “Why don’t you ask Bruce?”

Your brain must have short-circuited at that moment.

Oh, hell no. Not in a million years.

You’re shaking your head, laughing nervously. “No, no. No. Never. I couldn’t possibly ask him to do that. He’s already done so much for me—”

“You’ve done a lot for him too.”

A pause, words stuck in your throat. You just look at Alfred through confused eyes. You’re not sure what that means. He’s staring at you with a knowing look. You sigh, shaking your head in denial once more. “No, that’s...that’s not true.”

It’s almost infuriating how stubborn you can be sometimes that it’s even irritating yourself. You’re staring at your fingers, playing with the tag attached to the teabag by a thread. As far as you’re concerned, Bruce is...the greatest friend you’ve ever had. Through thick and thin, he’s been there for you. He’s always there. It’s partly the reason why you have fallen for him in the first place. Hard. He’s easy to love when he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s rare but it’s beautiful. You almost feel ashamed to be allowed to see him in that light.

“Bruce will do just about anything for you,” Alfred says calmly as he watches you avoid eye contact. “And I know, you’ll do the same for him.” You throw your eyes at the older man as he cops you a look. Your heart is beating so fast, so thunderous, you hear it in your ears. He’s right and you know it. That accidental kiss to your forehead on the night you asked him to come for the play comes back to mind in a flash. It feels like a mark on your forehead, it feels like it’s burning.

“Would you like a scone with that?” He’s pointing to your tea and with that, he’s off to the kitchen once more, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

-

It’s late—a quarter to four in the morning. He spends most of his nights in the Batcave, hidden away from all the sounds and tumult of the world, shrouded in the darkness as the light of the computer screen cascades on his tired eyes. He ambles through the glasshouse, weary feet against hardwood floors, body begging to lay on grey sheets though he dreads a vacant bed.

He strains his eyes peering into the gloom when he perceives a paper bag, sitting idly on the table by the window. Nearing it, there’s a yellow post-it note stuck onto the bag and under the gentle light from the moon that reflects against the lake, he can make out words written on it.

It’s from you.

Thanks for coming to the play. I would have bought you something else, but I’m really broke. Sorry. I owe you one.

A drawn heart follows it. It’s tiny. His chest feels warm.

He should have recognized the paper bag because inside, there are four bagels. Four Asiago bagels. He laughs, it comes out more like a puff of hot air, feeling the warmth that resides in his chest spreading throughout his body.

Then, it hits him like a bullet to the heart. The impact is strong, powerful. Your impact on him is strong, powerful. There’s no mystery to his feelings for you but at this moment, he’s completely certain. For the first time in life.

He loves you.

Bruce staggers into the chair, hand carding back the strands of his hair. He can’t keep doing this to you. Whatever the hell is going on. Your friendship, the...stupid agreement. He wants none of it because it feels like he’s constantly going around in circles.

But what do you really want, Bruce?

TAGLIST

@raineeace

[passivenovember]

Chapter Six of : If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields

--

Billy goes home less than an hour after Steve suggests they play operation. When he looks at Billy with eyelashes Neil Armstrong could see from the moon and suggests they cozy up among the coffee table books to do some lasting good in the world; get the tooth out of that guy's dick for him--

Billy has to get out of there.

It was too much.

The house. The colors. The fabric. The smell of Steve's shampoo, which is less like peeled lemons and more like funeral flowers, the longer Billy sits around getting sunburnt under the intense light of a man who wasn't interested in him beyond starched collar friendship.

And he's not mad at Steve. Isn't on his way to punch a hole in his drywall, or anything, but he's mad at himself. Mad at his heart for kicking up a cloud of pink smoke when Billy stands and says he'd better get going. 

And Steve's face falls like snow that covers Billy's driveway, that glues his feet together.

"Papers." Billy says quickly, searching for the coat he knows he didn't bring up the drive.

"Newspapers?" Steve goes along with him, adjusting the yellow bandana behind his ears. He turns with a swoosh of his orange rug robe to dig through the shelves on the wall. "I have some here. Old ones, new ones. There's an edition from 1985 about the mall burning down, it's pretty interesting. Would you like that?"

"Sure, I'll, uh--" Billy takes the yellowing pages from Steve without really thinking about it, jerking away when Harrington lands too close. Close enough that Billy can see the specks of green in his eyes. "I meant. Teaching papers. Assignments." The newspaper smells old. Like books and dust, and faintly of spilled bong water from the pipe of a baghead teenager long ago. "I have to grade papers."

Steve doesn't take it back from him. "I thought you taught kindergarten."

"I do."

"Kindergarteners write papers?" Steve's hair flops across his forehead. Like big, wavy puppy dog ears on either side of his face. 

Billy has to force his tongue to stay in his mouth, his eyes to stop staring. "I meant, like. Spelling. Numbers. Rudimentary bullshit." Billy shakes the newspaper at puppy dog Steve. "Declan Parks can't even tie his own shoes, so--"

"Alright. Okay." Steve says sweetly, pushing Billy's hand back to his own chest, fingers wrapping around his palm. "Take it with you. There's a lot of history in this town, mythology and folklore--rumors of bloodsucking aliens and evil scientists camping out under the power plant." Steve doesn't let go of Billy's hand. He grins instead, dimples popping like fireworks on his face. "We're a regular Twin Peaks ripoff. Read about it, let me know what you think." And.

Steve doesn't back away. Doesn't back down.

"I'll give you a ring sometime." Billy says suddenly.

"Okay."

"Yeah, alright, uh." Billy backs toward the front door, two finger salute making pink skies land on Steve's face. "Thanks for the grub. I'll see you in the driveway, or--"

Steve laughs, following Billy to the door. 

"Around. Yeah, Steve, I'll--"

Steve places a hand on Billy's shoulder and the world stops spinning. Melting right off the bone. Billy fights to get air in his lungs as Steve brushes a lock of hair from his forehead, fingertips lighting Billy's skin on fire.

"See you around, neighbor." Steve says.

And Billy knows, feels in his bones, that he'd do better moving across town.

--

It keeps snowing. 

Morning noon and night, wood nymphs piling on ice and hail down on a town of 36,000 people until Billy feels alone. Like an animal trapped in a beige house on a white street that exists in a bubble. A snow globe immune to light and sound. 

There's a period of days where school is cancelled and Billy runs out of things to keep himself occupied. All the books have been read and returned to their place on the shelf. All the films watched and replayed until Billy draws his own conclusions, until the characters feel like his own.

On the first day Billy feels like he's losing his mind.

He orders groceries. Picks up some thermal socks. Considers making a pie or something from scratch, like his mother used to do before Neil went missing on Christmas Eve, but. He doesn't have a rolling pin.

On the second day he drags a chair over to the window and stares at the warm, peachy light from Steve's upstairs window as it shine on the drifts that gather and climb toward heaven. Billy thinks about that living room as if it were a vision from some other planet. A universe crafted in the image of virality.

Billy thinks about Steve and wishes he could be like that. 

Wide eyed. Free.

--

On the third day, Megan says Billy should begin preparing for spring.

"We're snowed in." Billy mutters, cleaning up the polish on his toes. A gorgeous matte eggplant color that proves--spring isn't on his radar. 

"You're getting bogged down with the ice and snow," Megan reiterates, pen scratching across the page so loudly that Billy can hear it with the phone on speaker. "Before long the flowers will bloom again. The sun will shine, it's something everyone has to prepare for. Rebirth, growth--"

"I don't have a garden."

"Don't be a shitter, Billy." Megan sighs, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "We can work with that. Would it do some good to plant one?"

Billy starts painting his other foot. "I don't want to stay in Hawkins forever."

"That's understandable."

"And I have plans this spring." Billy twists the cap onto the nail polish, swinging his foot around in the air as if that'll make things move faster. "Max and I want to go hiking back home. I'm supposed to help my mom get the boathouse ready for the summer, and I don't want to start something permanent in a place I can't see myself settling down in--"

"A couple marigold bushes are not permanent, you could kill 'em off with a single neglectful week in the summer and you know it." Megan falls silent, only the click of her pen left behind. "This move has been rough on you, and it's been rough on your body, and it's been hell on your space."

Billy shrugs. "It's been fine on my space."

"Have you even finished unpacking?" Megan demands, strictly business.

"I don't want to set down roots--"

"You've lived in Hawkins for two years, Billy, and you haven't finished unpacking."

A lump appears in his throat, just like that, just. Choking the air from his lungs. Megan must hear Billy swallow, or sense the shift in the air because her voice goes soft around the edges. Pliant. "It's a new cycle." 

Billy tries not to think about Max. "Alright."

"Time to blow the cobwebs away." 

"Dust the spider houses." Billy says to himself. He tries not to think about their garden back home, the fertile smell of fresh Earth somehow finding its way to Hawkins despite Billy's efforts. He misses Mammoth Lakes. He tries not to think about it. Then; "Max is coming down for my week off."

"That's not until March."

"So?"

Megan sighs, like Billy should get it by now. "That's way into the spring season, what you need this year is to get a head start." She scribbles something down on the page again. "We've been through this before. You're beyond me spelling out what you need. You've been my client long enough to know the type of person you are, Billy."

He smirks. "Yeah, and what kind of person is that?"

"Someone who likes to open his doors and let in the fresh air." She moves some papers around, voice firm. "Bright colored walls, and bird baths littering diverse lawns even though they turn to green slime when not filtered properly. The kind of man who likes to shop second hand because 'everything has a soul--'"

"Are you reading from my journal?"

"Need I go on?" Megan lets Billy mull it over for a moment. Lets him draw is own conclusions. When she speaks again it's like Billy already knows what she wants to say. Already believes it himself, but. That's never stopped her before. 

"We were just talking about Steve last week."

"We're always talking about Steve," Billy snaps. "Last week, and the week before that, and yesterday and tomorrow--"

"Perpetually." Megan teases. "I know. But you said you liked his house. That's what we discussed last time; not Steve or his hair or how embarrassed you are about the rats--" Billy wishes everyone would let that part go. "But his house. The way it made you feel."

He can see it in his minds eye--Megan leaning forward, legs uncrossed on her big hammock chair, blue and gray glasses catching the glint in her eye as she pokes through his spirit and lands at the root.

The bone.

"What is it you liked about Steve's place and what is it you hate about your own and where is the through line?"

She gives him homework. Student and teacher.

Billy hates homework, but. He jots the instructions down in his notebook anyway and wonders, distantly, if the skies will continue to open above his head and if he'll ever learn to accept it.

--

On the fourth day Billy's power goes out. 

Just like that. 

With no bang or whimper it's just there one moment and gone the next.

One minute he's watching Wayne's World, wrapped in five blankets and eating soup from one of those bowls with the built in straw, and the next he's submerged in darkness. Looking around the living room like a startled chicken, still slurping down tomato soup and hoping it's just a surge.

It's not. 

Billy finishes his soup.

He manages to keep the feeling in his toes even as he wanders around the house lighting every candle he can find, sticking towels over the cracks in his front door and remembering to turn the faucets on drip so the pipes won't freeze overnight.

Outside the storms keep raging.

Billy can't see the end of the front porch, so he grabs his blankets and heads to bed. Remembers to plug in his phone, on the off chance that the power will come back on while he's out, and Billy feels good about himself for a lot of reasons. For remembering his Midwestern Winter Survival Skills, and buying thermal socks when he went shopping last week, and as the temperature keeps dropping Billy feels himself drifting off.

Warm and safe in his cocoon of blankets, he wonders if the power has come back on when someone bangs on his bedroom window.

Billy sits bolt upright, hissing as cold air manages to snake in through an opening near his feet. The knock comes again, louder this time, and Billy thinks about what he read from that article in the Hawkins Post dated July 5th, 1985. 

"Billy?" 

Harrington is wrapped in a blanket. 

That's all, just a knitted monstrosity of orange and green draped across his shoulders, paired with a black hoodie and the care bears scarf that haunts Billy's dreams. He's got yellow gardening gloves on his fingers and, over his head of wavy brown hair, a pink beanie that reads, If I Die of Aids--Forget Burial--Drop My Body on the Steps of the FDA, in teal block letters.

Steve Harrington could break hearts.

Billy's heart is floating through the air, just. Decimated. As Steve smiles and taps on the window. "I tried the front but I figured you were asleep." He says.

And it takes Billy a minute to find his voice. He opens the window, grimacing at the snow on the ledge that topples in. "What are you doing?"

"I cleared a path. Around the house. By the propane tank." Steve says, gesturing with his stupid little gloves. "I took care of the driveway for you. And put some ice melt down, brought some firewood up to the door."

"Wait, what?"

"I just picked some up from Melvalds yesterday, it's no biggie--"

"The powers out." Billy grumbles, using the corner of his blanket to scrub at his face. "Shouldn't you be stock piling layers, like the rest of us?"

"'S not so bad at home."

"It's colder in here than it is outside."

Steve jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Mr. Bane's auditioning to be a starfish on my mattress."

"Push that little fucker over the edge." 

Steve leans back, gripping the window ledge with an easy smile. "I could never do that. We have a system--I let him sleep on my bed every night on the condition that he doesn't shit in the hallway anymore." Steve lifts one hand and taps his forehead, pleased as punch. "Work smarter, not harder. Right?"

And that makes Billy blush. Either from the image of Steve's fat Mainecoon running the show or the fact that Steve lets it happen, even on the coldest night of the year. 

It's sweet. 

Steve's sweet. Like sun tea with extra sugar, just--

"So where does that leave you?" Billy muses, picking at a loose thread on his pillow case just to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. "It's too cold for the floor, and the living room's gotta be drafty, right?"

Steve shrugs, leaning against the window pane and looking over his shoulder, as if daring the ice to fall again. "I have an extra blanket or two, should be alright."

With his head turned that way Billy can see moles--dozens of little chocolate kisses sprinkled over Steve's skin, swirling and disappearing under the hood at his neck. 

He's beautiful.

Billy thinks the moles could taste like cinnamon or nutmeg. Hot chocolate with little drops of citrus enriching the flavor--

"You could sleep here." Billy's mouth says. 

Steve stares at him, eyes wide, but. Not surprised. Not mean. "Really?" He asks, folding his arms on the window pane and studying Billy's face. Forehead and eyelashes and back again, like maybe this is a joke. "You'd let me sleep on the couch?"

"Sure."

"What makes you think your places' gonna be any better?" Steve demands.

Light.

Teasing.

Billy shrugs again and his stupid blanket slips off one shoulder, revealing a strip of hoodie that may as well be his bare fucking skin, the way Steve's eyes track the movement. Filing it away for some unknown purpose even as Billy rights himself again. He feels every bit like the heroine in those shitty dieback erotica's his mom still reads every Saturday morning. The window lets in gust after gust of frigid air and Billy decides that he isn't going to beg.

"I'm not going to beg," Billy reiterates, though he doesn't sound convinced. "Come sleep at mine or don't, that's--"

"Unlock the front door," Steve says, and then he's gone, rainboots leaving a trail of footprints to show that this was real. 

That one night, with ice covering the trees and fields like a blanket of hope, Steve was real.

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X14

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

So, if you read my review from the previous episode you know I turned out to be mostly wrong about this one. That being said, I really enjoyed the episode. I was never a ride or die japril shipper so I don't think this episode was as emotional for me as it was for other fans, but I enjoyed it. It was nice to see Jackson and April back on screen together! They always had great chemistry and I really enjoyed their scenes. And how cute was Harriet in this episode? She was SO adorable! I like that Jackson went to go visit his father to try and figure out what his Mom was talking about and I'm glad he got some closure there. That was nice to see. The scene where Robert tells Jackson why he left was super emotional and the acting was sublime!

I'm glad that Robert is giving lunches to people who need them in the community and is helping in his own way. It doesn't make up for what he did, but it's nice to know that he's making a go of the life he has with the diner and his coffee blend. It did bug me a bit that they played with time so much because it was difficult for me to figure out in the beginning what order the events went in which kind of took me out of the episode a little bit.

My biggest pet peeve with this episode was the whole thing with the meat slicer. Let me explain. It would have taken Robert a few minutes maximum to teach Jackson how to use it, but instead Jackson acts like the entitled pretty boy that he is and says he can operate it no problem. It's because of attitudes like this that people get hurt in workplace accidents because they assume that because it looks easy that it is. Anyone CAN operate a meat slicer, but you shouldn't without proper training.

Attitudes like that perpetuate the idea that people who work in hospitality, retail, construction, and other such fields are "simple" and that anyone can do it. It devalues the important work that so many people do, and it often results in untrained people getting hurt. So yeah as someone whose worked in both hospitality and retail and whose family works in construction I could have done without the harmful stereotype that we are all simpletons and Jackson's BS elitist attitude and him cutting himself on the meat slicer. Jackson's clearly never worked a day in his life outside of being a doctor and it shows.

I too was surprised when April agreed so suddenly to go with Jackson to Boston. I didn't think it was fair for her to agree without talking to Matthew first, but then she revealed that they split up. Going into this episode I really thought they were faking us out because April, a deeply religious woman, leaving her husband and step-daughter for Jackson didn't make any sense to me. But finding out that April and Matthew split up changes that. At first, I thought that would be impossible because getting a divorce in the early months of the pandemic was pretty difficult but the fact that they've separated but not officially divorced makes more sense.

Jackson says in the first half of the season that Matthew is spending more time with Harriet than he or April are because they've both been taking so many COVID shifts which at the time came across as them being a happy family. But taken in context with what April says in this episode it makes it sound like Matthew was spending time with Harriet because Jackson and April were working all the time and that put strain on their marriage. What Jackson is talking about would have happened in March or early April and this episode takes place sometime in June. Sadly, a lot of couples have split up during the pandemic in the way that April describes so while sad it was realistic.

While it would obviously be sad and confusing for the kids April makes it clear that Matthew and Ruby have the support of his sister and mother and her and Harriet have Jackson. I’m sad that April and Matthew’s relationship didn’t work out. I really liked them together. I do think it was nice though that they had Jackson ride off into the sunset with April and Harriet having left the door open for reconciliation the way they did with Arizona and Callie when Arizona moved to New York with Sofia.

Also let’s talk about the big elephant in the room. I get that this is Jackson's send off, but I still don't understand why Jackson couldn't run the Foundation from Seattle. That's what Catherine has been doing on and off for the last few years. Tom and Richard the previous and current Chief Medical Officers of the Catherine Fox Foundation are both based in Seattle. Why is moving to Boston necessary? It's their foundation can't they just move the Headquarters? Also were in a pandemic wouldn’t Jackson be working remotely anyway? Why do they have to move to Boston? What’s in Boston that they need so badly?

That being said, I'm glad that Jackson is getting a proper send off and will have time to say goodbye to everybody and have some heart to hearts and do it properly. We don't get that with every character. What in the heckity heck is Jo going to do next season? She doesn't have anyone to sleep with or date and she's leaving general surgery for OBGYN. That doesn't leave a whole lot of story for her. What is she going to do? Talk to Levi about his relationship problems and deliver babies? You could make a reoccurring character out of that sure but not a main character which is what Jo is currently billed as.

I'd like to see Jo adopt Luna and I think that could be really interesting so if they go that route, I could get on board but if not, I don't know what she's going to do. To be honest Jo isn't my favourite character, but I still feel bad for her. She has serious abandonment issues and every time she heals someone else leaves her! Jo's mother left her at a fire station as a baby. She wanted nothing to do with her as an adult. She did the work to get all whole and healed and was finally ready to have kids with Alex when finds out about the twins and leaves her for Izzie.

Jo does the work to get better and work on her issues and begins a friends with benefits relationship with Jackson only for him to disappear to the woods after Jo called him out on it at the beginning of their relationship and has now decided to move to Boston with April and Harriet to head up the Foundation. Girl can't win. Also does April know that Jackson has been sleeping with Jo? I mean she didn’t tell him that her and Matthew separated so I guess she can’t be too mad at him, but still. Awkward.

I think Jackson loves camping more than anyone else ever loves camping. His departure means he won't be attending Maggie's wedding. I have to admit I was looking forward to the awkwardness. I’m curious to see what Catherine is going to do now. Will she retire? Will she go back to being an attending surgeon full time? Does this mean they are going to have to find someone new to head up Plastics? Are they going to introduce a new character for Season 18?

I feel like finding a replacement for Jackson could go either way. Because I didn't think I would like Hayes when he took over Peds but now I love him and he's one of my favourite characters! I still miss Alex, but Hayes has been a great addition. I root for him and Meredith so hard and he was one of my favourite parts of Season 16.

Also, poor Bailey! This woman is just trying to keep the hospital afloat and she's losing surgeons and doctors left, right, and centre. Alex moved to Kansas. DeLuca died. Jackson is moving to Boston. Jo is switching specialties. Meredith's out with COVID! And let's not forget that Bailey lost her Mom to COVID not that long after she suffered a miscarriage after having a heart attack way too young and she deals with OCD which the pandemic is doing nothing to help! This poor woman!

Onto next week’s promo, I'm glad that they are doing a proper send off with Jackson. I'm also super excited that Meredith is up and talking and moving around! I've missed her! Although I am mad we have to wait another two weeks!!! I mean come on! We waited two whole months for the show to come back and then we waited for two weeks between episodes 13 and 14 and now we have to wait another two weeks for episode 15. Come on! Meredith and Hayes better rise as a couple when the show returns because if they don’t I will be so disappointed.

Until next time!

[puckyess]

4 Times Fate Brought You Together +1 Time You Met Him on Purpose | Ryder Donovan

Thanks for being patient! What’s your favorite part/line? My fav line is in the tags.

*** FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED ***

Words: 8.4k

Brewers Game

You and your group of friends were the worst at actually making plans, preferring to be spontaneous and see where the days took you. Today’s adventure included deciding to attend a Brewers game an hour before it started. Seeing as how Miller Park was a little over an hour away, there was no time to debate the idea if you wanted to make it there before the second inning. At the time, it had seemed like perfect timing, a great idea.

Now, however as you stood on the crowded patio, the only tickets left for today’s sold out game, you were rethinking the whole plan. While you were a fan of the game and an even bigger fan of Christian Yelich, the blisters on your feet from standing in flip flops were not making the experience worth it. Luckily, your friends had volunteered to scour the stadium for some neglected seats. That left you standing against the railing, nursing a beer and rolling your eyes at the very obnoxious group a couple tables over.

Glancing over your shoulder with a dirty look on your face was a mistake as you realized who that group was: a majority of the Wisconsin hockey team. Your eyes widened and you quickly turned your head back to the game, but your actions hadn’t gone unnoticed by a certain blonde.

“Guys, maybe we should cool it a bit. We’re getting looks”, he tried.

“Who’s giving us looks? I’ll fight ‘em”, Mike called a bit too loud.

Your eyes on the field, you felt your face flush as his voice easily carried over to your direction. You hated confrontation and you had a feeling you were about to get one. Hoping to avoid it and trying to look innocent, you pulled your phone from your back pocket and sent an sos text to your friend, alerting her of who else was in your presence and asking how much longer she’d be gone to find seats.

You heard a “dude!” and the sound of a smack and you couldn’t help but giggle a little as who you assumed was the boy who yelled was getting reprimanded. Mike was his name and he was apparently not as drunk as he was acting, as he spied your shoulders shaking, his eyes narrowing in on the person who had gotten him thwacked by Ryder.

“Hey!” He hollered. You froze.

“Yeah, you, Yelich shirt!” And though that could have applied to ¾ of the people there, you knew he was referring to yourself. It was time to face the music so you slowly turned toward the hollering boy with your eyebrows raised.

The shit eating grin you were met with spelled trouble and you braved yourself for whatever it was he had to say next. “My friend, here,” he says grabbing Ryder and roughing his shoulder, “says he has a major crush on you. Like big time. Won’t stop staring at ya. Isn’t that right, Dono?” The blush that took over your face surely matches Ryder’s, who’s staring at you with wide, apologetic eyes. Meanwhile the boys are snickering at Mike embarrassing their friend in front of a girl.

“Really? Why don’t you tell him to come over and tell me himself? I couldn’t hear him over your loud mouth”, you retort. And with that you turn back around, heart beating in your ears, definitely not focusing on the game anymore. The noise level in the stadium raises three decibels as the guys hoot and holler at your chirp.

--

Not too much time passes before you feel a tap on your shoulder. You begin to sigh as you turn again, can a girl not watch a baseball game in peace anymore? But you suck in a breath when you see the nervous boy in front of you. His one hand is stuffed in his pocket, the other rubbing at the back of his neck and he’s shifting his weight from side to side. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you can’t help but give him a little smirk.

“Ok you need to chill, you’re making me nervous”, you chirp, gesturing with your hands at his nervous fidgeting. He drops his hand and pauses his rocking with a grin on his face, seeming to relax a little.

“Well you see, you just completely killed my teammate back there and I’m kind of nervous you're going to roast me the same,” he says, thumb jutting back to where he came from. You peer around his tall frame and see his teammates staring at the two of you, well his back mostly, on the edges of their seats trying to gauge how the conversation is going.

“The smile on your face is teasing as you ask “are you aware we have an audience?” and the laugh he lets out is better than you could’ve imagined, especially because you had made him tip his head back with laughter.

He answers, shaking his head. “I had no doubt they’d be watching to see if I fail”.

“If you fail?”

The smirk on his face is dangerous, “Well that depends on you”.

You hum in response. “I don’t know what you’d fail at? You haven’t even told me your name, your number, what you’re doing over here in the first place...?” You trail off, proud of yourself for that spark plug move.

He’s shaking his head then with a beautiful smile on his face. “I’m here to apologize for Mike’s headassery and for my team’s lack of manners when drunk in public. Well when sober too”, he laughs, then continues, “and as for my name, I’m-“ but he doesn’t get to finish as suddenly everyone around you is shouting “kiss, kiss, kiss!” You couldn’t believe what was happening right now. Your brain was suddenly unable to concentrate on anything except kissing the boy in front of you.

The nervous look is back on his face as he leans down to you “you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to”,  though there’s something hopeful in his eyes that you might say yes. Instinct takes over, your hands gripping his shirt and pulling him the rest of the way down to meet your grinning lips. You can feel him smiling as well, the rest of your senses only responding to him. You don’t hear the roar of the crowd. You can only smell his cologne and the beer that he had obviously been sipping on before coming to talk to you. You can hear the beating of your heart because of him and when you pull back, not wanting to get any farther than PG on national television, you can see his bright smile directed at you.

“Wow” is all he says, echoing your thoughts out loud. You can’t imagine the look on your face right then. You feel like you’re just staring at him with a big, dumb smile on your face. Luckily the boys, as with much of the stadium have gone back to whatever it is they were doing before your world was just rocked. Your phone ringing breaks up the moment and though you lift it to your ear you barely hear what your friend is saying besides “ohmygod, Ryder Donovan, Jumbotron and I found seats”. Ryder is still standing close to you and can very easily hear your friend’s squeals.

When you hang up he has an accusing look in his eyes but a cocky grin spread across his lips. “Don’t know my name, huh? It sounds to me like you very much know my name”.

Cringing, mostly at the fact that your friend had literally squealed over the boy staring at you expectantly, but also at your own embarrassment.

“Hey I never lied about that. I only pointed out that you hadn’t told me your name, not that I didn’t already know it. But I do have to get going to my seat. Don’t want to have to stand here with your friends any longer. I have a game to watch!” you say with a wink, leaving Ryder’s mouth open, his number never making it past his lips. He hadn’t even gotten your name.

KK

If there was one good thing about the abrupt end to the NHL season it was that you got to watch playoff hockey in the middle of September. And it gave you an excuse to be at the bar pretty much every night that week after work. You and your roommate would order a drink or two and spend the evening yelling at the TVs in the bar. Somehow in all of your excitement for game 3 of the Toronto/CBJ matchup you’d managed to forget that every Wisconsin student goes out on Thursday nights and so KK was a bit more crowded tonight, especially with how early it was. Surprisingly, a lot of people had on gear in support of both teams and were already pregaming.

Once you had your drinks in hand, you began to weave your way back to what had become your high top table in the corner. It had the best view in the place and it was out of the way, giving you a little space to jump around if the game got too crazy without being noticed. Or so you thought anyways. You made yourself comfortable on your stool, focusing on the screen as the puck dropped, completely missing the head turn and stare of the tall blonde who had not left your mind since three weeks ago.

He gets caught staring, but not by the person he wants to. Cole nudges his arm, “So are you gonna go make your move or what?” he challenges. Shay is next to his brother leaning on the table.

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed you drooling over her since the minute she walked in”, he teases. “See, you even have a little wet spot”, he says poking his brother’s chest.

“Where?” Ryder asks, confused and suddenly looking down, pulling on his shirt to get a better look at whatever mystery stain his brother was talking about.

“Right there”, Shay says at the same time he flicks his finger upwards, hitting Ryder in the face.

“You’re such a child, Shay”

“And you’re such an idiot. You fall for that everytime”, he cackles. “But for real, bro, you haven’t stopped looking for her everywhere we go. She’s right here, just pull out those moves I know you have”.

Looking over at you grinning up at the TV, pointing at something and talking animatedly to your friend, he decides his brother is right and he moves to get out of his seat and make his way through the crowd to you. But just as his feet hit the floor the bar erupts into a mixture of cheers and boos and you’re up out of your seat, hands on your head, watching Mitch Marner dangle his way through Jackets left and right and then going backhand on Elvis for one dirty goal. The distress is clear on your face and your arms are flailing wildly as you shake your head, yelling at the screen with your friend. Even from across the bar he can tell you're mad and pouting as you sit back in your seat with your arms crossed over your chest and a scowl on your face. You look cute all worked up over a goal and he decides he’ll settle for watching you interact with the game for a bit more. He also makes a mental note that you’re a Jackets fan.

--

Towards the end of the second period, you lift your cup to your mouth to discover it empty. You eye the thick crowd and debate whether or not to get another drink, but with the final seconds on the clock winding down and the Jackets trailing by two goals, you get off your stool and elbow your way through the wall of bodies.

Standing at the bar you feel someone grab your elbow. “What’re you stalking me now?” the voice attached to it asks.

You whip around, yanking your arm free not realizing that the bewildered boy was harmless. Seeing Ryder’s face with his eyes wide and hands up in defense you let out a breath of relief. “You can’t go sneaking up on a girl in a bar like that” you reprimand him.

He sheepishly apologizes, acknowledging that that wasn’t his best move.

“But to answer your question, I could ask you the same thing. I for one, live here” you tell him and he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Oh yeah? And who is ‘I’ anyway? I never did get your name.”

You laugh, thinking back to your first encounter and he was right, you had knowingly left him without introducing yourself. “Y/N” you say, letting him in on the mystery.

“Y/N” he repeats, liking the way it sounds on his lips and you have to admit that you do too. “And where is it that you live, Y/N? Maybe I know the place?”

You shake your head, “Probably not. It’s not on campus”, he still looks intrigued so you continue, “it’s a little ways the opposite direction. Right next to Festival, well, attached to it. Really convenient actually, I end up going there almost every day because I decide I need something new for dinner after work”.

Just then you hear commotion and look up just in time to see a replay of Werenski taking a dumb penalty, sending the lethal Leafs power play into action. You groan and Ryder chuckles. “You get pretty into this don’t you?”

You give him a look. “If you think that’s ‘into it’ you should see me when they actually get scored on”

“Oh I have, you’ve been losing your shit over there in the corner since about the fifth minute of the first period” he says nodding over toward your table with a smirk. You should feel embarrassed but knowing he’s seen you worked up over hockey and he’s been watching you this whole time makes you feel something else instead, something you don’t quite want to acknowledge.

“See, so I was right. You’re the one who is stalking me” you chirp him. He laughs and puts his hands up again.

“You’ve caught me. Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”. Normally you wouldn't accept drinks from guys, knowing there’s usually always strings attached, but Ryder isn’t normal by any means and you wouldn't even be mad if there were strings attached to this one, so you agree.

“If you can get her attention. I swear I’ve been waiting here pretty much the whole intermission”. After asking what you want he looks around for the bartender and flashes a smile. Within seconds he’s ordered both of your drinks and is looking at you with a smug look on his face, your mouth slightly ajar.

“Unbelievable”, you mutter, but you should’ve known better. You can tell he knows what you said but he still leans down, close to you and makes a big show of saying “what was that?” And if he wants to play games then so will you, so you grab a fistful of his shirt and bring him back down to your level. “I said it’s unbelievable that you can just bat your lashes and that girl rushes over to take your order. Must be nice to be a star hockey player”. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t annoyed, firstly over the fact that you had quite literally been waiting there for a good 20 minutes and she hadn’t even glanced your way, but the minute Ryder shows up he gets taken care of and secondly you didn’t like the way she was looking at him as she quickly filled his order and leaned over the bar to hand it to him, unabashedly showing off her cleavage.

You did however, enjoy the dirty look she threw your way as he handed you your drink and leaned down to your ear to ask if you were jealous. Whether he was referring to his non-existent wait time or if he had caught the pouty look on your face, you were unsure, but instead of inflating his ego too much you left his question unanswered.

You focused your attention on the mark you had left in his shirt at the center of his chest where your fist had grabbed the fabric, wrinkling it. Your hand reached out to smooth it and maybe curiously feel the muscles underneath. Ryder looked down, eyes watching your hand the whole time hoping you couldn’t feel the way his heart was pounding under your touch. Your eyes gauge his reaction and right when you thought you might lose your own self control, the crowd saved you, cheering as Josh Anderson wedged one in past Freddie. You quickly removed your hand from his chest and cheered along with the rest of the Jackets fans. You used the moment as your escape, thanking him for your drink and then turning on your heel, “I have a game to watch!” You told him just like the first time and strolled back to your table, leaving Ryder in a stupor.

Festival

“So tell me again why we had to drive all the way across the city to get donuts that were also at the convenience store right across from our building?” Shay asks from behind the wheel.

“Because he’s stalking kiss cam girl” Dylan pipes in, making kissy faces and then retreating when Ryder shoots him a glare.

“We’re going to Festival because all I know about Y/N is her name and that she lives in the building attached to it and goes to this store all the time” he says matter of factly.

“So we’re stalking her?” Mike sums up.

Ryder just rolls his eyes and huffs out a “no” in the front seat.

“Come on dude, what’s your plan here if you do end up seeing her? What’re you gonna say when she says ‘oh what’re you doing here?’ ‘Oh ya know, I just made my brother drive all the way across the city to get these donuts and oh by the way would you want to go out with me?’” Shay asks, imitating Ryder.

“Well no”, he answers defensively.

“So what’s your plan?” Mike pushes.

Ryder looks down at his hand, suddenly regretting his decision to shove his teammates into a car after practice and travel across town to your door. Well, grocery store. “I don’t know’ I haven’t gotten that far, okay? I haven’t really thought about it”.

At that Mikey dies laughing, “Don’t lie, Rydes! As if you haven’t been rehearsing in your bedroom mirror for the past four days”. Ryder twists in his seat to eye his teammate before he lunges for him through the opening to the backseat, making Shay swerve the car as he turns into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, hey! Watch the shoulder!” He shouts, trying to shield his shoulder from his brother's aggressive movements. Putting the car in park he tugs on Ryder’s shirt, making him sit down and then popping the locks, he’s shoving him out of the car. “We should just leave him”, Dylan mumbles when the door shuts.

--

As he rounds the corner of  the donut aisle for the fourth time, he’s shaking his head at his stupidity. What was he thinking coming to this grocery store on a Monday night and expecting to see you? He’d checked the playoff schedule and there weren’t any games tonight, but that didn’t mean you’d be spending your night at the grocery store. Letting out a long sigh he frowns and grabs the box of Krispe Kreme donuts.

Having been watching him from the end of the aisle, you decide to finally speak up, “Someone having a rough day? I’ve never seen anyone have that reaction when they grab glazed donuts”.

His face lights up when he turns to face you. “You’re here”, he blurts out. His cheeks flame as he tries to recover. “I mean of course you’re here, you live right next door..I mean..” he’s clearly flustered and though you should say something to try and make him relax a little, you can’t help but chirp him just a tiny bit.

“I do. Someone has a good memory...I’m surprised no one’s called the cops on you for loitering. You’ve been pacing around the store for a good half hour now and you look nervous as hell like you’re gonna steal something”.

“Just your heart” he says automatically. His eyes widen and his hands cover his face. “Ohmygod, I can't believe I just said that '' he draws out with a groan, hand sliding down his face. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me” he says with slumped shoulders and red cheeks.

Your head is thrown back with loud laughs that earn you stares from the couple entering the aisle. “That was smooth, Donovan'' you say and put a hand on his arm, scooching a little closer to him to let the couple pass by. He tries to ignore your touch but it’s increasingly harder to do, the longer you let your hand linger.

“ So what are you doing here anyway? Isn’t this like kind of out of the way from campus?” Curiosity fills your voice. Ryder inwardly cringes at his brother being right. Of course you’d want to know what he was doing here and you’d picked up on the fact that it was very much out of his way. instead of answering the question he poorly tried to deflect, unable to come up with much. It’s like his brain won’t function properly around you.

“Well I just needed the world’s best glazed donuts and figured I would go to a grocery store instead of a convenience store because they’re probably fresher?” he offers.

“Uh huh”, you nod, clearly not believing him. “They are prettyyyy gooood” you say reaching across him to grab a box of your own and add it to the basket on your arm, “But not the best.” And you begin to tell him about the little bakery back home that makes literally the world’s best glazed donuts as you walk through the store and finish crossing items off your list.

When you self checkout and all Ryder has is the box of donuts you swipe them from him, scanning them and pulling a pen out of your purse. He’s practically wrestling you in the middle of the checkout, protesting, saying that “under no circumstances will you be walking out of there without money in your hands for the world’s second best glazed donuts”. After receiving dirty looks from the lady behind you in line, you shove the box back into his hands and quickly grab your couple of bags. He holds the door for you on your way out and offers to take your bags and walk you back. You shake your head though, knowing that if he walked you back, you’d invite him in, and if you invited him in he’d be staying until the sun came up.

“Just take your donuts home and call it a win, Rydes”, you say, nodding toward the box in his hand. Your face gets warm at the use of the nickname slipping your mouth but the grin it earns from him is worth the embarrassment of the slip up.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says but phrases it in the way of a question.

A small smile finds its way onto your features, “Maybe,” you turn to walk away, “if you use what’s written on that box”. He suddenly remembers you writing something on the box when you took it from him moments ago. At the time he had been too worried about paying you back that he had forgotten to actually see what you had written. He glances down to see your number messily scrawled on the top of the box, a small smile creeping its way onto his lips. When he looks back up you’re nowhere to be seen.

Turning to walk back to where the boys are no doubt anxiously waiting for him he pops open the box and takes a big, victorious bite out of a donut. He casually slides into the car to find Shay, Mike and Dylan on the edge of their seats. Mike looks a little too smug as he says, “Coming out empty handed I see?”. With an eyebrow raised Ryder asks him if he wants a donut, extending the box toward his obnoxious teammate, nonchalantly showing off the number on the top. Dylan was about to complain that he didn’t get offered any donuts when he spies something out of place on the polka dotted box.

“What’s that on the top-ohmygod you got her number didn’t you? She was actually there? You lucky son of a bitch. This never happens to me” he says, sitting back in his seat and pouting.

Shay’s laughing from the front seat. “That’s the Donovan way. Pay up, Vorlicky. You owe me 10 bucks”.

“Let me see that'' Mike grumbles, yanking the box from Ryder’s hand to inspect. Ryder tried to play it cool, like he had planned it and had no doubts that he’d get your number, but he ends up gushing about it like a little school girl the whole way home. As he finishes the last bite of his donut he can’t help but wonder what your world's best glazed donuts taste like.

Season Ticket Holder Brunch

If you could only eat one meal a day, it would be brunch. There was just something so satisfying about starting your day around 10 or 11 o'clock, sitting down to a fulfilling meal of whatever food your heart desired. It would be perfectly acceptable to fill your stomach with fluffy pancakes and sugary syrup or you could go the cheeseburger and fries route; it was a win win. A week ago, had someone told you that you were going to brunch and there would also be hockey talk/players there, you would have been in heaven. But today you were feeling more like you were going to be in your own personal hell. Not only would you be in the same room as the guy you had kind of humiliated in front of his buddies, but you’d also have to look the one in the eye who you had given your number to and never heard from. Oh and then there was the fact that you’d be with the whole damn Wisconsin hockey team as a fan, a season ticket holder fan at that. You wouldn’t even be going, but as fate would have it, your roommate had just so happened to threaten your life when you had first refused to go, using the phrase “I will kill you myself if I have to”. So here you were, about to celebrate the beginning of a new season with brunch and the stars themselves.

--

His eyes had widened in disbelief the first time he had caught sight of you that day. What were you doing here, at a luncheon exclusively for season ticket holders? Cole looked at his teammate.

“You still haven’t reached out to her yet?” He asked incredulously.

“I didn’t think she was serious. What am I supposed to say?”

“Dude she gave you her number. What more does she need to do? Sack up bro”. Ryder knew Cole was right. You hadn’t thrown yourself at him like other girls did, but you had definitely made it clear you were interested in him. Hell, you had literally kissed him in front of thousands of people and yet, he couldn’t compose a text? He knew he had to speak to you today before you left, but as he watched you greet Coach Granato with such confidence, he lost his.That didn’t mean his eyes didn’t follow you everywhere you went, constantly aware of your presence in the room, even if you didn’t appear to be aware of his.

From a fan’s perspective, the whole setup was pretty cool, you had to admit. The guys were greeting guests as they entered and mingling throughout the room. You knew where Ryder was at every moment and though you wanted so badly to be able to go up to him, you made yourself avoid him. A task that was made very difficult with the warmth of his eyes on your every more. This little dance of yours continued until the presentations started, then the guys were lined up at the front of the room at banquet tables that were facing the rest of the room. There were a couple speeches from the coach and the new captains, and a really well put together hype video, which you watched none of because the whole time you kept locking eyes with the one and only, Ryder Donovan. You both were casting glances each other’s way, alternating whose turn it was to quickly look away, the question in your eyes present each time and the guilt in his.

--

When tables are released to go get their food from the buffet he searches for you. Spotting you in line with a plate in your hand he slides up next to you.

“I was about to offer you a ticket to the game but I guess you’ve already got that covered” he tries. You don’t even turn his way, pretending to survey the food even though your heart is beating a mile a minute just with his proximity to you.

“Oh is that so? And how were you going to do that? I’m assuming you lost my number? And if you didn’t, you really should”.

He hears snickers from behind him and he shoots his teammates a glare before turning his attention back to you. Clearly he’s messed up and he knows he’s skating on thin ice (haha) with you so he tries to choose his words carefully before just deciding to put himself out there.

“I didn’t exactly know what to say? I typed out a bunch of different options, some cheesy pickup lines, a simple hey, but I erased it every time. It didn’t seem...good enough” he admits. Now you look at him, his face confirming his words and you see him look nervous for the third time since you’ve met him, and three times more than you thought you ever would.

“How about a ’hi it’s Ryder’ you’re plenty good enough already, you didn’t need to think of some snazzy message, it’s just me”

“Yeah, but that’s exactly my point. You’re..well you’re you. You’re kind of intimidating and by kind of I mean you’re intimidating”.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that one” you say, but you’re reeling at the boy in front of you calling you intimidating, as if he didn’t know who he was.

“It’s true” he defends, calling Mike over.

“Mike, is she intimidating?”

“Oh hell yeah. I was pretty shitfaced at that game and even I knew not to mess with you after you handed me my ass” he jokes.

“See?” Ryder says, gesturing to Mike as if proving his point. “Okay you’re dismissed Mikey” Mike looks annoyed that he has to leave the conversation but shrugs and follows Ryder’s orders anyway, leaving you alone with Ryder once again.

“Well just know I don’t mean to come off as intimidating”, you tell him, wanting to break the ice and ultimately let him in.

He follows you to your table and then hesitates once he’s there, not knowing if it’s okay to sit down. You pat the chair next to you and his tall frame is collapsing into the chair next to you. Once he’s sitting you can see him visibly relax a bit, noticing for the first time how tiring these events can be for the young men that serve as the entertainment.

“Are you tired yet?” You ask. He can see the concern in your eyes and his heart swells a little at the fact that you might be worried about him.

“Don’t worry about me, today is about you guys, the fans” he teases, leaning toward you to knock your shoulder with his own.

You can tell he’s trying to keep it light, but you wanted a real answer from him.  “And I thought I was supposed to be intimidating. Clearly didn’t scare you into actually answering the question” you say with a light smile. He chuckles at your remark and gives you his honest answer, leaning forward so that he can prop his bent arm on the table and rest his head on his hand, watching you.

“Yes, these things are exhausting. I’m just kind of on display the whole time and have to say the right things all the time  And obviously I’m not very good at that” he motions between the two of you, “but don’t get me wrong I’m super grateful to be in this position and I know it comes with the territory and stuff. It really is fun too, meeting everyone and seeing all of the support and excitement for the team. It’s a really cool thing we have here at Wisconsin” the passion and gratitude leaking into his voice. The smile on your face is genuine as you listen to him open up and you can’t help but think about how easily you could get used to this, to him. Your thoughts are interrupted by another boy stopping at your table.

“Hey bud, coach said you have to fraternize with all of the fans, not just your girlfriend” he says, clapping a hand down on Ryder’s shoulder. Ryder’s cheeks turn the color of the scarlet Badger polo he’s wearing. You laugh at the older Donovan’s remark before sticking out your hand and introducing yourself. Shay gives his brother one last chirp before Ryder is excusing himself.

“I thought I’d never get rid of him” he jokes after Ryder leaves. “Look I know the kid hasn’t texted you yet, but I know for a fact he’s interested in you. I’m assuming you’re coming to our game this weekend?” He asks.

“I think I can arrange that, yes” you say as you watch Ryder work the room. As if he can sense you watching him, he sends a smile your way, a slight blush on his cheeks still.

“- and yeah, that’s the story of how Carole killed her husband and fed him to the tigers” Shay finishes and waits patiently for your reaction.

You only catch the tail end of what he’s saying and are very confused, “I’m sorry what?!”

He throws his head back laughing, earning Ryder’s attention. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, Y/N. You two have it so bad for each other” he taunts. You roll your eyes but there is a definite smile on your face.

“Yeah, says you”.

He smiles back, getting up from the table since you weren’t listening anyways. “I mean it, this weekend. You and Ryder. I’m gonna make it happen” he says pointing at you and his brother. You shake your head at him but don’t protest, continuing to watch the tall boy across the room.

--

With the event wrapping up you decide to head out, having to prepare some stuff for work the next day. You want to make it a point to say your goodbye to Ryder before you leave this time, but he beats you to it as he sees you nearing the door.

“So about that ticket..” he says grinning.

“Oh are you getting me a seat on the glass or right behind the bench?” You tease.

He’s just as quick with a response, “if that’s what you want. As long as I know where to look for you”. You look away not wanting him to see the way your face is heating up. He’s getting good at this.

“D5” you tell him, biting your lip.

“D5” he repeats as if committing it to memory. “Well then I will see you there”, he says.

“Not if I see you first, Donovan” you lightly flirt. He rolls his eyes at your cheesy response, fighting the grin that breaks out on his face.

“Get outta here, Y/N, I'm starting to rub off on you”.

+1

Since the season ticket holder event, Ryder had stepped up his initiative, even texting you for the first time later that day to make sure you had gotten home alright and again apologizing for not messaging you sooner. He made up for lost time by committing all of his free time to you, texting and FaceTiming you every chance he got, even sneaking messages in during practice where you got a text from his coach telling you that Ryder would no longer be available for the next hour as he would be bag skating. The boys let him have it for that one.

Needless to say, you two had grown closer in the span of a week, feeling like you had known each other for ages and you were very much looking forward to the next time you could see him, which would be at his game. Obviously he knew you had tickets for it, but the look on his face when he asked if you would come to his game was adorable.

The gameday experience itself and attending the game as someone’s possible significant other was new in every way and couldn’t have been more perfect from start to finish. Even getting ready for the game was exciting. The moment you walked through the doors of Kohl you were in awe. It was even bigger and better than you had imagined. You were taking so much time admiring the arena that you were a few minutes late to watch warmups. Of course you wandered down to the glass and Ryder was in front of you in an instant. He charmingly tossed a puck over the glass and then was hit by Dylan against the boards. The game itself was electric. The atmosphere was alive and you could tell the boys were feeding off the energy. It was a very tight game for all three periods, but Ryder luckily found the back of the net within the last minute, putting the Badgers up 1 and sealing the victory. He immediately crashed into the glass right in front of you, you capturing the moment with the proudest smile on your face.

--

Waiting for Ryder was nerve racking to say the least. Your eyes kept shifting from place to place and person to person and you exchanged fake smiles with the people you had made awkward eye contact with. There were small groups of family members and girls waiting for the team to make their exit and you stood off to the side by yourself. You couldn’t have felt more out of place if you tried.

Soon enough you see a blonde poke of hair through the doorway of the locker room. With his head above everyone else’s you watch his eyes scan the groups for your face. You find each other immediately and across the room his silhouette starts to make its way to you. As soon as he’s in front of you he’s wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off your feet. Your laughter is genuine, having not expected him to be so open in front of everyone, despite having already kissed on a jumbortron. Once he sets you on your feet, the playful conversation starts. He counters all your quick remarks and the interactions feel as fun and as alive as they used to in middle school when you’d pass notes in secrecy to your crush.

“So what did ya think?”, the nervous Ryder from previous interactions gone and the goal scoring, talented hockey player Ryder taking his place.

A smile tugs at your lips as you decide whether or not you want to inflate his ego any, but after a 3 point night you think he’s earned a little compliment at least.

“It was amazing! This arena lives up to the hype for sure and that #27, damn he’s pretty good. Do you think you could hook a girl up? He was on fire tonight”.

“I might be able to work a little magic. I don’t know though, he seems pretty into this girl already” he drawls out, reaching for you again.

“Well, she’s feeling pretty lucky tonight”.

His teammates begin joining you two, each one giving him a hard time as they enter the picture. “Y/N! I’m glad you showed up, we thought Ryder was gonna have a heart attack when you didn’t show for the very beginning of warmups. I’m Cole by the way, Ryder talks all about you”, he says sticking his hand out.

You giggle at his comment and Ryder’s cheeks. He doesn’t deny any part of what his teammate had just said. “I didn’t know I had to follow the team schedule, but I won’t be late next time” you say, knocking into Ryder’s side.

“Are you coming out with us tonight? We’re just going for a few drinks. Nothing too wild since we have another one tomorrow, but we want to celebrate the first one.”

His question takes you by surprise, as Ryder had said he wanted to hang out after the game but had danced around what he actually wanted to do. But before you can answer he does for you. “We’ll be there, but we have to make a little stop first” he says and then realized that he hadn’t even asked what your opinion on the plans were, “if that’s ok with you?”

You didn’t have the chance to answer, again because Dylan pipes up in the conversation. “Hey, you said I would get next goal!” He whines.

Your brows knit in confusion at whatever Dylan’s complaint is in reference to, as Owen throws an arm over the blonde’s shoulders. “It’s okay buddy, I’ll take you. Ryder has a girlfriend now, so things are going to be different”, O delicately explains like he’s talking to a child, welcoming a new human into the family.

Ryder rolls his eyes at his teammates, but doesn’t dispute or even address the girlfriend comment. “Sorry, D. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But we should probably get going if we want to make it an early one tonight”. The boys nod in agreement and all make the walk to their cars, dispersing. Ryder walks with you to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you and you have to say, even though it’s a small gesture, it still makes you blush and earns him yet another brownie point.

After he gets in and starts to drive you ask, “So where is it that we’re going that Dylan’s so upset about?”

Of course he doesn’t give you a straight answer, wanting to keep it a surprise as long as he can. “You’ll see”.

It’s a short time before he’s pulling up in front of the Capitol building and telling you to “stay put” as he jogs around the front of the car to open your door for you. His hand is held out to help you out of the car and onto the sidewalk. You expect him to drop your hand once you’ve made it safely, but he keeps your hand tucked in his and pulls you along until you”re standing inside Dlux.

With an excited grin on his face he asks, “Are you ready for the best burger and shake of your life?”

--

Ryder was downright passionate, telling you about all of the different shake flavors they had and how he made it a mission last year to try every single one, “AND every month they come out with a new flavor! This month’s is red velvet”. Which one are you going to get?” You couldn’t decide but he assured you that no matter which flavor you chose, you couldn’t go wrong.

He was right on that, eventually leaving the shake decision up to him and he chose the flavor of the month, and it was delicious. The burgers were amazing too, in part due to the fact that you were starving. You’d barely eaten anything all day because of the nerves leading up to being with Ryder that night. Both of you finished your food lightning fast, but stayed to talk well past your plates having been cleared from the table. You only ended up leaving because the boys were blowing up Ryder’s phone with texts asking when you two were coming. When you looked down at your own phone you realized that you’d been there for a good two hours. Time flew when you were with him. He ended up paying for your meal, claiming it was in return for the donuts you had bought for him and though the amounts were very unbalanced, you agreed with the condition of you paying for the next time. He was overly satisfied with the promise of there being a “next time”.

“That was the perfect post-game meal. I can see why Dylan was upset he didn’t get to be your date tonight”, you said once you were back in the warmth of the car.

“Yeah I feel kind of bad, I did tell him next goal at the end of last season when he didn’t get to go”, glancing over at you he can see your eyebrow raised and further explains, “It’s kind of cheesy, but every time I get a goal, I come here for a shake and a burger. Kind of a reward I guess. A little tradition I started”. The small smile that dances across his face is endearing and almost embarrassed.

“Well thank you for letting me be a part of your tradition”, you tell him earnestly. You feel honored that he wanted to include you and share his tradition with you.

He just shrugs, “Well I figured I had to bring my good luck charm to celebrate. You’re coming to my game tomorrow too, right?” a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Your nose scrunches up at his line, but a giggle escapes you nonetheless. “That was really cheesy, Donovan. But yes, I will be there”.

“D5?”

“D5”, you confirm.

--

His hand finds yours again as he leads you to their booth in the back of KK. You can’t help but notice its view of your table in the corner that you’ve spent the majority of the playoffs at.

The boys surprisingly keep their word of only a few rounds of drinks. Ryder stays glued to your side the entire time, only leaving to retrieve you a drink. But soon he was back, an arm resting over the back of the booth, a comfortable weight over your shoulders. He used the noise level as an excuse to lean close to talk to you and you didn’t mind the close proximity one bit. Despite the bar being pretty crowded since it was a Friday night and the team being all around you, it was like you and Ryder were in your own little world.

“It’s kind of funny how things have come full circle”, he notes, ‘here we are, in KK with a Brewers and Stanley Cup game playing”.

You glance over at the TVs and sure enough, there’s a Brewers game on one and a Cup game on the other. You lean into him, a content smile playing on your lips as you think back to the first time you had met him. “I can’t believe we got kiss cammed” you reminisce.

“And I can’t believe how crazy you get watching hockey games”, he teases.

“Hey! I take my hockey very seriously, thank you very much”, you exclaim, giving his side a little jab and then settling to lean against him again. “Fate’s really got our backs, huh? First the game, then here, the grocery, and that brunch”. You revel in all of the times you had somehow ended up in the same place together, each time not knowing that you’d end up seeing the other again.

“Yeah, er, about that”, he says, taking a drink.

You can tell he’s about to tell you something that discredits something you had just said and you groan. “What is it?”

“I definitely drove to that grocery store on purpose to find you, fate had nothing to do with that”, he confesses.

“It’s true. I was the driver!” Shay interjects from beside Ryder, a gentle shove from Ryder following the interjection.

Your head tips back with laughter, “I assumed as much. Your excuse for what you were doing across town was pretty awful”

“Dude, I told you she was going to wonder why you were there and you should figure out a response before you went outside, but noooo Shay never knows what he’s talking about” the older brother butts in again.

“Yeah, exactly, you never know what you're talking about” Ryder says, quoting his brother out of context.

“Except this time”, you chirp, earning a high five from Shay.

“Yeahhh, I like this one”, he approves.

“And to think I thought this was going to work out”, Ryder jokes, gesturing between the two of you.

“Do you guys need to kiss and make up?”, Cole asks from beside you. This gets the attention of Mike and a few of the other boys, who childishly start a chant of “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Things really had come full circle.

You’re grinning as you say, “Fate, Donovan”.

And right before his lips press against yours he says, “Must be”.

The guys cheer, almost identical to the first time, only this time the kiss is a little more heated thanks to there not being thousands of spectators and a jumbotron.

When you finally pull away from each other, Ryder says, “I’m not letting you walk away from me this time. Can I take you out on a date?”

[juniorgman187]

Luck of the Universe (Spencer Reid Screenplay)

Season 9 Reid deserves more recognition. Definitely one of my fav looks/seasons. So I wrote about it :) 

Summary: Years after Spencer saves Maggie’s life, they reunite unexpectedly. Maggie thinks it’s fate; Spencer does not. She challenges him and says they’ll meet again, even without intending to. They do meet again, but not under favorable circumstances. Maggie’s life is in danger and Spencer must save her . . . again. 

Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Angst, Fluff, Screenplay Content Warning: Profanity, pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, violence, death Word Count: 10.5k

DISCLAIMER: This was originally a screenplay but was adapted to have a more cohesive appearance on Tumblr. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Spencer Reid sits outside a cafe to enjoy his beachside view from a coffee shop. Foreign to California’s sun, Spencer has aloe and sunscreen packed with him. He even wears sunglasses wherever he goes. While he patiently waits for the arrival of his coffee, he reads The Narrative of John Smith. The exact copy that Maeve gave him over a year ago. 

Serving his coffee is Maggie. This event will single handedly change both of their lives forever. 

MAGGIE: Let me know if I can get you anything else. 

As she sets down the cup, Reid thanks her, and out of politeness, he tilts his head forward ever so slightly so that his glasses will shift to the bridge of his nose. This way she can see his eyes. And when she does see his eyes, they are so familiar to her, but she can’t place where she remembers them from. Spencer notices her looking at him.

MAGGIE: Oh sorry, you just looked really familiar. 

SPENCER: Actually we have met before. I’m the agent that, um, saved you.   

Maggie stands there for a moment in complete disbelief. 

MAGGIE: Oh my God, yes! No, I totally remember you now. Wow. Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner I’m -

SPENCER: Maggie. 

Maggie peers down at her name tag and gives him a funny look.

SPENCER: No, I genuinely do remember you, and I didn’t just read your name tag. Um I have what’s called an eidetic memory. I’m able to recall things with high precision, even if it was a brief period of time on one occasion. 

MAGGIE: Really? That’s incredible. I wish I could say the same. All I could remember after being resuscitated was your eyes. I meant to thank you, by the way, for saving me, but at the time I was too in shock. I went to the police department the next day trying to find you, but you weren’t there. And as it turns out, it’s not so easy searching for a pair of hazel eyes. 

Spencer smiles. 

SPENCER: I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m a Supervisory Special Agent with the Behavior Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia.

Hearing his name completely changes her. She says it to herself in disbelief. For years she’s wondered who he was, and now she knows.

MAGGIE: So what brings you back to California? 

SPENCER: We finished a case here earlier. I’m just killing time until I go back by reading.

MAGGIE: May I?

Maggie extends her hand to ask for the book politely. Spencer hands it to Maggie. She recognizes it almost immediately. 

MAGGIE: Oh, I love Arthur Conan Doyle. This is just one of those novels I wish I could read again for the first time. 

Spencer doesn’t respond, he’s just so enamored by the way she thinks and speaks. She misinterprets his silence as a sign that he’d rather not keep talking. 

MAGGIE: I should probably let you get back to reading. I wouldn’t want to keep you from the opinionated Everyman John Smith. I hope you have a safe travel home.

Maggie begins to get up from her chair.

SPENCER: Wait um, I don’t normally ask this, but I still have a few hours until my flight and I’d really love to keep talking with you so do you think maybe we could go somewhere or -

MAGGIE: I would love to, but I’m working until the closing shift tonight. 

SPENCER: Oh okay. 

Maggie is conflicted. Against her better judgement, she agrees. 

MAGGIE: You know what? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere. 

Excitement rises in Spencer. When Maggie goes into the coffee shop, he tries to contain himself. He fixes his hair and straightens out his cardigan and tie. Maggie comes back out. 

MAGGIE: Ever been to the pier?

. . . 

Maggie and Spencer are looking out onto the ocean from the pier. It’s one of the rare times that they aren’t being swallowed by a huge crowd. It’s just them, a few other people, and the sunset. An ocean breeze blows through, making Maggie shiver and bump into Spencer. 

MAGGIE: My bad. Sorry. 

SPENCER: Do you want my - 

MAGGIE: No, no I’m fine. 

Spencer ignores her statement and drapes his cardigan around her. Though she would never admit it, it sort of smells like him - and it’s the most comforting smell in the world. 

MAGGIE: It’s beautiful isn’t it?

Maggie says while looking out to the sunset.

SPENCER: Yeah, it is. 

He says while looking at her. 

After a couple seconds, she notices him staring, looks at him, smiles, and nudges him. 

MAGGIE: It’s getting late. We should head back. 

Spencer follows close behind as Maggie leads the way. 

MAGGIE: I wish we could’ve hung out longer, but I don’t want to leave Tony running the shop alone for too long and I wouldn’t want you to miss your flight. 

SPENCER: For what it’s worth, I enjoyed the little time we did spend together. 

MAGGIE: I did, too. 

SPENCER: So maybe, when I’m back here, we could make plans. 

MAGGIE: I’ll look forward to your return then. 

Maggie and Spencer walk a little longer in a comfortable silence, until finally they’re back at the coffee shop. 

MAGGIE: Do you have a pen?

Spencer hesitates for a moment, but ultimately, has to place his hand on Maggie’s hip to retrieve the pen inside the pocket. This gesture startles her and causes her to remember that she was wearing his cardigan. 

MAGGIE: Oh sorry, I forgot that I was wearing this.

SPENCER: No keep it. It looks better on you anyway. Consider it an early birthday gift. September 8 right?

MAGGIE: How did you- Oh right. Eidetic memory. 

Spencer hands her the pen and Maggie reaches for a napkin from the table and writes her number on it.

MAGGIE: So if you’re ever insanely bored at 3 a.m. or you’re not busy saving someone’s life, call me. 

Spencer takes the napkin. 

SPENCER: Will do.

He tries to mask how excited he really is. 

Maggie heads back inside, but stops herself at the door. She turns back to Spencer.

MAGGIE: (genuinely asking) Do you know how often people reconnect without intending to after years of not seeing each other?

SPENCER: Not very often I suppose. 

MAGGIE: This could very well just be a huge coincidence, but it really feels like some luck of the universe that I’m talking to you right now. And I think we’ll be seeing each other soon again. 

Spencer’s intrigued. As a doctor, he’s pragmatic. Romantic notions such as destiny and luck - he wasn’t a believer of. Even God, he was skeptical of. But he wanted to see Maggie again, even if that meant he had to agree that it was fate after all.

SPENCER: And if we don’t?

Maggie pauses to answer his question. 

MAGGIE: Then we will eventually. 

Before Maggie opens the door, she notices Spencer pulling money out of his pocket to pay for his coffee. She stops him.

MAGGIE: It’s on the house. 

She says with a small smile that’s returned with a grin that creeps upon Spencer’s face. When she fully enters the cafe, Spencer is left alone with his thoughts. 

. . .

It’s the next day. The BAU is seated at the round table. Penelope is presenting the case. Reid’s momentarily distracted. He plays with the napkin in his book. It’s the napkin with Maggie’s number on it. His fixation lasts for so long that he misses the presentation entirely. It’s only when JJ asks him a question directly does he tune in and snap out of his trance. 

REID: What was the question?

Reid shifts in his seat uncomfortably and tries to hide his confusion by opening up the case file. 

ROSSI: You’ve been awfully quiet this morning. A little too quiet. Care to share?

REID: Nothing. Just thinking. 

He’s lying and they all know it. The team exchanges suspicious glances.

REID: Sorry, Garcia, could you repeat it one more time?

GARCIA: Why of course! Anything for you, Boy Wonder. A week ago, Brynn Dryer disappeared from her home late at night. 48 hours after she was reported missing, a couple jogging past a lake found her body. In the M.E’s report, there was a terrifyingly large amount of evidence that she was brutally beaten and clubbed. The official C.O.D was blunt force trauma to the head and the lake was nothing more than a disposal site. Less than a day later, Eliza O’ Hara went missing after someone invaded her home. Yesterday local P.D found her in the middle of a  field by the highway. Same M.O. The police department is anticipating that when you land, another girl will go missing. 

Spencer notices something. 

REID: Wait, can you put their pictures side by side?

Garcia does so. Spencer makes a connection. 

JJ: What is it, Spence?

REID: The similarities between the two victims are uncanny. Notice the eye color, skin tone, hair style, even down to the freckles they have.  

BLAKE: Alright so he’s got an aggression toward brown eyed, tan brunettes with bangs and freckles. 

ROSSI: And I have an aggression toward telemarketers but you don’t see me clubbing them to death. 

HOTCH: The cooling off period between kills is getting shorter. He’s escalating and we’re going to put a stop to this before he hits his stride. Garcia, you’re coming with us. Wheels up in 30.

The team is leaving the round table. 

. . .

The team is on the flight. 

HOTCH: JJ, as soon as we land, I need you setting up a press conference to let the women in the area know to be vigilant. After that, we’ll interview the family’s of Eliza and Brynn. I need Blake and Reid working on the geographical profile. Dave, you and Morgan will take a closer look at the bodies and see if you can’t gather more information. And Garcia, 

GARCIA: Yes, sir?

HOTCH: Find as many more connections between these women as you can, and contact any other women who fit the victimology. 

GARCIA: Yes, sir. 

ROSSI: Apparently, it'll be 101 degrees when we land. Remind me again why people live in California?

Reid perks up. He didn’t even know he was going back to California. But now that he does, he’s even more on edge. 

. . .

Reid works on the geographical profile, while Blake assists from her chair. There’s something off about Reid, and she’s about to find out what. 

BLAKE: Hey, you alright, Reid? You seem like you’re a million miles away. 

Reid stops working on the map. He turns around to face Blake. 

REID: I met this girl yesterday. She was actually a former victim I resuscitated. And before I left, she said she had a feeling we would see each other again soon.

Spencer pauses and purses his lips. 

SPENCER: She looks just like the other victims.

BLAKE: So you’re worried that when you see her again, it’ll be because of this case. 

REID: Do . . . do you think I could call her? To let her know. 

BLAKE: I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to break the rules if I were you, but I can’t, in good conscience, advise you to let her know what’s happening. By doing so, you’re giving her an advantage other people don’t have. If she tunes into JJ’s press conference, I’m sure she’ll be safe. 

REID: I thought Maeve was gonna be safe too. Look how that turned out.  

Blake is at a loss for words. Here she is, the linguist, and yet she can’t find the right words to tell Reid to comfort him. 

. . .

JJ sits beside Garcia as Garcia sets up her system. 

JJ: Spence has been acting really weird today. 

GARCIA: So it’s not just me! I knew something must’ve been wrong because earlier on the flight, I asked if he wanted to play online chess with me and he said no. Can you believe that? I know he’s all anti-tech and everything, but he’s never passed up a game of chess. So that’s why I’ve already done some digging.

JJ gives Garcia the face of “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

GARCIA: Okay, but before you say I shouldn’t have, you should see this. 

Garcia pulls up a small window on her computer to show to JJ. JJ is shocked. 

JJ: A three hour call with his mom last night? Could’ve just been his regular check in.

GARCIA: See that’s what I thought, too, but look. 

Garcia scrolls further up the call list. 

JJ: He hasn’t called his mom in months. 

GARCIA: We all know Reid tells everything to his mom. Something must’ve happened yesterday. 

Unbeknownst to Garcia and JJ, Reid walks in. 

REID: Hey, guys - what’re you looking at?

It’s too late now. Reid’s already seen it.

REID: You’re keeping tabs on me now? How long have you been monitoring me? Huh?

Anger possesses Reid. 

GARCIA: Just since this morning. I only looked at your call history briefly. 

REID: Unbelievable. 

JJ: We were just worried about you. We all are. There’s obviously something going on. 

REID: So then ask me about it. Ever thought of that? 

JJ: We’re sorry. 

REID: Yeah no, I’m fine, thanks for asking. 

Reid storms off from JJ and Garcia. 

. . .

Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan all meet Garcia, JJ, and Blake before delivering the profile. Spencer’s missing.

MORGAN: Where’s Pretty boy?

BLAKE: I thought he was going to talk to Jennifer and Garcia.

GARCIA: He did, but something happened . . . he was upset and left. I thought maybe he went back to working on the geo-profile.

HOTCH: Garcia, when did you last speak to him? 

GARCIA: Oh, I don’t know, sir, um, maybe fifteen minutes ago?

HOTCH: Morgan, go find Reid. We’ll deliver the profile. 

MORGAN: Where should I be looking?

BLAKE: He went to a coffee shop yesterday. I’m not sure which one, but it’s a start.

. . .

Reid is frantically entering the coffee shop. He scans the room for Maggie but doesn’t see her. 

TONY: Hey, what can I get for you?

SPENCER: Is Maggie here?

TONY: Who’s asking?

SPENCER: (flashing his badge) I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI. Let me ask you again, where’s Maggie?

TONY: Didn’t show up today. 

SPENCER: Did she call in sick?

TONY: Nope.

SPENCER: When was the last time you saw her?

TONY: Last night when we were working the closing shift.  

SPENCER: Do you know how she got home?

TONY: She walked. I tried to offer her a ride, but she said she likes to walk. Something about clearing the mind. 

SPENCER: Did she walk alone?

TONY: Mhm. 

Spencer’s mind swirls. He is living his worst nightmare all over again. When he turns around and sees Derek pulling up. Reid rushes out of the coffee shop and hops into the passenger seat immediately. Derek doesn’t even question it. 

REID: Drive. I need Garcia on the phone. 

Derek dials her.

GARCIA: Did you find Rei-

REID: (cutting her off) Garcia, I need you to look up Magnolia Tate. Get me her address. 

MORGAN: What is it, Reid?

REID: She didn’t show up to work today. Her coworker said the last time he saw her was when she was walking home. She fits the victimology. Garcia, the address? 

GARCIA: 178 Citrus Boulevard. Be safe. 

REID: Thank you, Garcia. 

GARCIA: Of course. And, Reid?

REID: Yeah?

GARCIA: I’m really super-duper sorry about earlier. 

REID: It’s fine. I know you guys were just looking out for me. 

Reid can sense Garcia smiling through the phone so he promptly hangs up knowing their business is resolved. 

MORGAN: Reid, there is a good chance this could just be a coincidence. 

REID: I’m telling you - nothing with this girl is just a coincidence.

MORGAN: Well, have you called her yet?

REID: No.

MORGAN: Then call her now, Reid. 

REID: I can’t. 

MORGAN: Yes, you can. 

REID: I can’t. 

MORGAN: Why not?

REID: I’m scared that if I call her, I won’t be able to stop, and I’ll want to keep talking to her, but I can’t do that. Not when I know what it’s like loving something death can touch.

MORGAN: Is this about Maeve?

REID: It’s always about Maeve! Morgan, I watched her die in front of me. And just knowing that right now I could be in the same position -

MORGAN: Listen, I know how guilty you feel about Maeve. Man, I feel guilty about her, too, but you gotta understand that if this is connected to our case, you’re gonna save her. Trust me on this. 

REID: Yeah, okay. 

MORGAN: So how do you two know each other?

REID: She was actually a previous victim of ours. Nearly a decade ago, I performed CPR after her ex-boyfriend pushed her off the boat, bound and gagged. They were out on the lake watching the Fourth of July firework show, but a witness recognized her from the news, which ultimately saved her life. Prior to that, he killed practically all of her next of kin because he believed they were responsible for the restraining order she filed against him. 

MORGAN: Why’d he risk taking her out in public?

REID: He was recreating their first date. How do you not remember this? 

MORGAN: Actually, now that you mention it, I do remember the case. Cause you made that stupid joke that he was trying to reignite a spark.

Reid makes an offended/sad face. Morgan smiles.

REID: You know, taking into consideration how much emotional trauma we’ve been through combined, there is a very real possibility that our relationship would be, for lack of a better word, doomed. She has no parents, my mom has schizophrenia. We’ve both been held hostage. I’ve been hospitalized, and she’s potentially been abducted for a second time. 

MORGAN: Seems like the perfect fit to me. 

REID: I’m being serious. 

MORGAN: I am, too. 

REID: Statistically, 40% of all long distance relationships end up failing in some way, including relationships where the partners are married. And of that 40%, 70% of these failures occur because of unplanned circumstances that happen to one of the participants in a relationship. Unplanned circumstances are practically a part of our line of work. Not to mention, most long distance relationships survive on two in-person visits per month. But relying on getting two cases in California per month is completely unrealistic. 

MORGAN: Kid, you can give me all the statistics and numbers to convince me why you shouldn’t be together, but the one thing you haven’t said is that you don’t like her. 

REID: Fine, I don’t like her. 

MORGAN: Then why am I driving to her house?

Reid pauses, not ready to admit he’s wrong. 

REID: Because this could be a lead on the case. 

MORGAN: Whatever you say, Pretty Boy. 

After a long period of time, Reid finally speaks.

REID: At first, I only noticed her because she looked like Maeve. Even when we were talking, it felt like I was talking to Maeve again. But then, she surprised me. She said that seeing me again felt like a “luck of the universe.” That’s when I realized, she’s not a girl who reminds me of Maeve. She’s her own person. She’s Maggie.

MORGAN: See that wasn’t so hard now was it?

REID: I will crush you.

. . .

Morgan and Reid are walking up the flight of stairs to get to Maggie’s apartment. 

MORGAN: Remind me again of the plan. Because realistically, she could just be playing hooky or be out somewhere else. 

REID: Once we get to her apartment, if she’s not there, I’ll call. 

MORGAN: Have we thought about what we’re gonna say if she is there? Oh sorry ma’am, we thought you were kidnapped.

REID: I’ll figure it out. 

Reid and Morgan are in her hallway. Morgan knocks on her door, but the door moves when he knocks on it. It’s open. Morgan and Reid exchange glances. Morgan reaches for his gun as he cautiously opens the door wider to enter. When they do, there’s no one inside. But there was an obvious sign of a struggle. A glass vase has been smashed.

REID: Call Hotch. I’ll call her. 

Morgan goes to the side to let Hotch know.

REID: (to himself) Please pick up. Please pick up.

MAGGIE: (her voicemail) Hey, it’s Mags. Sorry I couldn’t get to the phone right now, but if you leave a message I’ll call you back when I can. 

Hearing Maggie’s voice almost makes him want to break down in tears, but he composes himself. 

MORGAN: Reid, we gotta go. Garcia found something. 

. . .

Hotch, JJ, Blake, Rossi, and Garcia are all together in the conference room while on the phone with Reid and Morgan. 

MORGAN: What’d you find, Baby Girl?

GARCIA: Well after doing some digging, I unearthed Marcus Linden and Toby Forthword. Who are they you may ask? Good question. They are Eliza O’Hara and Brynn Dryer’s sons. And you’re probably thinking, they have children? Yes indeedio they do. The reason I didn’t find this earlier was because when Brynn and Eliza were teen moms, they set up closed adoptions for their sons before they were born. I’ve been trying to find any contact they might’ve made with the agency or their kids since the adoptions, but I haven’t been able to. I thought that was weird, but I started searching for other women that fit the criteria, and would you believe - there was one. 

The pause Garcia takes before saying it, tells Reid it’s Maggie. 

GARCIA: Magnolia Tate.

Reid is at a loss for words. His mind is trying to wrap about what he’s hearing, but it’s all so much. 

HOTCH: Could you find any more connections?

GARCIA: A week before the abductions, all three of them went to a clinic for women who were pregnant or planning to be. 

Reid bites his lips as he tries to grasp it all. 

REID: Is she pregnant? 

All of them know who he’s referring to. 

JJ: Spence . . . they all were.

If Reid’s jaw could be on the floor, it would. Even Morgan winced as JJ revealed the news. A moment of silence falls over the group as they all feel for Spencer. Hotch is the first to speak after nearly a minute of not.

HOTCH: Apply those precedents to teen mothers in the early 2000s and cross it with women that gave birth to sons who ended up in the system instead of being adopted. 

MORGAN: Baby girl, look at kids that are around 18-20 now. He would’ve been recently freed from the system. He’ll most likely have a history of anger management issues or disciplinary issues. 

ROSSI: The mother might also be recently deceased. 

JJ: There’s your stressor.

BLAKE: With the death of his biological mother, he wouldn’t get the answers he wanted. He’d look for them from the women that his mother is similar to. Brynn, Eliza, and Magnolia all serve as surrogates. Garcia, he’d be aiming to work in the system. Not only would he want to prevent other kids from going through what he did, but it would also explain how he found them. 

JJ: You know the fact that all three women were pregnant could account for his anger. To him, that’s the ultimate form of betrayal. Giving their son up, only to have another child in the future to keep.

GARCIA: Got it. 

Spencer is still trying to process. He stays quiet as he fiddles with the napkin. It almost appears as though he might tear it.

. . .

Maggie’s balled up in a corner, hugging her knees. She’s badly beaten. She’s bleeding, her eyes are swollen from crying and she’s looking down at her stomach. The unsub is standing, watching this.

UNSUB: Don’t cry, Magnolia. I wouldn’t have done that if you just answered me. 

MAGGIE: You killed my baby!

UNSUB: And I’ll do more if you don’t answer me!

MAGGIE: Please . . . I can’t give you the answers you want. I’m not your mother. 

UNSUB: If you don’t answer me, I’ll hurt your little boy. I’ve been watching him very closely. His name is Elijah Martin, cute kid by the way. Quite the over-achieving 12 year old. He’s in soccer and track and field. Wanna see his school picture?

Maggie closes her eyes and turns her head so she doesn’t have to see. 

UNSUB: See, Magnolia, what you’re going through right now, is only a fraction of what I had to go through in my foster homes. I was tortured, bullied, abused. All because that old hag didn’t want to make the sacrifice to be a mother. So answer me this, how could you give him up?

MAGGIE: I may not have made the sacrifice to be a mother, but I did make a sacrifice the day I chose not to be his. I wanted to keep him. I cried when I watched him leave with that other family. But I couldn’t be the mother he needed.

UNSUB: Why haven’t you called him? Or tried to get him back?

MAGGIE: Reaching out would’ve done more harm than good. Not knowing who I am, or who his father was, meant that we could never stand in the way of his future. He can reach his fullest potential - free of mine or Charlie’s hindrance. 

The unsub understands Maggie. She’s gotten through to him. But he still carries anger. He groans in frustration and grabs Maggie by the collar of her shirt.

UNSUB: We’re gonna take a little trip.

. . . 

The BAU is at the local Police Department. Garcia is reading to them what she’s found. 

GARCIA: I know a textbook serial killer when I see one. His name is Ray Lewis-Fernandez. Throughout his time in foster care, he was a troublemaker. He never stayed for more than a month in a group home. Quite a Dennis the Menace, according to his foster families. It also says here that he got caught on multiple occasions trying to get his file so he could find his mother. Her name was Shawna Heights, and I say “was” because she passed away exactly two weeks before he was emancipated. 

MORGAN: So this guy is finally able to find his mother on his own, only to realize he missed her by two weeks. 

GARCIA: Talk about bad luck. But that isn’t even the worst of it. If Ray did do some digging after his emancipation, he would’ve discovered that Shawna had two sons and a daughter only a few years after he was born. 

JJ: Did he try to contact them?

GARCIA: No, but that’s the surprising part. I profiled him wanting to reach out and be one big ol’ happy family, but then I remembered I’m not a profiler.

REID: Wait, that might actually be it.

Everyone is shocked to hear Spencer speak up. 

GARCIA: Wait, I’m right?

REID: Foster families mentioned he’d been trying to find his mother but at the core of its meaning - he’s trying to find family. If his mission is to find family, he wouldn’t stay away unless he had to. Garcia, check if there’s a restraining order on Ray. 

GARCIA: Bingo, Boy Wonder! Malcolm, Shawna’s husband, filed it against him just days after Shawna’s funeral. 

REID: The restraining order means he can’t come within a certain distance of the kids, right? So he wouldn’t risk it all just to have lunch with them or send a letter. Think about it - high risk, high reward. Ray would only violate the order, if he could have them completely. But in order to not get caught, he’ll use maternal figures to lure them. They just lost their mother and seeing or talking to someone so similar to Shawna would make them that much more susceptible. But Brynn and Eliza are both mothers who have given up their sons. This means they know what inadequate guardians look like. They’re aware the kids are better off with Malcolm, and they won’t be responsible for abducting them and placing them under Ray’s care. It would completely go against their own reasoning for giving away their children. Their refusal to help him execute the plan angers him to the point of murder. He isn’t just killing because they’re surrogates for his rage, but because they refuse to help him achieve his goal. 

ROSSI: The kids are his endgame. 

BLAKE: All he’s wanted is a family. Now that he knows he has one that hasn’t already betrayed him, he’ll stop at nothing to have them.

HOTCH: What’s the address, Garcia?

GARCIA: Already sent it, sir. 

The BAU rushes out of the conference room. 

. . .

Maggie and Ray are sitting in his car. They’re watching the three children play - staking them out. Malcolm - their father, is nowhere to be seen. We’re to assume he’s at work while they’re at home. 

RAY: You see the boy with the red hoodie? That’s Malcolm Jr. He’s the oldest. Same age as your boy. Then Evan is the middle child. He’s eight. But the baby - she’s my favorite. Her name is Ariel cause of her red hair. She’s six. 

Maggie smiles for a split second before frowning. 

MAGGIE: You don’t have to do this. 

RAY: And I’m not. Because you will. 

Maggie breaks her gaze from the children to look at Ray with shock. 

MAGGIE: No, no, no I’m not kidnapping them. I won’t do it.

Ray retrieves his gun and points it at her stomach. 

RAY: You had a chance to have your family with Elijah. But you gave him up. Now that I have a chance, you’re gonna help me. 

MAGGIE: What if I don’t?

RAY: You’re smart. Figure it out.

MAGGIE: I will not be taunted with death if I don’t help you take someone else’s babies away. So go ahead, kill me. I’ve got nothing left to live for anyway. 

A gunshot. 

Standing in front of the car, is Malcom with his shotgun. The windshield is shattered by a single bullet that penetrated it. Malcolm fired a shot right through Ray’s head. Maggie is alive and in complete and total shock. Once Malcolm knows he’s dead he rushes to her door to help her. 

MALCOM: You have to unlock it. 

Maggie is forced to reach over Ray’s dead body and unlock the car. When she does, Malcolm helps her exit the vehicle. Maggie’s seen putting pressure on her stomach to stop the bleeding. 

Within seconds of escaping, police SUV’s arrive. Spencer is the first to run out of the car. 

Relief overcomes Maggie. 

MAGGIE: Spencer!

She stops him before he can hug her.

MAGGIE: No wait! I’m bleeding. 

Spencer ignores this and embraces her. Maggie sobs hysterically when he does. 

MAGGIE: He . . . he killed my -

SPENCER: Shh, I know. I know. I’m here now, okay?

Neither of them pull away. 

MAGGIE: Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re here. I knew I’d see you again. 

SPENCER: Yeah, you did. You were right Mags. 

These words make Maggie shut her eyes and smile. 

Hotch approaches the pair from behind. 

HOTCH: Miss Tate, there’s an ambulance here for you. Let’s get you to a hospital.

Maggie nods as Spencer helps her limp to a stretcher. 

When she situates herself and is lifted into the back of the ambulance, Spencer turns to Hotch. 

SPENCER: Can I - 

HOTCH: Yes, yes, go. We’ll meet you there. 

Spencer enters the back of the ambulance and sits beside Maggie as they ride to the hospital together. 

MAGGIE: You’re coming?

Spencer nods and gives a small reassuring smile. 

Another tear escapes her eyes as she smiles through the oxygen mask to thank him. 

. . .

The entire team is seated in a waiting room. Spencer is standing up and pacing as he waits for the doctor. 

A doctor soon enters. 

DOCTOR: Is there a Spencer Reid?

Spencer comes over quickly. 

SPENCER: That’s me.

DOCTOR: Come with me, sir. 

Spencer follows the Doctor. 

DOCTOR: Luckily, the lacerations didn’t travel far enough to do a significant amount of damage that would require surgery, but we did have to perform a blood transfusion due to the amount of blood she lost. 

SPENCER: How’s the baby?

DOCTOR: It was too early to tell the sex of the baby before she miscarried. She’s awake now and has been asking for you. 

SPENCER: Thanks. 

The doctor leaves as soon as Spencer knocks on the door. 

SPENCER: (quietly) Maggie?

Maggie’s face lights up when she sees him. 

MAGGIE: Hey you. 

Spencer pulls a chair closer to Maggie’s bedside to take her hand and kiss the back of it. She smiles as he does this. 

SPENCER: How are you feeling?

MAGGIE: Is it possible to feel incredibly lucky and incredibly lucky at the same time?

Spencer gives her that small reassuring smile. 

MAGGIE: I’ll be okay.

SPENCER: Good.

MAGGIE: I’m starting to regret not letting Tony take me home. 

Maggie and Spencer share a laugh. 

SPENCER: Yeah, I think you should let him drive you from now on. 

MAGGIE: Yeah, you’re probably right, but I don't think I want to work there anymore. Or even live here for that matter. 

SPENCER: I don’t blame you. 

MAGGIE: I grew up here, but it doesn’t feel like home anymore. 

SPENCER: Where are you thinking of going?

MAGGIE: Well, I completed my bachelor’s degree to become an English teacher, but I never applied to any schools. I think in my gut I knew I didn’t want a job to tie me down here, otherwise I’d never leave California - no matter how much I should. So realistically anywhere that’s offering positions to English teachers is ideal. 

Hearing Maggie’s an English major doesn’t surprise Spencer. 

SPENCER: You know, when I go back to D.C, I can find open teaching positions for you. Moving there would be a big change, but I think you’d feel safer at least.

MAGGIE: I think I would too. And I wouldn’t mind the change. Getting a couple thousand miles closer to you doesn’t sound so bad.

Spencer cheekily grins. 

SPENCER: Yeah?

Maggie nods. 

Hotch enters the room.

HOTCH: It’s time. 

Reid nods and turns back to Maggie. 

SPENCER: I’ll see you soon.

MAGGIE: Can’t wait. 

SPENCER: Goodbye, Maggie. 

He sits up and kisses her forehead. For a moment, he rests his forehead on hers. Maggie smiles when he does this little gesture. 

MAGGIE: Thank you. 

Spencer nods and shuts the door behind him when he leaves. 

With a heavy heart, Spencer leaves the hospital. 

. . .

On the plane back, everyone is asleep besides Spencer and Hotch. 

HOTCH: How is she?

SPENCER: She’ll be okay, but I can’t seem to figure out why. I thought she’d be broken. And I think deep down she is, but when she smiles, she isn’t faking it. 

HOTCH: “Sometimes the ones who have the brightest smiles are the ones who have known and endured deep darkness.”

SPENCER: Dodinsky. (the author of the quote)

. . .

It’s been a week since Spencer has visited Maggie, but he’s back now. Maggie is lying on her hospital bed, with Spencer entering her room. He hides something behind his back.

SPENCER: Knock! Knock! I brought you something.

MAGGIE: Oooh, fun!  

Spencer pulls out headbands with the words “Fourth of July” in block letters. 

SPENCER: Here. 

He slides one on top of her head and puts the other on himself. 

MAGGIE: What’s this for?

SPENCER: Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, we subconsciously link the tragic event with the date it happened on. It happens most often with death anniversaries, birthdays, or in your case, holidays. But I want to make the Fourth of July a good holiday again. So earlier, I asked the doctors if I could take you up to the roof to watch the fireworks. 

MAGGIE: Spencer . . .

SPENCER: Humor me. 

Maggie’s reluctant but she still reaches out her arms to have Spencer help her out of bed anyway. He wheels over the wheelchair to her and she groans. 

MAGGIE: Are you actually gonna make me use that?

SPENCER: I mean, you’re welcome to walk around the hospital with your backless patient gown.

Maggie laughs and complies. Spencer begins to wheel Maggie out of her room and into the elevator that goes up to the roof. When they finally get there, Maggie’s face lights up. There’s a whole picnic set out for the two of them. A blanket with small fixings is laid out for them. 

Maggie rises from the wheelchair and turns around to engulf Spencer in the biggest hug. 

MAGGIE: Thank you. This is like the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. 

Spencer hugs her back even tighter. His hand is on the small of her back, and for a second he can feel her smooth skin, but like the gentleman he is, he tightly wraps Maggie’s hospital gown to cover her exposed skin. A small gesture that to Maggie, does not go unnoticed. 

. . . 

Maggie and Spencer's backs are lying flat against the blanket. They’re in the middle of a conversation where each of them are smiling.

SPENCER: JJ said that Henry wanted to dress up as his favorite profiler, and he came into the office as me. I even gave him my badge.  

MAGGIE: That is adorable! I can’t wait to have kids and celebrate Halloween with them. 

Spencer goes quiet, making Maggie realize what she said. 

MAGGIE: Oh, gosh, sorry I did not mean for that to take a dark turn. 

SPENCER: Do you want to talk about it? 

Maggie pauses. 

MAGGIE: Um, I mean, sometimes I get sad, but for the most part I’m okay. I think I’ve finally accepted that it happened. You know, I’m actually sort of relieved that I didn’t carry the baby full term, because could you imagine how complicated that would be? Yeah, it’s . . . it’s better this way. And I’ve always wanted a family, but if I had that sperm donor’s baby, I wouldn’t have a family, it’d just be me and the baby. But I want my child to grow up with a father, you know?

Yes, Reid does know. He wishes his father was around. 

SPENCER: Yeah, I do. 

MAGGIE: What about you? Do you want kids?

SPENCER: Absolutely. It’s funny because I always say that I could never picture myself leaving my job and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. But if I had kids, they’d be the exception. I, uh, 

Spencer lightly laughs and looks down. 

SPENCER: Yeah, I don’t know, I just really want to be a dad one day. 

MAGGIE: You’d be a really good dad. I mean that. 

Originally, Maggie and Spencer were both looking up at the sky, but after Spencer turned his head and Maggie turned hers, their faces were only inches away. Spencer licks his lips as he contemplates kissing her. But he pivots. He smiles and kisses her forehead. 

Simultaneously, a firework goes off, startling the duo. Maggie laughs in excitement. 

SPENCER: Did you know that at MIT, one of the lessons they taught students earning their degree in chemistry was how to make a firework?

MAGGIE: You know how to make one? What do they use to make the colors?

SPENCER: Good question. To create certain colors, different physical elements are used. Magnesium creates a bright white light, like that one right there. While strontium and lithium each showcase a different shade of red, like the first one we saw. But the most dangerous colors to form, blues and greens, are formed from barium and copper. 

Spencer’s explanation continues for a little longer. The view above the pair zooms out. They’re just two small people on the roof of the hospital. 

. . .

Spencer is in his apartment. He’s on the phone with Maggie. 

MAGGIE: So I’m looking at an apartment in Manassas right now. It’s only half an hour away from the school and it’s a 45 minute drive from your apartment. 

SPENCER: You’re not very good at changing the subject, Maggie. Even now, I can read your body language. 

MAGGIE: I’m not changing the subject. I’m just mentioning my other options that are unrelated to the one you proposed. 

SPENCER: Wow, is the idea of living with me really that bad?

MAGGIE: No! I would love to live with you. 

SPENCER: But?

MAGGIE: But you’ve already done so much. You’ve saved my life twice, visited me every week I’ve been in the hospital, made the Fourth of July fun again, and helped me find a great teaching job over there. So I am sincerely grateful, but moving in with you would feel like taking advantage of your good heart. You’ve done a lot for me already, okay? I can take care of myself from now on. 

SPENCER: Okay, think of it instead as a mutualistic relationship. We both receive net benefits from moving in. You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me because I’d be gaining something from it, too. I’d have a roommate and my rent would dichotomize. And for you, you’ll only be driving 15 minutes to work instead of 30. 

MAGGIE: Did you ever consider being a lawyer? You’re quite convincing. 

SPENCER: So is that a yes?

MAGGIE: It’s a “Yes I’ll move in with you but only if Plan A doesn’t pan out.”

SPENCER: Promise me you’ll think about it. 

MAGGIE: Okay, fine. I’ll think about it. 

SPENCER: Say it. 

MAGGIE: I promise. 

Spencer yawns. Maggie hears it. 

MAGGIE: What time is it over there?

SPENCER: 11:54. 

MAGGIE: Spencer! Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve been asleep like two hours ago.

SPENCER: I’ll be fine. I don’t have to be at work until 7.

MAGGIE: You of all people know how bad it is to get less than 8 hours of sleep. I’m gonna hang up now so you can at least get 6. 

SPENCER: Then I’ll call back.

MAGGIE: Then I’ll decline. 

SPENCER: Fine, if I go to sleep, you have to agree to consider living with me as more than a Plan B.

MAGGIE: I already said I would! 

SPENCER: Mmm no. I’m not really feeling it. You have to say it nicely.  

MAGGIE: If you sleep now, I’ll consider living with you as more than a backup plan. 

SPENCER: Music to my ears. Sleep well, Maggie. 

MAGGIE: Sweet dreams, Spencer. 

Spencer lets Maggie hang up. Let it be known, that he has never once ended a call. 

. . .

It’s a few weeks later. Maggie’s finally out of the hospital. It’s official that she has the teacher job - no interview required thanks to Garcia. Currently, she and Spencer are packing the last of her things away into boxes in preparation for the cross country move she’s making tomorrow. 

MAGGIE: I know I’m still a little fragile, but the doctor said I’m all clear to resume normal activities. So would you please let me help you with the boxes?

SPENCER: Mmm, I don’t think so. 

MAGGIE: Need I remind you that I’ve been through worse than packing?

SPENCER: That would violate our designated jobs! I pack the boxes - you label them, remember? 

Spencer picks up a book from her shelf and reads the spine of it. From the looks of how empty the bookshelf is, he’s been packing away the books this entire time they’ve been packing.

SPENCER: By the way, I love your book collection. Very diverse. But the way you’ve organized them is peculiar, though. 

MAGGIE: What do you mean? Each shelf is categorized by genre. 

SPENCER: No, I figured that out, but why not in alphabetical order? Cause, see, you have several books from Dickens, but they’re sporadic on your shelves. And again with Austen and Steinbeck, you have several of their books, so organizing by last name means that all the books by the same author would be together. 

MAGGIE: Alright then, when I move, you can organize my bookshelf. 

SPENCER: Sweet!

MAGGIE: I was joki-

Maggie notices that Spencer actually takes pleasure in organizing her books, so she refrains from saying she’s joking. 

MAGGIE: Can I see a box? I forgot I have stuff on my fridge still to take down. 

SPENCER: Here. 

Spencer hands Maggie a box. Maggie begins to fill the box with her fridge magnets, postcards, and small reminders she put on her fridge. Only one picture is left on the fridge - a sonogram picture. Maggie had completely forgotten it was even there. But she drops the box immediately and pulls it off, placing it close to her chest. 

SPENCER: You okay?

Maggie pauses for a moment cherishing the picture. 

MAGGIE: Yeah.

SPENCER: What is it?

Spencer comes over. 

MAGGIE: I thought I threw this away, but I guess I didn’t. It was my first sonogram. 

SPENCER: Oh, from a few weeks ago?

MAGGIE: No - years ago. This is Elijah’s. 

Maggie smiles when she sees the picture. 

SPENCER: I think you should keep it - the picture I mean.

MAGGIE: Yeah, I think I might. I mean, if it’s stayed with me all these years, no sense in throwing it away now. 

Maggie puts the picture at the top of the pile in the box. 

. . . 

Maggie and Spencer are on the plane heading to Virginia. Reid’s reading and Maggie is sorting through some papers with an earbud in one ear.

MAGGIE: Before we left, I contacted the landlord for that apartment in Manassas weeks ago, but he never got back to me. 

SPENCER: I guess it’s a good thing you have a Plan B then. 

Spencer smirks. 

MAGGIE: Remind me again that we mutually benefit so I don’t feel so guilty that you’re constantly helping me but I can never find the opportunity to pay you back. 

SPENCER: Stop it, okay. I want you to move in with me. 

MAGGIE: I snore really loudly. 

SPENCER: Completely okay. 

MAGGIE: I take long showers. 

SPENCER: Not a problem. 

MAGGIE: Late at night, I’ll get random bursts of energy and get really hyper and bothersome. 

SPENCER: So do I. 

Maggie groans in frustration. 

MAGGIE: I feel like you know the reason why I don’t want to move in with you, but even I don’t know why. 

SPENCER: It’s quite simple actually. You’ve spent nearly a decade living alone. And because of that, you think you prefer isolation over having company. But in reality, you’re just scared. Because the last time you were surrounded by a lot of people, they eventually died, essentially abandoning you. And it might not seem like it, but I know exactly what that feels like. To be scared of abandonment. 

MAGGIE: Really?

SPENCER: When I was three, my dad left me and my mom. And a year ago, my girlfriend was shot in front of me.

Maggie’s speechless. 

SPENCER: You and I - we’re scared to let people in and get attached to them. The reason is because we’re afraid to suffer or let go. So, we think, in order to protect ourselves, we have to stay away from the people we’re getting attached to - which is hard because it is equivalent to avoiding the privilege of becoming happy. So we’re caught in the middle of which pain we’d rather endure - the pain caused by unhappiness and loneliness, or the pain that we know, nobody will ever be strong enough to stand against - the pain of letting go. 

Maggie’s astonished. 

MAGGIE: If our love could’ve saved them, they would’ve lived forever. 

A tear rolls down Maggie’s cheek. Spencer uses the pad of his thumb to brush it away. 

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are at the baggage claim of the Virginia Airport. Maggie yawns and leans into Spencer, who puts his arm around her and comfortingly rubs her. 

SPENCER: Tired?

MAGGIE: Extremely. 

SPENCER: We can get coffee on the way home. 

MAGGIE: Are you reading my mind right now?

Spencer laughs.

Maggie sees her suitcase come through on the conveyor belt. Maggie lifts her baggage up, and they begin to exit the airport. 

. . .

Spencer is driving and Maggie is in the passenger seat, trying to fight her sleepiness. 

SPENCER: Tell me about your parents. 

Maggie’s surprised by not unwilling. 

MAGGIE: My mom’s name was Amina. She met my dad, Sonny, in college, and had me when she was 24, but he took off when she got pregnant. At first, I didn’t mind it just being the two of us, but when I was seven, there was a father-daughter dance at my school. I wrote him a letter inviting him to it. He didn’t show up, of course. Not that I really expected him to, but ever since then, I’ve resented him. My mom used to say that he was the reason why I dated Charlie. She said that I never got to see an example of what a good man looks like or how a girl should be treated. In hindsight, she was totally right. 

SPENCER: How did she react to your pregnancy?

MAGGIE: Well, at first she said she was gonna slap Charlie, but she wasn’t even really mad at me. Instead, she just said that if I wanted to have a future and if I wanted the baby to have a good future, I should set up an adoption. Later that same year, she helped me file a restraining order on Charlie. My mom was always looking out for me. It felt like she always knew what the right choice was.

SPENCER: She sounds like a really good person. 

MAGGIE: And she was. I just wish I told her that more often. Growing up, I thought one day I’d get a job and become rich enough to support the both of us. I’d even buy her a range rover - it was a car she wanted since forever. I never got to do that for her, but she used to say to me, “Some people are so poor, all they have is money.” And I think about that everyday. I was never spoiled or born with a golden spoon, but we were so rich in love. She loved me so much, that she’s the reason I wanted to have a baby. Just days after her death anniversary, I visited the clinic. It’s silly, but I just wanted to be half as good a mother as she was.

SPENCER: I feel the same way about my mom. I wanted to grow up and create a cure for schizophrenia by the time I was 29. And even though I’m far from doing so, I’m not giving up hope that I still can. 

MAGGIE: Does she live here?

SPENCER: She’s in a facility in Vegas. 

MAGGIE: Well, if I ever find myself in Nevada, I’d really like to thank her for raising the perfect son. 

Spencer gaily smiles.

SPENCER: Would you maybe want to visit her with me one day?

Maggie nods.

SPENCER: You two would have a lot to talk about. She was a former professor of 15th century literature. 

MAGGIE: Does she still hold lectures?

SPENCER: She does. I attended one of them years ago. It completely changed my perspective. I realized that I owe all of who I am today to her. 

MAGGIE: Then we have to attend one of her lectures when we visit.

SPENCER: She’ll be so happy when I let her know. 

Maggie and Spencer continue to talk about literature. 

. . .

Now in a coffee shop, Maggie and Spencer are nursing their drinks at a table in the corner of the cafe. 

MAGGIE: Earlier, we were talking about your mom a lot, but on the plane, we spoke about your dad leaving when you were really little.

SPENCER: Yeah, um, eventually he wrote a letter saying that he just didn’t know how to be a dad to me anymore. That and he couldn’t deal with my mom’s paranoid schizophrenia anymore. 

MAGGIE: I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s not easy growing up without a dad. 

SPENCER: He’s partly the reason I want to have kids. I want to be the dad mine never was.

Maggie nods. 

SPENCER: I’m not as mad as I used to be about it. Over time, I slowly stopped caring about him. 

MAGGIE: As you should. 

SPENCER: Um, we still have an hour before we’re home so-

MAGGIE: Yeah, no of course. Lemme just use the bathroom really quick before we go. 

Maggie leaves her phone and her coffee cup at the table. Spencer sips from his drink but stops when he sees Maggie’s phone ringing. The call’s number has a familiar area code. Spencer instantly recognizes it from Manassas. He realizes that the caller is the landlord from the apartment in Manassas that Maggie said hadn’t gotten back to her. He looks at the bathroom and sees Maggie isn’t back yet, so he declines and deletes the call. 

He wants Maggie to live with him, and knowing the landlord called her back would ruin any chances of that happening. And Spencer wasn’t taking any chances. 

. . . 

Maggie and Spencer are finally at his apartment. They’re climbing the flight of stairs, with Spencer carrying Maggie’s backpack for her - like a gentleman. When they reach his door, Spencer unlocks it and opens it for her to walk through first. In that same breath, confetti comes flying. 

Maggie is startled by this, but comes to realize that the entire BAU is in his apartment. A banner hangs behind the team saying “Welcome!”

She laughs and goes to greet each of them.

JJ: I’m JJ. 

Maggie shakes her hand. 

MAGGIE: Maggie Tate. Nice to meet you. 

MORGAN: Derek Morgan. I’ve heard a lot about you. 

MAGGIE: All good things I hope. 

HOTCH: Aaron Hotchner. 

MAGGIE: Right of course. I remember you from the day you guys found me. 

BLAKE: Alex Blake. Nice to finally meet you. 

MAGGIE: Likewise.

ROSSI: David Rossi. Spencer’s Italian grandpa. 

Maggie laughs and Rossi greets her by kissing each of her cheeks. 

ROSSI: Got any Italian blood in you?

MAGGIE: Oh, I wish. Half Filipino, half Mexican. 

ROSSI: A beautiful mix nonetheless. 

Finally, Maggie meets Penelope. Before Maggie can even say anything, Penelope envelopes her in a huge hug. 

MAGGIE: You must be Penelope!

She pulls away.

GARCIA: At your service. 

MAGGIE: I really like your glasses. Cool color. 

GARCIA: (to Spencer) I love her already. 

Maggie returns to Spencer after all the greetings.  

MAGGIE: Did you know they were gonna do this?

SPENCER: I might’ve. 

Maggie turns back to everyone.

MAGGIE: I wish I would’ve known I was meeting you all, I would’ve worn something nicer than leggings and jet lag. 

They laugh and tell her that it’s not a problem. 

GARCIA: So we thought you guys might be hungry, so there’s chips and guac as well as other little snacks. 

MAGGIE: It’s crazy, because I was craving just that.

Penelope gasps and smiles. She extends her arm for Maggie to wrap her arm around. 

GARCIA: Well then let’s dig in. 

Garcia leads Maggie arm in arm to the food. While Spencer draws back to set her things down. JJ waits up for him. 

JJ: She’s pretty. 

SPENCER: She is, isn't she? And she’s more than that, too. Everytime we talk, she never fails to surprise me with her wit or mind. She reminds me a lot of you. 

JJ smiles as Spencer and her rejoin the group. 

. . .

It’s almost the evening now, and Maggie and Spencer are bidding each guest goodbye. The last one to leave is of course Penelope. But when she does, Spencer and Maggie are alone again. Spencer shuts the door behind Garcia, and turns and presses his back to it and sighs. Maggie exhales too. 

SPENCER: I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think this would last for as long as it did. 

MAGGIE: No, no don’t apologize. I like spending time with them. I’m pretty sure Garcia’s energy cured my jet lag. 

Spencer laughs and walks back to Maggie.

MAGGIE: I think I’m gonna go shower now. Try to wash off the flight from me. 

Spencer nods and leads her to the bathroom. 

SPENCER: Just turn this knob to the left if you want it hotter, and to the right if you want cold water. When you’re done just press down on this. 

Spencer presses on the little knob, and when he does, the shower sprays him with water and sprays Maggie, too. She squeals and begins to laugh when she sees Spencer’s hair is drenched. It’s all stringy and in his face, so she pushes it back to see his smiling face. She leaves her hands around his cheeks, cupping his face. 

MAGGIE: Well that’s one way to get wet!

SPENCER: Oh yeah? What’s the other?

The delivery of his innuedo is so subtly seductive. Maggie dismisses it and laughs instead. 

MAGGIE: Um, just tell me where the towels are and I can bring you one to dry your hair. 

He points her in the direction and Maggie promptly leaves the bathroom. When she does, Spencer sees himself in the mirror and realizes just how ridiculous he looks. But on the inside, he feels doubly ridiculous. He’s so embarrassed from what he just said that his cheeks turn red. 

. . . 

Spencer is cleaning up what was left of the welcoming party. He’s in the kitchen, when he hears Maggie exit the shower. Her hair is damp and stringy, and she’s drying it with a towel. Spencer notices the clothes she’s wearing. She has on sweatpants and to his surprise, his shirt. 

MAGGIE: I forgot my pajamas were with the moving truck. I hope you don’t mind. 

SPENCER: Not at all. 

Maggie thanks him with a smile and walks a little more into the living room. She notices that the couch has a blanket and pillows on it. 

MAGGIE: What is this?

SPENCER: What do you mean?

MAGGIE: Are you gonna sleep out here?

SPENCER: Yeah, why?

MAGGIE: No. 

SPENCER: No what?

MAGGIE: No, you’re not sleeping on your couch in your own apartment. I won’t let you. 

SPENCER: It’s fine really. I’ve slept on it before. 

MAGGIE: Do you not want to share a bed?

SPENCER: No, it’s not about that. I just want you to have the bed to yourself. 

MAGGIE: If anything, I should be sleeping on the couch because I’m a guest.

SPENCER: No, I’m serious. I’ll sleep out here. 

MAGGIE: Okay fine. 

Maggie dramatically flops onto the couch. 

MAGGIE: Then I’ll join you. 

Spencer sighs and shakes his head. 

SPENCER: You’re really gonna sleep on the couch with me?

MAGGIE: Mhm. 

SPENCER: Why are you being so stubborn?

MAGGIE: Why are you being so stubborn?

SPENCER: Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying?

MAGGIE: Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying?

SPENCER: You’re acting childish. 

Spencer comes over to Maggie. He stands in front of her, towering over her small figure. 

MAGGIE: You’re acting childish. 

SPENCER: Stop repeating what I’m saying.

MAGGIE: Stop repeating what I’m saying. 

SPENCER: I mean it, Maggie!

She shoots up from the couch and makes a grumpy face to imitate Spencer. Their bodies are so close. 

MAGGIE: I mean it, Maggie!

Spencer takes the opportunity of their closeness and uses it to put his arms behind her back and swoop her up - bridal style. Maggie squeals and tries to squirm out of his arms, but he resists and carries her all the way into the bedroom. He tosses her onto the bed and starts to tickle at her sides. 

MAGGIE: Stop! Stop!

Maggie’s laughing so hard, she’s breathless. 

SPENCER: Not until you agree to sleep in the bed. 

MAGGIE: I want to sleep on the couch with you!

SPENCER: Well I guess I’m gonna keep tickling you then. 

Maggie laughs so hard she’s almost in tears. Suddenly, she sees a window of opportunity to escape. When she does she runs out into the living room. Spencer chases after her through the apartment. Maggie dodges some of his attempts to capture her, but is ultimately outrun by him. He gets her to fall flat on the couch as he hovers above her. Both of them are smiling and breathless. 

SPENCER: You’re not gonna give this up are you?

Maggie shakes her head no. 

SPENCER: Alright, I surrender. But if in the morning, you wake up and find that you’ve magically teleported to the bed after falling asleep on the couch, it wasn’t me. 

MAGGIE: Deal. 

. . .

It’s sometime late at night and Spencer has finished showering. Maggie’s traveling through his apartment and looking at everything closer. She notices he has a record player. And all the records are classical music.

MAGGIE: Interesting record collection. Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach. Why am I not surprised?

SPENCER: Am I that predictable?

MAGGIE: Just a little. Care if I try to expand your music taste? 

Maggie pulls out her phone. After some scrolling and typing, she begins to play “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron. Spencer is unfamiliar with this song, but it’s abundantly clear Maggie loves it. 

MAGGIE: Do you dance?

SPENCER: Oh, no, no. 

MAGGIE: Just dance with me. I’ll teach you. 

The song plays in the background as Spencer shyly approaches Maggie. Maggie puts one arm out and Spencer takes her hand. Then he timidly puts his hand on her back, but with confidence, Maggie slides his hand down to her waist. Maggie puts her hand on his shoulder. Promptly, Spencer and Maggie both peer down at their feet as Maggie leads the dance. She does the classic box step, and after fidgeting around, Spencer gets it. 

MAGGIE: There you go. You got it!

They dance a little more. 

MAGGIE: Do you think you can lead?

Spencer nods, and Maggie lets him lead. As the song reaches the chorus, Spencer finally gets his confidence. He doesn’t have to look down at his feet anymore. He finally looks at Maggie. To her surprise, Spencer spins her and dips her. They stay put in this position. Neither of them break eye contact.

MAGGIE: You sure you don’t dance?

Spencer sheepishly smiles and shakes his head. He brings her up from the dip. Maggie’s flustered from the thrill of dancing with him, so much so that she pulls away.

MAGGIE: So, did you um, did you like the song?

SPENCER: Yeah, I did. 

MAGGIE: You know, that, that could be like our song. 

SPENCER: Our song. Yeah, okay. 

. . . 

It’s the middle of the night now. Maggie is sprawled across the couch, asleep. Spencer is at the table reading. He only has one dim light on so as not to make it harder for Maggie to sleep with a bigger light on. He peers over the couch and sees that she’s sleeping so he picks her up and carries her bridal style again. When he lays her in the bed, she stirs and mumbles. 

MAGGIE: (quietly) Spencer?

SPENCER: (whispering) Sorry, I was trying not to wake you. 

MAGGIE: Can you just sleep in the bed? I don’t want you on the couch. 

SPENCER: Yeah, yeah. I’ll sleep on the bed. I’ll sleep soon, but I’m just gonna be outside reading. Goodnight, Maggie. 

Maggie’s already fallen fast asleep again. Spencer leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. 

As Spencer approaches the table, his reading material can be visibly seen. A thick stack of papers within a manila folder labeled “CONFIDENTIAL.” He opens it to resume reading the contents. On the very front, a scanned picture of a man’s driver’s license is paperclipped to another paper. The name on the driver’s license reads, “S.J Glover.” a.k.a Sonny Jr. Maggie’s dad. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[winterromanov]

Maybe a college Bucky one where he’s being playing games out of town, and trying to study for exams and he’s just so tired but trying to keep going and reader makes him nap and relax and it’s just very Soft ☺️

pairing: bucky x reader (set in the same universe as this fic)

Trying to play football and also be a competent college student is an Incredibly Difficult Feat. You know this, because watching Bucky vault himself from away games to home games to mid terms to finals is about the most exhausting thing you’ve ever seen. If he’s not studying he’s at practice, and if he’s not playing he’s in an exam. It’s like watching a manic, sleep-deprived whirlwind, living almost entirely off coffee and takeout noodles.

He’s not taking care of himself. He’s pushing and pushing and pushing, trying not to let anybody down--as if he could ever do that.

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you say, as he crashes face-down on the bed in your dorm, the night before he leaves to play a game at Harvard and minutes after his Cold War history deadline. You’ve not seen him eat anything the last twenty-four hours. “Look--you won the last game. Steve said you could sit this one out.”

A vague mumbling comes from your bed. His face is smothered by the pillow and he’s too exhausted to even turn over, so you poke his ass with your foot. His hand reaches out, reflexes still ridiculously quick, pulling you onto the bed with him.

“Sorry, love,” you smirk, curling as close to him as your tiny mattress will allow. His arm pulls you close to his waist, palm splayed across your back. His heartbeat is unrelenting beneath his shirt, thudding between you. “Didn’t quite hear that one.”

His head shifts so you’re basically nose-to-nose, his grin sleepy and delirious. He’s gonna pass out any second. You’ve seen it many, many times before in the last hectic few weeks--you’re probably gonna see it a few more. “I’ll be fine after nap. Promise.”

“Don’t you dare fall asleep before I can force a pizza down you,” you warn, and he laughs, deliberately snuggling into the pillow and letting his eyes flicker closed. You can’t resist--running your hand through his hair, along his face. Kiss his forehead. “Goddamn it, Buck. You’re making it very difficult for me to look after you.”

“You being here is enough,” he says softly and before you have chance to reply he’s gone, lost in some dream. You slowly creep out of his embrace, making the pizza for him anyway. By the time you wake up the next day his body is a phantom shape in your bed but the pizza is gone--he’s left you a bright pink post-it note on the plate. Scribbled in his usual scrawl are the words thank you always favourite girl.

-

we won!!! harvard ain’t better than us at FOOTBALL

wish u could have been there

renaissance lit is being a bitch :(( well done you STAR. miss you more every moment so get back quick

should i hijack the bus and speed down the freeway

if you must

consider it done

love you

love you more than anything

-

The next game is thankfully a home one against Yale so you can at least keep an eye on him--you’re just protective, that’s all, not wanting him to burn out in front of you. There’s a lot of gym sessions and library cramming and a grand total of one dinner date at his apartment, where you made a pasta dish with as many vegetables as you could think of in as possible (his mom had sent you a message afterwards with immense gratitude because her son needed his greens, damn it). The following evening you’d wrapped yourself in one of his jerseys and sat in the bleachers alongside an injured Sam--injured and bitter about it--and waited in the lights and the noise for the game to begin.

“Bucky tells me you’re worried about him,” Sam interjects rather suddenly and when you blink back, he shrugs his non-injured shoulder nonchalantly. “Not that I blame you. That dude just doesn’t let up, does he?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shivering a little. The November air is cold, even wearing Bucky’s sweater. “He keeps telling me the season will be over before long, but I...I don’t want that to be a couple of weeks too much for him, you know?”

Sam hums thoughtfully. Around you, the crowd practically fizzes with excitement, covered with facepaint and aggressively chanting team songs at the opposing side. You’d never been to a college football game before you started dating one of the team’s star players, but you have to admit, the atmosphere is kinda addictive. Watching Bucky play is kinda addictive.

“If I know Bucky, and boy do I know him,” Sam eventually replies, squeezing up closer to you as more people gather into your stand. A girl is openly staring at you both--it doesn’t happen that often, but more so at games. People know Bucky, and Sam, so people know you. “He’ll get through this all okay. He always does, (Y/N). I’d been pretty damn surprised if he doesn’t make captain next year.”

You stare at the bright, clean grass of the field, and think of a boy so fucking exhausted from trying to balance his life that he can barely function half the time. Bucky would be an awesome captain. You just don’t want him to become a dead firework because of it.

-

The game ends up being pretty close but Yale just snatch the victory. It doesn’t mean that they can’t win the season, but. Bucky makes his way over to your stand at the end of the game like he always does, taking off his helmet and mouthguard. He also looks extremely deflated, like he always does when they lose.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking his face in your hands. He looks angry at himself. And you know what he’s thinking. I should have pushed harder. “Shit happens. You were still amazing.”

He kisses you over the barrier in a display of affection you were once too shy to give away in public, but you need him as much as he needs you. When you break apart you plant a chaste, gentle peck on his jawline, running your thumb over the shadow. 

“You two make me sick,” Sam interrupts the moment, arms folded. Bucky flips him off while smiling sweetly and you can’t help but laugh. “Honestly. Didn’t ask to be violated, but here we are.”

“Payback for every single time I’ve walked in on you doing unspeakable things with the girl from the top floor on our kitchen counter.” Bucky snaps back teasingly. You like watching the banter unfold between the two of them. You’d be worried if Bucky and Sam weren’t taking the piss at every given opportunity.

Sam gestures pointedly at his injured right shoulder. “I cannot believe you’d treat a fallen comrade like that. I’m disgusted.”

“And so was I when I saw the state of the kitchen counter.” Bucky gives you one last kiss, clutching your hand. “See you after I hit the showers, yeah?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Your promise him, and his eyes glow just a little brighter.

-

When Bucky facetimes you from Brown the very next week, he looks like he hasn’t slept for at least three days. His Ancient Chinese history exam is literally a day after he arrives back from the trip and he’s frantically cramming in his hotel room in Rhode Island, while also trying not to fuck up the team’s chances of winning the season.

“Just one more game after this,” his grainy voice says on the other end of the video feed, head lolling against the headboard of his Holiday Inn bed. You wish he was in your bed. God, you wish he was in your bed. “And the season is over and I don’t have to be away from you ever again.”

“I don’t think your mom would like it if I stole you away for Thanksgiving.” You joke, tongue poking between your teeth. His lips curve, half a laugh escaping from his chest.

“That’s why she personally invited you to stay with us for the holidays. She’s worried you might sneak in there first and drag me to Virginia. She already knows I’d go wherever you go.”

Your smile is kinda wistful. “Except when you go to Rhode Island.”

“Except when I go to Rhode Island.” He repeats, sighing dramatically. He rubs one of his tired eyes. “Ugh. Who thought coinciding pre-Thanksgiving exams and football season was a good idea, huh?”

“I have no idea, but I’m prepared to have words with them.” You tilt your head. “Don’t work too hard, yeah? It’s one exam. It’ll all be okay in the end.”

“I know, I know.”

You want to keep talking, on and on until the early hours like you do sometimes, because time is apparently not real when you and Bucky are on the phone together. But he needs sleep, and you need sleep, and occasionally you’ll do things for the greater good. “Good luck for tomorrow. Brown won’t know what’s hit ‘em.”

“They better not,” he jokes, “Will you be live-streaming the game?”

As if you wouldn’t. You can’t pretend that you always know what’s going on or any of the rules, but you always try to watch him if you can. He’d do the same for you, over and over and over. “Already got the tab open on my laptop and everything.”

Bucky’s grin is near effervescent, even through your patchy wifi connection. “I love you more than anything, you know that?”

“I may have had an inkling.”

-

hello y/n 

HELLLOOOOO

u know brown are the best losers because they lose and give you TEQUILA

omg are you drunk

never been DRUNK IN MY LIFE!!!! but im at this cool party and stEv e has found a girl and i miss u

i miss u so much . and like i just do generally 

whenever ur not ar oUnd 

oh sweet boy. you are very drunk.

im serious though

sometimes i think about how much i love you and it scares me

because then i th ink what it would be like if you wreent there 

and that makes me so fucking sad i cant breathe

y/n

y/n ???????????????

hellooo 

have u gone to bed

no, just messaging steve to make sure he gets you back safe. im not going anywhere. just please please look after yourself. love you always

-

“I’m sorry about those messages I sent you last night.”

You grab him in the tightest hug possible, his hold all still hanging off his arm, rain spattering down from dark clouds outside his apartment block. You hold him for at least ten years, you reckon, because the thought of him being so fucking sad he can’t breathe makes you so fucking sad you can’t breathe.

“You’re a terrible drunk who says things that make me emotional.” You laugh tearfully into his sweater and he grips you even harder, if possible. The shards of glass jabbed between your ribs start to dissolve as you inhale every single part of him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I know.”

-

His last game is the day of your renaissance literature exam and for once you’ve been the one not eating and relying on caffeine, anxiety lingering round your jittery bones like an irritating ghost. Your interactions with Bucky are a battle between you wishing him aggressive luck for what could be the winning game while he equally aggressively says your exam will go fine, they always go fine, it’s an easy A for sure. 

Your exam isn’t until the afternoon so you spend the morning pacing about your bedroom looking at a sporadic mess of post-it notes on your wall declaring quotes and context that you hope will just stick in your brain. When Lizzie from down the hall says there’s a package for you you don’t actually think much of it, too busy to deal with something you’ve probably forgotten you ordered from Amazon--but she makes some comment about how fancy it is, wrapped up in striped paper.

Your name is in print across the front so it doesn’t leave a clue on the sender, but as soon as you rip into it and find a bundle of things nestled between tissue paper, you know instantly. It’s kind of embarrassing you didn’t click sooner. 

Dear Y/N - you’ll ace it, favourite gal. 

You try not to break down in sleep-deprived and emotional tears as you pull out a brand new sweater in your favourite shade of burgundy, a vintage copy of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, three different kind of Hershey’s bars and a dumb little teddy bear wearing your college jersey. He’s sent you a fucking care package. He’s away at Princeton, and he’s sent you a care package, because exams drive you crazy and he’s just... Well, he’s Bucky.

-

i got your present

have i ever mentioned that i love you

i may have had an inkling

-

He doesn’t really leave you a choice, does he? Besides, the game is only at Princeton, and if you catch the train the moment you escape the uneasy warmth of a crowded exam hall you should be able to get there in time. 

You’ve never been to Princeton stadium before, but you grab one of the last tickets available and rush onto their crowded bleachers just before the game is about to begin. The lights are heady, the atmosphere is electric, and you’re about to watch the man you lovingly, completely, unrelentingly call your own play the game he loves almost as much as you at a stadium forty miles from home. 

hey steve, you text his closest friend, hoping he’ll see it, get buck to look at the front of the stairs near block d when you come out

y/n if this is what i think it means he’s going to lose his goddamn mind

:)

When the team runs out you notice the number five on his jersey straight away, a constant fleeting image in your head from the countless games you’ve seen him play. Even from a distance, Steve’s eyes catch your own and his arm starts gesturing violently in your direction, Bucky taking a couple of moments to catch on.

It’s a good job the game isn’t due to start for a few more minutes, because absolutely nothing can stop him from automatically sprinting to your side of the field and kissing you senseless, cameras and crowds be damned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he says on a dizzy outtake of breath.

“Couldn’t miss the last game of the season, could I?” You gently push his chest, urging him to go back to his team. “And neither can you. Go back to them. I’ll be waiting.”

He steals your lips for one more second, giddy and pumped full of adrenaline. “I really lucked out the day I met you, didn’t I?”

His mouth is hot. Hot. Unmistakable. Real. Always, always real. “Not as lucky as me.”

my masterlist

send me a request

[a-simple-imagine]

The Absence Of Field

Synopsis: You haven’t known her very long but she’s about change your life forever

Pairing: Dolores Abernathy x fem!reader

Words: 2k+

A/N - I’m obsessed with Season 3 dolores so I decided to write about her. I don’t really expect anyone to read this but yeah!! It’s based off season 3 episode 3 of Westworld and shall be continued as such. 

Warnings - Swearing, kidnapping, guns and minor violence

"How long do you think this will go on?"

"Which?"

"The rain?" Heavy rainfall descends from the cloudy dark sky, hitting the window in a symphony of sound. The digital clock that sits on your bedside reads 3:00 A.M. Her toned arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you snug against her torso. Soft lips ghost the back of your neck bringing a flurry of beautiful butterflies to your stomach. It wasn't the first time and surely not the last. She had that effect on you; it had been that way since you first met. A sigh leaves your lips as you focus on one drop of rain as it travels down the glass. It had been raining a lot the last couple of days; you didn't mind though. You quite enjoy the rain.

"Expect showers all week," It's impossible not to notice her absence all of a sudden; it's almost like your sense of comfort had been dragged away. The blonde was perched on the edge of the bed; her back to you and head down when you roll over to see her. Your brows furrow for a moment as you notice how hard her hands press into the mattress. The energy in the room shifts with the harsh silence.

"What's wrong?" She turns to you for a moment and you can't help but smile. She's always so put together so it's always a pleasure to see her just out of bed. The messy hair is a particular favourite. Despite your short time together there were little things you had come to notice and enjoy about her presence.

"Do you like the world that was made for you?"

Such a question had a vastly complex answer. Did you like the world that was made for you? What made her ask such a thing? "The world wasn't made for me," you answer quietly, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. When you were little you used to wish there were stars up there, painted or otherwise. When you got older you considered it; it was hard to see the night sky with all the lights and pollution but decided against it. You were too old or perhaps just too embarrassed. You had never felt any real attachment to the world and why would you? You'd been alone most of your life. Fighting for every little thing you had. Sure this place had its positives but for the most part, it was dripping with greed and corruption. You weren't unhappy but you couldn't exactly say you were happy either. You've read books on how things used to be before technology became the centre of the world. It was apparently just as ugly and corrupt but at least they had real animals like elephants and tigers; more than just your typical house pets. "I don't think it matters if I like it or not, I didn't exactly get a choice in being born?"

"You have a choice now."

"I suppose," you shrug. "I've never really thought about it that way. Why do you wanna know? Are you gonna ask me about the meaning of life next?"

The last part had been a joke but perhaps it had been a step too far as the blonde doesn't reply. She simply gets up and proceeds to collect the few items she left so neatly on the dresser. Fuck, had you screwed this up already? It must be bad for her to leave abruptly at three in the morning. You push yourself up into a seated position, "Did I do something wrong?" The blonde doesn't answer again so you decide to follow her.

"Dolores," Her name galling from your lips brings her to a stop at the door; hand lingering on the ugly doorknob your landlord wouldn't let you change. you're just a few paces away, tired and confused. You just wanted to go back to bed but with her. "... please don't go."

So weak and pathetic, the words didn't sound like your own. You had never begged someone to stay before but there was just something about Dolores. Something that made her special and it wasn't her beauty although she had a very pretty face.

"You're a distraction that I don't need right now." Her voice was firm; surprisingly cold. The doorknob squeaks as she turns it and the door slowly opens. "I suggest you lay low for a while."

~~

It's no mystery as to why you can't stop thinking about Dolores. She left you in the middle of the night with no explanation. You may not know each other very well but you liked her and you liked spending time with her although admittedly that time had been short. What exactly had you done wrong? Was she scared off by your slightly pessimistic outlook on society? Perhaps it was something else entirely? Maybe she just didn't like you. It didn't seem that way when you were together but looks can be deceiving.

It was really cold this high up; it didn't help that this building didn't have four walls, so it was nothing but the cold wind blowing against you. The entire building was empty for construction, so other than the two men who had you cornered between the barrel of their guns and the concrete below, you were completely alone. You were putting on a brave face but you were absolutely terrified. Their questions drowned out by the loud thumping of your heart in your chest. You felt like you couldn't breathe. You were sweating under the intense pressure despite the goosebumps from the chilly air. It wasn't even possible to answer their questions and yet they insisted on repeating themselves; getting more worked up as they go along. The two of them had conveniently bumped into you on the way home from work. They showed you a picture and offered you money. You could have really used the money, your crappy apartment wasn't cheap but you had to deny the offer. It seemed shady. The ironic part is that the picture was of Dolores. They wanted to know where she was? You wish you knew but you didn't. She hadn't told you pretty much anything other than her name. She looked different in the picture but you couldn't quite place why? Perhaps it was the blue dress she wore or the fact she had her hair down and it was longer. Either way when you didn't comply they dragged you to their car and that's how you ended up here.

You had lost track of time but it felt like you had been here for hours.

"I really hope she's worth all this trouble." The talker of the men grumbles. He wore a black suit; they both did. With a sky blue tie. The other had a red tie. This was business for them; their job if you will. You wonder why they're after Dolores anyway. She's just one girl, what made her so important.

"Why are you protecting her?" The other man asks. "Just tell us where she is and this'll all be over."

Had you known the answer would you give her up? It was the way to save yourself but was in terms of morals was it the right choice. "I- I don't know what you're talking about,"

You could hear the fear in your voice despite the stiff upper lip. Denying you know the girl at all seemed like the best option here, it seemed they were gonna kill you either way.

"Have it your way," One of them utters, a gritty laugh following. "Don't say we didn't give you a chance though,"

"Where the fuck is she?" His voice was higher than his associates. He was also a lot angrier.

"I'm right here,"

BANG! BANG!

You flinch at the sound of the gun expecting the impact that never comes. Losing your footing on the edge, a hand slaps around your wrist before you can plummet to your death. You feel like you could throw up when you spin around and see Dolores. It was more because you almost fell off the edge of a building but seeing Dolores again made you feel warm inside too. A grin spreads over your insanely dry lips as you wrap your arms around the woman pulling her flush against you. "Dolores..."

After a moment she hugs back, her hand running soothingly over your back. "I need you to come with me,"

Dolores' hand slips down your back and into your hand as you unravel from her. Using your free hand to brush away the stray tears. "Where are we going?" You ask as you stumble trying to keep up with her; looking back to the two men who now lay lifeless on the floor. They were dead. Dolores killed them.

"I'm taking you home."

Staying true to her word, she places you on the bed when you finally arrive home. The car ride was silent. You couldn't figure out what was going on and Dolores didn't seem in any rush to explain anything. You're head throbs as you replay the events in your head. You almost died today: if it weren't for the blonde you'd be a stain on the concrete right about now. Dolores kneels down before you, drawing your attention. One hand gentle brushes over your thigh.

"Look at me," she commands but you keep staring off; struggling to focus on anything. "Y/N, look at me."

You oblige this time, meeting her soft blue eyes. She offers you a gentle smile. "I'm gonna pack you a bag and then we can go get you something to eat, okay?"

"I... I don't... understand." You mumble out slowly. The sun was beginning to show its face through the gap in your curtains, casting Dolores in an angelic warm glow.

"Tell me what's wrong,"

"My... my head hurts," you admit quietly, that was all you could get out.

"Any other pain?" You shake your head causing the throbbing to intensify; eyes scrunching up in response. Dolores places a calming hand against your cheek, her thumb brushing gently across your skin. "My sweet girl," Instinctively, you lean into her comforting touch. She was always so gentle towards you; a strong contrast to the woman who just stormed an empty building and shot two people. "You shouldn't have gotten involved."

Your mind wanders to the first time you ever met Dolores as she leaves you alone in the bedroom. It was at a party. One you were much too poor to be at but you were working that night. Dolores has been a guest but instead of ignoring you like everyone else had, she seemed to notice you were, in fact, a real person. She had warned you not to get involved with her and maybe you should have listened. You should have just gone back to your painfully average life but now it was too late. You were involuntarily apart of something so much bigger than yourself. The blonde returned to hand you some water and two pills. "For the headache."

Watching Dolores wander around your room, shoving stuff into a bag was... weird. None of this has felt real. It was like you were stuck in some kind of dream? Or a nightmare may be a better choice of words. She didn't pack a lot of things and it was only now dawning on you that she was packing for you. What was the plan here? Why did you need this stuff? "Come,"

Your eyes drift to her outstretched hand, nothing short of confusion written across your face. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?" She doesn't answer. You take her hand, squeezing a little as she helps you to your feet. "Dolores, please? I'm not just gonna run away with you."

"They'll be looking for you now too," she explains, hiking the bag further up her shoulder. "If you stay they'll kill you."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter who," with a heavy sigh, she hesitates before connecting your lips but only for a second in a surprisingly passionate embrace. You too surprised to even say anything and you think she knew that would be the case. "I need you to trust me."

NEXT

[twdmusicboxmystery]

9x16: TD Clues - Just Try to Ignore These; I Dare Ya!

Okay guys, I said this would be a details post, but I think I’m gonna have to push that by one more day. I have SO much to say and so much to post, but I don’t want to bombard you with it all at once. So I sat down to write this and just started with the broader parallels I saw and this is already too long. So again, this today, details tomorrow.

***As always, spoilers abound for 9x16 below. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

I’m going to talk about what I mentioned last night: The Alone parallel which involved Negan and Judith, the suicide parallel going on with Lydia, and Daryl staring at the paintings in Maggie’s office at Hilltop, since I can tell from comments and messages that that’s definitely on everyone’s mind. (Don’t worry; it’s on mine too. 😉)

Before we begin, let me reiterate something I’ve said many times, and will continue to say whenever we watch a season premiere, a season finale, or the beginning of a new arc. Structurally, first episodes are used to set up what will happen in the coming arc and/or the coming season. Season finales are used to foreshadow and kick us into the next season. We have ample proof of them doing this in the past on TWD, and especially as the big, dramatic reveal of the heads on pikes was last episode, you know this episode had to be all about foreshadowing what is to come. Keep that in mind as you read.

Alone Parallel:

So when we saw the members of TF at Alexandria struggling to get through the snow from where they had been staying (and the fireplace blew up) to Aaron’s house, that’s when Judith ran off. My first thought was that hearing the dog bark that way, out of sight and in the distance somewhere, sounded a LOT like the dog barking outside the funeral home. Of course, that led to Daryl letting the walkers in and Beth disappearing. In this case, Judith disappeared (chasing Dog) and Negan ran after her. Much like Beth ran after Daryl.

Not to mention, at the beginning of the episode, Dog was missing. Kinda like the dog star goes missing but eventually returns?

I didn’t know where it would go, exactly, but made the observation about the dog barking to my group and said I wondered if this would turn into an Alone parallel. Low and behold, it did. We saw several specific Alone callbacks in this sequence. Negan hurt his leg, as Beth did. Different kind of injury, but still. There was the dog, of course. And then, because Judith was feeling weak because of the cold, Negan carried her, bridal style, through the snow.

(Disclaimer for the haters: I’m not saying Negan is in love with Judith, nor am I saying Daryl and Beth’s relationship was the same as Judith and Negan’s. I think there is genuine affection in both cases, but of two different kinds. I’m merely pointing out the actual, physical parallels. Yes followers, if you can’t tell, I’ve been dealing with a lot of hate this week. But moving on…)

So we saw Dog lure Judith away (inadvertently; Dog is not criminal mastermind or anti-TF spy or anything ;D) and Negan chase after her, calling her name, just as Daryl did with Beth in Alone. The major difference here is that Negan quickly finds Judith and brings her home.

This is super-interesting for a couple of reasons. In terms of Judith and Negan, I think it does two things:

1)      It probably foreshadows something for next season. Remember, this is the finale and the finale does that. I don’t’ know what it will be, but Negan will probably save Judith from something bigger—maybe the Whisperers?—next season as well.

2)      It solidifies Judith and Negan’s relationship. Negan didn’t hesitate to run after Judith and save her, just as if she were his own daughter. As I said above, there’s real affection there and it will probably move him toward being a more productive member of the community. Actually, it already has. Obviously it’s endeared him to Michonne at least enough for her to start considering him an ally rather than an enemy. And that, my friends, heads in a straight line toward Carl’s vision of the future from S8.

But what about TD? Since this is an obvious callback to Alone, I do think we should consider it a Beth thing as well. I think it foreshadows that the thing it’s being paralleled with (Beth’s disappearance from the funeral home and Daryl searching for her) will happen next season as well. What I mean is, just as Negan brought Judith home, Daryl will finally be able to bring Beth home as well. Again, this is a season finale and what we’re seeing set up here will probably happen next season, so I think this points to that.

And while I’m on the subject, let me say this. I know there are plenty of people out there who won’t believe me when I say it, but I’m not predicting Beth’s return in S10 JUST because we didn’t see her in S9. We’ve said since the beginning of the season—mostly because of all the Xs around her—that S10 would make a certain amount of sense for her return. But we have SO much evidence that she’s still coming and very close. I’ll get into it more below, and throughout the week as I post more.

Lydia’s Suicide Arc:

The first thing that tipped us off about this was when Daryl and TF are on the road and they look over to see walkers in the field. 

In terms of the plot, they were worried that those walkers might be whisperers. But this LOOKED identical to the walker Shane and Rick saw in the field in S2. In fact, that scene was used in the opening credits for years afterward. We even had theories involving that shot in the opening credits, which is why we recognized it so readily.

The thing is, that scene where Rick and Shane saw the walker in the field originally came from 2x10, 18 Miles Out. If you want to know how many symbols the writers took from that episode and later incorporated into Beth’s arc, read THIS. For purposes of the S9 finale, just recall that 2x10 was Beth’s suicide arc. The one where she cut her wrist—which Daryl razzed her about in Still—but then realized she wanted to live.

Why is this important? Obviously it was being used as a parallel for Lydia, who was also obviously suicidal in this episode. You could even argue that, when she offered the trapped walker her arm, had she gone through with it, it would have bitten either on the forearm or wrist, very close to the same spot Beth cut herself with the mirror.

The thing is, why would they feel the need to include the walkers-in-the-field scene just to show Lydia’s state of mind. It certainly wasn’t necessary. Why callback to Beth? Unless of course there’s some greater purpose to that, you know? So that was very important.

Aside: I do want to say that I think this suicide arc with Lydia had heavy, HEAVY ties to Lizzie and Mica. I’ll talk about that in the next couple of days when I talk more about Carol and Ezekiel and how what happened here is good for TD. But we did see a lot of growth from Carol here, which I thought was beautiful. While she IS falling back into some of her same old patterns, we did see some growth for her, and I really loved seeing it. But more on that later. Trying to stay focused here. So much to say! Dah!

P.S. Angela Kang? One of the writers of 18 Miles Out. Several people worked on that episode, including her, Gimple, Kirkman, and Darabont, but still. She wrote last night’s finale too, and the walker in the field scene appeared in both. I’m just saying, the parallels are FOR REALS, y’all.

Daryl Staring at the Portraits:

Okay, the first thing most people picked up on as being strange is that we didn’t actually SEE Beth’s portrait in this scene. I agree with all of you that it’s weird. But it’s more than just weird. It’s VERY weird. Given that we saw it earlier in the season with Jesus sitting in front of it, and then that we saw her body very obviously in Rick’s vision, why suddenly decide to hide the portrait from us now? It makes no sense.

So on the one hand, I think it’s part of the “what is hidden” theme. They’ve hidden a lot of things about Beth from us, so it’s just more of that. But again, why now after showing us several images of her this season, letting us hear her voice, not to mention all the Henry parallels that were so ridiculously blatant that even non-TDers picked up on them. So why go back to this now?

I think it has everything to do with this scene and Daryl staring at the portraits. I think it boils down to them trying hard not to be too obvious. And, you know, mission accomplished. This was extremely subtle.

So, when Daryl looks at the portraits, watch his face very carefully. (Yes, I’m totally giving you permission to stare at Daryl for hours on end. ;D) And a shout out to Norman for this. Only someone who can use such subtle facial expressions to emote so powerfully could even pull this off. It’s a testament to his acting prowess.

Anyway, some are saying he looked sad when looking at the portraits. Others say he looked happy. I submit that we saw both emotions, but not at the same time.

He first looks up at them and his eyes shift to the left (his right, our left). This is when we see a small, nostalgic smile. Now, the portraits we saw—of Glenn and Hershel—are on the left. So he’s looking at them when he smiles. I think that’s very sweet because it shows that he’s moved past the guilt he felt at both of their deaths and has reached a place where he can remember them fondly and smile.

Then, just for a fraction of section, his eyes shift to the right—where we already know Beth’s portrait hangs—and the smile fades. That’s when he looks sad.

So even just typing that out, I’m having another thought. Let’s look at the writers intentions coming from the opposite direction. Maybe the whole point of showing us Beth’s portrait earlier in the season was specifically so we could figure out what Daryl was looking at in this moment. It was still SUPER subtle, and you pretty much have to watch the show as closely as TD does to get it, but if we hadn’t seen her portrait earlier in the season, we would have no hope of understanding the emotions running across Daryl’s face here. Angela is a sneaky woman, but I like her!

So what am I taking away from this. Oh, so much. The most obvious thing is that he’s not yet moved past his negative feelings over Beth’s death, as he seems to with Glenn and Hershel. So, even after all these seasons, he’s still not over her. (That’s why Donnie would have never happened y’all!)

But something else interesting happened in this scene. Lydia asked him why he left Alexandria in the first place to live on his own in the woods. He tells her that he’ll talk to her about it someday. That’s totally huge, you guys!

First off, once again, this is a season finale, and setting up for next season. So I think it’s safe to say this talk will happen in S10. Small potatoes, maybe, but important to keep in mind.

Second, we’ve been wanting Daryl to talk to SOMEONE about Beth since S5. We’ve predicted more than once that maybe he would talk to Carol about it—such as in 7x10—but we were always wrong and it never happened. I don’t think it ever will. Not with Carol, anyway. But this was kind of a promise that he’ll talk to Lydia about it. Yet another reason all the parallels with Beth/Daryl and Henry/Lydia make sense. Why Daryl seeing their relationship, seeing Lydia lose Henry as he lost Beth, and now fathering Lydia, make perfect sense. He’s the one she’ll talk to.

Now, ostensibly, what she means is why he left Hilltop and that had, plot-wise, to do with Rick and finding Rick’s body. So obviously they’ll talk about that. But if this is going to be a deep heart-to-heart, we all know Daryl’s feelings about what happened with Rick really started with Beth. Why did he search so long and so hard for Rick? Because he never found Beth, either. Why was he so devastated to lose Rick? Because he lost Beth first. And I don’t in any way mean to impugn Rick and Daryl’s relationship. Not at all. But Daryl’s grief for Rick did come on the heels of his unresolved grief for Beth, which made it worse.

So my point is that, even from a purely plot-based standpoint, talking to Lydia about Rick will have to include Beth. But the fact that he said this while standing in front of the portraits, right after he looked at Beth’s and stopped smiling, is a foreshadow that he’ll also talk about Beth. And remember, seeing this in the finale suggests that it’s something that will happen next season, in S10.

So I want to add one more thing to this about when Beth will return. While turning this all over in my head, I couldn’t help but think of 5x10, Them. (When don’t I, right?)

Daryl was super sad all throughout the episode (like Lydia in this one) but finally at the end, managed to talk to Maggie—very briefly—about Beth and even smile about her. It was only after that that the music box woke up.

So I think this is setting up not only that Daryl will talk to Lydia about Beth, but that he’ll actually manage to heal from her death. At least to the point of talking about her fondly and being able to smile at the memories.

And, one more time (yes, I know I’ve hit broken record status, but don’t care) because this is the finale, I believe we’ll see this play out in S10. All this, combined with stuff Angela said last night about S10 really makes it sound like that’s when we’ll see Beth. I’ll get more into the details of that tomorrow.

So while we really hoped we’d see her in S9, and didn’t, nothing we said about S9 has turned out to be wrong. The parallels are still there, the symbolism is still strong, she’s still coming, and soon, but this show is notorious for moving slowly. So we just have to wait a little longer. 

And I’ve tried to stress throughout the season that, while most of this shows that we’ll see her in this arc, that didn’t necessarily mean it would be in this season. So while I know lots of people are disappointed not to have seen her last night—I am too—I hope most of you will stick it out. Because our girl is still coming home. At this point, she’s practically circling the neighborhood.

[crossbowking]

Days Turned Cold

SUMMARY : (Set between Seasons 2 and 3) Ever since Hershel’s farm fell, Daryl had been distant. One night, after growing tired of his coldness, you confront him. And it does not go how you planned. 

PROMPT : “What the hell are you talking about?”

A/N : This is for “TWDSunshine 1k Writing Challenge”! Sorry I’m a bit late, but hopefully, all you lovely humans enjoy! (Check out @twdsunshine ‘s page if you haven’t - she’s an incredible writer!)

xx crossbowking

The sun was just beginning to melt into the earth, dusk taking its place.

The group was huddled around a flickering fire, sitting amongst each other in silence. Morale was at an all time low. Hershel’s farm now belonged to the dead, the weather was turning cold, and there was no end in sight — no safe haven, no home base, no sanctuary.

You sighed heavily, watching the flames dance in front of you.

Your eyes flittered over the fire, landing on Daryl, who sat directly across from you, a faraway look in his eyes. The two of you had grown close over the past couple of weeks, stemming from Sophia’s disappearance. You both had put everything into finding the little girl after she had gone missing. But even after her untimely fate had been revealed, you’d still found yourselves leaning on one another for support.

Daryl processed loss very differently from you. You understood loss — you knew it was something you needed to deal with, even if you didn’t want to. Daryl, on the other hand, had chosen to isolate himself from everyone, including you. He became very angry — even angrier than usual. All he wanted to do was shove his emotions away and soldier on.

The night after Sophia was found, Daryl packed up his belongings and moved his things all the way across the other side of Hershel’s property, far from the rest of the group. You tossed and turned all night, worried about Daryl being so far away from everyone else. It wasn’t safe to be alone in this world and solitude wasn’t good for anyone.

So you decided to follow suit.

You marched across that field, payed the confused archer no mind, and began setting up your tent. Daryl had yelled at you, told you to ‘leave him be’ and ‘get lost’ — along with some other unkind words. But you stood your ground.

Because Daryl needed you.

And he just as easily could’ve picked up his belongings and moved further away from where you were.

But instead, he stayed.

You never asked him to talk about his feelings. You never pressured him to open up. You just sat with him quietly by the fire.

And with each day that passed, Daryl got a little less angry.

You couldn’t deny you felt something for the man. It wasn’t something you could explain or really understand even — you just felt it.

But it wasn’t like anything was actually going to happen between you. You weren’t even sure if Daryl felt anything ‘romantic’ towards you at all. He didn’t exactly strike you as the ‘relationship type’. And on top of that, Daryl had seemed distant ever since the farm fell — particularly distant towards you.

You sighed, dragging yourself away from the thoughts about the complicated man across from you.

And then, as if he was reading your mind, Daryl’s eyes flickered over to meet yours and you quickly looked away, feeling your cheeks flush.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps approach and glanced over your shoulder, spotting Rick coming over to join the group. He took a seat beside you, exhaling heavily, looking more tired than he had in a long time.

He rubbed a hand wearily over his face, his fingers pausing for a moment over the stubble growing on his chin.

“You okay?” you murmured, turning your focus on Rick.

“Perimeter set up?” he pressed, ignoring your question as he glanced around the makeshift campsite uneasily.

You sighed. “We tied a bunch of empty cans together with some string we found. Strung them up between the trees. If any geeks come our way, we’ll hear them,” you nodded reassuringly.

“Good,” he stated, nodding his head slowly. “That’s good…” he trailed off, eyes distant.

“You okay, Rick?” you asked again. Rick simply shot you a look that said he was anything but okay. You sighed once more. “Hey,” you whispered, catching his wandering eye. “We’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Rick held your gaze for a moment. “It’s not safe out here.”

“I know,” you murmured. “But we’ll find somewhere that is. I know we will.”

Rick looked torn all of the sudden. “But Lori…an’ Carl…oh god, the baby…” he trailed off again, voice low so only you could hear his worries.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you stated, much firmer this time. “I know the timing of all this sucks. And I know you’ve got a lot on your plate. But you’re not alone in this, Rick. You are doing the best you can.”

Rick scoffed lightly. “Not everyone thinks so,” he muttered, a tinge of bitterness to his words as he nodded in the direction of his and Lori’s tent.

“Your wife is pregnant. In the middle of the god damn apocalypse,” you pointed out, almost incredulously, the concept unfathomable when spoken aloud. “Trust me when I say, you are doing the best you can.”

Rick sighed, looking more and more weary as the moments passed. You and the sheriff had always had a strong relationship. But after the farm, Lori’s pregnancy, and everything that went down with Shane, you became one of the few people Rick whole-heartedly trusted. You’d become his confidant — he knew when he came to you for advice, you’d give it to him straight. No bullshit.

“Go kiss your wife and get some sleep. You look like shit,” you urged, your tone teasing as you shot him a small smile.

Rick rolled his eyes good-naturedly, some of the previous stress melting off his face. He reached out and placed his hand on top of yours, squeezing gently. Your smile grew in return, squeezing back, before the sheriff pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the tent Lori and Carl were in.

You sighed, turning back to face the fire, but you suddenly saw Daryl stand abruptly and storm off into the woods alone. Confusion spread over your face as you glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed.

The rest of the group remained unfazed, apparently having missed the archers exit.

With a huff, you pushed yourself to your feet, jogging off in the direction Daryl had left. You spotted him ahead, his body blending in with the growing shadows, and quickened your pace. “Hey!” you called after him.

But he kept walking, pretending he didn’t hear your shout.

You rolled your eyes as you finally caught up to him. “What’s going on?” you asked, matching his steps.

Daryl threw a look in your direction and grunted. “Nothin’,” he huffed, looking annoyed.

“Obviously that’s bullshit,” you muttered, calling his bluff.

“Why don’t ya go on an’ find someone else ta’ bother?” he snapped, waving you away angrily.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong so I can leave you alone?”

“Have ya always been this irritatin’ or am I jus’ realizin’ this now?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’ve always been this irritating.”

“Jus’ go on! Leave me alone!” Daryl barked, clearly through with your teasing.

You fought back the urge to slap him upside the head as you sped up and planted yourself in front of him. He came to a screeching halt, narrowing his eyes as he stared down at you. “Look, you’ve been acting weird ever since the farm,” you spilled out. “Did I do something to piss you off? Because I’m sorry if I did, Daryl. Truly.”

Daryl just heaved a breath, his expression telling you that his limited patience was running thin.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “You can’t just keep all this shit in. If something’s bothering you, it’s okay to talk about it. You can’t bottle everything up and just expect it to fix itself. I know circumstances aren’t ideal right now and I also know how much you hate this sappy shit. But I hope you know I’m here for you. And that you can talk to me about things.”

Daryl was quiet for a long moment, when suddenly, he clenched his jaw and locked eyes with you. “What’s goin’ on with you an’ Rick?”

You faltered, his words not fully registering at first. “Sorry, what?”

Daryl huffed, looking even more irritated. “You an’ Rick. I seen the way ya are with him. An’ him with you. What’s goin’ on there?”

Your mouth open and closed like a fish, unable to form the words to express how confused you were. But then his question registered, his accusation that maybe you and Rick were more than just friends burning a hole in your heart, and you saw red. “What the hell are you talking about? Me and Rick? Are you serious right now?” you snapped, feeling your face flush with anger.

Daryl remained silent, some of his ‘bravado’ fading.

“Rick is married. To Lori. Who is pregnant,” you spat out. “Do you honestly think I would do that to her? She’s one of my best friends here. Is that really the kind of person you think I am?” you demanded.

Daryl faltered, uncertainty flashing through his eyes as he shifted back and forth. “I jus’ thought —”

“There is absolutely, one hundred percent, nothing going on between me and Rick,” you cut him off, stating your words clearly so there would be no miscommunication. “Unbelievable,” you hissed, shoving past Daryl so you could get back to camp.

“Ya know, yer the one who followed me out here!” Daryl called after you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, spinning around to face him. “Well, I wouldn’t have if I knew you were going to accuse me of something so ridiculous.”

“I seen the way ya look at him,” Daryl shot back, hellbent on this idea that you and Rick were together.

You could’ve screamed you were so frustrated. “I don’t ‘look at him’ like anything! Why the hell do you care anyways?” you hissed, unable to stop the bite to your words.

“I don’t,” Daryl snapped back, his eyes now guarded.

“Oh, well that was super convincing,” you deadpanned sarcastically.

“I said I don’t care,” he growled, taking a step towards you.

“And I call bullshit,” you shot back, refusing to stand down as you stood toe to toe. You hated fighting with Daryl, especially over something as stupid as this, but you couldn’t just stand there and let him think you had feelings for someone else in the camp — someone that wasn’t him.

Then a thought struck you, sending your nerves into overdrive, your heart beginning to pound faster against your ribcage. “You’re right though, you know. There is someone here I have feelings for,” you managed to squeak out, swallowing the lump in your throat as you waited for him to catch on.

Daryl shifted slightly, his expression rigid as he regarded you cautiously. “Then why the hell ya out here with me?” he snapped, clearly wanting to be done with this conversation.

You let out a frustrated growl, throwing your hands up. “Because it’s you, you idiot!” you exclaimed, your disbelief at the archers obliviousness overriding any feelings of humiliation in regards to your sudden confession.

Then, before you could think twice, you placed your hands on either side of Daryl’s head and pulled his face down to meet yours, kissing him square on the lips.

And you poured everything into that kiss — all the pent up feelings, all the passion, all the loss, all the times you wished you would’ve kissed him and didn’t.

But something didn’t feel right.

That was when you realized that Daryl wasn’t kissing you back.

Your eyes shot open as you pulled away, your face mere inches from his. He was in pure shock — his body stiff, face frozen, eyes wide and confused staring back at you. And you were mortified.

You immediately let go of him, taking a step back, cheeks turning a deep shade of red as you fumbled for words. “I-I’m…oh my God, Daryl, I’m so sorry,” you stammered.

Then, with tears springing to your eyes and nothing more to say, you turned away, humiliated with yourself and the irrevocable damage you just caused.

But you didn’t even make it two steps before you felt Daryl’s hand lock around your wrist and yank you backwards, whipping you around so you stood face to face. Then before you could even get your breath back, Daryl slipped his hand behind the back of your neck and pulled you closer, swooping down to kiss you again.

You were caught off guard for only a second, before the moment took over. You slipped your arms around the archer, balling the material of his leather vest into your fists. Daryl’s hands slid down to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer into him so every part of your bodies touched as the kiss deepened.

After weeks of dancing around each other, after so many nights you lay awake wondering, every feeling, every desire, every urge was being put into this one single moment. Into this one single kiss.

And then Daryl pulled away, only slightly, your lips just barely touching as your bodies heaved for air. You made a soft noise in protest, the spaces he’d once filled feeling incredibly empty. But the archer simply tilted his head down so your foreheads touched, the two of you standing like that for a few moments as your breathing finally evened.

“We —” you cleared your throat, heart still beating rapidly against your chest. “We should get back.”

“Yeah,” Daryl whispered, his voice husky. “Yeah, we should.”

But neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Simply content to just stand in each others arms, gazing at one another as the sun finally dimmed, leaving you in a sea of darkness.

And you’d never felt so fearless in your entire life.

FOREVER TAG LIST

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[welcome-to-my-daydreams]

Man in the Storm 16

Summary: It’s rut season at the compound. Omega Reader plans to ride it out alone, locked in her room away from any unwanted Alphas. But she finds that to be a lot easier said than done when the team’s strongest Alpha pays a visit.

Pairings: Alpha!Thor x Omega!Reader

Type: Series (A/B/O Dynamics)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,954

A/N: I know reader is strong. But she’s also hurting and I think that’s ok too. 

Part 15, Part 17

Masterlist

The first month was the hardest. You spent the first week held up in bed. Physically unable to move and mentally unwilling to. You felt like a piece of you was missing, and in a way, it was. 

You might not have bonded with Thor but you were feeling the withdrawals of his absence nonetheless. 

His scent was slowly fading from your skin and you were beginning to feel the same vulnerability that you had grown so used to before. Before him. You spent your days watching out the window. Just hoping that you’d see him return in that very moment. But it was hopeless. It seemed the more you longed for him, less likely he was to come. 

It didn’t even rain. Not for a whole month. 

You found yourself avoiding his room. Despite how much you wanted to wrap his shirts around you and to sleep in his bed, you couldn’t bear the pain it caused and the memories it brought. 

When you continued to recluse into yourself as the weeks went on Natasha took matters into her own hands. She started dragging you around with her everywhere she went. If she went to the gym, so did you. If she was assigned to work with the recruits, so were you. She got the pack to rally behind you, insisting that all the main members eat every meal together when possible. 

You would never admit it at the time, but it did help. Being around your pack and feeding off of their energy is what helped you get through each day. 

As time went on everything at the compound went back to normal. The excitement of Thor’s visit had dissipated throughout the pack. But not for you. 

You tried to go on with your days, you really did. But every sympathetic look from Steve and every awkward moment when someone would mention Thor made it impossible. 

It didn't help that many of your pack mates felt the need to impart their opinion on the situation. You heard the gossip that was going around the compound, it always got back to you eventually. 

“I mean how long was he gone last time? Like, years. Right?” 

“I heard it’s the same reason Jane left him.”

“He probably just came to Earth to have some fun before settling down.”

You tried not to let it get to you. Most of the gossip came from bitter Omega’s and Alpha’s who resented the relationship in the first place. You knew this, but as always you managed to rationalise their words in your mind. They did have a point after all. Thor was known to leave for years at a time. What if this was no different? Could you really do that? Wait for him for years?

And what if he decided not to wait that long? What if he decided to settle with some Asgardian shieldmaiden who was more suited to his life? He never did claim you in the end. Your bonding glad remained untouched. 

“Jesus (y/n), stop it!” You scolded yourself as you exited Bruce’s lab. 

You had decided to go back on the pills to suppress your heat, requesting a higher dose than you had before because you wanted to avoid the heat altogether this time. The idea of having a heat or feeling even remotely sexual turned your stomach over. You were dealing with enough pain at the moment you didn’t need to be reminded that you once again had no one to rut with. 

You hurried down the hall, hoping to avoid crossing paths with Natasha.

As much as you loved her for helping you out these past weeks you needed a few hours to yourself and you knew she would be coming down to pick you up and take you to the class she had to teach. If you could get to the other side of the compound without her finding you then you knew you’d had at least a few hours to just chill while she worked. 

You made your way up to the main floor, across the cafeteria and down the hall until you finally found your refuge. 

The library was almost always empty. Tony and Bruce had their own collections and the rest of the team weren’t generally inclined to sit down and read a book. The other pack members were all busy with training or working in the labs. So you knew this would be the place to get in some solid alone time. 

You grabbed a couple books to swipe through and made yourself a coffee at the small barista bar Stark had installed when building the compound. You took your seat on one of the huge couches next to the windows. Once you were all settled in you let out a deep exhale.

Peace and quiet. 

And that piece and quiet lasted for about 20 minutes. You didn’t notice him at first. Perhaps it was the stronger pills you were taking or your desperation to disconnect. But you didn’t smell him as he entered the library and made his way towards you. 

“Hey, Omega...”

You looked up from your book to see Bucky standing before you. Looking nervous and awkward. “Uh...hey Bucky.” you greeted him as you shifted in your seat. The two of you still had not spoken since the fight you had out on the field. Which was an incredible accomplishment considering you lived together and worked together.

Bucky took a seat across from you, avoiding eye contact. You took an annoyed breath and closed your book.

“How are you doing?” He asked sincerely. You adjusted your position on the couch, sitting up straight. “What do you want Bucky?” you asked, dismissing his small talk.

He stayed quiet for a while, you noticed how he clenched his jaw when you dismissed him. Normally he’d pull some Alpha superiority shit by now but you could tell he was actively trying not to. 

“I came to apologise.” He confessed, clenching his jaw again, his big brown eyes boring into you. You nodded quietly. 

“For what exactly?” You questioned. “For calling me a slut? Or for hurting me in the kitchen? Or maybe-”

“For everything.” He cut you off, combing his hand through his hair. He knew that apologising to you wouldn't even be half as easy it was with Thor, but he had hopped that you had softened over time. 

You stayed quiet, just looking at him. Struggling to keep your steely facade. You had spent so much time going over why you were mad at him and why you were hurt by him. And now the anger was betraying you. 

“I shouldn't have played all those games with you, Omega. I knew that you wanted more from me and I should have....I should have stopped it sooner.” He admitted while shifting in his seat. “I think I let everything go to my head. I was a selfish prick.” He continued. He was uncomfortable and you could taste it on the tip on your tongue. This submissive stance was foreign to him and you knew that it was taking all his strength to lower his pride for the sake of an Omega. He was such a classic Alpha and the room was rife with his internal struggle. 

“And I shouldn’t-” He continued, but you raised your hand to stop him. “Bucky. Stop. Thank you for the apology. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear it.” You told him. You leaned forward, resting your forearms on the tops of your thighs, fiddling your thumbs awkwardly. 

“I...I’ve been thinking a lot over these last few weeks and I think we both made some pretty bad decisions back then. I mean...I always somehow knew we would never get very far. And yet I kept pushing for it.” Bucky furrowed in brow in confusion. “Don’t do that Omega.” He said, cutting you off. “You’re not responsible. At all. I could have..and should have ended things with you sooner. The whole thing with Melissa...it. I’m sorry.” he said it again, almost spitting it out. Like he needed you to hear it. 

And believe it.

He looked up at you with such puppy dog eyes that you felt something shift in you. For some reason, now that it was open for discussion, you felt your resentment and anger towards the Alpha disappear. You weren’t sure why. Surely he deserved more of a reprimand. But, you just felt like letting it all go. 

You smiled at him and nodded, taking an even deeper breath than before.

“I don’t want to be mad anymore, Buck. I mean, I am angry with you for treating me like a toy all that time. And you really were being an asshole, but I’m willing to put it past us and just...start fresh.” You took a pause as the tears suddenly began to well up underneath your eyes. “I just want everything to be ok.”

As soon as you uttered the words the flood of emotions took over and you started crying. 

Bucky stiffened uncomfortably, looking around the room with no idea what to do. He wasn’t exactly the best with this kind of stuff. 

“Uhh....” He said awkwardly, reaching his hand out to touch your shoulder. But you didn't stop crying. In fact, you got worse. You felt to stupid for crying in front of him, but you’d been trying to keep it together so long and not to let the pack see you upset, that your wall finally broke down. 

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Bucky got up to sit next you, thinking of what Steve might do in a situation like this and attempting to mimic it. 

He pulled you close into a hug and you went along with him. 

“I’m sorry Bucky.” You managed to say between sniffles. “I’m just...I’m not handling all this very well.” You confessed.

Bucky nodded and continued to rub your back. He knew you were referring to Thor’s departure. “It’s okay Omega... It’s ok.” He said as you slowly calmed down. He could smell the sadness coming off you and it pained him. 

“He didn’t even tell me how long he’d be gone, you know?” You said, pulling away and reaching for the napkin on the table. “I feel like I’m in this weird limbo. I can’t just sit here and wait forever. But I can’t just move on either...you know?” You asked before blowing your nose in the napkin.

Bucky cringed a little at the sound. This was so not his forte. But he nodded anyway, reaching his hand out to pat your back again. But you mistook his gesture and handed him the dirty napkin. 

“Thanks Buck. I’m sorry for falling a apart like that. I’m just tired.” You shook your head and cleared your eyes, completely oblivious to the look of disgust on his face as he looked at the napkin. 

“It’s alright Omega. I understand, it’s normal.” He said, doing his best to comfort you. He took the napkin from the palm of his hand with his finger tips and walked over to the bin on the other side of the couch.

“Do you want me to go get Nat? Or maybe Wanda?” He asked, knowing they could give you more than he could in a moment like this. But you shook your head no and smiled. “I’m ok, thanks. I think I just want some time alone.”

“Ok.” The Alpha nodded. “You know where to find me if you ever need to talk” He said to you, giving you one last look to make sure you were ok before turning to leave the library. “I’ll be okay.” You assured him again. 

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[empresswrites]

Dollhouse

Another posted on my ff, but bringing it here. I have no clue if these are on my main page or not, just bringing them over anyways.

Warning; Angst, Violence, Possible Character death (open ending), and Emotional turmoil. 

[Under Read more for length and content]

Surely years have passed by since I have been in this prison of such a lovely home. It was large, three bedrooms and three/half baths lingering with a living space, study, dining room, and kitchen. One would classify it as the best house on the market, but what they don’t know that this home is my cage. Only one room let me see outside to an overgrown garden and forest. 

I had no clue where I was, how I got here, just that I woke up here after being out with a few of my brothers. They were nowhere in sight and I felt homesick being here. It had to have some years, following the seasons I see out the only large window in this home with one chair—that I had dragged in—residing within the space. Next to the chair is a small end table with a drawing book, and a lamp for when I go sit in there. It’s where I spent most of my time staring out in longing to leave this place. 

Whoever put me here planned to keep me alive for some reason as food would be provided in the fridge and cabinets of the kitchen. Just enough to get me by, only having enough for two small meals each day, but it was better than nothing. I felt like I was losing my mind being so alone that I rather regretted those times I would want alone time from my family. I mean, it’s a basic need for human beings, but I missed them all greatly and wondered if they were still looking for me or had finally just placed me as dead. Everything was bringing depression in me as I dreaded the days away, but then he was there. 

Outside of the window. 

Hope burst through me as he was curiously wondering with a bright orange cowboy style hat on his head, a t-shirt, and some shorts from what I could tell. The distance, I couldn’t tell of his features and I quickly moved to get up. Grasping my notepad and pencil, I scribbled down words, and moved to the window. Waiting for him to slowly wander to the window, I put the paper to the window and slightly knocked on the glass. That caught his attention as he stopped and looked sideways to me. Dark hair peered underneath the hat with dark eyes and freckled cheeks as he tilted his head in curiosity. 

Weariness was there as he shifted away and I felt clenching in my chest as I put a hand to the window and tried to do a motion to come closer. That had him stop and then looked around before moving closer and may have started to see me better. I looked to him in desperation as the paper was placed firmly to the glass. He was taking slow steps, about matching my height as I could tell by how his face was about level on where I rest the paper in front of my chest. The home was up a little from the ground, but not by much and he began scanning the words in surprise before looking to me. I had a hand to the window with my look and he seemed confused, so I held up a finger. Moving startled him before staying as I took the paper away to write on a new sheet. 

‘My name is Marco Newgate. Please tell my family where I am. I can’t get out.’ 

Writing that down, I moved it back to the glass so he could read it with slight shock and began searching his bag that he had over his shoulder. Pulling out a small pad and pen, he seemed to write before it was to the glass. 

‘Can’t get out?’ 

I shook my head and took the same paper to write down: ‘it’s been years, please.’ 

Showing him that had him show concern and wonderment before flipping a page. Glances were to the paper and I wondered if he was writing my name down. Then he flipped another page and wrote down some words. 

‘Wait here, I will get help.’ 

A look left me as if clarifying on I couldn’t if I wanted to, making him roll eyes with a smile and for the first time in years I did too. Moving the paper, I underlined family boldly and showed him again making him nod in understanding. Writing some things down, he showed his paper again. 

‘Give me a couple weeks, that should be plenty.’ 

This nod left me as I moved the paper and flipped to a page and wrote two words that I truly meant: ‘Thank you.’ The paper to the window was joined with my hand with the pencil to the window as I gave a relieved look. A reassurance was there in dark orbs as he smiled with a nod before shoved the items in his bag before beginning off through the overgrown field. 

“Please, save me.” The words left me hoarsely as I watched after my only hope of ever getting out of this place. 

-o-o-o-o- 

For the first time in a long while, I kept track of the days and made sure to linger in the window room the whole time. During the time I waited, my mind was filled with his face as I sketched him out, finding an inspiration to sketch again ever since the time I did for each of my family members. While drawing him, I wondered what his hair looked like, what kind of person he was, the way his voice would sound. Would it be deeper or maybe a bit of smooth in-between? Surely he was around his early twenties, he looked like it and sort of reminded me of my two youngest siblings. 

By the time I had marked almost twenty days, my hope started to dwindle and I would sit next to the window. Feeling the heat, but knowing the glass wouldn’t break if I tried was upsetting. A hand lined the glass with a clenching in my body and by the time I marked off thirty days, I found myself crying with arms hugging legs tightly. 

He was my only hope to get out of here and he hadn’t returned. I felt my whole world crash all over again as I curled my body with it resting sideways with the glass. My tears stained my cheeks as I didn’t even try to hide or stop them. No one could see me anyways and I felt the pain worsen that no one would ever see me like this again. It was a devastating blow to all that hope that I had just two weeks prior. The thought of seeing my family had made me so happy and anticipated to see the young male again, hoping my family would be there with him. 

Nothing. 

-o-o-o-o- 

Thunk, thunk! 

The sound startled me as I had been curled up on the floor facing away from the window. Bewildered, I sat up with a low groan and rubbing to my face. The noises sounded out twice again as I slowly moved to face the window and had to look up higher than the younger male there. Seeing that man with a white moustache over his face had me shift roughly forward to put hands to the windows with a smile on my face as I leaned to the glass. The way his mouth opened and his body shook, I knew he was laughing and I felt so happy. 

The young male was there too and I began to notice the bandages on him that were visible around his neck. A smile was on him as an apology and I noticed my father pat to his head before he looked to the side. Worry was in me at the sight of this stranger who must have been injured, maybe that’s why they didn’t come sooner? I eyed him in worry and he smiled reassuringly before they were both facing to the side. They both looked perplexed about something. 

“Don’t think I will allow you to live.” Those words made me stiffen as I quickly turned to notice the man and slowly shifted along the window away as he moved. Tall with what seemed to be dark brown hair, dark eyes and a sneer showing to me as if I was scum of the earth. Noises were on the window, as I stared to the new man in the room with confusion. “Your father has caused me grief and I am sure to return the favor.” The hand moved to his suit jacket and he had gloves on, but as I noticed him more it became evident on who he was. 

I scowled as he shifted with a tilt of his head and eyes peering to the window. They wouldn’t be able to see him well enough as he kept away from the window and good distance that it would be hard to distinguish. I glanced lightly to see that the young male was following with confusion and my father gave a look of confusion, but knew someone was in here with me. 

“You ruined your own company, Sakazuki.” I addressed hoarsely, not having to use my voice for much and he smirked. A loud sound echoed from somewhere in the house and he scowled before pulling out his hand with a gun in hand. My eyes widened as I stumbled back before I found the corner of the room and began to quickly move into the room more. 

“It’s no use.” The two shots following spiked my adrenaline and I felt the piercing in my lower back near the side. I stumbled with a pained cry and rammed the wall before keeping to move away. Making it to the door, he shot out and hitting my leg. I staggered before finding the ground roughly with a groan of the impact. Pants left me as I tried to scramble up, but a hand grasped my ankle and, since of my lighter weight, practically tossed me back in the room. Rolling roughly, my body soon found the window with my back and I swayed forward with a groan. 

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! 

The loud sounds on the window became frantic as I shifted to sit up and soon noticed a face to the window. Seeing the confused and overly concerned look, I supported my body with a hand finding the glass. Footsteps were heavily making their way towards me as I felt lips tremble and tears welling. 

So close. 

The sound of him cocking the weapon had tears slip and I noticed the freckled boy giving reassuring eyes with him shouting out towards to the side. I moved my body as I carefully rested my shoulder to the glass, resigning myself as the man in the room chuckled. I put my other hand to the glass this time to view into those orbs of someone I didn’t even know. Someone who looked so worried over my wellbeing, knowing nothing of me, and helping my family to find me. 

“The greatest grief he will ever have would be finding one of his sons’ dead, don’t you think?” Sakazuki questioned, not expecting an answer as he chuckled at his twisted humor. “No matter,” the answer was made so lightly and I heard shifting as I stared straight to those eyes keeping a reassuring gaze. 

Bang! 

My body jolted at the piercing pain in my chest, knowing he wanted me to suffer just at least for a few minutes longer. Dark orbs flickered in confusion with hands patting at the glass as if searching and I sputtered out a cough of blood. Trembles were through my body as I saw the horror on his face as he began shouting. A fist pounded to the glass and he had a desperate look as he looked to be shouting my name. I never got to know his and part of me wondered what it was. 

Blood dribbled from my chin as I felt breathing becoming heavy and my hand began to slip from the glass. The trembles subsided as eyelids felt heavy and I wondered why the painful throbs weren’t as noticeable as the pained expression of the younger male. Tears had started welling as he leaned to the glass with words leaving him and desperate smacks to the window. 

Faint gunshots were going off as I slowly let my body begin to slide forward to the floor and the pounding stopped on the glass. There was shouting as I felt my breathing slow and I noticed the blood soak more up my chest as it pooled. So much noise as I felt the darkness crawling around the edges, pulling at my conscious, but I accepted it all. Something to remind me of my family and that’s when I heard the thundering of feet. The slam of the door hadn’t even made me flinch before someone was next to me. 

“Rakuyou! Rakuyou!” The shout was out as my body was moved to my back and I stared to the ceiling with blurry vision. “He’s losing too much! Rakuyou!” The desperate cry came out as I recognized the voice of Izo and those hands were pressing harshly to my chest. 

“Marco!” 

Ah, that was a new voice. 

“Marco! Hang on!” There was a person above me as hands grabbed to my face and I noticed the freckles immediately. 

“Ace! Give room!” The name had him responding and this slow shuddering breath left me as I felt lips tug to a smile. 

Ace… ha, what a name to be called. 

“M-Marco?” Ace’s voice lingered in my head as I felt heavy lids slip and then a shaky breath was there above me. “Marco?! Marco!” It droned out as I felt that clinging darkness finally make me succumb. 

At least I could smile one last time.

[peacefulheartfarm]

Canning Tomato Sauce

Canning tomato sauce is the name of the game this week. I have about 150 pounds of tomatoes picked so far. I think I will only be canning about 50 or 60 pounds of them between today and tomorrow. Some of them are still quite green. We shall see how it goes.

I want to take a minute and say welcome to all the new listeners and welcome back to the veteran homestead-loving regulars who stop by the FarmCast for every episode. I appreciate you all so much. I’m so excited to share with you what’s going on at the homestead this week.

Our Virginia Homestead Life Updates

There is so much going on right now. It is harvest time in the garden. Not just to the tomatoes, though that is the big one. However, I’m going to start with the creamery and animals and finish up with garden updates.

Creamery

Scott is taking a break from working on the creamery. He finally got the entire project “dried-in”. The next big event will be putting on the metal roof. That will happen later, and in the meantime, he is using his time to clean up the construction mess and tidying up the property in general.

Mowing the fields is also happening. Cleaning up the grass in the orchard and garden area got done. General cleaning everywhere. It makes the building look so much nicer when the grass is cut and the scrap wood is gathered up and hauled off. Re-organization of supplies and tools also helps. And then there is helping me with various garden projects. I can’t turn that down. What a blessing he is when lending a hand in the garden.

Cows

Yet again, we had the ag tech out for AI purposes. Will it ever end? Violet showed signs of coming into heat yet again. Well she is taken care of yet again. Now we wait another three weeks to see if it took this time.

The calves are getting fat. They get two gallons of milk per day. I like to spoil them. Wendell is big enough to live on grass but I keep giving him the milk. He would push Virginia out of the way if I did not. He is quite committed to getting his twice daily rations of milk.

Goats

Several goats have had to have their heads removed from the fence yet again. It seems that every time they get access to a new area of pasture, they have to experiment will eating the grass on the other side of the fence. Nope the new grass is just not good enough for them. And some of them just never seem to learn that sticking their head with horns through the fence will get them caught.

Blue Herons

We have a pair of blue herons on the big pond now. For the longest time there was only one. Now there is a pair. Have you ever seen a blue heron? They are majestic and graceful in flight. I love watching them. I have heard that when you have blue heron’s it indicates the pond is healthy.

Quail

I am so pleased with how our quail operating is progressing. The hens are in full production with their laying of eggs. I have 15 hens and get 15 eggs nearly every day.

The incubator is humming along. Today the eggs in there are one week old. This process is so exciting. We have an entire life cycle operating quite efficiently. It is the one place on the homestead where everything is going smoothly at the moment. Perhaps I need to knock on wood now. I may have just jinxed them.

Donkeys

 I’m thinking the donkeys are just about ready for another hoof trimming. They really don’t like it. Daisy and Sweet Pea will stand still while it is going on, but they really only come up for their trimming because of the sweet feed. Donkeys are the friendliest of animals and we love our crew.

Let me pass on a bit of trivia regarding the donkeys. Did you know that they all have a cross on their backs? There are a couple of Christian legends that say it is a gift our Lord gave to the humble donkey that carried Him into Jerusalem. They are similar stories but not the same.

According to one legend, the little donkey so loved his Master that he followed Him to Calvary. Grief-stricken at the sight, he turned away but remained at his station at the foot of the cross. The shadow of the Cross fell upon him and from that day all purebred donkeys wear the Master’s Cross on their back.

Another story recounts that when Jesus was carrying his cross to the mount, a little donkey tried to help him but couldn’t get through the crowd. When the crowd dispersed, the donkey went up to Jesus, and stood behind the cross and as the sun went down, the shadow of the cross fell across the donkey and now every donkey has the cross.

According a theology lecturer at the University of Notre Dame, the tales never actually appeared in the Bible. Other facts about donkeys and the Bible is it is the only animal in the Bible other than the serpent to speak, and it plays a significant role in more than one Christian prophecy. The prophecy of Zachariah comes to mind.

Garden

Sunflowers

Let me start with the sunflowers. I hope to harvest them in the next couple of days. The really big ones are bending over the stalks. What is happening right now is the seeds are forming. That makes those giant heads really heavy and thus the bending over. The harvesting can be tricky once the seeds become fully ripe. Shaking the plant in any way can cause the seeds to come loose.

Scott and I have a plan to work on them together. I will hold the stalk while Scott cuts it through close to the ground. Then I will gently lower the stalk to the ground. At that point, we will cut off just two or three feet of stalk with the flower. They will get tied together in bundles of three and hung up to complete the drying process. The birds are going to be really happy this winter.

Beans

I have harvested the black beans. Perhaps I already mentioned that last week. Still to harvest are the red and white beans. Then all will need to be shelled out. That’s a fun project that Scott and I will do together while watching Amazon Prime originals in the evening.

I’ve also picked the baby lima beans. The green ones I cooked and we ate them days ago. The dried ones also need to be shelled out. All of these dried beans will be used to plant again next year.

Peppers

I made a really neat string of cayenne peppers and hung it up to dry. That’s all you have to do. After they are dry, I can do a couple of things with them. I might powder them up to make my own cayenne pepper seasoning. And I can chop them up into flakes and roast them in the oven. That adds a kind of nutty flavor to them. Then just toss them into soups, stir fries, and so on. Use them as you would store bought stuff. Using your own homemade seasonings is very satisfying.

The hot cherry peppers are producing like crazy. I have so many of these lovely peppers. They are not too terribly hot. Unlike the serrano peppers that I have. The serrano peppers are the hottest ones that I am growing this year. My jalapenos are quite mild. In fact, I made some pickled hot peppers and was informed by a customer that they simply were not hot. Next time I make a batch, I’ll add more serrano peppers to the mix and fewer jalapenos. In the meantime, I need to re-label the pickled hot peppers. What should I call them? Probably just pickled peppers.  

I finished drying a batch of sweet bell peppers. I did two trays of green and one of red. Right now, I have a few more green ones that are turning red. I’m ripening them in a window. I hope to have lots more of these great peppers for cooking throughout the winter and spring.

Scott has prepared the potato beds for the next planting. I’m not sure. It may be too late in the season for fall potatoes, but I’m going to give it a go anyway. We shall see how big they get.

Green Beans

The green beans bloomed again and I will have another picking from them within a day or two. The purple hulled cow peas also put on a bumper crop. Those may need three or four days yet before picking. Both of these lovelies will be fresh veggie for dinner soon.

Onions

I successfully grew a small batch of red onions. They are currently in the drying process and will be ready soon. There are a few white onions still out in the garden. They do not look like they are going to get very big. Some of the tops are already dying and that means they have grown all they are going to this time around.

Tomatoes

Now let’s talk about those tomatoes. The row is set up with tomato cages that were tied to rebar every so many feet. The sheer amount of tomatoes on the plants soon pulled that apparatus down. Yesterday, Scott went out there and tried to shore up the row. Many of the plants were laying on the ground, having broken down the make-shift trellis completely. I went out there last night to pick some and found some of the cages fell over yet again. I just need to pick and pick and pick to lighten the load.

The problem with that is I am running out of space to ripen them. I’m okay with picking my tomatoes just as they begin to turn. Once they are yellow or orange, I bring them in else the raccoon will get the results of all my fine work. I bring them in and put them on the shelves I used in the spring to start the tomatoes and peppers indoors so they are large enough to plant in the garden at the proper time. Once the seedlings are done, those shelves remain empty until this time of year when they fill up again with the fruits – literally – of my labor. The shelves are filled with tomato fruits and a few peppers.

I have four shelves currently full. There are also two 5-gallon buckets sitting in my kitchen at this very minute waiting for me to finish this podcast and return to them. They are red, ripe and ready to be turned into sauce.

Tomato Sauce

Here’s my process for making tomato sauce. It’s fairly easy as long as you have the proper equipment. I start with cleaning up the tomatoes, taking out the cores and then quartering them. I put them in a pot and start heating it up very slowly on the stove. Once they are cooked, it’s time to get the seeds and skins out.

I have a Kitchen-Aid mixer that has lots of nifty attachments. One of my favorites is the food mill. Once it is set up, all I have to do is turn it on and start dipping the tomatoes out of the pot into the hopper. The seeds and skins come out in one place and the juice and pulp come out in another place. I usually run the seeds and skin waste through a second time to get the most pulp and juice possible.

Once I have the pulp and juice, it’s a matter a cooking it down to the desired thickness and then starting the canning process. Sometimes this is a two-day project. Today is one of those times. Likely I will only get the tomatoes cleaned up and cut up today. Tomorrow will be the cooking, separating seeds and skins, cooking down to desired thickness and finally canning.

Canning the sauce is as easy as dipping the thickened sauce into sterilized jars, cleaning the rims, putting on the two-piece lids and setting them in a water bath canner for 15 or 20 minutes. Zip, zam, zowie and it’s done.

What do you think? Are you ready to give it a try? I don’t do videos, only audio. But I can recommend finding a YouTube video or two to get the details of how canning is done. One day in the future I will have a class or two here at the homestead on canning. I hope to meet some of you when that day arrives.

Final Thoughts

That’s it for today’s podcast. I hope you enjoyed the donkey story. They truly are blessed creatures. We love them so much. The quail are such a blessing. And yes, the sheep, lambs, goats, and cows are a blessing as well. Our life here is full. There is always so much to do and every bit of it is a blessing. Some things are a bit onerous, like all of the cleaning. And the quail and cow waste smells something awful, but when taken in context with everything else, you just can’t beat the joy of living every day in the presence of God’s creation.

Being able to grow our own food and preserve it for the winter is also fulfilling. It gives us a security that I would not give up for anything in the world. Especially in these days of uncertainty at the grocery store. I hope I’ve inspired you to try a bit of self-sufficiency for yourself. You don’t need a big place. A few plants in pots on your apartment balcony can provide a similar experience. Grow a few peppers and tomatoes. You’ll be glad you did.

If you enjoyed this podcast, please hop over to Apple Podcasts, SUBSCRIBE and give me a 5-star rating and review. Also, please share it with any friends or family who might be interested in this type of content.

Thank you so much for stopping by the homestead and until next time, may God fill your life with grace and peace.

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Check out this episode!

[passivenovember]

@coffeeandchemicals (aka the sweetest angel bb) asked:  For the drabbles, 55 or 60 or 72 with harringrove! Please and thank you!! 💙

55. “Our first date is a picnic. On a beach..under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?

Paper Angels.

The things is. Steve’s always had a sixth sense when it comes to falling in love. Can smell that shit from a mile away, the reeking infatuation that turns his already liquified brain into something like sludge. Mashed potatoes with too much milk, or something. 

And it used to be that Robin would point it out in that usual way of hers, before Steve became a pro at monitoring his own downfall. Pick your tongue up off the floor, dingus. 

And it used to be that Steve would take it like. A basketball to the back of the head, the realization that he was bleeding out in an open field for fucking whoever. Nancy Wheeler or Mark Lewinski or Brittani Clark. Robin could always sense it when Steve’s feelings started leaking out of his ears, but.

Billy Hargrove was something else entirely.

Neither of them saw it coming. The pushes and snarky comments that morphed into butterflies and concealed smiles under the light of the full moon, it was like.

Crossing a deserted road only to be fuckin’. T-boned by a cyclist who doesn’t have their lights on, or something. 

One day they were enemies. Avoiding each other like the plague--Billy actually gagged when Steve passed by him at parties. Called him Steve “Sloppy Seconds” Harrington, and. Yeah. The feeling was fuckin’ mutual, alright?

Because Hargrove always wore too much cologne and Steve had the sneaking suspicion, after that night at the Byers’ when contact sports took on a whole new meaning with the sound of ceramic against his skull, that Billy perfumed his dick.

Sometimes guys did that, he’d heard. And if Steve had to bet, like, cold hard cash on it, Billy Hargrove was definitely one of those guys. And not that Steve really. Thought about it much or anything but kissing Billy was probably like licking the inside of an ash tray. 

Just the thought of made him gag.

So, yeah. The feeling was mutual. The queasiness in Steve’s tummy was, like, disgust or something. Every time he saw that curly top above a sea of drunk high schoolers, he would start sweating a shit.

Bullets. Like he was going to face the electric chair, and. Steve had never thought for even a second that that feeling was mutual. 

That Billy would be anxious to see him. Would escape the moment he heard Steve rounding the corner into whatever lame party was on the ducat this week, so. When they eventually became friends. Best Friends, close as a couple of girls, it felt like Steve had solved the most difficult puzzle in the universe. 

They were shitfaced. Drunk enough to forget ceramic plates and nervous feelings, and Billy had tried to high-five him. Steve, on his way out for a smoke. Passed by with a little, well if it isn’t the leftover turkey, and. It would’ve been cool, but. They missed. 

By a lot. Two guys who never sat on the bench during a game, they. Fuckin’ couldn’t land a high five from less than a foot away and that was it. Billy’s walls crumbled around them like so much graham cracker dust, and. 

His eyes were pretty. Had they always been that pretty? Steve couldn’t remember but then Billy was leaning in, cheeks pink from laughter and whispering, You ain’t half bad, Harrington, into the shell of Steve’s ear. 

Like it was a secret only the two of them could remedy, and. Billy pulled away. Winked, waggled his stupid, ridiculous tongue, and. When he passed by he smelled like summer rain. Black pepper and grapefruit.

Steve closed his eyes and felt the love leaking from his ears.

Shit.

--

After that it was like surviving a forest fire. Billy would show up at Steve’s just before midnight with a six pack of Budweiser and a half smoked joint. On bad day’s he acted like coming to Steve’s house was a chore, like. Steve was holding him at gunpoint, preaching about commitments like Steve had even asked for his company in the first place, and.

On those nights it almost wasn’t worth it. The feeling of being close to Billy, it was. Hard to talk to him. 

And it wasn’t like falling slowly. Through syrup or stacks of blankets, like his usual style, it was like. 

Getting in the car and driving way, into the night, with no map and no funds and no clue of what the end would look like. Steve fell hard and fast and slammed into the ground until he was one with the molten earth, on the good nights, too. When Billy grinned and cracked jokes and fuckin’. Winked. 

So. The good outweighed the bad. For months, for millennia, it seemed. Until Steve couldn’t remember a time when midnight didn’t signal the arrival of love. And he would take it, anything, everything, for just a peak at the person he knew was hidden under all that hairspray and chiseled skin, so.

When Billy showed up one night with his car packed full of shit, Steve grabbed his coat without a word.

What are you doin’, Harrington.

I’m coming with you.

No you aren’t, that’s not. Look. I just came to say goodbye, so.

Not that easy to get rid of. 

Billy tried to fight him, tried to. Hold him off, or something. Like any force in the fucking universe would be strong enough to keep them apart. 

Steve made a face.

And Billy knew what that face meant so he cleaned out the passenger side of the Camaro. Stupid shit like lamps and folded quilts, shuffling it all to the back seat where there was clearly enough space. 

It was almost like. He had known what Steve would do. 

It was like he’d been preparing to say no, baby. I don’t have enough room, see? I’m saddled with more than I can take already, and I just--

Almost like he was hoping Steve would insist, anyway, and.

“Go pack a bag, pretty boy.”

Steve would follow him anywhere.

--

Billy came alive in California. The bad nights stopped existing out in the open air, they hid instead. Under the blanket of nightfall, under the sling of Steve’s arm. They paid extra for a two bedroom apartment on the beach, because.

I’m not expecting you to. Sleep in my bed, Steve.

Right. They were still pretending. 

The second bedroom sat collecting dust. Steve emptied his trash bag of essentials into the dresser in Billy’s room, because. The love was constantly ruining his shirts, these days. 

Steve bled blue and gold. Blatantly. Because he never felt it before, this. Feeling. Like the sand is being washed from his skin. Like he’s curling up in bed after a long day of hard work.

Billy makes him feel that way, so.

Steve can’t hide it. And he doesn’t try to. Not when they watch cartoons together on the couch, not when Billy sucks a hole into his neck under their blanket in their bed and asks, we goin’ steady? Like it’s even a fucking question, or something, but.

Steve realizes they went backwards. Won the game before actually learning the rules. 

Do you wanna go on a date with me? He asks one morning. It’s raining, so Billy isn’t surfing and Steve isn’t sketching out on the porch, and. 

It seems as good a time as any.

Billy has milk running down his chin when he looks up, eyes so blue and wide like he never expected it to fucking happen. Isn’t this a date?

What?

Right now, Billy says through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. We’re eating. Alone. Making eyes at each other over our meal--

Steve snorts. This isn’t a date.

And Billy’s face, fucking. Falls. He rinses his plate in the sink and kinda, doesn’t turn back around. Steve doesn’t know how he fucked it up already. 

Bills?

What’s a date look like then? And that. Makes Steve laugh. 

You’ve been on, like. So many dates, baby. 

Not with you. Billy says flatly. When he turns around again his cheeks are pink. Not from laughter, but. From something else. I never went on any dates with you, so. How would I identify one in a crowd.

And Steve knows. Instantly, knows he’s not going to get out of this one. 

Perfect first date shit, alright, I can. I can do that.  He leans back in the hideous avocado green chair Billy picked out and. Sucks on his bottom lip. We have the day free. Because, um. It’s the off season. Right after labor day and, uh. The shop’s getting ready to shift into winter. 

Billy grins. So in your perfect scenario we’re broke?

Listen, asshole wouldja just--

Alright, baby. Billy sits in the chair across from him and looks, fucking. So pretty in Avocado Green. I’m listening. 

So Steve tells him. Their perfect date begins and ends with ease, it’s as simple as breathing. The way it’s always been for them. Natural. Steve packs a basket with a goddamn. Charcuterie board and like, fresh fruit and shit. The sun sets and Steve gets down on one knee and--

Our first date is a picnic. On a beach..under the stars? Billy doesn’t look even a little bit like laughing, not. Not when his nose goes all bunchy. Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?

Steve isn’t really in the mood for jokes. 

He covers his face with his hands, because. They went backwards. Never even put labels on it, or second guessed anything because Steve won the lottery. That night when the high fives went up in smoke, he. 

Got everything he ever wanted.

Billy tugs at his wrists. Yanks and soothes and rearranges Steve’s skin until they’re chest to chest against avocado green. His eyes are teary. Fuck.

I didn’t mean to make you cry, baby. Steve says. ‘S a bad idea anyhow, too much pressure. You mean a lot and I fuckin’. Made you cry. Tears were never a part of the deal.

Billy lets Steve wipe his cheeks and then he’s smiling. 

Not grinning or smirking or teasing, but. Happy. We could make this a date.

Steve shrugs. Yeah, I guess we could.

Pack some sandwiches, sit on the patio. Billy winks. Just like all those nights when neither boy could give their emotions a name. Take away some of the pressure. 

I kinda dig the pressure, though.

Were you really gonna get down on one knee? Billy whispers. At the end of our first date? You know the statistics on divorce are--

Against his will, Steve’s chucking. 

And on the first date? Billy tuts, cheeks pink again. You know I don’t put out for any ol’ pair of brown eyes, Harrington. I wait until at least the fourth date.

It’s been five years. 

So marry me. Billy says. On Tuesday or something, we can. Go to the beach or whatever. Elope. 

And. 

Just like that night. With the Camaro stuffed to the brim, and Billy gripping his fingers like a lifeline in a storm, Steve has no choice. He never did, because. Yeah.

He kisses Billy, each cheek, both eyelids, before carrying him to their bedroom and wonders. If they’ll ever start at the beginning.