#finally a brother in arms for my beautiful new york city tap water that my blog is named after. it dries out my hair so bad tho but whatever

[newyorkcitywater]

scottish tap water i love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

[shewillreadyou]

Me before you: Chapter 3: Excuse me miss

A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. If the readers are receptive this might turn into more than a mini series. Enjoy!

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Language, adult content, mild sexual innuendo. 

Word Count: 3468

Catch up: Haven’t met you Yet  For Real

Prompts: None 

Pairings: Drake & Riley

Song inspiration: Luther Vandross Take you out & Wait for Love

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

The hot water cascaded down his sculpted body. He groaned as he ran his hands through his luscious chocolate locks. He lathered his shoulders as thoughts of her ran through his mind. He was captivated by her. She seemed to consume his every waking moment. Liam had crossed the line yet again. Every time it seemed his transgressions got more and more out of hand. He refused to allow his friend’s actions to ruin his final couple of days in the states. 

Bastien had taken over the King’s detail while they were in Waxahachie for Savannah’s wedding. For the next 48 hours, Liam was not his charge, he was his friend. His thoughts went back to her. She represented hope, possibility, promise. He had no idea what was to come, but he knew that it would be an exciting adventure if she was at his side.  

As he pulled his white henley tee shirt over his head, his mind went back to the conversation he had at the reception with his cousin Tyler, who was a cyber-security analyst with the Department of Homeland security. Drake explained to Tyler that he would no longer be sitting with him and the rest of the bridal party because the girl who he had been telling Tyler about who works in advertising, who he met in New York was there, and he intended to spend as much time with her as he could. She was something special. She could be the one. “So you invited her to Sav’s wedding?” he inquired. 

“No, actually she is the friend of Sav’s college roommate, Mackenzie, and came as her plus one. I had no idea she would be here.”

 “Sounds like fate.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that of all the places in the world this one person could be, she is here at your sister’s wedding... in Waxahachie, TX. If this girl is the one, you’re screwed. You might as well spruce up your resume. She’s a career woman. She is not going to move to Cordonia for you, and you suck at long-distance relationships. I can probably get you in at my job. My guy Rob in HR owes me a favor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get the courage to ask her out,” he told Tyler.

The truth was, he could easily see a future with Riley. She’s beautiful, honest, smart, quick-witted, and kind. His cousin’s words bounced around in his head as he pulled on his favorite distressed jeans giving himself a quick once over in the full-length mirror in the room his Mom had decorated for him at the ranch after she returned to the states when his dad passed.

He opened his laptop and took a look around the room. The Walker Ranch had been in his father’s family for several generations being passed down to the eldest male child, like each generation before. Drake stayed in Cordonia after his father died and was handsomely compensated by the crown. His college education was covered, and he and his sister received a stipend each month. Drake was always taught to do a lot with little and to save the rest. For years he lived at the palace and saved every penny. Being friends with Liam, he learned how to invest wisely and he did pretty well in the stock market. His newest pastime had been real estate investment. He had been buying foreclosed homes in and around Dallas and having his Mom’s brothers and his cousins fix them up before selling them for a generous profit. 

He was curious, he was now the rightful owner of the Walker Ranch. It had struggled in the past, but because of his business plans and wise investment, the family business was as strong as it had ever been and his mom was nearing retirement age. What if he and Riley did end up together? He knew the plan was for his cousin Miranda to replace his mom when she was ready, while he retained ownership, but where would that leave him? He pulled up the DHS website and clicked on the careers tab. He was reading a description of a position that he believed he would qualify for, Intelligence Analyst.  

Just then Liam plowed through his door without warning. 

“Li! What the fuck man?” he shouted as he closed his laptop abruptly. 

“My apologies, I hope I'm not interrupting.  I just wanted to apologize if I offended you. You were right, any woman can be a lot. Carsyn is not speaking to me, she thinks I'm interested in Riley.”

“You are interested in Riley. She's just not interested in you and it's killing you. Let me ask you something, why is it so hard for you to grasp that a smart beautiful woman would be interested in me over you?”

“It’s just.. It’s not that. I'm not accustomed to rejection. It intensifies my want for her.”

“ I hate to cut our conversation short but I have to head out. I’ve got a few stops to make before I pick up Riley.”

“Then I shall take my leave. Enjoy! Smart man, planning a date when it’s going to storm. I’m sure you won’t have a problem closing tonight,” he said as he left the room.

The evening came and Drake drove along the winding Country Road towards the city. He tapped his thumb against the steering wheel to the beat of Chris Stapleton’s, “Starting Over.”

Then he switched from Prime country to the Heart and Soul station on his XM Radio. If he was going to have her in his life it meant embracing all aspects of it. He knew that music was a big thing for her and although she would listen to a little bit of everything she loved R&B and Jazz.  A song by Luther Vandross came on and to his surprise, it was not very different from the country music he listened to all the time. The chorus was catchy and very fitting. 

“Excuse me Miss, what's your name? Where are you from, and can I come? And possibly, can I take you out tonight?”

He found himself humming the tune as he stepped into the local Nursery to pick up a houseplant to go along with the Pinot Grigio he bought as a gift for Riley.  He decided on a Prayer Plant. 

It was relatively low maintenance and he thought it would be entertaining to watch it curl up in darkness. He didn't want to do the same flowers and candy that everyone does. He wanted to take her something that she would keep for a while, and possibly would make her think of him when she saw it.  As much as he didn't want to admit it the thought of her dating someone else while he was back in Cordonia was driving him insane. 

He was nervous and he couldn't figure out why. They were just going to hear some live music.  But he wanted to impress her so badly. He knew that it was more likely that he would end up putting his foot in his mouth but with her, for some reason, it did not matter. When he pulled up in front of her place he put on ChapStick, and reached into his glove box, sprayed on some Chrome, and checked his breath before quickly gathering the gifts for her and heading toward the door. He tucked the house plant under his arm as he smoothed over his clothes as the elevator took him to her floor.  A small lump formed in his throat as he approached her door. 

She opened the door and his breath caught in his throat as he took in her appearance. She was dressed in a denim outfit with matching stiletto boots and oddly enough, the denim matched his jeans. It would almost appear planned. He was secretly thrilled. She smiled at him and he was sure he forgot his own name for a few seconds. She stretched up on her toes and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.

“Hey Drake, you smell delicious.”

 “Hey. Thanks. These are for you.”

“Aww, you brought me a houseplant and wine? I’m not worthy, but I love it. Thank you. Come in! I promise I’m almost ready.”

She sat the plant on the counter and placed the wine in her wine fridge. 

“You look greeeeat,” she squealed. 

“Thanks. So do you.”

“So how’d you know what kind of wine I like?” she asked as she finished her eye makeup in the mirror. 

“Observant, I guess. I saw a bottle in the trash when I was here yesterday.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you ready?”

He stood moving to open the door for her. “After you.” They made it downstairs as a couple of her neighbors made it home from what he only assumed was church. He couldn’t figure out if the staring was due to her outfit or if it was because she was with him. He looked at her in awe as she strutted with confidence to his car. 

He opened the door for her and she smiled before thanking him. 

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. She was rattling on and on about the artist performing in the festival and he was secretly praying she wouldn’t ask him a question that required an intelligent answer. She kept touching his biceps and his hand. Her hands were so soft and he was sooo turned on. He hoped that she didn’t notice the bulge in his pants and think that he was a creep. He wondered if she kept touching him because she was nervous too?

“Um, Ri? You good?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You are extremely chatty and you keep touching me.”

“I’m excited. I’ll try to keep my hands to myself, but the way this henley hugs your arms,” she wiggled her eyebrows. 

He let out a low chuckle as he quickly glanced at her for the seventh time.

“Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, never better. Why?” 

“You keep looking at me.”

He grinned keeping his eyes on the road. They were nearing the venue when she glanced at his pants. He immediately assumed that she spotted his retreating erection. 

“What?”

“We’re matching you know. People are going to think we did this purposely.”

“Do you care what others think?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Good because we’re here.”

They parked and he asked her to stay put for a moment. He got out of the truck and grabbed a blanket and wicker picnic basket. He walked around the truck and opened the door for her and she blushed furiously as she stepped out.

They made their way to a free spot among the crowd. Riley noticed a few glares from both men and women, who obviously had an issue with she and Drake being there together. Then she smiled as one woman gave her a smile, wink and thumbs up as she stood to the side watching while Drake spread the blanket and invited Riley to sit. She knew that some people would have opinions of them being an interracial couple, but Drake didn’t seem bothered. In fact, she thought it showed how courageous he was. When another woman mouthed, “That’s a good look!”

She bit the inside of her cheek trying not to smile. The truth was she didn’t need any validation. She knew Drake was a catch. The fact that he was easy on the eyes was a bonus.  

“What’s in the basket?”

“Uh, a little something my mom helped me with.”

He opened the basket and pulled out wine glasses, a bottle of her favorite Pinot Grigio, cheese, cashews, summer sausage, deli turkey, sliced cucumbers, grapes, strawberries, whipped cream and 2 brownies. The opening act took the stage and Drake pulled Riley close. 

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am,” she said coyly as she settled between his legs.

They cuddled for a bit before eating, until one of the performers played a rendition of The Gap Band’s, “Outstanding.” She jumped up and pulled Drake with her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and swayed back and forth with Riley. She felt so comfortable in his arms, he actually had rhythm. There went another stereotype out the window, it just felt right. 

After several acts had gone on and several glasses of wine later Riley settled in his lap as a performer started to play a slower song. “I love Luther,” Riley squealed as she began to sing along.

Knowing love the way I do

I can say for certain that it's true

There's a chance for me and you.

I surely feel like the time is near

The picture in my mind is very clear

I think love has brought us here

I remember not too long ago

I was just a lonely person

With a lonely heart, yeah

And I was hoping there could one day be,

Be a chance

For me to get the love

That I'd been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

Wait for love

And you're gonna get the chance to love

Wait for love, wait for love oh, my

When you take the chance on love you'll see

It's not a waste of time if you truly believe

The impossible can be..

So hold on tight if you think you're right

Cause nothing hurts as bad as when you see

You gave up too easily

Now I remember spending all my time

On a dream that kept me wishing that you could be mine, yeah

And I was hoping there could one day be, be a chance, whoa

I never stopped believing there could one day be, be a chance

For me to get the love that I'd been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

Wait for love, and you're going to get your

Chance to love

Wait for love, wait for love

And you'll get the love that you've been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

But wait for love

And you're going to get your chance to love.

Drake couldn’t help but hang on to her every word. He wondered if she was trying to send him a message through the lyrics. She had a voice like an angel and when the song ended he was breathless. 

“Ms. Riley sings too?”

She giggled as she rested her head on Drake's shoulder, her back to his strong chest. He fed her  grapes then strawberries with whipped cream soliciting jealous glances from some nearby onlookers. She made sure to let her lips and tongue graze his fingers.  For a few blissful moments, they both silently enjoyed the closeness.

“You know, this is pretty cool,” he whispered in her ear.

She smiled as his breath tickled her ear. Feeling the effects of the wine, she paused for a few moments before she responded.

“What’s that?”

“This. Us. The festival. It all just feels right.”

She wordlessly looked up at him. She wondered if she could will him to kiss her with her “come get it eyes.”  Suddenly, a torrential downpour covered the venue, leaving Drake and Riley scrambling to gather the blanket and basket before sprinting to his Jeep. Before they could get there he stopped snaking his arm around her pulling her close. 

This was it, he was going to do it, it was now or never. If she was the onehe wanted to look back at their first date and tell a romantic tale of their first kiss in the rain. Now was the time. He leaned in and when she opened her eyes her lips found his instantly. It was everything she expected and more. It was hungry and passionate and lustful and it made her lady parts twitch. When he pulled away he watched her for signs of regret, but her eyes said she wanted more. 

“Hurry, get in,” Drake urged her as he took the time to throw the basket and blanket in the back.

They were both soaked. She laughed hysterically when he finally got inside. 

“This entertains you, does it?”

She nodded as she continued laughing, her eyes were clenched tightly. 

He went back in taking her lips again as it continued to storm all around them. Her hands roamed his body and her eyes went wide when she made contact with the bulge in his pants. Another stereotype out the window…Drake cupped the back of her dripping head with his left hand deepening the kiss while his right hand explored the soft skin of her thigh as a soft moan escaped her. Suddenly his phone rang, “Mama’s Song” by Carrie Underwood blasted from his pocket startling Riley. Drake huffed and looked at her with apologetic eyes before answering.

“Mom? What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your date Drizzy.”

Riley smiled.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“The power is out and the generator didn’t kick in. I gave Larry the weekend off..”

“I’ll be there as soon as I get Riley home safely. Sit tight.”

“Thanks Driz. How’d it go? Did you kiss her?”

“Mom! She can hear you.”

“Hi, Mrs.Walker.” Riley chimed in.

“Hi, sweetheart. Did he kiss you?”

Riley laughed again. 

“Bye Mom!”

Drake ended the call and turned to Riley, cheeks flushed red.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“For the way, tonight is ending. For my Mom.” 

“Nothing could ruin today. Not even your Mom Drizzy,” she laughed again.

‘Geez, Ri that was below the belt.”

His comment made her think about his bulge and she began to blush.

“Are you blushing?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s too embarrassing to share.”

“Now you know I won’t stop until you tell me.”

When they pull into her neighborhood the entire area is pitch black. Her building was also dark. 

“Good thing I have candles.”

“Or you could go back to the ranch with me,” he said shyly.

“Really? I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“It’s just Mom and I. Liam and Carsyn should be out for the evening. Besides, I promised you dinner and it’s Sunday, I bet my mom cooked.”

“I can’t meet your Mom looking like this. I’ll be ok.”

“Riley, I’m not leaving you alone in the dark.”

“If you want to spend more time with me just say that.”

“Fine, I want to spend more time with you and I’m not leaving you alone in the dark. My Mom would kill me. Pleaaase! I can get you one of Sav’s outfits. I promise it will be an adventure.”

“Okay, I’ll go. But only because you’re so cute when you beg.”

He bit his lip. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Drake Arrington Walker!” she warned.

“Too much?” He smiled.

When they arrived at the ranch, Drake showed Riley to his room and gave her towels and a change of clothes while he went to help with the generator. She quickly showered, pulled her hair up into a messy bun and moisturized with his Nivea lotion that she found on the counter she walked back into his bedroom pulling on the leggings she borrowed. She was still bare from the waist up when the door opened. Her back was turned when she looked over her shoulder to reprimand him.

“Drake!” 

“Riley, it’s me, Liam.”

Riley screamed as she scrambled to cover herself.

“Get out!”

“My mistake. I thought Drake was in here. But this, you are much better.”

“Get. Out.”

“Come on, what’s a little fun between friends?” he asked as he closed the door.

Before she could answer Drake barreled into the room, his fist connected with Liam’s jaw before he tackled him. 

“Have fun with me you bastard, I told you to leave her the fuck alone,” he yelled as Bastien pulled Drake off of Liam. Riley watched the entire scene in horror from the corner.

“Get the fuck out Li!” 

After Bastien escorted Liam back to the guest house, Drake checked on Riley.

“Are you hurt? He didn’t touch you did he?” 

“No, I’m more embarrassed than anything. He walked in without knocking while I was changing.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him.”

“What in tarnation is all that racket back here?” Bianca asked as she turned the corner.   

“Just Li being a creep. Everything is fine Mom.”

Riley stood when Bianca entered the room. 

“Riley, this is my Mom, Bianca. Mom, this is my Riley.” 

His eyes went wide as soon as the words left his mouth. He grimaced as Riley extended her hand to his Mom. Bianca pulled Riley into her embrace instead. 

“It’s nice to meet the girl who makes Driz nervous.”

“Mom!”

Riley laughed.

Come on darling, I know y’all were supposed to get dinner. It’s Sunday so I cooked some pot roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, and green beans and for dessert, banana pudding funnel cakes.

“Oh my God, Mrs. Walker, that sounds amazing. Drake, you were holding out on me.”

“Not, really. Maybe I wanted to cook for you first.”

@txemrn @pixie88 @secretaryunpaid@khoicesbyk @blackkingliamstan @mom2000aggie @shannonwrote @hopelessromanticmonie @chemist-ana @rideordiechronicles @lucy-268 @dcbbw @darley1101 @maurine07 @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @schnitzelbutterfingers @lem-20 @choicesficwriterscreations @no-one-u-know @jessiembruno @queenrileyrose @thefrenchiemama​ @somersetmummy​

TRR: @twinkleallnight  @bebepac @mainstreetreader @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @lem-20 @texaskitten30

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

wolf in sheep’s clothing

Mob! turtles au Turtles x fem! reader

Leo x reader

Summery: The turtles are 4 brothers who run the mob in New York and their territory is under threat since a serial killer (you) has taken up residence in the area. Bodies keep dropping and it’s being blamed on the turtles which is bad for business so they decide to do something about it.

Warnings: violence, mention of drugs and weapons, NSFW

((A/N I’m not a writer, I’m a dumbass with a dream to write some dark fiction so please save any nasty comments. Hope you enjoy))

__________________________

November in New York was always beautiful, the leaves become this vibrant burnt orange and scatter throughout the parks and roads, you can see your breath in the air and occasionally there’s fresh snow on the ground. Nothing quite tops that. You sit in your regular bar, Paddy’s, and take another swig of the beer sat in front of you. You’re sat close to the door so it gets a little chilly with the patrons walking in and out creating a cold breeze but you simply shrug your jacket on closer and ignore it.

The city is at a pivotal point with gang activity, the mob known as “the turtle boys” runs most of up town New York- selling guns and narcotics to lesser gangs. It’s a dangerous time you think to yourself as you shake off the four sets of eyes you can feel watching you from the corner. You finish your beer and stand to leave.  Outside it’s dark and freezing, typical whether, you light up a cigarette, adjust your scarf and continue towards the ally that leads home leaving a swirling trail of smoke behind you; the end of the cigarette gleaming orange in the dim light.

You can hear the footsteps following you but you don’t quicken your pace. They’re free to do as they so please and have no idea who they’re messing with. Along with gang activity, New York has one other big problem at the moment: a serial killer. Their calling card? Strangulation. 7 bodies have washed up along the Hudson in the last 4 months all with the same abrasions around their necks from what the police suspect is barbed wire as well as stab wounds. You know it’s barbed wire, though. You’re the one who put them there.

The footsteps are gaining on you now and you stop in your tracks, take a deep inhale of your cigarette and turn to face them. You didn’t quite know what you were expecting to see but, the turtles boys wasn’t it. All adorned in beautiful, presumably expensive, suits they stare back at you with blank expressions but a slight look of worry in their eyes.

“Y/n L/n” the one in a blue suit calls to you. “you’re a hard girl to track down”

“laying low is my speciality. What can I do for you boys on this fine night?”

“cut the shit” the biggest one out of all of them cuts in. He’s wearing a black suit with a red handkerchief poking out of the pocket. Raphael you make a note to yourself. He’s going to be the hardest to take down. You smile sweetly.

“we can do this the easy way or the hard way” he finishes.

“do I look like an easy girl to you?” you turn on your heels and begin to run, if you can get them into the next ally way there’s a chance you can take at least one of the down before the others get to you, you think. 

Out of breath and cursing never sticking to your resolution to do more cardio you make it to the next ally but the one you know as Michelangelo has gained on you and slams you into the brick wall on your right side. 

“that’s no way to treat a lady” you say looking up at him, he grins, spits and decks you in the face. Everything goes black.

There’s a thumping in your head, you feel as though you have a concussion and your jaw aches like a motherfucker. Damn it you think to yourself, they’re more to handle than I thought.  There’s some kind of sack over your head that has a sheer texture to it so you can sort of make out where you are. There are cupboards and you can hear the steady drip of water so a tap must be near by, you assume you’re in a kitchen. You try and move your hands but they’re bound behind your back, the same with your ankles. Motherfuckers. You reach into the back of your jeans, you knife is gone. They must have searched you, they’re more thorough than you gave them credit for. you shouldn’t have underestimated them, you’re the one who likes to be underestimated. Just a sweet little girl, wouldn’t hurt a fly; you’re a vegetarian for fucks sake, who would think of you as the ruthless killer that you are? you try and slide your arms under your butt to have them in front of you, maybe then you can get this bag off your head and see where you are. Suddenly, you hear movement

“She’s awake” one of them calls to the others. More footsteps and you know they’re all in the room with you. You feel the bag being removed from your head, some of your hair being pulled with it but you ignore the slight sting that it causes. You’re face to face with Leonardo who’s crouching in front of you

“Now” he begins “I think it’s time we get better acquainted, don’t you, y/n?” 

“I thought mobsters were supposed to be sweet on women. They Cray twins, Al Capone, all real nice when it came to ladies. What gives?” you say to him.

“you’re no regular lady” he retorts. “We have sources that put you at the scene of 4 of the murders that have been going on recently and we just need to have a little chat about what you were doing there. We’d hate to have the wrong person”

you scoff.  “Me? A killer?” you feign an innocent look. “Whatever are you talking about”

Leo stands up and you can really see his true height now. He’s an impressive man, about 6′4 and all muscle. That suit was really doing him some favours as well, you would water at the mouth but you had other priorities at this moment in time; staying alive being just one of them.

“what were you doing by the Hudson on September 6th when James Masters was killed” he asks

“Look, you’ve got the wrong girl. I wouldn’t kill anyone” you flash him your big doe eyes hoping that’ll score you some points with the big bad mobster. They wouldn’t really hurt a girl, would they? “I’m an art major at Columbia, I’ve got 2 brothers who need me” you try and summon tears but you just can’t do it so you settle for the odd sniffle instead “My mum calls me at 12 everyday and if I don’t pick up she’s gonna get worried”

A sharp smack flies across your face and you’re taken aback by the impact. You can feel liquid at the corner of your mouth and know that he hit you hard enough to draw blood

“Cut the act, what were you doing?” he repeated himself.

You take a moment to finally look around the room. There’s a table to your right with stacks of cash and guns on it as well as lots of tightly wrapped bags full of white power; cocaine you assume. The 4 turtles stand in front of you, Leo being closest, all with their arms folded doing their best to look intimidating. You laugh.

“I get the feeling begging isn’t going to work, huh?” you say

“Not today, sweetheart” the one who knocked you out, Michelangelo, replies.

“Well, would it please you to know that I was there to get rid of a body? That I’m the one who’s been ‘terrorising’ New York as the papers put it? or did I give that away too easily?”

“That’s not quite what we’re here about” the one in purple pipes up

“Oh no?”

“you see, James was an informant of ours and he had some…Information that could be very harmful to our organisation if it got out. And since he was tortured before he died, we want to know what he told you”

“let me see” you you paused for dramatic effect “I believe his last words were ‘no please stop, oh god no’. Does that have any significance to you?” you smile

Another slap. This one hurt worse and was making your already aching jaw hurt even more, you would definitely have a bruise if you made it out of this.

“looks like we’re gonna have to use the old school method” Leo states

“the old school method it is” Donatello agrees

He leaves the room for a moment and comes back in with a black bag which he opens on the counter. He takes out a white plastic sheet and some things that you can’t quite make out from the floor but they make a metallic twang on the counter when he puts them down. They’re going to torture me. Your heart sinks to your stomach. You aren’t a coward and you’re no stranger to pain, half of your victims put up a good fight and rough sex was prominent in your life, but you truly didn’t know any inside information about what the turtles operation held and there was no way they were going to believe you.

Donatello approached you, laying down the white sheet and shimmying it under your form so that it lay underneath you.

“look, guys…” you began “We don’t have to do it like this”

“A bit too late for that, don’t you think” Donatello replied as he pulled a scalpel from his pocket and pushes it down into your hand. You howl in pain and try and pull your arm away but his hand is already on your wrist keeping you in place. 

“Just tell us what he told you” He states in an eerily calm voice

“He didn’t say an thing about you guys!” you bellow “I caught him tryna sneak date rape drugs into a girl’s drink and that’s why I killed him! It had nothing to do with you!”

They all look at each other and Donatello draws back.

“Even so” Leo began “He wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. I imagine he tried to make some kind of deal with you for his life” 

“Yeah, that he would leave the city and never come back” They stare at you, unsure as to weather or not you’re lying. Mikey uses his arms to propel himself backwards to sit on the counter behind him; his legs swinging casually as he sits.

“So nothing about us?” he inquires.

Leo moves towards you, crouching down again so that he’s eye level with you; his suit hugging his muscles in all the right places. You decided to take a gamble.

“well…He did tell me one thing” you croon

“Go on” Leo almost whispers

Your hand was bleeding pretty badly at this point and a bead of bright scarlet blood dripped down between your fingers and on to the plastic sheet beneath you. If you wanted to live, you had to make them like you in some way. You lean in closer, almost nose to nose with the turtle’s leader.

“you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” you say in your most seductive voice. He smiles at you, not quite sure what to make of your comment.

“I’m not following, little girl”

“Oh come on. Haven’t you heard that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Give me what I want, and I’ll tell you whatever you need to know” 

He stays crouched in front of you, still staring into your eyes trying to gage weather or not you’re serious. “Leave the room”  he commands without even looking back at his brothers. They do as they’re told, Mikey sighing slightly as he hops down from the counter and Donatello picking up his black bag of torture gear on the way out. 

“what do you have in mind?” his eyes are locked on yours and you’re so close you can feel his body heat from where you’re sitting. He truly was an amazing creature, all muscle and strength. It made you wet just thinking about what he could do to you. You place one of your still tied up hands on his knee and run it down his thigh until you’re close to his crotch and look back into his deep blue eyes

“Oh, you know. A little bit of hair pulling here, some biting there. Just fuck me raw basically” your forwardness gets you a raise of his eyebrows and his mouth forms into a bigger smile. He looks down and then back up at you and begins to untie the restraints around your ankles but leaves your hands bound. This is going to be good.

He runs his hands down your thighs and begins to undo the button of your jeans to slide them down your legs, you kick off your shoes to help him get them over your feet. His hands go straight for your underwear. This guy doesn’t fuck around you think to yourself. Underwear off, he trails kisses down your inner thigh until he reaches your sex and parts your lips

“you’re wet already? Naughty girl” he jokes and you can’t help but blush.

He moves closer and takes one long lick between your folds exciting a moan from the back of your throat. He’s good at it, too, swirling his tongue in devilish ways over your small bead and occasionally sucking at it too. He places one thick finger inside your wet entrance and begins to curl it in pace with his tongue. you’re barely hanging on at this point as your orgasm is coming fast. He looks up from between your legs while still using his hand to draw circular motions over your clit

“It’s ok, babygirl. You can cum for me” 

With one final stroke of his tongue and his permission your orgasm rips through you bringing tears to your eyes but he isn’t done yet. Moving up your body he lifts your top and undoes your bra taking his time to suck and kiss at your nipples. It’s as though he can’t decide which one he likes best but you don’t mind his indecision. You can feel his teeth pull the soft tissue of your left breast into his mouth as he sucks creating a small purple bruise and you humm in pleasure. He kisses your lips hungrily, inserting his tongue into your mouth just enough to taste the cigarette he must have been smoking before you woke up and you love the taste. It’s so manly. You take your still tied up hands to cup his chin as he does so and then move them down to feel his torso, His reptilian skin so rough yet smooth at the same time and you can feel his muscles twitch beneath the surface in anticipation.

He trails kisses and bites down your tummy before grabbing your hips and flipping you over, your face hits the floor but you don’t mind; you were guaranteed to be man handled and he did not disappoint. With your exposed ass in the air you can hear him behind you undoing his flies and you want to badly to look back and see him but the not knowing almost makes it hotter-that is until you feel him at your entrance. He’s thick. Almost too thick for you, he’s gonna stretch you open for sure and you can’t wait. Just as you think this you hear him spit and his fingers are at your entrance again making sure your wet enough for him. In one long slow motion he inserts himself inside you, filling you completely to the point where you don’t know if you can take any more. He bottoms out and you sigh in pleasure. He pulls out a little and then thrusts back into you hard over and over again at a punishing pace. His hands are on your hips but he removes one to smack your ass as he’s fucking you.

“harder” you almost beg

“that’s it baby, take all of me” he moans to you

the feel of the cold tile floor beneath your face is a nice contrast to the burning heat in your core and you know you can’t hold on much longer. He reaches around your body to play with your clit while he’s still pushing in and out of you at an astonishing rate while he takes his other hand and pulls at your hair forcing you to look up.

“Leo, I’m going to-I’m gonna” you practically scream before your second orgasm sends shock waves through your body. A few more thrusts and you hear him moan as he reaches his own ecstasy and cums deep inside of you. You almost collapse but his hands go back to your hips, steadying you. He pulls out and you can feel his seed and your own wetness leaking out of you and running down your inner thigh.

“wow, I haven’t been fucked like that in a while” you laugh

“I’m not done yet, baby” he taunts

flipping you back over onto your back you can see that he’s already hard again. Gods bless those mutant genes that turned him into whatever creature was kneeling before you. You don’t think you can take him a third time but before you have the chance to interject he’s inside you again and pumping in and out at an overwhelming pace. He runs his hand up over your breast to your neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, cutting off the blood supply to your head and you can feel your whole face redden with the pressure. He looks deep into your eyes, lost in his own pleasure. You’re mind is tingling with lack of oxygen and the force of his cock inside you and you’re close again. You slip your hands between your thighs and begin to play with yourself as he fucks you mercilessly, hand still at your throat. Suddenly your hands are pushed out of the way

“beg me to let you cum” he commands

you do as you’re told

“Please” you pleaded with him “I need this, I need it so bad please just let me cum”

He grunts as he thrusts harder, allowing your hands back at your pussy and you both cum at the same time. Bodies twitching in the afterglow of what had just happened.

He rolls to the floor beside you and lies on his back, both panting with exhaustion. He cups your sex with his hand.

“so, what did James tell you” he says as he catches his breath.

shit. you hadn’t thought this far ahead.

Fin.

[arukou-arukou]

A Non-zero Chance

I jumbled the timeline as I was writing this. Just go with it, okay? For @stevetonygames prompt Fluff: Sparring, for team angst. Also adding fic non-linear and tropes: soulmates. Angst with a hopeful ending. Mentions of sex acts. Canon typical violence. There is a read more line after the first section.

 Many many months after that faithful day in Sibera, Tony returned to the scene of the crime. The site was untouched. He hadn’t told Ross about it, and apparently T’Challa had decided well enough was better left alone. The holes they’d put into the bunker of the facility had completely covered over in frost and ice, and Tony had to wonder how Zemo had even dug the little hillock out in the first place. Though there had been a snowcat parked outside when they all first arrived. Without any care, though, it had once again faded into the arctic surroundings. Only someone who knew what they were looking for would find it.

Tony broke in through the holes rather than the front door. He wasn’t really in a mood for digging, and as satisfying as it might be to melt snow with an overloaded repulsor, this mission was also supposed to be stealth and secretive, and he didn’t really need Ross any further up his ass.

Inside, the evidence of their fight wasn’t as big or horrifying as he remembered. There were some structures that had toppled, and a few spots where he’d scorched cement with a repulsor, but it didn’t look nearly as bad as he remembered it being. The Avengers had certainly done worse elsewhere. Tony ran his hand over a shield-shaped crack in the wall.

—

 “This is ridiculous, Cap, we need to know how to fight together, not fight each other.”

Steve smiles back over his shoulder. His ridiculously broad shoulder. “After Wanda mind-whammied us, I’m not taking any chances. We should all know how to incapacitate each other just as a precaution.”

“Only incapacitate, Steve? Not maim?”

Steve chuckles and starts strapping on boxing tape. “No maiming on the docket today. Maybe next Tuesday.”

 —

 Tony followed their trail of destruction back into the heart of the bunker, where the super soldiers still rested suspended, illuminated in sickly yellow. There was the fucking TV, right there. The thing that had ruined it all. Tony stared down at it, wondering where the tape reel itself was located. Probably back in that room Zemo had been hiding in. The bulletproof one. Somewhere in the hallways, Tony could hear water dripping. Impressive, really, given the permafrost all around. He would’ve thought the systems had frozen over long ago. Near his foot, there was a gun, the semi-automatic Barnes had been carrying. It was useless now, its clip and firing mechanisms slagged by his repulsors. He picked it up all the same and aimed it at the glass where Zemo had hidden. The suit’s fingers were too thick to fit over the trigger—what was left of it anyway—so Tony just imagined how satisfying it would be to fill that glass full of shrapnel, to watch Zemo crumple to the ground.

 —

 “Why are you even training me, Rogers? I’m retired. Aren’t you supposed to be looking after the rookies?”

“Just because you’re retired, Tony, doesn’t mean trouble won’t come looking for you. You’re a pretty attractive target.”

“Why yes. Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing.”

Steve punches his bicep gently before offering a bottle of water. Tony takes it, squirting some into his mouth before moving on to his sweat-drenched hair. On Steve’s left wrist, he catches sight of the red band that hides Steve’s words. It would be rude to ask. Totally taboo. But Tony can’t stop himself.

 —

 Tony managed to jimmy his way into the control room, and there he found the VCR, still loaded with the incriminating tape. If he were smart, he would just rip the thing apart, burn the tape and shatter the shell. And Tony was smart. Just not smart in the right ways. He fired up the power to the TV, rewound the tape, and then hit play again. He’d rewound too far. Barnes was in his cryo tube. Some slimy scientists were hauling him out, shoving him into some horrifying chair, pushing down the nodes, saying the words.

No. Tony didn’t want this. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for Barnes. He wanted to let his rage fester and corrode him until he didn’t care anymore. All caring had ever gotten him was betrayal.

 —

 “Do you know who they belong to?” Tony asks, looking up defiantly, refusing to be sheepish about his lack of willpower. Steve glances down at his band before looking up again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He looks wistful and boyish, sweet and beautiful. Tony wants to kiss away the sorrow he sees in that face.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s dead now.”

“Oh.” Tony touches his own band, thinking of the words beneath. He’s my friend. The most significant thing anyone will ever say to him. The thing that, if the romantics would have him believe it, points him toward his soulmate. He’s never really gone in for that, though. His parents had had each other’s words, and their marriage was anything but blissful and romantic.

No. Tony’s got a different theory about the words.

 —

 There. Tony spotted it before even knowing he was looking for it. On Barnes’ collarbone. Had fate known he would lose the arm? It was unusual for words to be somewhere else on the body. Non-dominant wrist. That was the norm. The tap quality was shit and Tony couldn’t enhance it without bringing the tape back to Fry. And like hell he was bringing the tape home. Were the files somewhere? Hadn’t Zemo had a book? Maybe it was here?

Tony searched the control room, trying to find evidence of the thing Zemo had used to control Barnes. There was no sign of it, but what there were were dozens of filing drawers, all of them covered in a layer of dust. Tony started digging.

 —

 Steve’s off his game today, Tony can tell. He’s distracted by something, mind not in the ring, and Tony takes advantage. Just like Steve and Nat taught him to. He sweeps Steve’s leg, rolls on top of him, pins his leg in a position that's precariously dangerous even for a supersoldier, and applies weight. “Yield?”

It’s late, the halls are quiet. Tony hadn’t even meant to do sparring with Steve today, but Steve had asked, so Tony had delayed his return to New York City and well, the late hour puts his mind elsewhere.

Their eyes lock. Tony’s still on top of Steve, holding him in place, threatening his knee joint. Between one breath and the next, their positions are flipped, Steve on top of Tony, both of them hard, teeth clacking. Tony doesn’t make it back to New York City that night.

 —

 What felt like hours later, Tony finally discovered what looked like a medical log. He’d been trying to learn Russian, but adding a new script was harder than adding a spoken language, and he was a busy man, what with covering Rogers’ ass every other day. Natasha might have been a master spy, but Steve was a puppy who hadn’t learned how to control his tail wag yet, and he left destroyed crockery in his wake. There was always some trail to some terrorist or smuggler or weapons dealer that needed cleaning up, lest Ross take notice. The point being, Tony’s Russian wasn’t exactly sparkling.

But he’d double-checked ahead of time to know what he was looking for and now he was pretty sure he’d found it. Flipping through the file, Tony found what he wanted to know almost instantly. ‘Til the end of the line. The words. Those words.

 —

 It’s a thing. Sort of. Tony comes to the compound. They spar. They fuck. It’s only their third time sleeping together that Steve drags him into the shower, wristband conspicuously absent. Tony touches the thin skin, for once asking permission before he looks down. Steve nods, trusting, contented. I’m with you to the end of the line, pal. “He” Steve had said. Tony doesn’t need to ask to know who “he” is. There was only one really important “he” in Steve’s life way back when. And it makes sense, too. After all, Barnes plunged to his death trying to protect Steve and Steve had tried to protect him just as hard. Of course they’re important to each other.

“Can I see yours,” Steve asks, kissing Tony’s band. Fair’s fair, Tony thinks to himself, and nods.

Steve gently unclasps the snaps and sets the band aside outside the shower. He looks down at the words and then up at Tony with a silent question. “I don’t know whose they are.”

“And you’re still okay with us?”

“Steve, I’m standing naked in a shower with you. I’m pretty damn okay with this.”

The bright grin Steve gives him feels like a gift.

 —

 Tony left, hauling the tape and the filing cabinets behind him. They would be useful sooner or later, he was sure. And it felt so important, hauling his literal baggage along with him back to the US. Well, first a pit stop in Wakanda so Shuri could make copies. Fry flew the quinjet on autopilot, which was maybe a mistake. Tony needed distractions and all he had were files rendered in Russian, which were frankly giving him a headache. He wanted to hate Barnes so much. But fate was literally sending him a message. Barnes. Rogers. ‘Til the end of the line.

Eventually, frustrated, he managed to sink into a fitful sleep, which took him to Wakanda’s borders. T’Challa sent along an escort at the shield wall to make sure Tony was alone and also to make sure Tony didn’t cause any undue trouble. As if he could manage anything more than a nervous breakdown at the moment. Shuri was waiting for him on the platform, and for her and her brilliant mind, he managed a tired smile.

“Brought a present for you.”

“Thank you, Tony. I would get them myself, but—”

“No, no. You’re busy in Oakland kicking science ass and shooting layups with the youth. Let the old guy take care of the analog—” Tony shuddered theatrically “—files.”

Shuri smiled more brightly and kissed him on the cheek. “You look tired. Go see my mother. She’ll be wanting to mother you.”

“I shouldn’t. I’ve gotta—”

“My brother has already ensured that General Ross cannot find you. Go. Eat some food. Get some rest. Perhaps we can talk about your latest arc reactor designs in the morning. I have some ideas.”

“I bet you do.”

Tony knew when he’d been dismissed, and he also knew he was being handled a little, but it felt nice to be handled. It felt nice to not have to be trying to outwit Ross at every turn for a little while. So he allowed Ramonda to stuff him full of delicious, spicy food and then shuffled off to the guest wing, intent on getting at least four hours before he took off.

But the second he laid down, he was awake and restless, unable to settle. His thoughts kept going back to those files, going back to the “end of the line,” thinking again and again about the letters carved into Steve’s skin. How many times had he kissed that wrist? How many times had Steve kissed his? How was it fair, that Steve would be Tony’s words, but Tony wouldn’t be Steve’s?

Fed up, he yanked on a pair of loose cotton pants and a loose cotton T-shirt and wandered the palace, looking for distraction. None of the guards stopped him, though they watched him with considerable distrust. He didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t trust him either. Not anymore. It was only when he heard the sound of skin slapping leather that he stopped short. That sounded like… But it couldn’t be. All the same, he pushed through the door, freezing as he discovered a huge training ground, Steve inside, alone at a punching bag.

Steve froze too, and the bag caught him on the backswing, smacking him straight in the nose. Tony found himself caught between laughing and rushing forward with concern, and ended up doing a bit of both, snorting as he approached, though he remained well out of Steve’s personal bubble. “Smooth, Cap.”

“Tony, what are you doing here?”

Tony scuffed his toes into the mats, which felt solid right up until he kicked them and then gave way like kinetic sand. It felt heavenly and he wanted to play with it and see what it was made out of. “Oh, you know. Just dropped in for a cuppa with the King.”

“Did…did you bring those files?” Steve remained sprawled on the floor, looking up at him, a trickle of blood trailing from his nose.

“And if I did?”

Steve swallowed heavily, rubbing at the blood and smearing it. And then he was up, faster than Tony could react to, holding Tony, kissing him sloppily through mumbled “I’m sorry’s.” Tony didn’t know how to react. Was this what an out-of-body experience felt like? He remained motionless even as Steve broke away, jumping back, looking more unsure than he’d looked since he and Tony first met. “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… You don’t want…” Steve took a huge breath and squared his shoulders, looking Tony in the eye. “That was wrong of me. I hurt you. In so many ways. It was wrong of me to kiss you.”

“Also pretty sure you’re cheating on your boyfriend if you kiss me. Don’t forget that bit.”

The little line between Steve’s eyebrows deepened. “Bucky and I, we’re not… We’re just not. I thought we would. But I can’t. Every time I tried, I felt like I was betraying you. And Bucky felt like it was wrong, too. We didn’t…we didn’t click. Not romantically, anyway.”

“You’re not…” Tony could barely dare to let himself to hope. “Didn’t you back in the war, though?”

“No. No, we didn’t. It was too much, running missions, fighting Hydra. Plus, he was afraid I’d get caught and outed. So we didn’t. I should’ve told you. But I didn’t think it mattered.”

All the thoughts Tony used to have about the words, the idea that maybe they had nothing at all to do with romance, came back to him. He ran a finger over his own wrist, where Steve’s words were hidden.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve stood there, square, looking as though he was waiting to be punched, ready to take his punishment like a man.

“Wanna spar?”

[aruandaiden]

How Long Does Love Last?

I have pulled an all nighter to write this chapter and I have to say that I am very proud of this one. 

Literally, instead of sleeping, I spend the night writing this, watching Undertale videos and reading fanfics.

Well, please, enjoy!

Chapter 3: Apocalypse

“Get the hell out of here!” Aiden can hear Aru scream, as he gets his bag and slams the 5th door of this week. It is surprising that any neighbor has complained.

Aiden wears a stoic expression, in a desperate attempt to hide his mixed emotions. A mix between anger, sadness and confusion.

He walks silently to the nearest park, the same one in which Aiden and Aru had many dates, so full of nostalgic memories.

Aiden sits in an old, kind of rickety bench and sighs heavily, as he covers his face with his hands.

Why have things to be this way? He thinks as he retires his hands from his face and admires the view.

The Cherry Blossoms are as beautiful as always, the pink petals slowly falling into the lake, covering its surface. In the background, kids run around the playground, some are enjoying the cinnamon buns from the cafeteria.

As he sees the kids play, Aiden remembers how much wanted kids of his own. It was a dream that he and Aru used to share, until, well, things went to the ditch. Aiden can still imagine a small kid with Aru’s round, dark eyes but with little blue sparkles, just as his.

Aiden shakes his head, trying to push away his fantasies, because they are just dreams that aren’t possible.

Aiden deeply sighs again, reaching for the phone in his pocket, dialing the number that he knows way too well.

The phone is immediately picked up.

 “Ammamma?” Brynne asks through the phone, with evident worry in her voice.

“I’m coming over. Be there in 10.” Aiden says, it is a statement not a question, as he already knows the answer to it.

“’k, I’ll be waitin, but you ok?”

“We’ll talk later.” Aiden ends the call.

 Aiden heavily gets up of the bench, directing himself to the nearest portal with direction at New York, to Brynne’s and Hira’s place

--------------------------------------

It takes him a while to get to it, but when he finally does, Aiden walks silently through New York City and takes the subway that goes to Brooklyn.

The subway moves smoothly underground, the station pass and pass. To be honest, Aiden would prefer other method, because looking at all that happy couples, sometimes with kids, is starting to make him sick.

Why can’t he be happy as they are? Why thing went so wrong? Is it my fault?

These are constant thoughts that flood his mind, forcing himself to look away when he feels the tears starting to grow in the corner of his eye

Should I have thinking before proposing to her?

This is the main question on his mind, as his feet follow the path that he knows by heart, the stairs are way too familiar for him, especially in the last months.

And there it is, the door to Brynne’s and Hira’s apartment.

Aiden’s fingers tremble as they reach for the doorbell and the tears are almost escaping from his eyes.

He doesn’t even need to ring the bell, Hira is already opening the door, her concerned light hazel eyes look directly into his and pulls him into a warm hug.

Aiden hugs her back, letting the tears flow freely and lets out some sobs. His knees are trembling and the only thing that prevents him from falling to the ground is the strong way Hira is holding him close.

Aiden hears some hurried footsteps, and the next thing he sees is Brynne with a soft blanket on her arms. She adds herself to the hug, giving him the warm that he didn’t knew that needed so bad.

After some minutes of standing in the doorway, holding him close and Brynne’s hand stroking his hair and Hira consolations, the couple pulls him to the living room’s comfy couch.

The house smells like an Indian restaurant, Brynne was definitively cooking before Aiden came. He wishes some of that familiar food.

Hira stays close to him as Brynne puts a blanket on his shoulders and softly calms him down.

Brynne hugs him tight when Hira leaves to the kitchen and immediately returns with a bowl of Khichdi, which he accepts thankfully.

Aiden eats slowly, enjoying himself with the comforting Khichdi, which gives him a sensation of safety.

Brynne puts on his favorite documentary and the three of them cuddle, Hira is singing soft lullabies and Brynne cleans the tears from his face until Aiden falls asleep.

-----------------------------

Aru takes a sip from the glass of water; her throat is horribly aching and the salty tears fall in the kitchen’s floor.

Aru can feel some little taps on her head. Maybe it is the headache or her soul sisters are trying to contact her. She just hopes it isn’t Brynne ranting at her.

“Aru?” Sheela says at the same time, her voice echoing on her head.

Aru doesn’t reply and remains silent until a memory hits her.

They are young again, sitting at the Night Bazaar and Sheela is talking in a singsong voice.

“-n her birthday and anniversary. The only sad thing was that she loved one brother more than all the rest.”

Sheela’s eyes immediately direct to Aiden’s direction.

“Even lifetimes later?” Sheela asks to herself.

Aru takes a deep breath, as her heart clenches in her chest and the tears are now constantly falling.

“Sheela,” Aru says slowly and her heart breaks with every word she pronounces “Years ago, yo-you said that Arjuna and-d Draupadi love each other even lives times later. Are you sure that it is true? Why is our marria-age falling?”

The line stays silent, a heavy atmosphere surrounding the area. Aru expectantly waits for the answer, if she has it, maybe she could fix things.

“I don’t know.” That’s Sheela’s answer.

Aru’s heart fully breaks in a million pieces, her head hurts as hell.

And her world is falling apart.

.

.

Playlist

1.      Apocalypse -Cigarettes After Sex

2.      Creep -Radiohead

3.      El Aguacate -Julio Jaramillo

4.      Solo -Clean Bandit, Demi Lovato

5.      Take me the Church -Hozier

6.      La Nave del Olvido -José José

7.      Gloomy Sunday -Matt Forbes

8.      I’m Not In Love -10cc

First Chapter

Second Chapter

[justmewoo]

Legacy [ Avengers x Male Reader] Ch.3

Thank you all so much for the rebloggs and likes! Please let me know how I can improve it or if you want me to add more to it.

___________________________________

A/N: I forgot to mention but the reader has Peggy's hair color but has Steve's blue eyes and his smile. this is all unedited at the moment. So I apologize. By the way this takes place before civil war but I will be adding the movie after a few chapters. And when I do who's side should he choose team cap or team iron man? Let me know please!

"Agent Hill make sure to let me know if he wakes up. We need to keep this on the down low." A deep voice said. 

"Of course. The doctor said it would take a few hours till he wakes up. It seems like all of his organs are functioning along with his heart." A female voice responded back. 

"To think after a few years later the same thing occured to him like it did to Steve Rogers." The man voice spoke again. 

'Steve Rogers he's talking about my father. Did this man know him or what does he mean by the same thing had occured. I have to open my eyes and move to let them know I can hear them. I need to see my mother and Tony.' 

"Coulson found a pair of dog tags on him around his neck it seems like he was in the Vietnamese war back in the 70s." The voice of a woman said again. I was tired of listening talk in front of me. So I decided to give it a chance and open my eyes. 

I was able to open my eyes and adjust them to the light. I looked at my surroundings to find myself inside a white room. There where machines surrounding me. I was in a hospital room. I took a look at my left side to find the two people who where talking. One was a tall male who was wearing black clothing along with an eye patch and dark skin. While the other was a woman wearing similar clothing. "Where am I, how did I get here." I asked with a raspy voice. 

The pair looked at one another before the girl decided to speak up first. "My name's Maria Hill i'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and this is the director of S.H.I.E.L.D Nick Fury." I sat up on the bed taking a good look at them. 

'If there agents from Shield then that means i'm in good hands. They obviously know my mother though they dress differently.' I thought. 

"I'm going to be straight forward and say this but [Male Reader] you've been asleep for the past fourty one years." His voice echo inside my head. I shook my head running a hand through my hair. I yanked the tubes connected to my heart and arm. I stood up from the bed and looked outside. 

Everything looked different outside. There was tall buildings with tons of different commercials and Ads. Looking down I saw many people walk everywhere. Their clothes also looked different many wore bright colors while other wear suits similar to the ones Howard wears. The different cars that passed by looked nothing like the cars I once knew. People had a screen on their hands while walking. Some talked with them placing it in their ears. They where right this wasn't the New York I knew or grew up in. 

"Where sorry but it has to be this way. We found your body frozen under the water. We rescued you thankfully we managed to save you." Maria said. 

I glance at them before staring down at my hands. "So what am I supposed to do now, all the people I kew are probably gone. My mother is probably dead already. And from the looks of my hands it seems like I didn't age so i'm probably still twenty nine years old." I said running a hand through my face just thinking of a possibility that my mother could be dead. 

"Actually we want to ask you a few questions to get to know you better. And while been frozen you don't seem to age so yes you are correct." Fury said grabbing my attention to him. 

I sigh running both hands through my face. I paced back and fort with hands behind my back. "I'll tell you everything about me. My name's [Male Reader] Carter Rogers. I was known as little Rogers during the Vietnam War. I served the last five years there. I had never met my father because he disappeared before he even knew about my mother being pregnant. My mother was Peggy Carter she worked with S.H.I.E.L.D and my father was Steve Grant Rogers also known as Captain America. He went missing during world war two leaving no choice but to have my mother raise me on her own with the help of my grandparents. I grew up around headquarters. I also grew up close with Howard Stark and his family. He offered me a job and worked with him in coming up with new projects. I also worked in a Bar in the night time. I was closed with their son Tony he was like a little brother to me and he was the last person I saw along with their butler Jarvis." Both of them glance at each other before looking at me. 

Nick Fury took a few steps and stood next to me his hands where behind he's back. "Listen [Male Reader] there's something you must know. The thing is your father Steve Rogers is alive but he can't know abour your existence at least not yet. We don't know how or the reason why where frozen."

"My father's alive I want to meet him please I have to see him." I pleaded placing my hands on his shoulders staring back at him. "I need to even if it's from afar please all I had was a picture of him I beg of you Furry." He glanced at Maria Hill before turning back to look at me. 

"You will meet him along with the rest of the avengers and will be staying at the Stark Tower here in New York. The avengers are a group of super heroes who's always protecting our world." 

'Stark Tower and super heroes. That means there's a chance I will get to see Tony again and meet my father for the first time.' I thought. 

"Are you listening Rogers, you will be given a new identity so starting from this moment your name will be [Fake Name] [Fake Last Name] you said about being closed with Tony Stark. When you see him he won't know or any other person besides us do I make myself clear." I nodded. 

"I understand sir."

"Very well, let's get things ready the clothes in which we found you will be return but do not wear them. I don't want them to find you suspicious." 

______________________

After Nick Furry and Maria Hill sorted out things. They returned my old clothes along with the small picture I had that day of Tony in my pocket. A tear dropped on the picture as I looked down at it. I recieved a wallet with money on it. So I placed the picture inside there unfortuanetly I lost the wrist watch that Tony had given me. They also gave me a pair of new shoes and a simple plain white shirt with some blue super tight pants appearntly they called them jeans. They also gave me a black leather jacket. While finish getting dress the people in S.H.I.E.L.D. created my new fake profile because there's smart people who can figure out that it's all false. 

Agent Coulson showed me the day technology and internet which was now called Wifi. It gives you the ability to connect to the web with just a tap on the screen of a phone. 

"I added Fury, agent Hill and my phone number on here incase of an emergency. The streets in New York haven't changed just a few new buildings here and there. So do you understand how a phone works." Coulson asked. 

"I'm pretty smart with technology so this seems easy to handle. So you just tap the green button to answer a call and the red button to end the call correct. And you can also sent messages like sending a letter." I walked over to him showing the message word on the phone. 

"That's correct but, when you sent text messages don't write them as letters just what you would say to them in person. Now come on it's time to go the files are ready. Furry informed me about your situation and let me say that i'm really honored for your time during the war in Vietnam [Male Reader] and one more thing your going to be part of the Avengers Furry thinks they could use your help." 

"Thanks so i'm assuming you will keep my dog tags because it contains my real name. Your welcome Agent Coulson it was a duty I had to fullfill plus you can say I followed in his foot steps. But why would I join them if i'm nothing special just a regular human been." I answered confused as we begin to walk out of the room and into the hallways of the building.

"He thinks that you have the capability in being part of their team because your similar to your father. Your'e strong like him and its true no normal human can survive been frozen for over fourty years. Just like at it this way now you get to finally meet him in person and remember he's not supposed to know your his son till we figure out the reason why the same thing happen to you. And don't get too close with anyone either act normal as possible Furry orders." 

______________________

We got inside a black fancy car. Someone drove the car while Coulson continued to talk. I could only watch in awe out the window as we passed through the city. New York had become such a beautiful place. It was nothing compared to before so many lights and people filled the streets. Never in my life did I dream about the future. I figured I wasn't going to be able to see it. But boy was I wrong, big shopping centers where almost at every corner. The tall buildings where above more than five feet tall. Some even had a transparent mirror so you can see people working in offices. With every turn the car made it I could only continue to stare. This place sure had a lot of nice views. But what made me feel like a kid again even for a little bit was crossing the big bridge of New York.

But what made me jump out of my seat was the small burger place I used to enjoy going when I was a kid and the last time I took Tony with Jarvis. I frowned thinking about that night. From there on I sat back down on my seat and listened to everything Coulson was telling me. 

The ride to Avengers compuund took approximately an hour and a half because of traffic and outside of the city. I looked out the window to see the sky cloudy and gloomy. The car entered some sort of big open space where trees stood. Big gray buildings appeared surrounding the trees. A letter A in white was drawn on the ground I watched in awe at the imagine. This was where the Avengers where staying at. There was also a lagoon or river behind the biggest building. The fresh air made me feel at ease.'This used to be an abandoned facility' I thought. The car stopped in front of the building. Coulson got out of the car first then soon I followed after. I got out of the car and closed the door after me we stood there staring at giantic building. Coulson walked away first and opened the door. He stood near it staring at me. My hands where beginning to sweat and my heart beat faster each second.

I clutched my hands in fist taking a deep breath before walking inside the compund. I followed behind Coulson inside. But when I stepped a foot inside the floors where extremely shiny the entrance was amazing all the furniture matched the walls. And the windows where taller than I was. I heard steps coming from the staircase that was nearby but didn't pay much attention yet. 

"You should close your mouth or you'ill catch a fly believe me it's not pretty." Said a deep voice. I snapped my head at the voice to see a tall male wearing pants and a dark blue long shirt. He wore some sunglasses and had raven hair. In the middle of his chest he had a glowing thing that looked rectangular. "Tony Stark nice to meet you." He walked over to us and extended his hand to me. 

'This is Tony, he looks older than me by now I should be way older than him not the other way around. I missed the chance of seeing him grow up and now he's all a man. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.' Forgetting about the rules I go for a hug instead of a hand shake. I feel Tony tense up not returning the hug back. "Tony your all grown up." I whispered. 

"Do I know you from somewhere kid." Tony asked as I pulled away from him.

"Of course you-" Coulson sent a big glare making me rethink my words. "Of course you don't know me I just moved to New York from.... Japan." I lied remembering the information of the fake name. 

"Then you didn't adjust well with Japan's culture because they don't hug at all looks like you didn't get the memo." Tony joked patting my shoulder. 

"I'm [Fake Name] [Last Name] starting from today i'll be joining S.H.I.E.L.D." I said. 

"Hold it right there kid if your going to join our team you can't be calling us  SHIELD we are way better than they are and we are the Avengers. Unless you want to get smashed I suggest you keep that in mind." 

"Right, sorry I just haven't heard much of you in Japan I apologize." I apologized before staring in awe at Tony.

"Tony will be able to guide [Fake Name] into the compund and mind showing him around so he can meet the rest of the avengers." 

"Actually no I have plans with Pepper sorry you're going to have to ask Cap or Wanda heck even Vision will it was nice meeting you [Fake Name]." He waved goodbye and left the building without looking back. 

"Don't mind him he's always like that with new team members. Furry informed me about you joining our team welcome to the Avengers Compound i'm Steve Rogers it's a pleasure to meet you [Fake Name]." Steve no father said walking to my direction. My father is standing before my very own eyes. My eyes widen at the resembles that I share with him. He was about the same height with a nice tone body similar to the picture mother had in her office. Except of course he was younger back then but still he hasn't changed a bit. The big hero everyone talked about back then was standing right there in front of me. I was frozen in place my mouth half open but no words seem to come out of it. I wanted to run and hug him, to tell him that i'm his son that I was creates by the love him and my mother had. That I was proud of having a father like him. But what if I did would I make him proud or just plain out disappoint him. Maybe this is a second chance at getting to know America's hero. After what felt like forever to me I had the courage to finally speak to him. Coulson nudge from behind and pushed me a bit forward to shake my father's hand. 

"M-My na'name's [Male]- I mean [Fake Name] [Fake Last Name] it's a big honor to be part of your team. Thank you for welcoming me." We shook hands with one another. 

"Agent coulson I got this from here i'll be showing him around and prestening the ones left. Should we come on there's people I would like you to meet." Steve said. I walked next to him and followed furthure inside the building. Coulson made his way back to the car driving away. 

The furthure we walked inside the more my eyes continued to explore something new. Inside they had tons of different rooms along with an elevator that gets you to any floor of the building. The kitchen was average but bigger than my kitchen back home. While we walked together I couldn't help but admire him. I couldn't take my eyes from drifting to him. I felt like a kid who's just moved in to a new house with their dad and is showing him around.

"Your room is this one next to mine if you need anything please don't hesitate to ask. It seems that no one is in here besides us so later I will introduce you to everyone. By the way have I seen you before your face looks a bit familiar to me." He said patting my shoulder as he passed by me. 

"Thanks for showing me the place it sure is going to take a lot to get used to a place so big with technology. But no actually we have never met before till now I used to live in Japan so i'm not well aware yet of everyone from the team. But I get that a lot and no need to worry Mr. Rogers I will come to you for help if needed." 

"Just call me Steve or Cap see you around new guy." I nodded and watched as he walked a few steps away and went to his room. 

'Ma I finally met my father and he's such an incredible person.I just hate that i'm lying to him but one day he will know the truth about me.' I thought to myself before walking inside my new room. But what I didn't know was that the truth was going to be reveal sooner than I thought it would.

[sidhewrites]

April Showers, Part Two

Part one.

Before them, all of Fellering spilled down the mountainside like a waterfall of life. Power lines swooped over the terraces. The road swerved slowly down the mountain, curving back on itself over and over again until it reached the foothills, then heading straight through the forest and far off into the distant port city. Every rooftop was topped with brightly-colored shingles, every garden teeming with life. Puddles collected on the sidewalks, and raindrops peppered the trees. There were stairs and ramps everywhere, even ladders going from one step-like level to the next.

Cass walked slowly, avoiding any puddles on slopes or particularly muddy areas, with Mops always at his side, loyally resisting the urge to sniff at flowers growing between the cracks in the pavement. 

Lise rested her chin on his shoulder, once again bemoaning the fact that she’d stowed her radio in the backpack instead of a pocket. “I’m going to break that habit sooner or later. I will.” 

“No, you won’t.”

“I will.”

“When?” His grin was audible.

Lise paused, frowning, and buried her face in his shoulder. “Eventually.”

Cass laughed, and they continued on down the mountain road for a few minutes in silence. Eventually, Lise spoke up again, asking about Cass’s dream. Cass would answer, then talk about the letter he got from his father, who’d docked most recently off the coast of Spain.  

“Oh, that sounds amazing. Did he send any pictures?”

“None that he took. But I have a few postcards. I’ll show you at lunch.”

Lise nodded, and grinned, imagining the amazing life Cass’s father must live. He was a nature photographer, going around the world in his boat and waiting for just the right moment to capture birds or fish or whales or goodness knows what else. Neither of them had any real eye for photography, and Lise wouldn’t last a minute on a boat, but it was a romantic life to imagine for themselves nonetheless. They spent the rest of the walk discussing the boats they’d have, what they’d photograph, and where they’d go.

“Antarctica,” Lise said, thinking about penguins and not how the cold weather made it nearly impossible for her to walk.

“New York City,” Cass said, thinking about the massive architecture, and not how crowded, loud places overloaded his senses.

Townsfolk waved hello as they passed, asking how they were doing, and about Great-Aunt Marya’s health. They all knew each other by name, as much a family as they were neighbors. Halfway down the road, Jerzy stopped them from his vegetable garden, waving the pair over with a trowel in one hand and a watering can in the other. His sunhat had flowers stuck in between the woven straw, as bright as the rest of him. 

“Take a look at this,” he said, gesturing behind him. Blue flowers sprouted all along the trellis leaning against his brightly painted house, almost glowing in the soft sunlight. “Biggest blooms I’ve had in years. I bet I’ll win something big this year.”

Cass shifted his weight, allowing Lise to step down and lean on Jerzy’s fence. She ooh’ed appreciatively. “Those are your petunias, right?”

“Morning glories, but close enough. The petunias are over there.” He gestured to a leafy bush sprouting purple blooms instead. “Here.” He stepped away to pull a few of the petunias and held them out over the fence. “For good luck today.”

Lise took them and handed two to Cass before fixing the last flower behind her ear. “What will we need luck for?”

Jerzy shrugged. “You can never have too much good luck, right?”

“Thank you, Jerzy,” Cass said, sticking the flower in his own hat, and one in Mops’ fur. “They’re beautiful.”

Jerzy thanked him right back, and waved them off as Cass lifted Lise back onto his back. They continued on down the road once more, this time talking about their gardens and what they’re planting for the summer, as if they hadn’t helped each other sow the seeds already.

“Squash,” Cass said without hesitating. “I want big squash to make into pies and things in autumn.”

“An apple tree. Just one. We cleared out the space just outside the front gate and planted the seed not too long ago.”

The further down they went, the more shops popped up. A book store, a bakery, and a general mechanic’s. The school sat beyond, at the very bottom of the hill with a wide field. A few children played outside already under their teacher’s supervision, though they wouldn’t be called in for a little while yet.

The road leveled out about two thirds of the way down the mountain, easy to traverse despite the puddles still sitting here and there. Cass let Lise down off his back, and they walked side-by-side, arms linked as they chatted. Lise occasionally stopped to tap her cane into puddles, sending up small splashes of water and scattering droplets as they went.

Finally, they reached the general store, already open, the striped awnings unfurled and soft music drifting out through the open door and mingling with the planters.

Hattie knelt before a chalkboard sign outside advertising the current deal -- lightbulbs, two for one -- and drawing little designs around the lettering. They looked just like Cass, broad-shouldered with freckles and bright red hair pulled back and out of the way, though they were a few years older and wore colorful makeup, the likes of which he would never touch. Their glasses hung on a beaded chain around their neck, reflecting the light beautifully onto their freckled face.

Cass leaned over their shoulder and asked loudly, “Hey, can I buy a car here?”

Hattie jumped. The chalk went flying, and they flinched back with a yelp, nearly headbutting Cass by accident. He recoiled, more out of fear than anything, while Hattie put a hand over their chest to steady their breathing. “Don’t do that!”

Cass nodded, mumbling an apology and burying one of his hands in Mops’ fur. “We just came to see you, is all.”

“Oh, well.” They blew a raspberry, and smiled. “That’s okay then, I guess. I like the flowers.”

“Thanks. How are you doing?” Lise asked. “How are the kittens?”

Their smile grew into a lovesick grin. “One of them tried to climb onto the bookshelf last night. They’re so adventurous, I could cry.”

“Oh, speaking of that…” Lise pulled the shirt from her backpack and handed it over. “Great Aunt Marya says to stop letting them climb on you.”

Hattie pulled a pout. “But…”

“I’m just passing along the message.”

“And we need blueberries,” Cass said. “Any chance you have some here?”

Hatte hummed, looking back to the shop as they thought. “Aren’t there a few bushes down by the creek?”

“No, that’s blackberries. They’re not in season for another few months.”

“Oh, huh.” Hattie frowned. “Let me check what we have. I think Ursula was going to bring some by this week.”

Lise and Cass followed them in, waiting by the door as they put on their glasses and went through the inventory list. Ultimately, Hattie shook their head. “Sorry, none yet. Ursula’s stopping by the group today, right? You should ask her then.”

Cass leaned over the counter to grin. “Is that all we should ask her about?”

Hattie met his gaze for a minute, not understanding until he winked. They flushed a bright red and turned away to hide their face. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“I will until you ask her on a date.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? You like her. I think she likes you. Just write her a letter if you’re too shy to talk to her. Put a flower in it, and everything.”

Hattie shook their head. 

Lise wrapped her arm around Cass’s again, this time a silent sign to stop pushing the subject. 

He nodded in understanding, and held a hand. “Sorry. I just don’t know why it’s taking so long for you to ask her.”

Hattie shook their head again, and turned back around to squeeze Cass’s hand. “It’s hard to risk being told no from someone you like.”

“You must hate me then. I tell you no all the time, and you seem just fine.”

“You’re my brother. I’m legally obligated to hate you.” Hattie’s grin matched Cass’s perfectly, before they relaxed and put the inventory charts away. “Oh -- but if she does have blueberries, can you bring some home tonight? I want some, too.”

“Definitely. I’ll see you tonight?”

“You all ways see me at night.” They waved as the pair left, Mops trodding behind them. Hattie groaned, only then realizing that the dog was tracking mud, and that they’d have to clean the floors all over again.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Hold Back the River

Hey there! Here’s Part XI to the Chaos and the Calm series, which can be found here. I know I usually post at night, but I really wanted to get this one out to you guys. I’m really proud of it, and it’s a definite don’t miss, so be sure to tell me all of your thoughts and reactions. it really makes my day hearing feedback, and as always, don’t forget to reblog! 

Hold Back the River

July 2020

Tried to keep you close to me/But life got in between/Tried to square not being there/But think that I should have been

He had triple-checked his bags before they had left for the airport, but Harry found himself rummaging through his carry-on once again as Alex drove them to Holmes Chapel.

“Love, if you’ve forgotten something, it’s not exactly like we can turn round and get it,” she said gently, trying to hide a smile.

“I know,” Harry muttered bashfully. “Jus’ wanted to make sure.” He hadn’t forgotten anything, just like the other three times he had checked. Harry tapped around on his phone for a few minutes, starting to play the Beatles. As much as Alex enjoyed her and Harry’s recent spontaneous trips— they had gone upstate for a weekend on a hiking trip a few weeks after Johannesburg, this one had been planned for months. It was her youngest brother Charlie’s birthday in a few days, and they hadn’t been to visit either family since Christmas. Seeing Alex’s wistful look to the fields and towns they passed on the road, Harry smiled. “Penny for your thoughts, love?”

She tapped her fingers on the wheel. “It’s just...I miss this place, you know? I love New York, but it’s not home. Don’t know if it was ever meant to be.”

“Think you might want to move back?” Harry asked. He wasn’t exactly surprised at her confession; she had been seeming a little antsy for the past few weeks.

“I might, yeah.” She said, swallowing nervously. “Dunno, Stupid question, forget I asked it.”

He cocked his head. “You know I won’t, love,” he said teasingly.

It was about an hour’s drive until they reached town, and another five minutes until the tires of their rental car crunched against the gravel of the driveway of Alex’s childhood home. It was a Saturday, so Charlie was off from school and Sam, their other brother, had come back from university at St. Andrews for the summer a few weeks prior. Alex dug out her keychain from her purse, unlocking the door and dropping their things by the entryway. “Hey knobheads, we’re home!” She hollered, causing Harry to snicker next to her. He loved her brothers like they were his own, and seeing her with her family was always an amazing time.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, plodding out of the kitchen with an apple in one hand and his phone in the other. Smiling, he hugged them both.

Charlie came out a few moments later. Alex ruffled his hair, prompting him to pull away and wrinkle his nose at her. “I’m your sister, you loon. I’m allowed to do that,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that my kids I hear?” Alex’s mum said, cheerfully whisking out of the kitchen, wearing a patchwork apron. Diane Jones had always been Alex’s rock. She was never anything short of a total mumma’s girl, and leaving her mum in England had been by far one of the hardest things for Alex about leaving for America. Especially after her dad, Timothy had died when Alex was 16, their bond had grown even closer. She had never been anything but incredibly welcoming and gracious to Harry, calling him “her long-lost third son.” When they had told her that they had finally gotten together, there was nobody that was as excited as her. Even as corners had to be cut for ends to meet when money got tight, there was always a spot in the spare room for him to sleep over, a kind ear to turn to when he couldn’t go to his mum, and a place at their table for meals. Her curly dark brown hair— a trait she passed onto her daughter— was pulled back and her hands were dusted with flour, but the smile on her face was unmistakable.

“Hi mum,” Alex said, throwing her arms around the woman. “I’ve missed you.”

“Not half as much as I have, love,” Diane responded. “Harry, so good to see you. Been treating my daughter right?” Alex groaned as Harry chuckled.

“Never anything but the best,” he responded.

Once upon a different life/We rode our bikes into the sky/But now we crawl against the tide/Those distant days are flashing by

After a hearty dinner of meat pie and roasted vegetables, the family began to trickle off into their respective bedrooms. Diane hesitantly let Harry and Alex share her childhood room, and after a stern warning of “no funny business” and two pairs of very pink cheeks, they snuggled under the blue cover of her old duvet.

“It’s so funny being back you know?” Alex said softly. “The last time I was really here for more than a week or so, I was in university. So much has happened since then.”

“It’s definitely odd, but I like it, you know? This is our place, it’s somewhere where we can be ourselves without any pretenses of what people expect of us. I can be Harry here, not Harry Styles. Just a normal guy. Used to work at a bakery, y’know?”

She swatted his shoulder. “Yes, I know, you numpty. You used to make me go in and get my croissants from you every Saturday so you’d have someone to talk to, remember?”

He kissed her forehead. “Of course I do. Just one time of many where I’d be hopeless without you.” Harry joked, but it was true. When his world was spinning a hundred miles an hour, she was the person who kept his feet on the ground and his eyes on the stars, never letting him take anything or anyone for granted. I’ve been thinking about what you said, ‘bout wanting to maybe move back to England?”

“Yeah?” She asked curiously.

“More I think about it, more I like the idea.” Harry said. “I get what they say about home being people more than a place, but I can’t really shake the feeling that New York’s not really a long-term plan for me. For either of us. I love it, and I love performing there, but there’s something missing, y’know?” He said, going on, “it’s always felt temporary. It’s a place to have fun and visit, not to put our roots down.” His voice grew quieter. “I’ve thought a lot about the two of us settling down, but I’ve never really entertained the thought that we’d live anywhere but England. That we’d raise a family anywhere but England.”

Alex’s heart swelled. She knew he thought of them as a long-term, permanent kind of thing, but hearing him voice his hopes for their future in such a concrete way comforted her in a way she didn’t know she needed. He looked at her with a slightly worried expression on his face, and she realized she had been lost in thought for nearly a minute. “If yeh don’t like that—”

Alex cut him off, shaking her head frantically. “No, no, not at all, H.” Her tone grew gentler. “That sounds exactly what I’d like.” A soft smile appeared on his face. “You, me some house in the London suburbs. Close enough to commute to the city but without all the stress and prying eyes…” She trailed off, getting lost in Harry’s eyes and the thought of their future.

“Somewhere safe with a big backyard and room for a dog and a few kids,” Harry picked up. He glanced at Alex, who didn’t seem to be running for the hills, so he continued, “how many d’you think you want?”

“Two or three,” Alex responded, without much pause. She’d thought about it, especially after the pregnancy scare. “I’ve loved having siblings growing up, and I’m sure you’ve felt the same with Gemma.” Gemma had always been like the sister Alex had never had. When her mum was away and she needed advice on guys, someone to binge Bake-Off, or a sympathetic ear, the older Styles sibling was only a few roads away. “What about you?”

“Three would be nice, but all I really care about is they’re happy and healthy. Know they’ll be as beautiful as their mum.”

“And as generous as their dad.”

Alex woke late the next morning, still sleepy from jet lag but hopeful from their conversation. Harry’s side of the bed was vacated, which wasn’t unusual— he usually got up before her. Padding down the hallway, she poked her head into the kitchen. Her mum was reading the newspaper dressed in her scrubs at the kitchen table; she had taken an odd shift on the weekend to be free for Charlie’s birthday on Monday. Harry was parked in front of the stove, flipping what Alex assumed to be pancakes from the batter-splattered bowl next to him, and a half-open carton of eggs lay on the other side, a few sizzling in a pan. A pitcher of orange juice already sat on the table, next to a heaping bowl of cut fruit. Alex leaned against the doorway, observing the scene. “Did you make all this?” She asked.

Harry nodded. “Least I could do. I know yeh don’t do well with jet lag and your mum had work today. Plus, I like cooking. Make a mean chocolate chip pancake,” he said, making her smile. Damn, he knows me well. “Yeh think it’s weird?”

Alex shook her head. “No, I love it. It’s very…” she paused, searching for the right word, “domestic. Suits you.” Looking for a way to help, she eyed the table. “Let me get the dishes?” Harry nodded assent, and Alex picked up a stack of plates, setting them in front of each chair. “Boys not up yet?” She asked her mom, who shook her head. Sighing good-naturedly and walking back to the room that Charlie and Sam shared, she banged her fist on the door. “Get up if you want to eat!” At the mention of food, both were our in a matter of seconds, and everyone was sat gathered at the table a little while after.

After breakfast was finished and Alex had kissed her mum goodbye, the couple headed to Harry’s. His mum was there; Gemma had wanted to make the drive up but had a packed schedule for the week.

Lonely water, lonely water won't you let us wander/Let us hold each other

A few hours of catching up and several batches of ginger scones later, Harry and Alex sat next to each other on the couch, one of his arms absentmindedly draped across his shoulder as they watched reruns of the Office on the BBC. Breaking the silence, Harry spoke. “Let’s go on a walk.”

“Okay?” Alex said, an edge of confusion in her voice.

Harry shot her a classic half-smile, taking her hand and helping her up from the couch. Slipping on the pair of shoes she had left by the entryway, the two exited, walking down the path that led from his house to the town’s main road. While walking, they passed a few shops, including the bakery— which he insisted on stopping in for a bite to eat— and pet no fewer than four very cute dogs. After giving the latest a scratch behind the ears, Alex looked up at Harry.

“Yeh want one. Don’t you?” He asked with a knowing smile.

Alex nodded, the corner of her mouth turning up. “Can we?”

Harry shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “How ‘bout we wait till moving back here? Less hassle with adoption, and we’ll have a backyard instead of just the apartment.”

Alex crinkled her nose, but nodded in reluctant consent. “It that’s what it’s got to be.”

Chuckling, they continued, walking further and further out of city limits. Alex would usually be confused at this point, but  she trusted Harry, and it’s not like the outskirts of Holmes Chapel were known for being particularly dangerous. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve gone?” She asked.

“Like walking? I think it’s only been 2 kilometers or so.” Harry said, slightly confused.

Alex shook her head. “No, like us,” she said, gesturing between them with the hand that wasn’t holding Harry’s. “From childhood friends to dating to living together…It’s kind of crazy to think about.”

“It has been a bit of an odd progression, hasn’t it?” Harry asked, smirking. His smile faltered. “That year when we weren’t really talking… I don’t know if we ever really talked about how that impacted us. It was…” He slowed down his pace, nervously running one hand through his hair, “It was tough for me, to say the least. Shitty might be a better way of putting it,” he said with a wry smile. “I already knew I was in love with you, and I had made myself okay with the fact that we might never be together. Had resigned m’self to it. But not having you in my life at all, it was just about the worst thing possible. It was a bad time for me, I tried to distract myself from thinking of you, but nothing seemed to be working.”

Alex’s breath caught in her throat, and she squeezed Harry’s hand tighter. “You never told me that, H.”

“Didn’t want to bother you with it. We weren’t talking, and then we were together and things were going so well and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.”

“You can come to me with anything, you know that, right?” Alex asked Harry, looking at him. “We all need support sometimes, and I’ll never think less of you for asking for it.” Having gotten caught up in their conversation, she hardly noticed where they were going. The lavender fields. “I haven’t been here in years,” she breathed, letting her fingertips brush against the blossoms. They hadn’t made it out last year, and they hadn’t visited it before that since Harry left for tour. Nothing had really changed, however. It was still slightly overgrown, still full of sunshine, and still incredibly beautiful. Harry took the canvas bag that he had been toting around off his shoulder, reaching into it pull out a familiar-looking green quilt. “Is this...Is this our old blanket?” She asked, touching a corner.

Harry nodded. “The same. Didn’t we have a name for it?” He asked.

After a moment’s thought, Alex responded. “Candace. Dunno where we came up with it, but I’d stake money that it was Candace.”

He snorted. “Sounds ‘bout right.”

Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes/Hold back the river so I/Can stop for a minute and be by your side/Hold back the river, hold back

“It’s really sweet that you brought us out here. I’ve missed our picnics.” Alex said, leaning her head on Harry’s shoulder as he shoved one hand into his pocket unceremoniously. His heart rate shot up and his mouth was suddenly as dry as the Sahara.

Alex furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s wrong, love?”

Stepping away from her, Harry forced himself to meet her eyes. “I do have food. Brought sandwiches, apples, and that shoddy rosé we used to beg my sister to buy for us. But there was something I needed to do first.”

Alex was a pretty intuitive person. She prided herself on her logic, so she knew this conversation wasn’t heading for a breakup. They had already all but settled the fact that they’d be moving to England in the near future, so he couldn’t be bringing up that topic again. They’d agreed that they wanted kids in the future, after buying a house and getting married. Marriage. The air seemed to leave her lungs. That must have been why he kept bringing up conversations about our future, she thought, quickly stopping before she got too ahead of herself. The last thing she wanted to do was get her hopes up and then be disappointed. But when Harry knelt to the ground, in a worn pair of jeans and plain white t-shirt, Alex didn’t think she had ever seen a sight as beautiful. The hand that had been in his pocket was now pulled out, holding a dark red velvet bok, shaking so much she thought he might drop it.

“Alex, you’ve been so many things to me over the years. A friend, confidante, partner in crime, girlfriend, lover, I could go on,” he said, giving a watery grin, “and I probably would if you’d let me. But all I’m trying to say is that when I don’t think my life could get any better, you somehow find a way to make it happen. You’re an incredible woman, kind and generous, smarter than me,” Alex let out a choked laugh, “and very possibly the most beautiful person to ever walk the face of the Earth. You’ve been there for me when I didn’t believe in myself, there to pick me up, dust me off, and tell me to get my ass over it. You haven’t wavered in your love and commitment to me when things get hard, which is probably most of the time, if we’re honest.” He took a moment to wipe one hand on his jeans. I know our relationship can be hard, I know this can be hard, but it’s what I want. I choose you, Alex. Through the good and the bad, the distance and drama, whether we’re making love or fighting because we’re both too stubborn to admit we’re wrong. I can’t promise it’ll get any easier, love, but I can promise I’ll always be there. I chose this spot for a reason, love,” Harry said, looking around at their surroundings and then back up to the face of the woman he loved more than anything. This is our place, somewhere we’ve spent countless hours sitting and talking and worrying our parents when we didn’t come home.” Alex dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her flannel. “It’s where I realized I loved you, and where I’m going to ask you to spend the rest of your life with me.” Alex wasn’t generally a terribly emotional person; it took a lot to make her cry, and there were definite tears. “So Alex. Alexandra Diana Jones, will you marry me?”

It was almost like slow motion. Alex fell to her knees in front of Harry, bringing both hands up to cup his cheeks. Leaning their foreheads together, she whispered, “Yes.”

[newtothewaywardparty]

Love Interruption 4

So, I accidentally wrote another Sam chapter. The thing is, he’s a better exposition monkey and also maybe I’m in love with Odie a little bit. Why do you keep talking about my shoulders? LOL, we are all Velma. ANYWAY here’s a long chapter and the next one has Destiel FEELINGS and AWKWARD SILENCES and GROUP THERAPY so if that’s your jam please keep reading I love you all like Sam loves books.

Sam awoke to the sound of the surf. He sighed deeply and raised his head off his pillow on the floor palette Odie had fixed him up in her small living area directly off her kitchen. After ducking in the bathroom, he investigated the tiny cabin looking for her, but it was empty. He helped himself to a bowl of the sweetened coconut rice pudding-type dish he found on the stovetop. Grabbing a mango from a bowl in the center of the metal folding table and a knife, he made his way outside.

He scored a mango half into edible cubes, which clung to the thin green skin until he chewed them off, their sweet juice dribbling down his chin. Odie strode confidently up the beach carrying her surfboard, water droplets on her skin and hair catching the morning sun. She gave Sam a grin that was all white teeth and a big wave with her free hand. Sam waved back and tried not to notice the way her board shorts hugged her strong thighs or the way her yellow bikini top set off her radiant skin.

Sam ducked his head until she was close enough to call to him over the morning waves. “Do all American hunters go to the beach in jeans and boots?” Odie propped her surfboard in its spot along the cabin wall and grabbed a towel from the clothesline.

Sam chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Don’t have many other duds, I guess. This is our first beach trip in a while.” Or ever, he thought. “Plus,” He tapped his boots together firmly where they sat at the end of his crossed legs in the hammock. “It’s sort of our all-purpose uniform. Protect the feet, the skin, layers for different temperatures.” His smile fell a bit. Their lives were not like normal people’s. Sam had a tendency to make himself sad. The downside of being smart, he guessed.

Odie pulled on a graphic tee and gave him a knowing look. “It’s the same here, but you need clothes that won’t get in the way. Loose, sweat-wicking so you don’t dehydrate. Light colors to reflect heat. Flip flops can be lost in a hurry. Sport sandals are better for the jungle.” She jerked her head toward the beach. “Good luck running something down in the sand in those huge clodhoppers.”

Sam made as if he was actually willing to haul himself out of the hammock. “Wanna race? Put your money where your mouth is?”

Odie swatted him with the towel. “I’d hate to humiliate you on your first day. Besides, we have work to do.”

They set up research headquarters at her kitchen table. Odie boasted a premium wifi connection one of her hunter network friends had spliced off the line running to the Stone Jaguar resort where Cas and Dean were staying.

“So, these couples all checked into the resort, and then disappeared on the last day of the couples’ retreat.” Sam summarized. Odie nodded, indicating the proto-murderboard she had rigged up, complete with photos of the couples, their names, and details of their cases underneath it.

“We already had our hunters work with local law enforcement but they’re worthless.” sighed Odie. “They all think the couples were mixed up in drug business in town or kidnapped by Guatamalans near the border.” She tossed her hair disdainfully. “Both theories are ridiculous, of course, but they are eager to write them off because nobody in this part of the country wants to hurt tourism.”

Sam nodded. Made sense, and reminded him of plenty of cases he had worked before. People were pretty much the same everywhere. Willing to turn a blind eye as long as it didn’t affect the status quo.

Odie stood, putting her hands on her hips, pacing in front of the posterboard she had tacked to her kitchen wall. “We also tried interviewing resort employees. They didn’t have any further details. The couples went to the retreat’s final ceremony-a graduation kind of thing. They returned to their rooms, and nobody ever saw them again after that.”

Sam sat back, clicking his pen. “Run through them for me again.” They had been through all of this online already, when he had agreed to come down. A former acquaintance of Eileen’s based in Mexico had connected them. Sam felt a pang at the memory of the brunette hunter, with her sass and bravery and great smile…

“Four couples with no connection I can find. Two in their 50s, one in their 20s, and one in their 30s. One from New York City, one from Sydney, one from rural Alabama, and one from a small town in Northern England. One white couple, one Asian couple, and two mixed-race couples. Three hetero, one same-sex. Two had children; two didn’t.” Odie blew air through her lips in frustration. “It must be opportunity rather than profile.”

Sam agreed, typing on his laptop rapidly. “And the reason we think it’s something supernatural is…” He trailed off. This had been a sensitive topic online. If he was being entirely honest, he didn’t think there was a case here. Maybe the local police were right. Just missing couples in a developing area with higher-than-usual crime.

If he was really willing to look honesty in the face, he’d admit he only agreed to the case to get some beach time and possibly, maybe, just a little part of him wanted to get his brother and Castiel into a couples’ retreat. But Sam was not on trial here.

Odie immediately bristled. “We’ve been over this. It’s too clean. Too neat for humans.” All the couples were found missing the morning they were to check out. Their rooms were undisturbed and locked. All luggage, valuables, and passports remained in place. Nobody saw or heard anything in the night or the morning. No bodies were ever found. They simply vanished.

Sam held a hand out, placating.  “Okay. I believe you.” He didn’t, but Sam was good at talking people down. With patience borne of years dealing with jittery victims and his histrionic brother, he changed tack. “Who are the usual suspects in these parts? Vampires? Werewolves? Ghosts? Shifters?”

Odie gave a weird half shrug. “Yes. And no.” I’ve hunted all of those, but what we get here is a little different. After all, our folklore and indigenous gods are different than what you find in middle America.”

Sam raised his hands over his keyboard again, eager. “Okay, well, I’m okay in Spanish, too. What should I look up? Aztec or Inca?” Odie was silent long enough that Sam looked up to confirm she had heard him. She was doubled over, laughing so hard she wasn’t capable of making sound. She drew in a deep breath and schooled her features.

“Well,” she began in the prim tones of a schoolmarm. “Begin by researching all the lore from Mayan/Mestizo peoples whose cultures were indigenous here. Then add in all the French/Creole traditions of the Garifuna people, those descended from shipwrecks of enslaved Africans bound for the West Indies. Don’t forget the British Hondurans. Then of course the British colonizers themselves. In recent generations the Amish with German-descended lore can be found in many of our farming areas, and our cities are full of Chinese immigrants with their myriad religions.”

Sam pushed back from the table. He realized, of course, how reductive he had been, but he was also frustrated. How would they even begin to pinpoint what they were dealing with here?

He looked up at Odie who was watching him with less mirth now and more wariness. “I’m sorry. That was incredibly stupid. You obviously have been over all of this already, and know more than I even will about your community. What do you need from me? How can I help?”

Odie’s brown eyes measured him, assessing. “First,” she walked over and shut the lid of his laptop with a ‘click.’ “The answer’s not going to be online.” She leaned over him and quirked an eyebrow. “And due to the largely oral culture here, it’s not going to be in one of your books.” She pushed one of the tomes Sam had crammed into his carry-on away from him on the table.

She flopped into a chair next to Sam, sighing. “The reason I wanted a second set of eyes-experienced eyes-” here she cut her gaze to Sam who shifted, uncomfortably. The Winchester brothers were becoming somewhat of elder statesmen as far as hunters were concerned. “-is because I can’t figure it out. It’s…” she pressed her knuckles to her lips, and her gaze fell on a small framed photo on the opposite wall. “It’s not the first case that’s been unsolved here.”

Sam followed her eye line to the photo. A small girl with chubby cheeks and arms clung to a woman in a long skirt with armfuls of jewelry and a long, dark braid. A man with a beard and kind eyes had his arm around her, gazing at the girl adoringly. “Your parents?” Sam nodded towards the picture. They had talked about it a bit online. Hunters were often orphans.

Odie’s lips hardened into a line. She took a deep breath as though to begin a story, then stood abruptly. “I need a drink” she announced, grabbing a worn denim jacket from the hook by the door. She opened the door, then paused with her hand on the handle. “You coming?” She didn’t look behind her. Sam didn’t reply. He just walked past her into the warm night, resplendently clear with a beautiful three-quarter moon.

[welllpthisishappening]

Tripping Over the Blue Line (20/45)

It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.

He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.

They are both horrible liars.

Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence AN: Some tried and true favorites here. Sarcastic Will, all-knowing Ariel and overstepping Liam Jones. Honestly, the response to this story blows my mind and you guys are all incredible. My constant thanks to @laurnorder, @distant-rose & @beautiful-swan for just existing.  Also living it up on Ao3, FF.net & tag’ed up on Tumblr. 

“God how do you even stand this?”

Killian glanced up at Will, smile tugging on the corners of his mouth as he tried to take the question seriously. He couldn’t.

Five years and two appointments a week and they’d all chastised him for whining when it came to sitting on a table in Ariel’s office and now Will was complaining even more.

“Scarlet, I swear, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to break your other leg,” Ariel threatened, glaring at him from the opposite end of the treadmill he was barely walking on. Will made a face, grumbling even more as Ariel tapped her fingers on the mile-marker. “You could not possibly be going any slower.” “I am injured.” “In several different places it would appear.” Killian barked out a laugh, drawing Ariel’s ire for himself and he quickly held up his almost-fist, as if that somehow made him the more worthy PT patient.

“I hate both of you,” Ariel huffed.

Killian held his hands in the air, not even bothering to actually sit up – he’d collapsed on the table in the back corner of the office as soon as he’d walked in, still sore after morning skate and sprints and Arthur screaming at the fourth line for its plus-minus rating the night before.

Back to backs were the actual worst.

“The feeling is mutual,” Will grumbled. They were going to have to do something about that eventually – he kept grumbling and dishing out insults and the only person he didn’t seem to decidedly hate was Belle.

They’d taken him to a Philadelphia hospital after it had happened and Victor was certain the break was clean. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even broken – a fractured fibula and, apparently, that was worse and even just hearing the diagnosis was enough to make Killian’s jaw clench.

Injuries were always a possibility, a likelihood even, in a sport that included blades and ice and he’d never really been one to get squeamish. That was, however, until he’d heard the crack and it had taken an entire lifetime for Will to get up.

It felt a little bit like déjà vu.

He’d texted Ariel without really thinking about the consequences or how late it was or what would happen if he actually just showed up in front of Mary Margaret’s door. He didn’t care. He’d wanted to call her on Thanksgiving and he wanted to see her after it took Will an eternity to get off the ice.

He asked and Ariel made sure to add in several I knew it’s before finally giving up an intersection and an apartment number. She, thankfully, hadn’t lorded her knowledge over him publicly yet, but Killian was starting to get the distinct impression that it didn’t really matter. They were absolutely horrible at under the radar.

Scarlet was probably the only one who didn’t realize now.

They’d called up a defenseman the next day – Lance Chevalier who was a walking clichés of eh’s and had probably been a mountie in another life or something. He got to the Garden in just enough time to let the daily’s get their “hero” headlines in on the backpage before the game against Arizona.

The backpages the next day were less kind. And getting progressively worse.

Two and a half weeks after, as The Post so eloquently put it, “the crack heard ‘round the city,” the Rangers were in some kind of pre-holiday slump.

They’d lost five in a row and had fallen out of first place and while Bobby Flay appeared more than ready to get on the ice for the charity game, getting the kids waivers was proving to be some sort of insurmountable task.

And if Ariel was going to kill Will for complaining about PT every other day, then Emma might actually strangle Aurora for every e-mail and bump in the metaphorical road of relating to the community.

He had no idea there could possibly be that much paperwork in the entire world.

Killian’s phone buzzed, nearly falling off the table he was still laying on top of and Ariel shot him a glare. “There are rules in here, Jones,” she said, practically growling out the words. “That’s supposed to be on silent.”

They needed to get out of this slump. Everyone was on some sort of metaphorical edge, liable to actually kill one another sooner rather than later. Arthur was absolutely going to kill them if they let up another power play goal.

“What does it matter if it’s on or not, A,” Will mumbled, glaring at Killian as well and he wasn’t sure when he became the enemy in this tiny little office. “It’s not like he’d answer his phone anyway. You know Anna’s started texting me asking why Cap has sucked so much on the PK over the last few weeks.” Ariel actually smiled, nearly spitting out the water she was drinking and Killian sat up at that. “Hey, come on,” he sighed, grabbing his somehow still-ringing phone before it could crash on the floor. “Not all of that is my fault. This new guy is garbage.”

Will hummed in agreement – he couldn’t argue that, even if he was trying to make Killian feel bad for the absolutely ridiculous number of power play goals they’d given up in the last two and a half weeks. It was a lot and Lance might have been good in the AHL, but he couldn’t seem to find his bearings on Garden ice.

Or off Garden ice.

Arthur was going to kill them.

His phone stopped ringing and Ariel muttered something about the rules again before it started again – vibrating in Killian’s hand as he finally glanced down at the screen.

Liam. Facetiming. In the middle of the afternoon. Which meant no El and no twins and that meant he wanted to talk. God.

Killian swiped his thumb across the screen and found himself face-to-face with a visibly frustrated brother who, it appeared, had not stopped frowning in the last two and a half weeks. “Your face is going to get stuck like that,” Killian said, tapping on the screen and the tiny indent between Liam’s eyebrows.

“Your PK sucks.” “Well that’s blunt.” “And true.” “It’s totally true, Cap,” Will added, leaning over the front of the treadmill to grab one of his crutches. He hobbled towards the table, ignoring Ariel’s objections, and knocked Killian’s outstretched leg.

“Is that Scarlet?” Liam asked, glancing to the side of the screen as if he’d be able to see out the edge of the phone. “Nah,” Killian muttered, twisting over the side of the table and turning his phone towards Will. “Just some asshole critiquing the team he can’t play for because he doesn’t know how to skate. It’s not like he’s offering any constructive criticism for the new guy either.” “Is that we’re calling him? The new guy?” Killian shrugged. “He’ll go back down once Scarlet remembers how to skate.” “Can you stop saying that?” Will asked sharply, hitting Killian with the bottom of his crutch again. “I know how to skate. I just didn’t have the right angle and…” “Sure, sure,” Liam interrupted and the frown was, finally, gone as he smiled knowingly at both of them. “You ok though? Honestly?” “Is that concern I hear, Jones?” “Maybe I’m just bored.” Killian bit the inside of his lip and did his best not to actually look as guilty as he felt – far too certain they’d all be able to see it and then, of course, try to help. It didn’t really matter. Ariel absolutely noticed, one eyebrow raised with her arms crossed lightly over her chest as she leaned against the back of her chair.

It had been getting better – the guilt and the remorse and they’d been winning so there really wasn’t any time to feel anything except good about the entire idea of hockey.

And, his mind added quickly, he was happy in a way that Killian couldn’t remember being happy in years, phone filled with visual proof of that particular emotion – text messages and pictures and that one voicemail he couldn’t bring himself to actually delete, promises that the PK will get better and the new guy totally sucks and you should just come up here when you get back to the Garden. David bought a brand-new box of Pop-Tarts.

He’d gone uptown and Emma smiled when she opened the door and they’d stopped even trying to be anything except together when they were around Mary Margaret and David. She’d let him into that little corner of her life, walls not quite as high as they’d been. They were still there, but there might have been a catapult involved now and something about his heart and her heart and it didn’t make a ton of sense, but Killian couldn’t bring himself to delete the voicemail either.

He was happy and he actually hadn’t felt guilty until that moment, the way Liam’s face shifted – as if he couldn’t quite mask the truth entirely. Will even noticed something, eyebrows pulled down low as he grabbed the phone out of Killian’s hand and stared intently at the screen.

Once they’d let him out of the hospital and he’d come to terms with the idea of never playing hockey again, Liam didn’t waste much time – he went back to school and got a degree in business and hung it on the wall next to Elsa’s eighty-two degrees and two seasons later he was working for the league.

He wasn’t quite equipped to sit behind a desk for the rest of his life however, and when they moved to Colorado, he started scouting for the Av’s, taking up permanent residence at college hockey games throughout the season.

It was good. He liked it. He never really complained. And he couldn’t quite mask the lie that he was, decidedly, bored.

Killian took a deep breath, glancing quickly at Ariel, whose sympathetic gaze didn’t do much to pull him out of his quick return to self-pity, as if Liam’s potential boredom or frustration at watching the game instead of actually playing it was his fault. It absolutely was.

“You got a game this weekend?” he asked, avoiding the idea of feelings as quickly as possible.

“Three,” Liam answered and Will let out a low whistle. “Tournament at the Pepsi while the Av’s are out of town. That’s not why I called though.” “You mean to tell me you didn’t just call to insult our PK?”

“I can’t just call to talk?” Liam asked. “And the PK really is awful. What is it, four goals now?”

“Five.” “Five is bad.” “And that’s his professional opinion,” Will added. “Go ahead, tell Cap, Jones. This new guy. From a scout, how bad is he?” Liam rolled his eyes, but he was almost smiling now and they were, apparently, going to have this conversation whether Killian wanted to or not. “His reflexes are too slow. I don’t know how Arthur can bring himself to put him out there. He must despise him.” “He was supposed to be good,” Killian argued. “He had ridiculous numbers with the ‘Pack. He’s just...”

“Old?” Will supplied and Killian sighed dramatically. “What? He is. That’s why Arthur sent him back down at the beginning of the season.” “That’s because you had two functioning legs at the beginning of the season. And Arthur doesn’t like him because they were on the same team in Columbus and Chevalier didn’t pass to him in the postseason and they lost in the first round and it’s been this huge thing ever since.”

“How dramatic,” Liam muttered, drawing a scoff out of Will. “Well, he’s terrible at PK and no wonder you guys are slumping, it’s almost painful to watch.” “Thanks for that vote of confidence.” Liam made a face, as far away from apologetic as it was possible to be. “Don’t blame the messenger. I’m just giving you my professional opinion.” “Not that I’m not super interested in your professional opinion, Liam,” Ariel said, pushing her way underneath Killian’s arm to fit into the frame of the phone screen. “But there’s kind of a schedule here and you’re kind of wrecking it.” “Hey, A,” Liam laughed, voice practically dripping with sarcasm. “It’s super nice to see you too. Happy holidays. You going to come downtown for Christmas again or should we just not invite you to our family event every year?” “That’s just rude.” “Well I don’t want to mess up your schedule.” Ariel stuck out her tongue, shaking her head for good measure. “No wonder your brother is the way he is, he learned it all from you. And no, I’m not coming downtown to your family event because we only get two days off and Eric and I are going to Nantucket to visit his parents.” “Sounds thrilling,” Will muttered, widening his eyes at Liam who couldn’t quite make his laugh sound like a convincing cough quickly enough.

“You guys are the worst,” Ariel hissed. “Whatever, I don’t care about the schedule. You guys are going to lose tonight anyway.” “Jeez, Red,” Killian said, twisting his eyebrows as she hopped back off the table. “That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?” “And probably true,” Liam added.

Killian opened his mouth to argue – not quite certain what he would argue since it was probably true. A five-game skid and a shitty penalty kill and, of course, the Kings were on their East Coast swing on the second game of a back to back.

They were totally going to lose.

He tried to find something to feel even remotely positive about before having to go back to the ice for walkthroughs, but there was a knock on the door before he could. Killian glanced up to see Emma leaning against the doorframe, a pair of sticks in her hand and a pen stuck in her hair and a clipboard of papers stuck underneath one arm.

He heard Liam laugh on the other end of the call – certain his face did that thing whenever he saw Emma – and Ariel smiled knowingly at him when he pushed the phone into Will’s hands. Killian heard Liam ask who’s that, but he didn’t turn back, just stepped towards Emma before he could consider anything that even remotely sounded like under the radar.

“Hey,” Emma said, glancing around the room. “I know you’ve got a schedule up here, A, but if these guys could pause for two seconds to sign these,” she held up the sticks in her hand, eyes finally landing on Killian, “that would be awesome.” “Sure,” Ariel answered. “Liam totally screwed up the schedule anyway. There’s no point in even trying to get Scarlet back on that treadmill now.” “You need to relax, A,” Liam shouted, somehow able to hear Ariel’s insults from the other side of the country and a slightly shoddy Facetime connection.

“Is that Liam?” Emma asked, pointing at the phone and Killian nodded as his brother once again demanded to know who had just shown up in the conversation.

“He’s very bored,” Killian explained. “He doesn’t have a game today and the only thing he wants to talk about is how shitty our PK is.” “It is pretty bad,” she agreed, smile tugging on the corners of her mouth as she rested the sticks against the wall behind her. “I mean what’s it now? Seven goals?” She was teasing him – eyes bright and mouth slightly twisted and that was hardly fair. “Five, Swan. Only five.” “Shouldn’t you know that off the top of your head?” Will asked, holding the phone up so Liam could see the entire room again.

“Did you?” “I’m not PR.” “Community,” Emma said, pointing towards herself and Liam choked on the air in his living room.

“You’re community relations?” Liam asked, eyes darting between Emma and Killian.

She nodded and waved her hand slightly and Killian had to resist the very real urge to sling his arm around her shoulders. “Emma,” she said. “I’m Emma.” “It’s nice to meet you,” Liam said. “Officially. You were at the ritual, weren’t you?”

“It weirds me out that you call it that, but yeah, I was.” “What are the sticks for?”

Emma blinked once, seemingly a bit surprised at the sudden shift in conversation. “Casino Night. I need signatures.” “Casino Night already?” Will whined, his grip on the phone loosening just a bit as he rolled his whole body forward. “I thought we were all focused on the charity game.” “We are,” Emma sighed. “If I can get waivers for the kids, but that’s a whole different story. And Casino Night’s before the charity game. We’re trying to promo the game at Casino Night. Plus, I still need stuff to auction off. C’mon Scarlet it won’t kill you to sign this stick.” “But I’m injured.” “And if you don’t sign this stick I will break several other bones in your body.” Killian laughed and even Liam sounded amused as Will held his hand out, waiting for the marker and the stick and it took less than five seconds for him to get his signature on the blade. “See,” Emma muttered. “Painless.” “It better go for the most money.” “Your desire to help others consistently astounds me Scarlet.” “You going to make Cap sign too?” “I brought two sticks didn’t I?” Emma asked, nodding towards the other one still leaning against the wall. Killian moved around her, grabbing the stick and making sure to brush his fingers across her back where no one – even his brother on a phone screen – would be able to see. She shifted slightly and shot him a look over her shoulder, but he just smiled in response and Emma rolled her eyes as he signed his name on the stick.

“What’s going on with the waivers, Swan?” Killian asked, handing her back the team-provided marker.

She rolled her eyes again, but it was more in frustration than some sort of undercover brand of flirting. “There are, apparently, twenty different reasons why we can’t let the kids on the ice or let the season tickets on the ice, which was the major thing I’d been planning to auction off at Casino Night. Aurora said something about how we’d be paying medical bills for the rest of our lives if a kid got hurt or a season ticket got hurt, so now I’ve got to come up with a whole new plan of attack on that one.” “You’re attacking kids, Emma?” Will laughed and Killian glared at him.

“And you’re not getting out on the ice either,” she said, ignoring Will’s question completely. Emma waved her hand when Will’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not my call. That’s totally Arthur, but I agree with him. If you really go six to eight, you’ll only be back for a few weeks during the game. He’s not going to let you risk that.” Will sighed, but there wasn’t any point in arguing if Arthur had already decided. “I know you wanted to get out there,” Emma continued. “Eh, mostly just to hit Phillip the Rookie.” “And because you’re a giant pushover for kids. It’s ok, your secret’s safe with me.” Killian hadn’t stopped looking at her – eyes following her whenever she moved and he could, somehow, feel Liam’s gaze from the phone, understanding etched into that same space between his eyebrows now.

“Anyway,” Emma continued, shifting the clipboard from under her arm as she pulled the pen out of her hair and crossed out one of the items on the list Killian knew she’d made. “I’ve basically resigned myself to the idea of actually threatening Aurora if I have to and locking myself up over the two days we actually get off for Christmas to try and figure out how this is all going to play out. It’ll at least be quiet then.” “What?” Killian asked before he could stop himself, only vaguely aware that there were still other people in the room.

“Reese’s and David are going to Maine to visit her dad. They go every Christmas.” “So you’ll be by yourself?”

“Unless you count stacks of paper as company,” Emma shrugged. “I don’t.” Liam coughed pointedly and Will pushed the phone into Killian’s hand immediately. “You should come downtown,” Liam said.

Killian squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t understand,” Emma said.

“No one should be by themselves on Christmas. Or any holiday for that matter. I’m surprised Killian didn’t ask you.” Emma didn’t move. She didn’t even look like she was breathing, clipboard back underneath her arm and shoulders straight as the sticks still leaning against the wall.

He was going to kill Liam.

And then maybe El – who clearly couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

Or maybe he was just painfully obvious.

He was probably just painfully obvious.

“I’ll think about it,” Emma said, smile just a bit strained when she looked back at Liam. Her phone started ringing before Liam could do anymore damage and she glanced at Killian again, a quick I’ll see you later lingering in the air before she practically sprinted out the door.

The walls were back and Killian found himself on the outside looking in once again.

They gave up another power play goal.

Arthur broke another whiteboard.

And the losing skid stood at six games now, a decidedly depressing number that would probably be featured heavily in the New York tabloids the next morning.

In any normal situation on any normal team that wasn’t facing a several-decades long championship drought, it would have been far too early to consider playoff standings or playoff possibilities or anything outside of the annual holiday dinner at Eric’s they were all expected to attend later that night.

But this was New York and they hadn’t won a Cup in years and a six-game skid meant they’d fallen out of a Wild Card spot in the middle of December.

The entire team was on edge, frustrations running high and no one really wanted to go to this holiday dinner at Eric’s – far too aware of the team-mandated cameras that would be there as well, requiring to look as if any of them were even remotely pleased that they’d given up yet another power play goal.

“You probably shouldn’t kill Liam right away,” Ariel said, sinking down onto the chair next to Killian and grabbing an onion ring off his plate. He grumbled in response and she laughed softly. “You sound like Rol.” “He doesn’t have to worry about overstepping older brothers.” Ariel hummed in agreement, picking apart the onion ring in her hand until she’d built a small mountain of crumbs on the counter in front of her. “His intentions were good, for whatever that’s worth.” “Not much.” “You’re a very stubborn man, you know that?” “I’m aware.” She groaned, rolling her head back and forth and grabbing another onion ring. “Get your own,” Killian muttered.

“It’s more fun when I can just steal from you though.” Killian rolled his eyes, but he pushed the plate closer to Ariel and she practically beamed at him. “Everyone totally knows, you know,” she muttered. “You guys are terrible at pretending like you’re not constantly trying to make sure you don’t just start tearing each other’s clothes off.” “Those double negatives, Red.” “Please,” Ariel scoffed. “You totally kept up. Anyway, I know Emma already told Mary Margaret and I know you went over there after Scarlet got hurt, so you’re acting like a couple around her friends. How come that’s not a two-way street?”

“You know if I didn’t know you any better,” Killian said slowly, “I would think that you’re trying to protect me or something.” “Or something.” He sighed softly, glancing around the restaurant and it was packed – players and front office and significant others and Emma still wasn’t there. There’d been no post-game texts, not even a vaguely sarcastic comment on the state of their woefully bad penalty kill, but he’d scored and Killian had hoped to find at least something on his phone when he opened his locker.

There wasn’t anything.

And if he were being completely honest with himself, he wasn’t mad at Liam for asking Emma to the Vankalds for Christmas because, if he were being completely honest with himself, he wanted to ask Emma to the Vankalds for Christmas. But he’d only just managed to tear down a few feet of the retaining wall she had built around her and she’d finally explained why her shoulders tensed and her jaw locked whenever he talked about his family and the last thing he wanted to do was throw any of that back in her face.

Even if he wanted her to come to the Vankalds for Christmas.

Badly.

More than anything.

“I’m fine, Red,” Killian promised, but his voice was tense at best and shaking at worst. She absolutely didn’t believe him.

“When are you going to tell her?” “Tell who what exactly?” “Killian.” “Ariel.” Her eyes widened slightly and, well, that had been a mistake. He never called her by her actual name. Ever. In fact, Killian wasn’t entirely certain he ever had.

They needed to break out of this slump.

He was losing his mind.

“Do you love her?” Ariel asked, not even bothering to mince words now that they’d very obviously jumped over some metaphorical line. Probably the crease. They were probably in the crease because technically you weren’t ever supposed to be in the crease and you’d get two minutes for hitting the goalie and Killian had lost track of the metaphor.

He didn’t want to have this conversation.

Ariel, however, was determined. “I asked you a question, Cap,” she continued. “Yes,” Killian answered quickly and the word wasn’t quite as hard to say as he’d expected it would be.

“Obviously. You should probably tell her that. And then tell her that you wanted to ask her to Christmas at the brownstone, but your brother is an idiot and it’s a trait that runs in the family so when you guys get married and have eighteen kids, she’ll be ready for it.” He couldn’t stop the laughter, despite his best efforts, the tension that had seemingly taken up residence between his shoulder blades evaporating quickly as he knocked Ariel’s hand away from the onion ring plate. “Eighteen kids is a lot, Red.” “Are you actually telling me you don’t want eighteen kids with Emma Swan?” “Ariel,” Killian snapped again, glancing around the restaurant to see if anyone had actually heard. No one even glanced in their direction.

She waved her hand through the air and rolled her eyes again. “Everyone knows already,” she said again, enunciating every letter as if Killian missed it the first time already. “Where is she anyway?” “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her since Liam invited her to Christmas.” “You’re an idiot.” “A very pointed opinion.” “And an accurate one. Now come on, tell me the truth, how come you guys aren’t in this corner, foreheads touching and being so painfully adorable everyone wants to throw up?” “That’s a lovely image you’ve painted there, Red.” “The truth, Killian.” “It’s complicated.” “So make it uncomplicated.”

Killian stared at Ariel and she didn’t blink, certain, it seemed, that it was simply that easy. It wasn’t. It was messy and they’d lost to the Kings that night and they hadn’t sent any front office with the team, but Killian hadn’t actually asked, just let Emma walk out of Ariel’s office because he was positive anything more was pushing.

He didn’t say any of that. He didn’t have a chance.

It felt a bit like going backwards.

“Hey, Cap,” Lance said, approaching them like he wasn’t absolutely terrible at clearing the puck out of the zone or completely interrupting. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Killian sighed and Ariel nearly collapsed on the counter, body shaking with the force of her laughter. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, dimly aware of Robin rolling his eyes as he eavesdropped on the conversation from the other end of the bar.

“Oh, really?” “I think I’d know.” “It’s just...I saw you talking to that blonde lady...what’s her name?” “Emma,” Ariel answered, laughter still clinging to her voice. “Her name is Emma.” “Yeah, yeah, that’s right. She talked to me about maybe signing something today so they could auction it for Casino Night. Anyway, I saw you guys talking a couple of days ago and I could have sworn I saw…” “No,” Killian interrupted. “You didn’t.” He did. They’d been talking about Aurora’s latest e-mail about getting kids on the ice for the game and getting Henry back to practice before the holidays and it wasn’t really anything – Emma pressed up on tiptoes to kiss him before she went back to her office and he went to practice. It was normal.

Or it would have been normal for some kind of normal couple.

“An idiot,” Ariel repeated, but her voice was softer as her hand fell on top of his. “Come on Lance, let’s go talk to Locksley about...something else.”

Killian’s phone lit up, hitting against the onion ring plate as it vibrated on the counter. Both of their heads snapped towards the sound and he actually groaned when he saw Liam’s name on the screen, what appeared to be several paragraphs of text message in front of him.

“Don’t yell too loudly,” Ariel muttered, leaning forward to kiss side of Killian’s head as she pushed off the stool. “It is a team-sponsored event.” Killian shook his head, but smiled when he answered his phone and that seemed like a step in the right direction.

“Ok, don’t kill me,” Liam started, getting the words out before Killian could even actually say anything. “And don’t blame El because she didn’t tell me either.” “I know she didn’t,” Killian muttered. “Who did?” “Locksley.” “Jeez.” “Don’t kill him either. He heard you ask A for an address and you need to learn how to text for information if you’re going to try and have some sort of secret relationship.” “It’s not a secret. At least not really.” “Then how come you didn’t invite her downtown?” “Not all of us just conveniently start dating people who already lived in the same house as us,” Killian muttered. “Some of us actually go at normal speed for normal relationships.” Liam grumbled. Elsa’s voice in the background was barely audible as she shouted to leave him alone and Killian ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, but that’s not really your M.O. isn’t it?” Liam asked knowingly. “Come on little brother, I saw your face as soon as she walked into the room. Tell her you want her to come downtown.”

“Younger brother.” “I honestly thought you would have asked her.” “You should probably ask her,” Elsa shouted and Killian sighed again. “Why are you two so intent on this? It’s not like I’m bringing people to Christmas regularly.” “Yeah, well,” Liam mumbled and Killian got the distinct impression they weren’t telling him something again.

“That’s not even remotely close to an answer.” There was a noise on the other end of the phone and it was obvious it was changing hands. “Ask her KJ,” Elsa said, a note of command in her voice that Killian hadn’t heard in years. He blinked once, mouth going dry at the tone.

“Ok,” Killian answered instinctively. “Listen, I got to go, alright? Say hi to the twins for me.”

“They think your PK sucks.” “I highly doubt they actually said that.” “The sentiment was the same.” “Sure,” he laughed.

“Ask her.” “I’ve got to go, El.” She hummed in response and Killian pushed his phone back into his pocket almost as soon as he heard the click on the other end, not even bothering to say anything to anyone as he walked out of the restaurant.

An hour – and one trip three blocks farther uptown, with Mary Margaret’s promise that she didn’t know where Emma was ringing in his ears – later, Killian was in the back seat of a cab, phone in front of him and fingers flying over the screen.

Ariel was right. He was an idiot. And he should have gone after her the minute she’d walked out of the office that afternoon or never even gone to the restaurant in the first place or asked her to come to the brownstone for Christmas like some sort of normal couple, because there weren't many things he wanted more than to be just some sort of normal couple.

That wouldn’t work when his face was on the side of the Garden and Emma still couldn’t get answers out of Aurora about why it was so difficult to organize waivers and she must have had the entire roster signing merch before they got on the ice that afternoon.

The cab came to a stop in front of his building and Killian handed a wad of cash to the driver, just nodding when he realized he’d just driven the captain of the New York Rangers twenty blocks downtown.

Regina hated when he took cabs – claimed it was dangerous for people to know where he was living and how he was living and Killian absolutely did not care. He didn’t have time to call a towncar or call Regina to call a towncar and everyone probably knew already, but until Emma actually said she didn’t mind everyone knowing already, he wasn’t going to do anything that jeopardized under the radar.

Killian climbed out of the car, nodding again when the driver actually started chanting let’s go Rangers before adding in a quick, but fix that PK, huh and he barely even glanced up from his phone when he walked into the building.

He’d texted twelve times and if he didn’t feel like a teenager before, he certainly felt like one now, each message getting progressively more and more desperate.

Just at least let me know where you are because Mary Margaret was worried. She only just convinced David not to send out an APB on you.

Killian hit send, hitting the elevator button with a bit more force than absolutely necessary and trying to figure out how one set of shoulders could possibly hold that much tension. They needed to win a fucking game.  

“Mr. Jones?”

He spun on the spot, glancing in the direction of the night guard who nodded towards a mess of blonde hair, sitting in the corner of the lobby with a small frown on her face and a recently-texted phone in her hand. Killian nearly tripped over his feet when he moved, never quite as good on actual floor as he was on the ice, and Emma smiled at him when his sneakers landed in front of her.

“Mary Margaret knows I’m here,” Emma said softly. “I texted her half an hour ago. And your penalty kill totally sucks.”

Killian scoffed, running his hand through his hair. “I refuse to accept complete responsibility for the state of our penalty kill. It’s that new guy.” “He’s horrible. Wasn’t he supposed to be good? I thought there was a headline about him being good.” “You can’t believe everything on the backpage, Swan.” “Ah, well, good to know since Rubes was going crazy about the state of backpages tonight.” “Was she?” Emma hummed in agreement, tugging on the end of her hair and Killian suddenly realized – she was nervous. He should have noticed before, but he’d been too focused on trying to keep his breathing level when he realized she’d shown up in his apartment building.

She was sitting on the floor in his apartment building.

“She was definitely going crazy,” Emma continued, voice picking up just a bit as she started wrapping her finger around her finger. “Some guy from The Post wanted a one on one with you, you know. She told him to fuck off.” “I’ll have to thank her tomorrow.” “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that while she’s ripping The Post in half with her bare hands.” He smiled, but Emma kept staring at her shoes and she’d let go of her hair, toying with her phone instead, twisting it in her hands as she took a deep breath. “Mary Margaret didn’t know where you were before,” Killian muttered, rocking back on his heels as he pushed his hands in his pockets.

“What?”

“She didn’t know where you were before,” he repeated. “At least that’s not what she told me.” “When did you talk to Reese’s?” “When I went to her apartment.” Emma’s eyes widened and she shifted slightly, hair falling in her eyes as she shook her head. “You went to Reese’s apartment? Again?” “You didn’t answer your phone,” Killian shrugged.

“And you just...you went up there?” “Is that surprising?” She shook her head again, tongue darting out across her lips and Killian could hear her take a deep breath as she stood up. His hands moved before he could consider the implications of it, fingers gripping her hips just a bit tighter than necessary. “No,” Emma whispered. “It’s not. I should have figured.” “You can do that, you know. Figure. Or plan. Whatever word you want really.”

Emma let out a shaky laugh, head brushing against the front of his league-mandated button-up shirt. “I told you I’m not big on sentiment.” “Not sentiment, Swan, just a fact.”

“I was about to answer you, you know,” she said. “I was trying to time it better. I figured you’d still be at Eric’s and you could come here and it’d be this vaguely sweeping romantic thing.” “Vaguely sweeping?” “Anything more seems to decidedly fall in the realm of sentiment.” “A work in progress, love,” Killian laughed, arms wrapped all the way around her now until they were practically rocking back and forth in the corner of his building’s lobby. “And I left Eric’s fairly quickly after I realized you weren’t answering my text messages asking when you were going to get to Eric’s.”

“I really did have work stuff. They’ve got a whole group coming next week for homestand and we’ve got to set that up, plus Mer and I were organizing signed merch for hours this afternoon. I barely even saw any of the game.” “Just enough to know the PK sucked.” “I literally only saw them score that power play goal in the second. Someone should tell Arthur that whiteboards don’t just grow on trees.” “I think the franchise can afford it.” She nodded again, tugging on the front of his shirt as she looked back up at him. “Yeah, that’s probably true.” Emma took another deep breath, setting her shoulders and staring at him like she’d been thinking something very particular for the last hour. “Everybody absolutely knows. About us. They all know. Aurora asked if I could get extra signed merch from you because we’re dating.” “The new guy asked if you were my girlfriend.”

The words were out of his mouth quickly and easily and Killian winced when he realized what he’d said – he didn’t expect Emma to laugh. “What did you say?” “What?” “What did you tell him? I mean we’ve never actually used the labels or anything, but…” It had been a strange day – Scarlet complaining in PT and Liam trying to play matchmaker over FaceTime and the shittiest penalty kill in the entire goddamn league – but that might have made it all worth it.

“We didn’t,” Killian agreed. “But I’ve kind of been thinking it.” “Good.” “Good?” “I mean I sat in your apartment building lobby for the last half hour, so I’ve kind of been thinking the same thing.” “Yeah?” Emma smiled at him and several of his internal organs did something absurd and they should probably leave this lobby at some point. “Did you miss the part where I sat on the floor for half an hour? I just...I think it’s ok.” “You’re going to have to be more specific, love.” “You’re really going to make me say it?” “And I’m going to enjoy it.” “We’re dating,” Emma sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically and his face was probably going to freeze that way. There were worse things. “And you’re my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend and everybody absolutely knows already so we don’t really have to do anything differently, but, you know, maybe we can stand next to each other during post-game dinners or something.” “Stand next to each other?” Killian repeated, dragging his mouth against the side of her jaw until she jumped, breath catching audibly. “I like the sound of that.” “And maybe I’ll start answering text messages in a more timely fashion.” He nodded seriously, doing his best to keep things light and easy and not overwhelmingly sentimental. It was absolutely, overwhelmingly sentimental.

And Emma had come here.

That seemed to make them even.

At some point, Killian should probably tell her he loved her an absolutely ridiculous amount.  

“You want to go upstairs?” he asked, hoping against something that his voice didn’t actually shake. It felt like a very important question.

“I already told Reese’s I wouldn’t be on the couch later.” He felt his eyebrows move quickly, smile tugging on his lips and Emma rolled her eyes, pushing her palm flat against the front of his shirt. “C’mon, Jones. Your bed is so much more comfortable than that couch.”

It was late.

And his legs were killing him and he was absolutely exhausted, but he couldn’t quite wipe the smile off his face either.

The bed was, absolutely, much more comfortable than the couch in Mary Margaret’s loft. It was even better with Emma curled against his side, head on his chest and hair threatening to land across his face and Killian couldn’t bring himself to even try and move it, far too content with the world – even with the shittiest penalty kill in the entire league.

“Was that a real invitation before?” Emma asked and he moved at that, body jerking back in surprise when her voice cut through the pitch black of his bedroom.

“I thought you were asleep.” “Nah, too wired thinking about signed merch and where we’re going to store all those sticks before Casino Night.” Killian laughed softly, kissing the top of her head and tugging her even tighter against his side. “Make Ruby let you use her office. Or ask Kristoff. He’s got all that space down there. He can store ‘em for a few months.” “Oh that’s a good idea actually. We could keep them there and maybe get an inventory done and…” “What were you talking about before, love?” Killian asked, smiling in spite of himself as soon as she started planning again.

Emma stopped talking immediately, body going stiff and her fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm against his skin. “I was just thinking...and wondering if, well, if Christmas was a real invitation or if that was just your brother was trying to do brother-type things.” “Of course it was a real invitation,” Killian said. “Why wouldn’t it be?” “Well, I did kind of run out of there.” “Why did you?”

She shrugged – an impressive feat considering was still laying on her side. “Same old, same old. An impressive amount of family and not wanting to overstep and we hadn’t actually used those vaguely high school labels before.”

Emma didn’t say anything else, but he could feel her take another deep breath, sighing softly when she exhaled again. And it felt like a very big moment for a pitch-black room at some indeterminate time in the middle of the night, but that also seemed to be them and there was a them, now with high school labels. Killian shifted on his side, narrowing his eyes slightly so he could see her – lip pulled tightly in between her teeth, staring at the tiny bit of mattress that somehow still seemed to exist in between them.

He pulled his hand up, fingers working their way into her hair and behind her ear, wrapping around the back of her neck until Emma dragged her eyes back up. “Would you like to come to Christmas, Swan?” Killian asked softly. “It’ll be big and overwhelming and El and Banana make this disgusting bread pudding that everyone pretends to enjoy and Mrs. Vankald will probably speak only in clichés and Mr. Vankald will want to talk hockey all day, but I’d like you to be there.” Emma blinked, twisting her mouth and nodding quickly, cheek brushing across the pillow it had landed on when Killian moved. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d like that.” “You’ve got to pretend to like the bread pudding, you understand?” “I can do that.” “I’ve got no doubt.” Maybe he’d tell her he loved her at Christmas. After the bread pudding and before the gifts and Mrs. Vankald singing and Mr. Vankald challenging him and Liam to air hockey in the basement. Or maybe he’d wait until they were back here, in this far too comfortable bed when they were by themselves and Emma was pressed up against his side again.

It didn’t really matter.

The only thing he knew was that Emma Swan, his girlfriend, might actually be the best thing that had ever happened to him.

[linaseraphina13]

seeking a friend for the end of the world (winterhunt)

(Just a heads up, I’m probs never going to finish this)

“...yes, they’re saying that it was, in fact, a fire that erupted inside the external tank of the ship... massive explosion killing all twelve crew members....our last and only hope...the final mission to save mankind has failed...I repeat, the seventy mile wide asteroid commonly known as Alexander is set to collide with earth in exactly three weeks time....bringing you full coverage of the minute by minute countdown to the end of days...this is Y102.2 coming at you live from downtown New York.”

May 25th, 21 Days Before Impact

Jasper DeWinter never expected he would make it past 17. Looked like his prediction was coming true.

“They say the damage to the tower has rendered all cellular telephones useless. No word yet on how long water and power will be shut off altogether, but we’ll be bringing you all the information you need, as long as we keep getting updated.”

An asteroid. Of all things, an asteroid; like the one that took out the dinosaurs hundreds of millions of years ago, except bigger, hotter, more destructive. What a way to go out.

Celia always said he’d been one with a flair for drama. How fitting that he would die in the most dramatic way possible.

“They have yet to make an official statement regarding rumors of a classified space launch for high ranking government officials, religious figure heads, and important contributors to athletics and entertainment. It is said that the government is keeping this information classified in order to avoid causing more panic...”

Mother and Father didn’t take the news well, but when had they ever taken anything well? When Janice told them she was pregnant with twins at 16 they disowned her and cut her out of the family will. She no longer had access to the DeWinter inheritance. Although, he supposed that didn’t matter anymore, considering material things like money and social standing would no longer exist in three weeks.

“At least we’re together,” Jasper had said, in a poor attempt to lighten the mood, but Mother was gazing at him thoughtfully, the table gripped tightly enough in her slender fingers to turn her knuckles white. Father wasn’t even looking at him at all.

And then the next morning, 21 days before the end of the world, his parents were gone.

“They were always shitty parents,” his older sister Janice said, chopping onions with a renewed vigor. “At least they left you gas money. Although how that would matter nowadays is beyond me.”

Her house was a ten minute drive from the apartment, located in the sort-of-not suburbs on the outskirts of the city. It was a nice house. It had a pool. The kids had been practically living there ever since the announcement.

“I have a friend. Do you remember Annie? The blond one? I bet I could hook you guys up.” He didn’t say anything. “Come on, I’m sure there’s plenty of girls for you to meet before the end.”

“I don’t want to meet anyone,” he told her.

In the next room, Janice’s stupid kids were screaming and carrying on the way little kids do, blissfully unaware of the impending doom that sat on everyone else’s shoulders; those who were old enough to understand. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

“You’re going to die alone,” his sister said, putting down the cutlery. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

Jasper wanted to yell at her. He wanted to scream that he wasn’t going to die alone; he was going to die with everyone else, at the same time, in a huge, fiery explosion that would turn their planet back into the steaming hunk of rock it started out as and obliterate all signs of life.

But he didn’t. Instead, he just shrugged.

You would think that life would seem different to him now, knowing that he was going to die before his 18th birthday, but it didn’t. He didn’t feel distraught, angry, scared, or panicked like everyone else. He didn’t feel the urgency to make something of his life before it ultimately ended. He felt nothing. He felt numb. He hadn’t really felt anything close to emotion for a long time. Why start now?

The days bled together. Jasper got up at the alarm, ate breakfast, drove to school, sat in the empty classroom while his teachers either didn’t show up or only showed up to bawl their eyes out, then drove home. Rinse and repeat. Reverse and relearn. Time ticked closer and closer to the end.

May 31st, 14 Days Before Impact

“Jasper,” said Mr. Rufus, looking at him tiredly. “You know you don’t have to come in anymore, right?”

The school was empty now, had been getting emptier and emptier as time ran out, but Jasper still came. He was the only one who still came at this point. Not even the teachers wanted to spend their last days here.

Many people took this opportunity to do the things they never got around to doing. He heard all the beaches were backed up with families hoping to get one last day of fun in. Others were taking planes to visit loved ones in various countries. Jasper had family in Vietnam, but he wasn’t close with them. He wondered if that’s where his parents had run off to.

“Why don’t you go home?,” Mr. Rufus pressed. He was an older man with dark skin and tired eyes that reflected the same feeling of hopelessness everyone seemed to have these days. “I’m sure you have something better to do than waste your time here.”

(That was the problem. He didn’t.)

On the way home he passed a fence with advertisements and opportunities pasted onto it with varying degrees of seriousness. Some of them had already run out of tear-aways. Most of them were already defaced with graffiti.

Tired of Waiting For The End? Hire An Assassin, only $5.99

Fuck A Virgin, Call Me! xoxo

Seeking A Friend For The End of The World (see attached number for details)

He threw his jacket onto the couch. His lavish apartment, a beacon of pride and a symbol of wealth for him and his family before, now just an empty husk of a building, cold and unforgiving. I am going to die here, he thought suddenly as he took in the diamond chandelier, the expensive paintings that depicted all of his dead relatives, their blank faces almost mocking in their perch above the fireplace. I am going to die here with no friends and nothing to be proud of.

He flopped onto the couch. Ran fingers through his expensive haircut. Opened up the closet and took down his memory box. Dozens of pictures looked back up at him.

Pictures of his family from Before. His sister, him, and his eldest brother, enlisted in the army at 18 and killed on the front lines of Afghanistan, leaving behind a grieving family and a little brother with the same initials but not the same glory.

Pictures of Celia, his first and only girlfriend, who broke up with him immediately after rumors of the meteor started circulating. If I’m going to die, she’d said to him outside of the school doors, then I don’t want to spend my last days with you. Sorry.

That was fine. He had a feeling she wasn’t really in love with him the way he was in love with her, anyway. At least now he knew for sure.

June 1st, 2:00 am, 13 Days Before Impact

A great man once asked, “What is the meaning of life?”

To have sex and then die, Jasper thought morosely. He didn’t believe in the beauty of life, he didn’t believe in true love. The world was a cold, callous place and humans were just the by-product of evolution gone wrong. Nothing was real. Nothing mattered.

If Celia were here, she’d say something about him slipping into his old emo habits again. She blamed it on the hair. Jasper blamed it on the years of neglect from his parents.

The TV was the only source of light in the apartment. Jasper was barely paying attention to whatever useless drivel was playing. It looked like some sort of soap opera. A Spanish soap opera. He wondered if Celia would like it, if she were here.

Stop thinking about her, his mind hissed to him. She’s never coming back. Just let it go.

Just let it go. She’s gone. Just let it--

Jasper turned his head when his eye caught a shadow moving outside his window. He frowned and squinted when the form took shape of a person crouched on the fire escape.

A burglar?, he thought briefly, surprisingly calm despite the situation. The figure didn’t seem all too daunting, kind of small in stature and making no moves to force their way into the apartment through the window. Whoever it was also had on a garish pink and yellow bomber jacket instead of all-black attire and was probably visible to everyone in the city for three miles.

He placed his book down and cautiously approached the window. As he got closer, he could see that the other person was a boy, around his age, with wild black hair and tan skin and was, in fact, sobbing his eyes out like a maniac on the fire escape.

He tapped on the window. No reaction.

“Hey,” he called, but the other boy didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Irritated, Jasper opened the window and yelled, “Hey!”

The boy screamed and would have nearly fallen off the fire escape and become mosquito splatter on the sidewalk if it hadn’t been for Jasper grabbing ahold of that nightmare of a jacket and pulling him back to safety. The poor kid looked absolutely terrified out of his mind and the tear-tracks on his cheeks only made the situation all that more dramatic.

“What the fuck,” Jasper spat, confused and annoyed. “Why are you crying outside my window?”

But instead of responding the boy took one look at Jasper’s face and immediately threw his arms around his neck, buried his face in his T-shirt, and burst into horrible, ugly sobs. Jasper froze with his hands hovering awkwardly in the air.

“I-I’m so stupid,” the boy wailed with heaving, convulsing gasps that Jasper felt against his chest. “I’m never going to see my dad again. I missed the flight. I missed all the flights. All of them. Now I’ll never be able to get to him in time and it’s all my fault and we’re going to die.”

He continued crying. The tips of his wild curly hair tickled Jasper’s nose.

“Um. There, there,” he attempted. An awkward, barely-making-contact pat on the boy’s heaving back. He didn’t say it was going to be okay, because that would be a straight up lie and not even he was so awful as to make false promises to a dying boy.

“I mean, w-what did I expect? That they would keep the airlines open until the very last day? I’m such a dumbass, I should’ve gone with him instead of staying home, but now I’m stuck here and he’s in California and I can’t even call him to tell him that I...I-”

A fresh wave of tears. Jasper’s shirt was getting thoroughly soaked.

He sighed. Gently pushed the boy away and crouched down to get eye-level with him. He noticed that the stranger had some really pretty gray eyes. Like the stars.

“Do you...want to come inside?,” he offered, stilted, and the shorter boy didn’t hesitate pushing him aside and climbing through the window into his apartment. Now inside, Jasper could see that he was shivering and had on ratty Lego pajamas underneath the jacket. Also he kind of smelled like a wet dog, which was...odd.

The ended up sitting on the couch.

The boy had stopped crying at this point and was awkwardly perched on the very edge of Jasper’s sofa like he half-expected him to turn into a murderous clown.

Jasper wordlessly handed him a cup of coffee. The boy mumbled his thanks and knocked it back in one go without cooling it first. He barely even flinched.

“Nice place you got here,” he commented idly, looking around.

Jasper just stared at him, astounded that he was attempting small talk at a time like this, like they did this all the time. He was almost impressed.

“Why do you have all the lights off? It’s too dark in here.”

“It’s 2 am,” he pointed out, flat.

He flinched, but then scowled as he went on the defensive. “Yeah, but you’re awake.”

“That’s because I have insomnia,” he snapped. “What’s your excuse?”

The boy deflated. “I don’t know. I sleep like the dead normally, but I couldn’t sleep tonight. I can’t stop thinking about my dad. And the asteroid. A-And Havoc isn’t doing so well either.”

Jasper blinked. “What the hell is a ‘Havoc’?”

Almost immediately, tears began welling up in his eyes. Jasper mentally cursed himself.

“Don’t start crying again,” he commanded/begged. “Please.”

He sniffed. Snot was running down his chin and it was quite possibly the grossest thing Jasper had ever seen in his life, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he handed the boy an embroidered handkerchief and watched in partial dismay as the expensive sliver of cloth was soiled beyond recognition.

“My dog,” he choked out once he was finished. “H-He’s back in my apartment. He’s been throwing up a lot. I tried to take him to the vet but they told me there was no point trying to help him since...you know.”

Jasper nodded. It was only logical. He had no idea why this boy was getting so worked up over his dog when all of humanity was going to be wiped out in just a few days, but to each their own.

The boy continued, “I know it’s dumb, but I don’t know what I’ll do if Havoc dies before me. He’s all I have left now. I don’t have any other family besides my dad and he’s on the other side of the country.”

Jasper was understandably very concerned. “So you’ve been by yourself this whole time? How old are you?”

Another sniff. “Sixteen.”

So a year younger than him, then. Still too young to be by himself.

“My name’s Call, by the way,” he said into the silence. “Callum Hunt. But most people call me Call.”

He nodded awkwardly. “Jasper DeWinter.”

Call’s eyes fell to the table, where the memory box was still open. He leaned forward and plucked the picture of Celia out, while Jasper cringed at the thought of him getting snot all over it.

“Who’s this?,” he asked curiously. “Girlfriend? Looks like it. She’s pretty. Good on you, dude.”

He said snippily, “You’re nosy.” And plucked the photo out of his grubby little fingers, placing it gently back in the box. “And she’s my ex. We ended things already.”

A sympathetic noise, but Jasper had a feeling it wasn’t genuine, since he suddenly looked intrigued. “I feel like there’s a story behind that. You break up with her or she break up with you?”

He paused. “She...broke up with me,” he admitted, morose.

Call quirked an eyebrow at him. “Well, you got two weeks to go, man. Are you gonna get her back?”

Jasper remembered Celia’s face the last time he saw her, the utter blankness in her expression as she told him, more or less, to get out of her life forever. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Hm. That’s rough, buddy.” Call flopped back onto the sofa and his coffee sloshed dangerously in the cup. “So like...you got Netflix or what?”

Two hours later, Jasper had a strange boy sleeping on his couch.

An hour after that, he fell asleep as well.

June 2nd, 12 Days Before Impact

A hand was shaking his shoulder the next morning. He woke up to find silvery eyes staring down at him, bleary and exhausted.

“I’m hungry,” he announced, loud in the empty apartment. Jasper stared at him and questioned all of his life’s choices that would bring him to this point.

“There’s food in the fridge. Help your damn self,” he grumbled, then tried to roll over on the uncomfortable sofa, but Call shook his shoulder again.

“I don’t know how to cook,” came the dejected admission, and Jasper found himself making vegetarian pancakes at nine in the morning, 12 days before the apocalypse.

“I think it’s weird that we’ve lived so close to each other for so long, but we’ve never met,” Call said around a mouthful of pancakes. “I mean, if I’d have known a kid my age was living above me, I would’ve made it my mission in life to be friends.”

And I would’ve made it my mission in life to get as far away from you as possible, he thought vehemently as he watched the other boy chew with his mouth open in utter disgust.

He dropped Call off at his apartment not even a half-hour later. The younger boy looked perfectly sated and groggy from having such a hearty breakfast, and Jasper was glad, but he also never wanted to see this kid ever again.

“So what are you going to do with the rest of your life?,” Call asked, leaning against the doorway. The distant sound of barking from deep within the apartment grated on Jasper’s ears.

“I don’t know. Whatever.” He shrugged helplessly. “Maybe redecorate. Move around some chairs.”

“You are literally the most boring person I have ever met,” Call told him sincerely. They stared at each other for a good thirty seconds in complete silence. “Well, thanks for the food. Bye.”

He slammed the door in his face.

Of all the ungrateful-- Jasper sighed. Passed a hand over his face as he walked back up the stairs to his own apartment.

He spent the day just kind of...doing things. Rearranging the bookshelf, dusting off the antiques, washing the two plates in the sink, going on the computer and catching up on all the end of the world memes. At this point he was just going through the motions of a living person, without really living.

He went to the corner store around the block. Bought a Kids Cuisine. Tried to hand the cashier money before remembering that there wasn’t anyone manning the stores anymore. Debated on stealing it. Decided to put it back on the shelf.

Walking home, the streets had a different feel to them. Garbage and turned over shopping carts and car parts littered the roads. No cars were driving. People were running around yelling at each other and knocking things over. Someone was even attempting to break into a car with a crowbar in broad daylight, but no one did anything to stop it.

Not even Jasper. He just went home.

Later that night he found himself in front of the TV again, a cup of coffee and a bowl of pho that he’d made following his mother’s recipe. The atmosphere was strangely stagnant, like none of this was real. Like Jasper wasn’t real. He briefly wondered if he’d somehow already died, but he just didn’t know it, because his life had already been a living hell when he was alive-

A brick came sailing through the window and all sense of calm shattered.

He reacted appropriately, yelping and shooting to his feet in an instant. Screams and sirens and various explosions sounded from the streets below and when he ran to the window all he could see was chaos. Men with their faces covered in masks were setting things on fire, shooting at random, and throwing homemade bombs around like it was the freaking purge. One person in particular threw a molotov cocktail towards the parking garage and the entire thing went up like a candle. He could practically feel the heat from the explosion where he stood at the window, gaping.

“My car!,” Jasper screeched. The masked men looked up at his exclamation and he quickly darted back inside before they could start shooting at him or something. This was bad. He needed to get out of there, fast.

But Call, a voice hissed in his mind, and he skittered to an abrupt halt. What about Call?

Jasper was about 67% sure the other boy was fine, probably already in the next town over if he knew what was good for him, but the other 33% of him, convinced that Call was dead or dying in a pile of his own burning shit, made him jump out the window, run down the fire escape, and start banging like a maniac on the window below his apartment.

No one came to the window, besides a large and admittedly terrifying-looking dog (wolf?) thing with yellow eyes and razor sharp teeth.

“Hey! You! Dog!” He wasn’t sure if the thing could hear him through the wall, but he could try dammit. “Go get Call! Tell him that he needs to get out of here!”

The dog whined, but didn’t make an effort to move. Jasper cursed. He tried the window, and was surprised to see that it slid open without worry. The dumbass left it unlocked.

He quickly climbed in. Thankfully, the dog seemed to realize he was there to help and not murder his master, and didn’t maul him to death. Instead, it nudged his hand and started running, which Jasper took as a cue to follow.

He ran into the apartment, following the dog as it took him to another room deeper inside, frantically barking the entire time. He pushed open the door and there Call was, sprawled out on his bed, snoring and dead asleep in the midst of a deadly free-for-all.

Of course. Of fucking course.

“Are you serious-- get up!” He shook the younger boy violently, but the most he did was mumble in his sleep and turn over, burrowing deeper into the blankets.

There wasn’t enough time in the world for this. He slapped him hard across the face. “Get up you fucking useless idiot!”

Call shot up from the bed, hair mussed up from sleep, blinking blearily like a dumbass. “Whass goin’ on.”

The general noise from outside reached a new crescendo. Jasper grabbed Call by the arm and started dragging him out of the door. “We’re leaving. Now. Pack your shit and let’s go!”

That seemed to snap him out of it. While he ran around the apartment packing a bag full of whatever the hell, Jasper anxiously tapped his foot by the door. Outside, he could see the orange glow of a deadly inferno making its way down main street. Jasper hadn’t felt more terrified in his life.

Finally, Call seemed to have gotten all his shit together and met Jasper at the door. Before they could, leave, however, Call swiveled back around to face the apartment.

“Wait!,” he yelled. “Havoc! Here boy!” He whistled, and the giant wolf-dog came bounding out of the dark. Jasper didn’t waste any time getting to the stairs.

“Do you have a car?”

“Yeah. It’s parked outside.” He was breathing pretty hard and seemed to favor his left leg over his right. Jasper made a mental note to ask about that later.

They ran out into the brisk night. The streets were filled with rioters holding flaming torches and other various weapons like something straight out of a survivalist movie, but none of them seemed to have noticed them yet, thank God. Call scoured the area surrounding the apartment complex and then quickly exclaimed, “There!”

An old 1970’s groove machine was parked in front of the building. It was practically wedged in between two other cars and looked horrendously out of place with its chipped red paint job and rusted metal.

“That’s your car? It’s falling apart!”

“Yeah, well, not everyone’s a rich bitch like you, DeWinter.” He unlocked it. The lights flashed pathetically. “Get in!”

Jasper strapped himself in. Call fumbled his way into the driver’s seat.

“You have your license, right?,” he asked as the car lurched forward.

“Well...no. But don’t worry. I have a learner’s permit.” The van abruptly reversed into the car behind it and Jasper clutched the seat for dear life.

“That is not the same thing!”

“Well excuse me for not having enough time to pass my driver’s test before the world fucking ended!”

The van lurched again, this time ramming the car in front of them. Some of the anarchists noticed they were trying to escape and started running towards the car, torches raised.

“Oh my God, just let me do it!,” he hissed, attempting to grab the wheel, but Call bat his hands away.

“No! There’s no time!”

“You’re going to get us killed before the asteroid does- “

Havoc barked, interrupting their bickering. In the rearview mirror Jasper could see the masked men advancing. They were almost at the car.

Call hissed between his teeth. “Fuck--hold on!” Then turned the wheel, put the car in drive, and gassed it.

They clipped the backlight and the bumper off the car in front of them, but somehow managed to squeeze out and make it onto the street. Jasper let out a very manly squeal of terror as they tore down the road into the black abyss of night, no destination in mind and no idea where they were headed to.

I’ll post this on AO3 eventually but I have a feeling that if I try to make this a series before I update Crowning Chaos I might get actually murdered so.