#now I work 40 hours a week sitting DIRECTLY ACROSS FROM HIM

[optimus-prime-advice]

Blogmin (blog admin) motivation post!!

So I never speak directly here besides in my intro post, but I decided I'm gonna come out to talk for a change, because I want y'all to know:

It really does get better.

That's me. I'm a disabled man who's autoimmune in at least 5 ways, possibly more than that, I can barely walk and I mostly limp, and I usually have to use a walking stick. I suffer from chronic pain, PTSD, and far more.

But today, I got my tax return. I decided I was going to treat myself, and visit the thrift store to see what all was there, maybe get a new shirt and a plushie or something.

Yet I found something FAR better than any of that combined.

I found an Xbox 360.

I'm 24 currently. When I was a young kid, the Xbox was THE console to have. I had nothing but a computer, and some disks with games. My parents were not wealthy at all. They struggled to get money for groceries. And all my friends, all my classmates, they had Xbox 360s left and right, my neighbor had 3 or 4 of them, my friend also had at least 3, and yet there I was with... nothing. Nothing at all. No Gamecube, no Wii, no Xbox, no Playstation, no PSP, no GBA, and so on.

Eventually, years later, my parents did save enough money to buy my siblings and I a Playstation 2 for Christmas, and we proceeded to play it so much that, within 3 years tops, it broke.

I was devastated. I had no way to play games yet again.

That year, for my birthday, my friend had a PS2 that he no longer used, and his brother had bought the PS3. Thus, for a present, I got my friend's old PS2. I was SUPER happy, and my eyes lit up like Christmas lights. I spent many hours after school for a long time playing Kingdom Hearts 1 and 2.

As I grew into an adult, more consoles came out. However, I grew up mostly PC gaming, and after my little brother built himself a PC, I decided I would do the same. I worked overtime with more than 40 hours a week at a minimum wage job while in college, for many months straight, and got the parts I needed. To this day, it's my best gaming platform with top-of-the-line hardware including a 2070 super RTX graphics card, and 5TB of space, of which 3TB is on SSDs. I live for playing games on my PC, and have multiple triple A titles. I've got a dual monitor setup with one 32in monitor on the bottom, and a 24in curved monitor on top, a cheap camera, cheap soundbar that's surprisingly good quality for just $35, and a cheap standing mic.

This past winter, in December, my mother had to go in for open heart surgery. During November on Thanksgiving day, she suffered a heart attack. When she went in for the surgery, it was supposed to be a one and done situation. One "quick" surgery turned into 2 near death experiences, being airlifted to another hospital, another 2 surgeries, then 3 more, and over 40 nights of hospital stays across 4 months.

On the same day I nearly lost my mother last, I nearly lost my good friend to ending himself, and had to stay awake until well past 3am trying to get authorities to help him. That same day, too, I almost lost my sister to the same thing.

And the day after that? I lost my only job.

Weeks later, I lost my insurance coverage, and couldn't get medical help as my chronic pain flared to the absolute worst it's ever been, I began getting chronic intense migraines every morning I woke as well, and I only just got the insurance back recently.

Needless to say, I've been scraping by desperately for months now.

But today, I got my tax return. And I decided, to treat myself, I was going to go to the thrift store.

And there, sitting on the shelf amongst a bunch of printers, literally blending in to the white of the shelf itself, was an Xbox 360. I would not have known it was there had I not picked it up to see what its weird grey piece sticking out was.

Immediately, I snagged this. With the wires connected, the entire package was $14. I had a 360 compatible controller sitting around for my PC, but I never used it. So there, I had everything I needed. And I walked the store looking for anything else I might need or want, carrying that SUPER heavy console and chargers in my arms for dear life. It sincerely felt like a dream I'd wake from, only to find myself in my bed sad and empty and defeated. The impossible childhood dream coming true... Could it be?

As I checked out, the man at the line smiled and told me he played Xbox 360 himself growing up, and that I'd caught a GREAT find. I was happy. VERY happy.

Carefully, I loaded the console into my car's trunk. I drive an old black car covered in bird poop and pollen regardless of how often I clean it, and most of the time, I can't even get said poop off at all. The front bumper is busted. At any given time, I have no more than half a tank of gas. There's no fancy features, just a radio and a CD port. I've jerryrigged bluetooth with a wired adapter that's always coming out of the socket, and plugged it to a cigarette lighter with a charger so the adapter never dies. I can only play audio from my phone, but I can't make calls or answer them while driving.

Nonetheless, with this console inside my car, I drove home, fearful that I was still dreaming, and would wake any moment.

But I made it home safely, and when I opened the trunk, the Xbox was still there.

I smiled. I smiled A LOT.

Tonight, I went ahead and plugged it in to my TV. With a deep breath, I turned it on, and...

It works. The Xbox 360 works beautifully, minus the fact that it's currently black and white because I've hooked the adapters wrong. I'll fix that tomorrow since it's well past 3am now.

I'm not sure who brownie71985 is, but whoever they are, their old Xbox has now made a former poor kid, now disabled and struggling, depressed adult, VERY happy. They've made his life COMPLETE.

Though my mental health has taken many turns for the worst over the last few months, I kept telling myself it will get better. It will get better. It will get better... But when?

Today. That's when.

I lived long enough to see my childhood dreams come true. The impossible thing of all impossible things to me as a kid, is now achieved as an adult. :) And I lived to see it.

It's always worth it to make it. To keep going. Better days are ahead, and you'll keep asking yourself when they're going to come. But that day could be today! You don't know because you haven't lived to see it yet. So go. Live today. And tomorrow. And every day after that. You're going to find your better at some point if you keep living. I promise. :)

[xcrystalzero]

all the things i believed

pairing: xiao x reader

summary: you've only seen the boy who lives in the apartment one over from yours a few times, but you knew the look of someone who wanted to seem intimidating when you saw one. so, why was his music taste so adorable?

alternatively, xiao thinks that the apartment walls are a lot thicker than they actually are and accidentally exposes the fact that he's not nearly as angsty as he wants everyone to believe.

note: soft xiao makes me way too happy. also, here is xiao's playlist! i recommend listening while you read :) if you guys like it, i'll make playlists for my fics more often!

"I'll miss you!" Your roommate had her arms wound tightly around your torso and it didn't seem like she planned on letting go any time soon. She was also squeezing just a tad too hard and it was starting to hurt.

Gingerly, you patted her on the shoulder, subtly attempting to pry her off of you with your other hand. "I'll miss you too... But remember, it's only two weeks and then you're back!"

That only served to make her pout even more as she finally pulled away "Two weeks is so long though! How am I going to survive without you and your brownies?"

"Hah, so you're really only worried about not having brownies huh?"

"You know that's not what I meant!" she whined, causing you to giggle slightly. Honestly though, there was no way anyone watching could possibly think that she would only be gone for two weeks. Your roommate had decided that she needed three full suitcases and the world's largest carry-on purse for her little trip, and you were honestly a little worried about it.

"Ahem..." Your bonding moment was promptly interrupted by a soft but very present voice directly behind you. Whirling around, you came face to face with a vaguely familiar figure.

It was the golden eyes that caught your attention first. Even in the strange fluorescent light of the hallway, they almost seemed to have a light of their own, a hypnotizing sort of gleam that you couldn't bring yourself to look away from. Of course, the rest of him was no less than stunning either. Dressed head to toe in black with his angular features and lean build, he was striking.

His eyes widened slightly as you turned towards him though they settled fairly quickly back into what you could only assume was his trademark glare.

"Just... trying to get through." His voice was gruff, but much softer than you had anticipated. Perhaps even gentle?

Oh yeah, that was how you knew him! Your schedules must have been somewhat similar since you were sure you passed him at least a few times a week. You had never talked but you were pretty sure you had seen him going into the unit one over from yours quite a few times.

So this was your neighbor huh? He was cute, if a little intimidating.

"Oh sorry!" your roommate chimed in. "We were just leaving, we'll get out of your way!" She began to scoot her bags to the side and you quickly joined in, wheeling one of the suitcases to the side, though you couldn't seem to keep your eyes off of the guy. Every time you looked away, it was as though your gaze was drawn back towards him by some unnatural force.

It helped that he seemed just as awkward with the whole thing as you did, alternating glancing between the you and your roommate, the floor, and his phone. As soon as there was enough space for him to squeeze by, he did, mumbling a quick thanks as he made his way down the hall, unlocking his door and disappearing into his apartment in what felt like a second.

After a moment of silence, your roommate piped up again. "He's cute!"

"He can probably still hear you!" you whacked her across the shoulder, causing her to pout in your direction again, though the teasing look never left her eyes.

"He's kind of your type too isn't he?" she all-but waggled her eyebrows in your direction to which you rolled your eyes.

"Aren't you already late for your flight"

"Oh shit!"

~~~

The apartment felt so strange when you were alone. Usually around this time of night, your roommate would have come banging on your door to join her for her late night rom-com marathon or to help her chose an outfit or the party she was going to. Tonight however, everything was quiet.

With a sigh, you slumped over onto your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone in hopes of finding some sort of entertainment.

That was when you heard it. The soft sound of an instrumental through the wall, slowly building in volume as you assumed whoever lived in that room turned up the volume.

"40 days and 40 nights... I waited for a girl like you to come and save my life..."

Aww cute, love songs! Had you been busy or doing literally anything else, you might have been annoyed, or at least a little worried about exactly how loud they had to be playing their music for you to be able to hear it. As things stood though, it was a welcome distraction.

"You were out of my league, all the things I believed, you were just the right kind yeah you were more than just a dream..."

Oh yeah, you knew this song too! There was a sort of second timbre to the sound and you wondered if the person playing the music was singing along as well.

Wait, who was playing that music. Judging by the sound, it was likely the unit one to your left where their wall joined with yours. The unit one to your left...

Multi-colored hair and golden eyes... The cute guy? Pulling yourself immediately up into a sitting position, you pressed yourself to the wall before immediately realizing how crazy you were acting.

He was just playing music, that wasn't anything weird.

"Romeo take me, somewhere we can be alone..."

Taylor Swift. He was playing Taylor Swift. At that, you started laughing. Wow, appearances really could be deceiving huh? You sighed as you leaned with your back against the wall, letting the vibrations from the music soak into your very being.

You were sure that you'd heard music coming from that unit before but he wasn't usually loud at all. Maybe something was different today? Maybe you'd ask him when you next saw him. And maybe, he'd actually want to talk to you when you did.

Or maybe not.

So for now, you let your head rest against the wall, letting the music and soft singing lull you into relaxation.

~~~

That was it, you despised public transportation. All you wanted was to get out of your apartment for one day and take your work to a nearby cafe. So of course, when you ran outside to catch the bus that came once every hour, the bus driver looked you straight in the eye as he closed the door right in front of you and drove off. And then for good measure, it started raining.

You sighed, burying your face in the backpack on your lap. If the bus app was right, which it rarely was, there was another bus you could take arriving in the next few minutes, so maybe this wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

The sound of footsteps entering the little bus stop booth got your mind off of your moping as you raised your head just enough to peer over at who it was that had just joined you.

Oh. Standing there, hood pulled up over his multi-toned hair and seemingly permanent scowl fixed on his lips, was your hot neighbor. Your hot neighbor with very interesting music taste if last night told you anything.

Since nothing could go right for you, the moment that you looked at him, he looked at you, meaning the two of you got to share a few agonizing seconds of awkward eye contact before he pointedly turned away with a soft "tsk". That being said, you were sure that you weren't imagining the slight tinge of shock you had seen in his gaze for a moment.

"You've got good timing, there's one coming in like 5 minutes." You had no idea how you had managed to get the words out without stuttering or blushing the moment he turned back to look at you.

"That's good..." Yup, that was an expected response, and yet, you really just wanted him to keep talking. So this was the end of your story with the gorgeous emo boy next door. Relegated to exchanging conversation about public transportation and nothing more. It was really the wasted potential here that was killing you. So many cute interactions that would just never happen. Ah if only the bus would come so that you wouldn't have to wallow in your despair any longer.

"I... thought you were leaving yesterday?"

Oh? You whirled around way too quickly to face the man, causing his eyes to widen as he shifted away instinctually.

"Oh, I was just helping my roommate move all of her stuff," you managed to get out, summoning what you hoped was a non-nervous smile to your lips.

"Those were all her bags?" he seemed horrified, enough so that you couldn't hold back your laughter.

"I said the same thing! She's kind of insane sometimes but I love her..." Well, it was no or never. "I'm [name] by the way!" You smiled and extended a hand out towards the boy.

He regarded you for a moment with a look you couldn't put into words. After what felt like an eternity however, he gently took your hand in his own, holding it for barely a moment before pulling back again. "Xiao."

Xiao. There was a strange sense of relief that came with this new knowledge. Know that you knew his name, was it couth to ask him what his favorite Taylor Swift song was? Probably not. But there was a chance that you might literally never be able to talk to him again... Meh, it was as you were thinking before right? Now or never.

"Hi Xiao. I liked your playlist last night by the way." The words came out more effortlessly than you had thought they would, carefree and teasing.

You were a little bit surprised though when you glanced back over at Xiao, only to find him eyes blown wide as a deep red spread quickly across his cheeks. "Y-You!"

"Honestly a pretty good curation! If a little unexpected..." You had no idea what it was about this guy but he really brought the snarky, teasing part of you out. Maybe it was the fact that while he usually looked cold and intimidating, blushing, embarrassed Xiao was strangely adorable.

"I thought you left!" Xiao blurted out. "I mean... There were so many bags... And your roommate said that you guys were leaving..."

You stared blankly at him for a moment before immediately dissolving into peals of laughter. Xiao had the gall to pretend to be offended for a moment before he looked away with a soft huff. "What..."

"You know, I kind of thought you were scary at first," you managed between giggles. "I guess not though!"

"Ugh, you're insufferable." Xiao rolled his eyes though you were sure that you saw the slightest hint of a smile as he did. "Why were you listening through the walls anyway?"

"Xiao, it was literally so loud."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"And I think I heard some singing too! Say, you in a band? Do you guys usually just write love songs?"

"I was not singing!"

There was a strange warmth in your chest as the two of you went back and forth. So things could go right for you after all?

~~~

Sadly, you and Xiao hadn't been going the same way, so when his bus came - before yours you might add - the two of you had parted ways. The sun had been going down when you made your way back home, satisfied with a productive day, though the memory of your conversation with Xiao was still taking up a lot more headspace than you would have liked.

So this is what it was like to simp for a guy? You weren't sure you liked it.

Setting down the takeout you had picked up on the counter, you crashed onto your living room couch with a low groan. Sleep would be nice right about now, but also, you had to eat and shower and clean...

"I wonder what Xiao's doing?" The thought appeared in your head suddenly and you almost smacked yourself right then and there. Why were you always thinking about him? You'd literally spoken to the guy once, and it wasn't anything special! Just some teasing and his little retorts... And his cute blush... And his little smile... And the way he pretended to be annoyed when he was clearly enjoying it... Wow, this was worse than you thought.

"CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART?"

You yelped, jumping up in your seat at the sudden noise, coming once again from the wall separating you and Xiao's units. You paused for a moment but before you could stop yourself, you were back up on your feet, making your way over and banging against the wall.

"You're not fooling anyone Xiao!" you yelled, not sure if he could even hear you. Apparently he could since the music stopped as quickly as it had started. There was a moment of silence as you pressed your ear to the wall, waiting for his next move. What you did not expect was to hear sound in the other direction. A knock on your door.

Confused, you made your way over, unlocking the door and pulling it open to reveal, Xiao? He was still wearing his giant black hoodie, though the glare was missing.

"Did you run out of sugar or something? Or fake angsty songs to play?" you questioned with a grin.

As expected, he let out a soft huff, turning his head away in fake exasperation. "You're a menace."

"So what I'm hearing is that you want me to send in a noise complaint!"

"You idiot... I'm just here to-" For whatever reason, he was blushing again.

"Here to?" you prompted, wondering if you should invite him in or offer him water or something. He was tugging at the collar of his hoodie too...

"J-Just here to say that if you're going to sit there listening through the walls, you might as well just come over..."

Did you hear that right? You stared at him for a moment longer, blinking slowly. This was probably a dream right? You were so tired when you got home that you fell asleep and now you were dreaming.

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to..." Or maybe not.

"You know, normal people just invite people over without pretending to be edgy right?"

"Shut it, are you coming or not?"

"Yeah yeah I'm coming. Oh yeah, I got takeout, I'll bring it. It's from that new place down the street, Wangshu Inn. Have you ever had Almond Tofu before?"

"... you're unbelievable."

note: i want a hot neighbor like xiao... i did have a hot neighbor who i did hit on, but then i found out that he had a girlfriend so i stopped... but xiao would be better.

[heliads]

Radio Silence Chapter Five: Can You Hear Me Now?

Poe Dameron has been assigned to work as an intel receiver to Acer, a Resistance recon agent. They’ve only ever talked through the comms, so when she’s captured by First Order troops he assumes she’s lost forever. When Poe accidentally rescues the absolutely infuriating Resistance spy Y/N L/N from a First Order Star Destroyer, he knows she’s got nothing do with with Acer. Right?

previous / series masterlist / next

What does he do now? What in all the stars is Poe supposed to do now?

Poe checks with another flight officer, two hanger clearance workers, and a recon lieutenant. All of them say the exact same thing: Y/N L/N left on a mission two standard hours ago. Yes, she’ll be going to the Core Worlds. Yes, they are aware that the mission will be dangerous. No, they cannot promise that she will be alright.

The worst part is that there’s this gnawing sensation of guilt that won’t leave him. When Acer was first captured, Poe had felt terrible, but there was nothing he could have done differently to save her. He had been stranded on the other side of the galaxy, and he didn’t even know her name or where she was held. Now, on the other hand, Poe can picture the cheekily grinning face of Y/N L/N, bloodied from wounds and staggering through the corridors of a First Order base. 

Some part of him almost thinks that this was his fault, that if he hadn’t blown up at her for not telling him she was Acer she might have stayed. Poe knows this couldn’t be true, that she’d been training for this mission almost since she had gotten back, but the shard of guilt still stays locked away inside of him, stopping Poe from forgetting about her. It is a little true, isn’t it? If Poe had never opened that crate and he hadn’t taken out that data file, he never would have known. He wouldn’t have been filled with that same anger and betrayal, and he wouldn’t have yelled at Y/N for keeping it a secret. 

What would have happened then? Would she have told him before she left, or would it stay a secret? At any rate, they would have had a better goodbye then the broken one in the hall. Poe can still feel regret burning up inside of him- Y/N had been minutes away from the riskiest mission in her life, and instead of making her smile one last time, Poe had ripped away any possibility of peace.

Y/N’s mission will likely last a week or two. It isn’t another spy reassignment, it’s an excursion into the Core Worlds. The roles have switched, and now it is Y/N foraying into First Order territory to rescue a recon officer, most likely managing to steal some plans for the newly built First Order battleships and armored cruisers while she’s there. It wouldn’t surprise him- Y/N has had a knack for gathering intel, a trait that had served her well during her undercover work as Acer. Poe can only hope that she’ll be able to stay alive during this mission as well.

Poe does his best to keep his stress under wraps, but evidently he’s not doing a great job of hiding his emotions because he’s approached by a commanding officer a few days into Y/N’s assignment. Leia, thank the suns, has taken pity on him and allowed him access to the command room where all details of the mission will be broadcasted. As Poe walks through the doors, he takes in the navscreen readouts and officers speaking into comlinks, checking in on the pilots and allies who could be in contact with Y/N’s team.

His attention, however, is drawn to the center of the room, where a large circular table displays holo footage from the mission. There’s a live map, allowing Leia to track the progress of Y/N’s team through the Core Worlds. This is the best information they have on the team- other than the comlinks, it was too dangerous to be in contact any further. This close to the First Order, any errant comms channels could be picked up on their scanners.

Poe keeps making excuses to drop by the room and see what’s happening. He doesn’t do anything unless asked directly, just stands in a corner and watches the proceedings. He can feel eyes occasionally flickering over him, officers surely wondering why Poe is this focused on an  important but unrelated mission. Poe doesn’t say anything, just watches and makes sure Y/N is still okay. After the days begin to pass, the eyes stop watching him and he blends back into the background.

One day, Poe swings by the command center on his way back from meeting with his X-Wing squadron to find the room in a state of utter panic. Everyone looks frantic, with a cluster of people huddled around the central table speaking hurried commands into the comms. Poe jogs up to Leia, who is staring anxiously at the readout in front of them. “What’s going on?” Leia gestures towards the map in front of them, which shows Y/N’s ship. Usually, the vessel is rendered as a simple white dot, but now it is blinking a furious red.

“They were attacked by a group of First Order soldiers on the ground. They managed to get into space and take off, but they were surrounded by fighters. The ship has been hit pretty hard, and they’re having trouble steering. They have been able to get away from the enemy ships, but there’s no telling whether or not they’ll be able to make it. The ship is falling apart as we speak.” Leia says, her knuckles clenched around the edge of the table. Poe’s pulse feels like it’s skyrocketing. They’ve been attacked already?

There’s a shaking command officer standing across the table from Poe, speaking to someone over the comms. With a rush, Poe realizes he’s speaking to Y/N, trying to give her instructions on how to fix the ship. From the tone of the man’s voice, it isn’t going well. Leia notices this as well. “Ervann, you’re supposed to be talking her through it, not raising her stress level.” The man- Ervann- looks up, face harried. “I’m doing my best. I don’t know what to do, so many systems are down on the ship.”

Poe’s jaw clenches. He can’t just sit back and watch Y/N go down, not if he can do something. Poe rushes around to the side of the table with the comms, forcing Ervann to the side. “Let me do this.” He flips on the comms system once more. “Y/N, you still read us? It’s me.” He doesn’t have to say anything more, not a name, not a call sign. Y/N knows who he is. “Yeah, I read you.” Poe nods. “What’s wrong with the ship?” He can hear her sigh in a rush of static. “You might want to ask me what’s working, I think that will be faster. We sustained heavy fire from the fighters and a lot of parts are down. No shields, electric power is flickering, and oh- we lost an engine.”

Poe starts. “You lost an entire engine?” In the background of the comms, he can hear warning lights from Y/N’s end. “Yeah, the left engine. Shot away.” Poe takes a deep breath, trying to visualize everything in the ship. “Alright, let’s get to work. You’re in a Solarbeam, right? That means your failsafe systems should be pretty good. There’s a lever on the console, probably under the hyperspace controls. Turn it on, and force your power to balance unevenly, hinging on the left. 60-40, a little more for the left engine.”

There’s the sound of whirring machinery, and then Y/N’s voice comes back on the line. “Done.” Poe taps his fingers absentmindedly on the table in front of him. “Alright, good work. Now leave the cockpit and head over to the side of the ship. You’ll want to disengage the fuel rods to the left engine so it doesn’t blow up on you.” Poe can hear a slight grin in Y/N’s voice. “That would be less good, yes.”

Poe can’t help but smirk. “Hey, this is important work. Nothing like that trick with the couplings, anyone could do that.” He can practically see Y/N before him, her jaw dropping in mock horror. “Excuse me, you were very impressed when I knew about that. You were stunned, in fact.” Poe shrugs. “You only knew about that from me, so it’s okay.” Y/N laughs, the sound crackling into static as it runs through the air. “You’re insufferable. Get somebody else on the line to help me.”

Poe rolls his eyes. “Nobody else knows your ship like I do. You need me.” Y/N groans. “It’s the return of Mr. Know-It-All Mechanic. Well, bravo to you for being such a genius.” Poe snorts. “That’s a terrible joke. I thought you were supposed to be an ace at this.” Y/N laughs. “And you think I’m bad? That was class-A terrible.”

Poe feels a quiet smile deepen across his face when he hears her laugh. He hadn’t intended on speaking to her at all during the mission, too sure that she wouldn’t want to hear from him. Yet when he had been standing there, listening to the panic growing in her voice as she spoke to Ervann, Poe knew he had to do something. He couldn’t stay silent in a moment like that. Hearing her laugh now makes Poe’s shoulders finally sink with relief. They can handle the repairs now, the two of them. They’re alright again.

Poe stays on the line for another hour, talking Y/N through the ship repairs. At last, she’s able to get the battered Solarbeam cruiser to limp back to a safe planet, where she’ll be able to buy more parts and have less of a chance of blowing up on impact. They say their goodbyes, and then the line clicks off once more. Poe leans his arms up against the table, spent. He’d been running on adrenaline for so long that even just talking about the repairs was exhausting. Poe has no idea how Y/N was managing, but a bubble of pride is still rising through him at the thought of it.

Poe looks up, realizing the area at the central table is silent. Leia is watching him with something that looks almost like a knowing smile, which worries him. Ervann raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect all that. I thought you hated her.” Poe straightens up, heading towards the door. “I’m not heartless. Not when it comes to her.” 

The mission continues. The days progress. Although Y/N’s team still gets into a couple of scrapes, nothing is as bad as that one incident, so Poe can continue to breathe normally. He still checks the command center at least once per day, but he’s never seen that level of panic again, which is good. He knows Y/N has an uncanny knack for making it out of tough situations, he just hopes she doesn’t keep having to prove it.

Just when Poe is finally looking forward to Y/N’s imminent arrival back at the base, the lights on the command center’s holoscreen start flickering, flashing in and out of existence. Poe’s eyes widen from his corner of the room, and he watches as Leia hurries over to a nearby comlink. “L/N, what’s going on?” When Y/N responds, her voice is weak, as if the signal on her end of the comms is dipping in and out of focus. “Not much… I can’t hear… You’re breaking up…” Y/N’s end of the line disappears in a shower of static, and then no other sounds come from the comms.

On the screen in front of them, the small dot designating Y/N’s ship vanishes one last time. Around them, tech crews scramble to patch back the comms channel or get any hold on the ship, but nothing happens. Leia’s brow furrows. “She mentioned that they were having problems with their comms systems. I don’t think we’ll be able to access them for the rest of their return journey.” Poe stiffens. “You mean she’s permanently cut off? What if something happens?” Leia fixes her gaze on him. “Then we wait.”

Waiting, as it turns out, is one of the most painful parts of this entire process. They have no way of knowing where Y/N’s ship is at all, if it’s still moving. The day for their expected arrival comes and goes, with no sign of them at all. Resistance scanners pick up word of increased First Order air traffic, and some skirmishes at the edge of the airspace. No one says what they’re all thinking, which is that the First Order wouldn’t come this far over unless they were following a potential threat. If Y/N’s ship was under fire again and it sustained more injury, it could go down entirely. This time, Poe can’t reach her to help. Y/N and her team are on their own. 

Three days have passed since the expected arrival. Three days of gnawing, suffocating fear that blocks out any other rational thought in Poe’s mind. He practically lives in the command center along with Leia and the other command officers, glued to that navscreen in the hopes that something will happen and they’ll be able to reach Y/N’s team once more. Nothing happens, and Poe can feel his nerves growing with every hour.

At last, on the fourth day, a hanger operator bursts into the room. All eyes turn to her, and she stands there for a moment, panting after the exertion of having run across the base. “There’s a ship in the hanger. It’s a Solarbeam, one that couldn’t respond to our comms. We think it might be them.” Poe’s head snaps up, and he isn’t aware that he’s running back through the corridors until he looks around and realizes where he is. Poe isn’t alone- the other command officers are pacing hurriedly beside him. No one says a word, terrified to break the fragile silence and somehow dispel the hope that Y/N’s team has returned.

The ship in the hanger is battered and broken. It’s a minor miracle that it managed to land at all. Poe’s eye catches on the left side, where an engine appears far newer than the one on the right. Y/N mentioned that the ship was missing an engine, so if she managed to get it fixed then this could be her. The access ramp opens with a shower of sparks and creaking metal. One figure limps down, clutching the railing. Poe can see a dingy bandage wrapped around his leg, evidence of a blaster shot. 

A second figure appears, walking down to support the first. There’s a pause, and Poe finds that his pulse is pounding in his head. Where is she- why is no one else coming out? Finally, a pair of scuffed military-grade boots appear at the boarding ramp, and a third figure descends from the ship. Poe feels his gaze lock on her. Y/N L/N is looking fairly worse for wear. There are the shadows of bruises lining her arms, and there are several blood-laced scrapes on her face. Yet she still looks utterly whole, the person he’s been wanting to see for days.

Y/N steps down from the ship, shaking hands with excited Resistance workers and nodding a greeting to Leia. She makes her way through the crowd, leaving the command officers behind to examine the other two members of her team. All of a sudden, she’s standing in front of him, her eyes at last meeting his. Poe has been waiting for this moment for a long time, yet now that she’s here, he has no idea what to say. Does he apologize, tell her that he was wrong to be so upset? Does he congratulate her on the success of the mission?

When Poe looks up, he realizes he’s kissing her. One hand is pressed against the small of her back, drawing her close. When he breaks away, she’s staring at him, and for a second Poe thinks he’s really done the wrong thing and she’ll hate him for the rest of his life. Then she leans forward and kisses him back, and Poe finds that he doesn’t care about anything else. Not the surprised looks of the hanger operators around them, or the whistles from that distinctly useless Ervann. The only thing that matters is Y/N right in front of him. This is far more eloquent than words, isn’t it?

radio silence tag list: @kesskirata​, @ubri812​, @itsnottilly​, @20th-centu-fairy-girl​, @imabeautifulbutterfly​, @cp11​, @chocolitelady​

[lilxberry]

You Owe Me 20 Bucks - Steve Rogers

Synopsis;

Steve just simply wants to protect you, you find it extremely annoying how his plans to protect you get in the way of you doing your job as an Avenger, and Bucky and Sam have a running bet.

Warnings: A lil bit of language. Arguing. Mentions of violence. Mentions of betting. Wack ass stuff man. Fluff.

Words: 2,030

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader 

_______________

You walked into the meeting room, ready to be briefed by Fury for the next mission. This would be your first assignment in 2 months since your injury. Ever since you had woken up, everyone had babied you, especially a certain super soldier, which ticked you off to no end.

You took your place in-between Wanda and Bucky and prepared yourself for the droning voice of Fury and the nagging of Steve. “Hey, you good?”

You inwardly groaned at Bucky’s question. It was nice that the team cared so much but it was a bitch to deal with all their incessant babying and over protectiveness. “I’m fine, Buck, really.”

As if he could sense your irritation, he retreated and opted to leave you be. You signed in relief and sunk back into your chair. Just as you had gotten comfortable, Fury entered, followed by Maria then Mr. Patriarchy himself. “Avengers.” Fury simply greeted to grab everyone’s attention.

And so, the briefing had commenced and passed by, the only thing left on the check list was to discuss who will be part taking in the mission. “A team of 6 will be going in, the others will stay behind and only move out when needed. Stark, Barnes, Barton, Maximoff, Y/L/N, you 5 will be joining Rogers at the base.”

Before any body got the chance to voice their readiness, Steve had spoken up. “Y/L/N isn’t ready.”

You saw red as he had easily diminished your ability to be out in the field. “Like fuck I’m not ready.” You quickly stood from your seat so fast, the chair had scrapped against the floor before falling over harshly.

“If I say you’re not ready then you’re not ready.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, standing his ground. Thing is, you were stubborn, every Avenger and agent knew that about you.

You walked towards in quick, long strides and stared him down, inches from his face. “It’s my body, I know when it’s damn ready.” You stepped back and looked towards Fury. “So, when we due to head out?”

“In an hour.”

“Great, see you guys at the jet.” You quickly turned on your heel and headed towards your room, ignoring the calls of your peers.

“I guess that’s all. Dismissed.” Fury disbanded the meeting, sending the remaining Avengers to prepare for their mission or go back to lazing around, ready to be called out as back up. Steve sighed heavily through his nose as her closed his eyes and pinched the bridge between his pointer finger and thumb.

As Bucky passed his best friend, he patted his shoulder and flashed him a tight-lipped smile, sympathising with his friend. This is gonne be one long mission.

_______________

The time came for the team to meet at the jet. You stepped on to the platform and headed over to the jet to meet with the others. Just as you placed one foot on to the flying metal contraption, the blonde of the 40’s due spoke. “I said you’re not ready.”

You rolled your eyes and chose to ignore his complaints. Ensuring your gear that you’re decked out in is securely strapped on, you made haste towards a free seat at the back off the jet, unfortunately getting blocked off by Steves’ broad and muscular form. You huffed and quickly side stepped him, proceeding to sit.

“No matter how much you nag, they’re still gonna tag along, dude. May as well give up before you’re driven mad.” Clint commented, eliciting a soft giggle from Wanda and a snicker from Tony, both trying desperately to cover their amusement up in any way available to them.

“He has a point. Maybe instead of butting heads, you could help her through this mission.” Bucky spoke directly to his friend.

“Or they could actually listen and not go.” Steve narrowed his eyes towards your ignorant and slouched form, folding his arms across his chest. Tony rolled his eyes before making his way through the jet to pilot it.

“Okay losers, can we all quieten down now. Daddy’s got a jet to fly.” And with that, Tony had the jet off the platform and heading to your destination. Steve huffed and sat opposite you next to Bucky. He stared you down whilst you continuously ignored him through the whole flight.

_______________

“What the hell, Steve?! I had it handled!” You yelled at your fellow Avenger as you all boarded the jet, ready to head back to the compound.

“Didn’t look like it!” Steve had replied, matching your volume.

You scoffed and threw your arms up into the arm in exasperation. “You have a seriously fucked up hero complex, you know that?!”

The yelling match continued between you both throughout most of the flight. By this point, the others within the small confides of the jet had pounding migraines and are in need of about 20 Advils each.

As soon as the jet landed back within the grounds of the compound, you both stormed out of the jet, heading to your separate rooms, both slamming them shut as loudly as possible, hoping the other would hear and convey how pissed you were.

“Ah, young love.” Tony quipped as his suit disassembled from around his form.

_______________

It had been a full week of you ignoring Steve. He had tried previously throughout the week, but you blanked him, simply as if he hadn’t existed. He knew he seriously messed up the second enemy after enemy headed towards you. He knew you could have easily defended yourself and have taken them out even easier but, you were right. He does have a fucked up hero complex.

But mostly, he always felt the need to protect you. Falling in love with a completely independent and able Avenger is a tough gig. Apparently.

Steve had had enough and decided he was going to talk to you, whether you wanted to or not. He marched with determination straight to your room and knocked brashly. He heard you groan from the opposite side of the door before the light patter of your feet pad along the floor. You swung the door open widely with a look of annoyance across your face, but it had quickly faltered as you tried to close the door just as hastily. He jammed his foot between the door and its frame.

“Leave me alone Steve.” He could easily detect the irritation and impatience within your voice. He pushed the rest of the way into your room and you groaned loudly once again. “You clearly don’t understand English, should I try Spanish? German? Ukrainian? Mandarin?”

“Okay, I get it, you’re pissed and you don’t want to see me. Well tough shit.” He stepped closer to you as you stood your ground. “We need to talk whether you like it or not.”

“Oh yeah? And what do we need to talk about exactly?”

Steve inhaled deeply before continuing. “About how you’re acting. You can’t act like a stroppy teenager whenever someone gives you a helping hand during a mission.”

You scoff, unbelieving of what he is saying. “That wasn’t a ‘helping hand’, that was undermining myself as an abled agent and my abilities to handle the enemy. That wasn’t a ‘helping hand’, that was throwing me to the side while you did all the work.” Your shoulders heaved up and down as your breathing became heavier the more anger filled you.

“Jesus Christ Y/N, I was trying to help! I led the mission that day and it’s my responsibility if any of you screw up. All I did was ensure none of you did.” Steves’ voice raised to match yours.

“NO! You ensured I didn’t screw up because “I’M NOT READY!”” At some point you had started to pace around the room in an attempt to calm you.

Steve ran his hand down his face as he groaned loudly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, willing himself to calm himself down also. “I just care about you Y/N/N. Please, why can’t you just understand that.”

“Well, you should go care about someone else. I didn’t see you hounding Starks’ ass about being careful.”

“Jesus H Christ, I’m in love with you, alright?!” Steve had exclaimed loudly in exasperation. You froze on the spot and slowly turned, shock evident across your face.

“Wha-what?” You stuttered out in a quiet whisper. Steve registered what had just slipped passed his lips and opened and closed his mouth, attempting to come up with some form of excuse for what he had said. “What did you just say Steve?” You spoke, your voice raised, pronunciation clear.

Steve sighed and looked down before tilting his head in the slightest to gaze into your eyes as he spoke sheepishly. “I said I’m in love with you, I love you.” He searched your face for the slightest inkling of reciprocation in the mix of a million emotions displayed across it. It had been a good minute or so of silence as you comprehended what he had just told you. He began to feel self-conscious and paranoia presented itself within him deeply. “Please say something.” He pleaded, his voice quiet.

This seemed to have snapped you out of whatever trance had engulfed you and you swallowed thickly as you looked up at him with wide eyes. You willed yourself to be brave as if you were back out in the field. You charged forward and crashed your lips to his, the move bolder than what you were used to doing.

You grasp on to him tightly, afraid he would pull away, although, you knew that was not going to be the case for he instantaneously reciprocated the intimate action with as much gusto and desperation. His larger hands came to hold on to your hips, knuckles turning white from how tightly his hands balled up your shirt.

Sooner than you had liked, you both parted and laid your foreheads against the others as you panted, desperate for any intake of oxygen. “I love you too, Steve.” You whispered breathlessly, looking up into his beautiful, blue orbs. They had even seemed to have an extra shine in this moment as you gazed deeply into them.

He smiled a huffed out a small chuckle, his thumb rubbing up and down against your side in a soothing and loving manner. “God, you drive me crazy.”

You both continued to stand there for what felt like hours when in actuality, was only a minute or so. Suddenly, a loud knock at the door echoed throughout the room before opening and revealing Sam and Bucky on the other side. “Hey, you guys comin-oh, damn, our bad. We’ll uh, leave you to it.” And with that, Sam quickly turned and shoved Bucky out along with him as he closed the door behind them.

“I think you owe me 20 bucks.” You heard Bucky’s voice through the door which had muffled the sound slightly.

“Man, I was sure they’d go another week before one of ‘em confessed.” You heard Sam whine as you presumed while he fished out the bills from his pocket to hand over to his apparent betting partner.

Their interaction had caused both you and Steve let out a small bout of laugh before turning your attention back towards one another. “I guess we should head down for food, huh?” Steve suggested whilst he had a boyish grin etched upon his face.

All you could do was mirror his smile and release a near inaudible ‘yes’ as you nod and step back, taking his larger hand into one of your own. He quickly pulled you towards him to lay a final pure, sweet, gentle kiss upon your plump lips. “Let’s go.”

He led you out of your room and towards the elevator, ready to join the others for food. As you stood in the elevator, you felt Steves’ gaze on you. You turned you head and sent him a wolfish smirk. “Bet you 20 bucks that they told everyone.”

Steve threw his head back in laughter as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you closer into his side. “You’re on.”

_______________

Those pants are nice, yeah, just the pants, definitely just the pants I’m admiring, nothing else... *definitely is looking square at his ass* ...yeah man, nice pants...

_______________

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I did a Steve fic, noice

I’ve been super sucky with fics recently but I mean, college stuff, losing family, this, plus messing my knee up badly yesterday after accidently yeeting myself down some stairs, it be like that 

I really hope you enjoy this

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[sleeplessincairo]

[ dating steve rogers would include: ]

warnings: just a few cusses and a few sexual implications

///

He's an absolute gentlemen even in awkward, but adorable ways:

He’s always asking for permission before taking action whether it’s asking if you’re okay with him wrapping his arms around you in public or if you mind him kissing you even if you’ve been dating for 6 months.

He’s always racing to your side of the car or to the entrance of any room/building just so he can open the door for you-But despite him being super human, you still manage to beat him to it sometimes.

He even sometimes sprawls his jacket across a puddle just so your shoes don’t get wet, but you usually end up jumping in the puddle and splashing the water everywhere with an innocent grin. You do appreciate the thought and effort, though.

He constantly offers you his jacket just in case you’re cold and even sometimes goes ahead and drapes it over your shoulders, because he knows how stubborn you are to actually bother accepting it or asking for it.

He absolutely HAS to walk or drive you home every time just to make sure you arrive home safely and make sure no knucklehead dares to mess with you, but when you refuse to let him go through all that trouble he settles for ‘observing from a distance’ which is basically him stalking you.

Despite him having the spontaneous job of being a superhero, he never keeps you waiting too long-Mostly because of him missing his dance with Peggy by years resulted in him being as punctual as he can.

The list goes on...From him pulling your seat out for you to sit on and helping you put on your coat to paying for every date regardless of your protests.

In the beginning, he was extremely shy and flustered to the point where he would stutter uncontrollably and question every move he made so he wouldn't embarrass himself.

At the end of your dates, He tried to kiss you but usually ended up chickening out and end up kissing your cheek instead.

But finally, when he walked you to your apartment on your 4th date, he stood there awkwardly stuttering a goodnight while staring directly at your lips, only for you to grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him yourself.

When Tony heard the story of you being the one to make the first move and kiss him, he stayed about a whole month teasing Steve about it.

"Is (Y/N) gonna be the first one to make a move in the bedroom too, Steve?"

Him giving you those adorable sideways smiles with his eyes glimmering with adoration that’s reserved just for you.

You teaching him about the latest technology, slang, and trends after realizing that getting Tony to do it was a completely bad idea-He ended up just telling Cap’ either completely incorrect things or just things that would give him a good laugh.

“Wow (Y/N), that’s so fetch.”

"Alright let me get this straight, you tag people? Wasn’t that a game people played where you chase someone and if you touch them, they're it? Did they make that into an...app-apparatus?"

A lot of ‘Wait, I didn’t mean to send that’

You get to see the clumsy, imperfect, and wounded side of Captain America the world doesn’t get to see; you get to witness all the ‘Him getting up in the middle of the night to pee and accidentally stepping on his shield, making it hit him in the shin’s, all the sleepless nights spent together because the nightmares are getting too vivid, all the regrets and disappointments he holds for himself because he was too late, all the insecurities that eat him alive because of him having all of this strength and these abilities yet still not being enough, all the reckless and deadly actions he makes without even a second thought because he’s just not used to having someone to live for, the way he slightly flinches when Thor summons and uses his powers, all the times he misplaces his shield to the point where Tony ends up putting a tracker in it, the emptiness of his apartment because he’s too afraid to settle down, the bright red color that seeps through his cheeks when you press your body tightly against his, all the low swears that escape through his mouth when he thinks no one can hear him, all the uncertainties and hesitations that he never dares to show because he’s ‘Captain freaking America’. You get to witness all his deepest fears, thoughts, and feelings. You get to witness and love Steve Rogers.

Steve always making sure that his superhero life doesn't affect his private life especially when said superhero life concludes of spontaneous and agonizingly long missions. He makes it his personal duty to make time for dates, events, and well, you.

Steve doesn't like bullies. He doesn’t care who they are.

Steve woke up from almost 75 years of being frozen in ice after fighting wars and battles, fighting for America and it’s freedom only to wake up and find out the world is still a dark place and he can’t help but think that all his friends died for nothing. Steve makes it his new mission to fight for equality and power to the people, to make sure everyone has a voice, to make sure no one is overlooked or ignored, to make sure that everyone gets the God-given rights they have.

Captain America symbolizes freedom and protection and he'll be damned if he can’t offer minorities the freedom and protection they DESERVE. Captain America has always been for standing up for the little guy, for following what’s right not the law. Captain America is the symbol of how America should be.

Steve Rogers was a fugitive of the law at some point, there is no way he’d hold back on joining in on women’s marches, protests and riots, and pride parades.

Steve Rogers volunteering at Youth Centers to teach kids self-defense and offering them the guidance, support, and comfort Bucky always managed to offer him.

Steve Rogers protecting people from police brutality-His insomnia and Tony’s drones helped him keep an eye out for it and other forms of harassment.

Steve refusing to reinforce nor aid any governments that took part in the oppression of it’s own citizens and worked hard to striving for a better life for them with the help of T’challa and Tony help creating a treaty that ensures it.

A lot of slow dancing and slight swaying while being wrapped in each others arms.

Especially to Billie Holiday. Boy, is he a fan of Billie Holiday.

He's not exactly supportive of technology due to the unfortunate difference in human interactions between the 40s and now, so he sticks to some of his old habits.

Instead of sending text messages or calling during missions, he mostly writes you letters. Every single different alias he uses for each letter is inscribed into your brain.

Instead of staying home all day, he takes you out to soak in the beautiful weather of New York and tells you about how it used to be back in the 40’s.

Instead of watching a movie on your laptop or the TV, he takes you to the local cinema or even a drive-in.

Oh, how he loves taking you to the Smithsonian Museum just so he can point out all the inaccurate facts and exhibitions in display.

Leaving each other sticky notes everywhere to remind each other of events because of the fact that his unstable working hours so you don’t see each other much for you to tell each other face to face. Slowly, the both of you ended up developing a habit of leaving short cute love notes on each other’s things-Every single sticky note is saved in your own special places but Steve takes a few with him whenever he goes on missions to keep him company.

Although, you’d never tell Steve this, but his handwriting is absolutely terrible. Despite him being quite the artist, reading his notes is like decoding what a doctor’s prescription note says. However, with every not he wrote you, you started recognizing the way his I’s look like E’s, the way he curves and arcs his letters like he’s drawing loops, and the way punctuation is a stranger to him and soon enough it was like you were reading your own handwriting. You did enjoy decoding the notes he leaves you everyday. It was like a secret language only you could understand.

Him taking you to Brooklyn and telling you stories of the trouble he'd get himself into in EVERY spot.

He told you about how he almost got arrested at the Old Stone House because he snuck in there with Bucky. All because they couldn’t wait for the Grand re-opening. Bucky managed to talk the police out of it by lying to them, and saying that Steve had 2 weeks left to live and how it was his dying wish to see the place.

Oh, and how he had his first kiss with Leslie Jordan in front of Bamonte’s during their first and only date in the 11th grade. He remembered all the fights he got into with the jerks in his class that were always picking on her because of the birthmark on her face, he remembered all the times they sat together because no one wanted to sit with them, he remembered how he asked her to the school dance because every girl deserved the chance to have a special slow dance with a boy, he remembered how he saved up so that they could eat at that fancy italian place-Bamonte’s-afterwards. She ended up switching schools and moving to Wisconsin the following week.

Steve told you about all the places that were rundown and were there before all the replacements and modifications, all his happy childhood memories, all the alleys he got his ass kicked in, all the places him and Bucky got kicked out of. But it wasn’t until after you met Bucky and shared hundreds of stories about Steve that you realized that even before the serum Steve was still a fucking dumbass that went headfirst into reckless and dangerous trouble; Now, he didn’t jump out of planes without a parachute back then but he did climb 3 floors up the side of his apartment building just because he felt like it.

Helping and comforting Steve after Peggy dies and being his shoulder to cry on, to lean on, to hide his dorky smile in, and rest his head on that fit perfectly as if it was hand sculpted by God himself just for Steve.

He tells you everything. Absolutely everything. From how many punching bags he managed to make fly today to telling you about his failed missions or missions with casualties-Sometimes he didn’t even need to verbally tell you, you could tell what happened by the slouch of his shoulders and the lack of glimmer in his oh-so-bright eyes.

Jesus, the man can swear like a goddamn sailor. It took him about 2 months for him to feel comfortable enough swear in the presence of a lady, but it was expected that he’d break at some point considering all the pent up rage he has bottled up. The man makes punching bags fly for God’s sake! Not to mention the fact that he was in the army with the Howling Commandos of all people. He just couldn’t help the series of cusses that flew past his lips when-despite the years of training-he accidentally hits himself with his shield, the ‘Fucks’ and ‘Shits’ that escaped through clenched teeth when he got injured during a mission, the soft profanities whispered against your neck as you came apart underneath him, the loud and consistent obscenities that forced his way out of his throat during his road rage-God help anyone who dares to ride in a car with Steve Rogers. You asked him to drive you to work ONCE during rush hour while your car was in the shop and oh boy, he let out words so colorful and vibrant they’d bring Tony Stark to tears.

Tony having a habit of interrupting you and Steve whenever you’re clearly having a moment.

“Did I walk in on some pre-fonduing?” Of course Howard told Tony about it during one of this drunken rants about Captain America, The Living God, and of course Tony would bring it up from time to time just to see Steve’s face turn redder than the Ironman armor.

Getting a mini heart attack whenever you hear about another reckless thing he did despite him telling you that he’d be more careful.

At some point, Bucky and Natasha become your personal spies who inform you of every Godforsaken idiotic thing he does

“You got into a brawl with a God, seriously?"

"Well, so did Tony.”

“AGAIN? You jump out of a plane without a parachute AGAIN?”

He gets homesick quite often but thankfully you’re there to help him through it with ‘Miracle on 34th Street’ and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ ready for him at any moments notice as well as trips to Coney Island and the Stark Expo, but mostly, even if Steve doesn’t admit it, your presence is what helps him through it. The way you run your fingers through his hair and draw circles with them on his skin takes him back to simpler times when he was a little boy lying in the arms of his beloved mother, Sarah. A time of safety and comfort.

Helping him go through his To-Do list.

One of the most precious memories you have of him was when he saw Rocky for the first time with you, he was in awe of the storyline and the colors-He was put in a wonderous state after seeing the deep red color of blood being spat onto the floor, the sweat shimmer of Rocky’s face darimg his opponent to come at him, the overwhelming saturation and hue of actually seeing colors on a screen, of no longer seeing the dull and bland black-and-white pictures he was so used to.

You’re pretty sure he has Marvin Gaye’s entire discography memorized by heart at this point. Steve is eternally grateful to Sam to mentioning Troubleman to him because it was the start of a great obsession.

Training with him. Steve Rogers will personally wake you up for a morning run everyday and honestly you wouldn’t mind it if he didn’t wake you up everyday at the break of dawn. He can’t help it though. Sleep has become a stranger to him since he’s been back.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy it, running with him side-by-side during the rare moments where the city was actually asleep offered you solace. Sometimes the both of you would talk, othertimes you’d run in silence, but mostly on each run you’d use it as a chance to help him catch up on another music album you thought was culturally important for him to know-Dating Steve really diversified your music taste.

He’s a hugger. He just loves embracing you in any possible way whether its linking his arms around you while you’re working, resting his head on your shoulder and hugging you from behind while you’re cooking, or pulling you onto his lap so he can breathe in your scent while he’s doing paperwork.

He has dozens of notebooks filled with hundreds of illustrations he drew of you and The Avengers. You’ve got a few hung up on your fridge but your favorite is definitely the drawing he made of a ring, set in between the cushions of a tiny blue box, that he gave you right before he bent down on one knee.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I Could Be Your Sometimes Part Six

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only Notes: Set before the series; not beta-read Thank you to everyone that’s liked and read this!! Warnings: Eventual infidelity and sexual content. If you dislike this, please don’t read. Thank you. Chapter-specific warnings: None Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader Summary: Why did that name sound familiar?

"Jesus christ, you look fine,” Nora rolled her eyes as I did a small spin for the camera. “Are you sure?” I asked, taking a step back to make sure Nora could see the entire outfit over FaceTime. it was the third suit I’d tried on, and I was no closer to deciding what I was going to wear. “Hon, I love you, and I know you want to look professional, but you’re driving me crazy. Besides, I’ve never seen you look unprofessional,” Nora added, resting her chin on her hand, “My vote still goes for for the grey suit. I mean the one you have on now is a good look, but the waistcoat might be pushing it, ya know?” I looked down at said waistcoat, tugging at the bottom of it. “I guess,” I grumbled. Nora rolled her eyes. “Just-- Don’t be so worried about it, kid. Go over your notes a couple of times if it’ll make you feel better, but besides that, relax, okay?” "Alright. See you in the morning, Nor,” I smiled. “Night, worry-wart,” Nora stuck her tongue out at me before hanging up the call.

I turned away from my phone to look myself over in the full-length mirror in my room. Nora was right, the waistcoat was definitely just a touch too much.

-- I arrived at the DA’s office at 9 - the talk wasn’t set until 10:30, but I preferred to get an unfamiliar conference room early, get a better feel for the space, go over my notes, even if it meant making small talk for a few minutes beforehand. I knew that Nora would arrive soon enough, it would be fine. Nora had made the right call - I was wearing a light grey pantsuit, as well as a white button down. I’d decided to chance it with a cup of coffee, but I hadn’t spilled a drop (yet - I always dropped a ‘yet’ on the end of that statement. With me, there was always a chance).

The receptionist that had shown to the conference room had reassured me that there wasn’t any other conference booked for the space, so I wouldn’t have to worry about needing to find somewhere else to go over my notes. I set myself up at the end of a conference table, close to the screen. “Oh-- I hope I’m not interrupting.” I looked up to see a man standing in the doorway. I glanced at my watch. 9:40 - still plenty of time. “No, not interrupting at all,” I flashed him a smile. He came into the room, letting the door close behind himself. “Here for the seminar?” He asked. “Yes, I’m actually running it. I’m from Tactician,” I said. The man’s brows rose, and he came closer, holding his hand out to me. “Neal Loguidice,” He introduced himself. Why did that name sound familiar? “Hi,” I greeted, shaking his hand. “May I?” He asked, gesturing to the seat beside mine. 29 other seats in that conference room and he wanted to sit in the one directly beside mine. “You’re just trying to see all my notes in advance,” I teased before nodding to the seat and adding, “Go right ahead.” Even if I wanted to tell him that he had plenty of other seats to pick from, I definitely couldn’t. I lowered myself back into my seat, pulling my chair in to give Neal room to slide in behind me. He settled in beside me, opening his laptop and notebook. We worked in amiable silence for a few minutes before he spoke up again: “Andy said that your firm was instrumental in his defense for the Warren case.” Apparently he’d mentioned that to a reporter, too, and Nora had been called for a comment. It had started a wave of requests for information regarding our trainings. “Yeah, I cut back on that section of the presentation for you guys because I figured you’ve had to hear a lot about it lately,” I said. Neal chuckled, shifting in his seat to look at me. “Well, I appreciate that,” He smiled. I returned the smile. He was... Cute. He had dark, warm eyes; his neatly-coiffed hair seemed a little at odds with his five o’clock shadow. Neal and I got talking - about work, about Newton, about his case load and how many requests for proposals I’d taken on the last month. “You’re here early.” My attention was drawn away by Andy coming through the door. He had a cup of coffee in one hand, his laptop tucked under his arm. His eyes darted from me to Neal, and his smile wilted to something a little less hospitable. I glanced at the time. “I mean, we do start in fifteen minutes,” I pointed out, “Being late would be a pretty bad look, Barber.” Andy set his things down at the seat across from mine, glancing between me and Neal. “I don’t think I’ve ever been into Harvey’s,” Neal said, continuing the conversation we’d been having. I turned to look at him again. “They’re not too far from here, over on Cedar and Sixth? Food’s not too salty, and they’re open pretty late.” “You would know,” Andy muttered just loudly enough for us to hear. I looked up at the ceiling, refusing to look at Andy. When I looked at Neal again, I found his brows raised, curious. I shook my head a little bit. "My late-night go to is usually Chinese food. There’s a place around the corner  from here that’s got some of the best dumplings I’ve ever had,” Neal went on. "I love dumplings! Why are we talking about them?” Nora asked coming into the conference room, a cup of coffee in hand. She caught sight of Andy, smiling. “Morning, Mr. Barber.” “Morning, Ms. Abrahms.” Nora beckoned me toward her, and I excused myself. “You look settled in,” She commented. “Well, I’ve been here for almost an hour and a half, so,” I commented, tucking my hands into my pockets. “And your shirt is coffee-free. I’m incredibly impressed,” Nora teased. I leaned against the wall, shrugging. “For now. My shirt’s coffee free for now.” Nora grinned, shaking her head. “Your pitch skills are incredible but your hands would be less shaky if you drank less coffee.” “My pitch skills wouldn’t be as incredible if I drank less coffee. Keep up, Nora,” I teased. I peered around her, waving people in as they began to trickle into the room. -- “That was excellent,” Lynn was pumping my hand with politician-like photo-op efficiency; I was vaguely aware of their PR person taking a picture of us, and Nora muscling in beside them to get one for herself. “We appreciate the opportunity to come and work with you guys,” I smiled. Lynn patted my shoulder before dropping my hand and excusing herself. Half of the attendants had already filed out of the room. I stepped back over to my laptop, closing it and beginning to pack my things away. "Well, that was informative," Neal said; he had yet to get up from his seat.

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment, Mr. Loguidice," I glanced at him. He chuckled, nodding. "It was certainly meant as one. And please, it's Neal," He said, standing and drawing himself up to his full height. "Well, then, thank you," I chuckled, pulling my coat on. "Back to the office?" He asked. I nodded. "I have work to do." "No time to stop for another cup of coffee or... Or lunch, maybe?" Neal asked, gathering his laptop and notebook before he turned to look at me. I arched a brow, shifting my bag on my shoulder. "Something from the seminar that I didn't explain clearly enough?" I asked. Neal smiled a little. "If that'll get you to say yes," He nodded. "Ready to go?" I turned to see Nora standing with her things, Andy close behind. "Andy has offered to take us out to lunch at Harvey's," She added. I shot Andy a glance before turning back to Neal, tipping my head to the side. "I've been meaning to try Harvey's," Neal said simply, hand brushing over my shoulders as he stepped past me, "I'll grab my coat." Nora and I turned to watch Neal leave the room; neither of us missed the split-second narrowing of Andy’s eyes as Neal passed him. -- Lunch was incredibly awkward - at least, I wasn't sure how it could've been worse. Andy and I had taken the seats across from one another by the window, and Neal had slid in beside me before Nora had the chance. Nora had mostly been able to keep the conversation moving throughout. But when there had been the odd... Lull, let's say, I could see Neal and Andy almost sizing each other up. As soon as we'd sat down, Andy had done as he had a few weeks ago, hooked his foot around my ankle and kept that contact up. Neal had pressed in close on my side, thigh pressed against mine, arm nudging me now and again to draw my attention - usually away from whatever Andy was saying. When he’d done that, Andy’s leg would brush against mine, reminding me of our anchoring where the others couldn’t see. I didn't know what their game of cat and mouse was, but I didn't think I liked being part of it. -- (8:39 PM) AB: Busy? I glanced at the text on my phone and rolled my eyes. Of course I was busy. I'd lost three hours of my day to giving that seminar at his job. (8:42) Yep (8:45) AB: Hungry? 

(8:45) Nope

(8:46) AB: Need some company? I hesitated in answering that one, typing out a few different answers and deleting them all. I finally settled on sending, (8:52) I think you meant to send that one to your wife.

--

For all of the efforts I had made to put distance between myself and Andy both physically and emotionally, my attraction to him hadn’t budged. If anything, it had gotten worse. My stupid brain had gone beyond obsessing over the details of our conversations - I had dreams about the guy. They weren’t odd ones, either, where there’s some whacky circumstance and you just happened to notice him in the background. They usually had to do with touching him, kissing him, being in less-than-innocent and incredibly compromising positions with him. I’d out a cap on fantasizing about him in my free time, but apparently my subconscious hadn’t gotten the memo. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and that Andy was incredibly attractive, and still talking to me, despite the fact that my recent texts and had been snippy or flat. But maybe it was the fact that when we were together, we did touch. I thought about our hug when we’d gone to dinner weeks before, and his foot hooked around my ankle, holding my attention in a way neither Nora nor Neal knew about. I could’ve pulled away from him, kept my...Leg to myself, but I wanted that contact. Even with Neal at my side, nudging me now and again, I wanted it from Andy. It wasn’t about the touches themselves. I wanted him.

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (40/?)

S1, OP2

Music 1

“Kusunoki...”

Kunikida’s voice sounded awkward, strained.

His hand seemed glued to the back of his neck as he kept rubbing at it self-consciously, his broad shoulders seeming that much smaller as he shrank to a slouch behind me. I felt my own hands growing sweaty and tightening around the strap of my bag as my eyes darted around the wide lawn, searching desperately for a free spot to set up for our picnic.

But it was no use.

The entire park was already packed.

And we were only a little off-schedule too...

I sighed and Kunikida let out a noise that sounded more like it had come from a deeply wounded animal than a person. Still, his words came through, loud and clear:

“I’m really sorry...”

I turned over my shoulder and shot him a wobbly grin.

“It’s okay, Kunikida-san. W-we’ll figure something out.”

But as I turned around and scanned my surroundings once again, I realized just how difficult it would be to find a place to sit. I’d purposefully set the alarm for lunch hour so we could get down here before all the good spots were taken but how was I supposed to know it was going to be like this?!

I twitched a little as I watched a small group of friends spread out on top of a large red-and-white checked cloth nearby.

It really had been too long since I’d dropped out of school. Even though I’d just finished a case involving a college professor, I’d completely forgotten that this week was a break week in between semesters for a lot of local schools. It felt like everywhere I looked, I saw students around my age.

And to make matters worse—!

A drop of sweat slid down my temple as I heard flirtatious giggling coming from behind one of the trees.

There were couples everywhere!!

I was trying to create a peaceful, relaxing environment, so that Kunikida and I could really take our time and enjoy the scenery (I’d even blocked out extra time for lunch!). How was I supposed to do that when there were people everywhere?

Seriously, I heard this was a good date spot but wasn’t the number of couples just a little obnoxious, considering it was a weekday?!

Ignoring the giggling couples, I turned to Kunikida and pointed over to a spot several meters away.

“It seems a little busy here,” I mumbled nervously, as the giggling got even louder. “W-why don’t we try the next lawn over, Kunikida-san?”

Kunikida nodded—stiffly—and I prayed that my aimless wandering would end in some kind of miracle. Thankfully, a spot opened up nearby and I rushed over to claim it before someone else could.

“Kunikida-san!” I cried, zipping open my bag and setting out the blanket as fast as I could. “Over here, hurry!”

And as my tall companion carefully made his way through the crowd, side-stepping people and blankets alike, I tore open the bag and reached inside... only to find myself staring directly at the pair of stacked bento boxes I’d spent all morning preparing under Kyouka’s careful guidance.

Suddenly, the full weight of what I was about to do hit me with the force of a speeding truck and I found myself frozen in place, unable to touch them as Kunikida finally arrived at the blanket.

“Nice work, Kusunoki,” Kunikida said.

He nodded approvingly at our surroundings and settled in across from me.

“This is indeed a good spot for a picnic.”

Leaning back a little so that he could make himself more comfortable, Kunikida carefully slipped off his shoes and stretched his long legs out on the blanket. I watched, my pulse fluttering in my chest, as the handsome detective slowly raised a hand to his eyes, shielding them from the glare of the bright, midday sun. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the long, elegant lines of his neck, the angle of his jaw, the way his lips twitched upwards into the beginnings of a small, peaceful smile as he looked straight up at the canopy of trees above us.

I couldn’t breathe.

He’s beautiful...

And then, just when I was thinking there was no way the sight before me could be any more perfect, Kunikida turned that delicate smile towards me.

My heart skipped two beats instead of just one.

“Thanks for doing this,” Kunikida said.

His voice was warm, his gray-green eyes tender. Patterns of dappled shadows and light flitted over his face and form like water. Kunikida’s smile grew soft.

“I don’t think I could’ve asked for something more ideal.”

Ah...

I blinked rapidly.

Hearing those words... Hearing those words from him—from Kunikida Doppo, from my ideal man.

You’re the one who’s “ideal,” Kunikida-san...!

Quickly looking away so he couldn’t see that I was seriously going to cry, I turned my attention back to the open bag at my side, back to the pair of bento boxes nestled safely inside.

Heart pounding, I steeled myself and reached in.

Calm down.

��H-hey, Kunikida-san...?” I ventured, chancing a look back at the tall, blonde detective.

You can do this.

Perking up at the sound of my voice, Kunikida sat up a little on the blanket, his gray-green eyes fully focusing on me. I felt my face grow hot.

You’re not confessing just yet, you’re just letting him know you made these for him. That’s all. That’s...

“Yes?” Kunikida asked quietly, his eyes still locked on mine.

... all.

“What is it, Kusunoki?”

I instantly lost my nerve.

“I—” I stammered. “I, uh—”

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him.

Not right away, anyway...

Looking away from Kunikida’s probing gaze, I turned my body a little to the side, shifting the boxes in my hands so that he couldn’t see what was inside.

I needed to check the box again. To make sure it was still in good enough shape to hand over before I officially give it to him...

I can’t hand him something that looks any less perfect than he does, after all...

“C-could you give me a second?” I inquired, my voice every bit as shaky as my smile.

And before Kunikida could answer, I turned all the way around and opened the box.

Oh, thank goodness.

I let out a tiny sigh of relief. The unknown gods were still looking out for me. Even after every single thing that had happened this morning—including the chasing down of the shopping district thief—the contents of the lunch boxes remained in decently good shape.

The only thing that was just a little out of sorts was the series of tamagoyaki egg hearts sitting in the bottom left corner.

I stopped closing the lid at once, my smile suddenly frozen on my face.

Wait.

I flung the lid back open, my jaw falling open in shock.

Oh my God...

I’d actually done it.

Sweat poured down the back of my neck.

I couldn’t remember when I’d done it or why, but at some point in time this morning, I’d changed my mind and cut the sliced egg omelettes in Kunikida’s bento box, changing them from circles into hearts.

And there wasn’t just one—there were three.

I couldn’t let him see these.

Panicking, I grabbed the set of chopsticks I’d taped to the side and reached into the box, intent on flipping them back around as fast as I could.

Kunikida was a detective and he was smart. If I gave him a homemade lunchbox with heart-shaped egg omelettes inside, he’d see them and immediately figure out that I have a crush on him. In short, I’d be confessing my love for him now, instead of at the end of the day—before I was ready! Before I got the chance to show him I could be his ideal woman!

If he sees this now, it’ll ruin everything!

“Kusunoki?!” Kunikida sputtered, his eyes going wide. “What are you doing?”

“Hang on, I gotta fix this,” I said in a rush.

I seized the first of the offensive omelettes with my chopsticks.

“I kinda messed this one up,” I lied, “so I need to fix it real quick—it’ll only take a second, I promise.”

But just as I was about to flip it over into the circle shape again, I heard a burst of raucous laughter coming from close by—very close by. I turned just in time to see a laughing toddler in a bright pink dress barreling towards me, her chubby little arms extended as if she were pretending to be an airplane. But before I had a chance to react, she ran right into me. I felt the box slipping out of my hand...

Kunikida scrambled to his feet.

“Kusunoki—!”

But it was too late.

I could only watch as the contents of the red plastic bento box flew through the air, the lid separating from the rest of it as it slowly sailed away from me.

All that hard work...

The box hit the grass with a sharp clatter. Food scattered everywhere.

Gone.

As the toddler waddled a little away from me, I turned to my bag, where I could just see the second box sitting safely at the very bottom next to my notebook.

I reached for it.

But before I could grab onto it, the toddler lost her balance entirely and sat down on my bag. I heard a sharp crack.

My chopsticks fell to the ground.

Everything was gone...

Suddenly feeling oddly numb, I found myself staring at the remains of the ruined lunch, unable to move or lift a finger as a man in his mid-thirties quickly rushed over, calling for his daughter at the top of his lungs. Scooping the laughing child up into his arms as fast as he could, he rebuked her sharply before turning to me and Kunikida, his face the absolute picture of mortification.

“I am so, so sorry!” he exclaimed, his tone frantic as he looked from me to Kunikida and back. “I really should’ve kept a better eye on her. Are you two alright?!”

And then, he spotted the broken lunchboxes.

His blue eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no!”

He clapped a hand over his mouth.

“I am so sorry,” he sputtered, the color draining from his face, “This is all my fault, I—”

“It’s alright,” I said quickly, getting to my feet before Kunikida could jump in. “She’s just a kid, she really didn’t know any better...”

I tried to smile.

“It was just an accident, right?”

“Y-yeah, but...”

He trailed off, his eyes firmly focused on the broken boxes behind me.

And against my better judgment, I slowly turned over my shoulder to look.

My heart sank.

It was worse than I thought. Rice blanketed the grass. Side dishes, sauce and brightly colored wrappers lay in clumps all over the once-pristine cloth I’d prepared just for today. The tamagoyaki heart I was so afraid of showing Kunikida lay separated in two pieces in the dirt.

I felt my smile falter as I turned back around.

“Don’t worry about it,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice even.

I looked away.

“...It was just food.”

<hr> ***

“Here you go, Kusunoki,” Kunikida murmured, gently pressing the folded crepe into my hands.

He sat down heavily beside me on the bench as I stared down at it, the brightly colored paper wrapping warm against my skin.

“Sorry about earlier,” he mumbled, sounding like he really meant it. “I wish there was more I could do, but—”

“It’s okay, Kunikida-san,” I replied, still staring at my crepe.

I turned my face just enough that he could see my smile.

“You’ve done plenty.”

And he had. As I quietly began cleaning up the ruined remains of the boxed lunch, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Kunikida had gotten up. I tried not to listen as he carefully took the father aside, speaking in hushed, private tones as I continued to clean behind him but I couldn’t block out the general tone.

Kunikida sounded disappointed, not mad, and something about that only made me feel worse when he came back to help me clean up.

Logically, I knew that it made no sense for Kunikida to be angry with me, but logical thinking did nothing to quell the feelings of guilt and regret slowly welling up deep inside my chest as I took the first of the broken lunch boxes and deposited it in the trash.

If only I hadn’t tried to “fix” what didn’t need to be fixed...

Then, maybe Kunikida and I would still be sitting there on the shady lawn, enjoying the lunch Kyouka and Atsushi had worked so hard to help me make. We could be having the good time I’d planned for instead of sitting here on a cold, warped bench by the pier.

I kept staring at the crepe in my hands—the crepe Kunikida had bought with his own money.

And I was supposed to be taking care of you today, Kunikida-san...

“Kusunoki?”

I glanced back up at Kunikida, his handsome features looking taut with concern.

My chest hurt.

“Are you... not hungry?” he asked quietly, his gray-green eyes darting momentarily to my untouched crepe.

He frowned.

“We could always get something else if you don’t like crepes—”

“No, that’s not it!” I exclaimed, instantly jerking upright.

I can’t let Kunikida feel bad when he’s the one who ended up taking care of me...

“I do like crepes,” I insisted, bringing the treat up to my face. “I really do!”

And before he could say anything else, I rushed to take a bite of the hot crepe.

Kunikida’s eyes widened.

“Ah, Kusunoki—wait!”

“Ow...!”

Wincing slightly, I brought my free hand up towards my open mouth, covering it up so that the bite of crepe that had just burned my tongue wouldn’t fall right back out. Breathing in and out as quickly as I could to cool it off, I swallowed and turned to shoot Kunikida a smile, hoping against hope that I didn’t look too stupid when I did.

“S-see?” I gasped, a tiny tear beading at the corner of my eye. “It’s good...”

“Kusunoki...”

Kunikida’s voice was hushed.

His eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Are you...?”

“I’m fine, Kunikida-san,” I mumbled, taking another (smaller) bite of my crepe, making sure to cool it off before I ate this time. “Thank you for buying me lunch. I appreciate it.”

But Kunikida still looked doubtful. I saw the way his jaw tightened as his gray-green eyes slowly scanned my face and for a moment, I thought he would open his mouth to say something. But then, he sighed and settled back on the bench, taking a tiny bite of his own crepe as his back hit the wood.

“Alright, then,” he mumbled, looking away from me as he chewed.

My heart sank.

What if...?

I took another bite of crepe, chewing pensively as I studied the man next to me.

What if I’d confessed back there at the Marine Tower?

If I told him right then and there that I liked him, would I have been able to hand him the heart-shaped omelettes just now? Would things have been better if I’d told him?

Or...

I felt the bite of crepe lodging in my throat like a stone as I stared longingly at my handsome mentor and coworker.

No.

I swallowed thickly and turned away.

Bad idea.

If I told Kunikida I liked him before the end of the day—before I’d gotten a chance to prove to him that I could become his ideal woman, I would’ve gotten rejected for sure. And then things would be even more awkward than they were already.

I took another bite of my crepe and stared out at the ocean ahead, at the passersby walking along the pier and having a good time.

Yeah. It’s not time yet.

I chewed quietly as one of the passersby, a pretty woman in a full business suit and long, shiny dark hair, broke away from her group and approached our bench.

I should tell him only when I’ve finished everything on today’s schedule and not a moment before...

“Um, excuse me?”

The pretty woman tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear, smiled brightly and bobbed her head in a tiny, yet polite bow.

“Good afternoon,” she said, her smile growing more amiable the moment she saw Kunikida looking up at her. “I apologize for interrupting you while you’re taking a break, but I was wondering...”

She tucked her hand into her purse and pulled out a small, white card.

“Could I have just a quick moment of your time?” she asked, presenting the card to Kunikida.

“My name is Okada Kimi,” she said, her tone growing more professional as she spoke. “I’m a talent scout for a small agency in the city and, if you don’t mind my saying so...”

She quickly turned and shot an apologetic look to the other people in suits behind her before continuing, her cheeks slightly pink.

“I just couldn’t pass you by without at least offering you my card. Tell me, have you ever considered a career in modeling?”

“Oh...!”

At once, Kunikida flushed.

“I—uh,” he stammered, his gray-green eyes darting about as he fought to collect himself.

He looked pretty embarrassed and definitely taken aback, but also... flattered.

Very flattered.

The bite of crepe in my mouth lost its flavor.

“I can’t say I ever have...” Kunikida mumbled, staring at a spot just above the woman’s left shoulder. “I thought... uh...”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” the agent laughed, her bright green eyes sparkling as she brought her free hand up to cover her mouth.

“We get this kind of reaction all the time.”

“I... I see...” Kunikida mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck while I continued to sit in silence on the other side of the bench.

The woman’s manicure was absolutely flawless. So was her makeup. And her figure...

The bit of crepe in my mouth had long since grown soggy and I swallowed uneasily as I watched Kunikida and the agent chattering back and forth, noting just how perfect she looked in her stylish black blazer and pencil skirt, how beautifully her blunt-cut bangs framed her cheekbones and her face.

Were talent scouts normally this pretty? Or charming? Or tall?

The bite of crepe lodged in my throat like a rock.

Was it honestly just a coincidence that this random talent agent, this high-powered career woman... was exactly half a head shorter than Kunikida—the ideal height of his ideal woman...?

I looked away as Okada’s bright pink lips slowly curved upwards in a delicate, feminine smile and covered my own mouth with my free hand while I frantically rooted around in my pocket for a napkin. My lip gloss was probably badly smeared and I wanted to do something to clean myself up but when I found the napkin I’d been looking for at last, I realized with a start that Kunikida hadn’t looked at me once the entire time since the agent had appeared.

And neither, it seemed, had the agent taken notice of me.

I stopped wiping at my face at once, my shoulders dropping along with my gaze.

If even random women on the street matched the description of Kunikida’s Ideal Woman better than I do...

Crestfallen, I glanced at Kunikida, the rest of my appetite disappearing entirely as I watched my tall, handsome mentor take the card in Okada’s hand and put it in his pocket.

...then what hope did I have?

I ate the rest of my crepe in silence as Okada beamed at him.

“I’m honestly surprised you’ve never actually thought of it before,” she chuckled, as Kunikida flushed an even deeper shade of pink before her. “You look really tall. And if we’re talking about having the kind of determination it takes to succeed in a career such as this, well...”

She grinned.

“I know we’ve only just met but you really do seem like you have what it takes.”

“Th-that’s very flattering, Okada-san,” Kunikida mumbled, his ears and cheeks still glowing a bright, vivid scarlet. “And I appreciate the compliment. Really, I do, but...”

He coughed a little, shifting in his seat in such a way that I could tell he was now looking directly at me.

But I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze.

Kunikida sighed.

“Unfortunately,” he said firmly, “I already have a job that I’m fully dedicated to. And it’s not a position I can see myself leaving any time soon.”

He bowed his head slightly in apology and straightened back up.

“I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me,” he said, “but a career in modeling just doesn’t fit into my life plans. Furthermore...”

His tone softened.

“I’m... actually a little busy right now. So if you don’t mind...”

“Oh, yes of course!” Okada gasped, her hand flying to her cheek in embarrassment as she spotted me at last.

“I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to interrupt you on your date—!”

“Date?!” Kunikida exclaimed, instantly going beet-red as I snapped to attention beside him, my heart suddenly light.

She thought we were out on a date? That Kunikida and I were actually a couple...?

But then...

“Th-this isn’t a date,” Kunikida sputtered, his hands hands frantically flying about, all traces of the composed professional from earlier disappearing entirely. “This is just—we’re just colleagues! I mean—!”

Suddenly seizing up, Kunikida slowly turned to me, his movements rigid and robotic. He looked oddly stricken.

I bit my lip and looked away.

Kunikida coughed.

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled quietly, sounding strangely sheepish as he shrank in a little on himself.

“D-don’t worry about it.”

Looking thoroughly ashamed of herself and more than a little apologetic, Okada tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bowed low.

“Once again, I thoroughly apologize for my rudeness,” she mumbled quietly, slowly rising up only when she could tell that I’d heard her. “Please excuse me.”

And with that, she straightened all the way back up, readjusted her purse a little, and walked away, rejoining her companions who had been waiting patiently for her at the edge of the pier.

As she and the rest of her group finally slowly down the walkway, Kunikida turned to me at last, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“That was awkward, wasn’t it?” he asked weakly, his face and neck just red enough that he looked a little sunburned.

He gestured stiffly at the empty crepe wrapper in my hand.

“S-so, did you get enough to eat?” he inquired, his grin looking just a little tense. “We can go get something else if you’re still hungry—”

“Actually, Kunikida-san...”

The bench creaked softly as I got up.

“I’m not really hungry any more,” I mumbled, walking away and heading for the nearest trash can.

I felt the crepe wrapper crumpling in my hand.

I already knew.

“But thank you for offering.”

I already knew that someone like me could never be worthy of a man like Kunikida Doppo.

But even though I had known this for some time already...

Raising my hand over the green metal trash can, I let the brightly colored paper wrapper drop into its darkened depths.

It still didn’t hurt any less to be reminded of it by someone else.

I sighed.

What was I thinking? That if I just did the research and made the right plans, that it would all just fall into place?

“Idiot,” I mumbled, my voice bitter.

How had I ever fooled myself into believing I could become Kunikida’s ideal woman in just one short day? That list of requirements was fifty-eight items long. Sure, I’d taken my time and looked into each and every trait, but there were so many that I wouldn’t ever be able to manage, not without a significant amount of work or change in lifestyle, anyway.

Furthermore...

I pensively chewed my lip, still staring down into the trash can as if I meant to throw myself into it (and why shouldn’t I? It’s where where rubbish like me belonged anyway).

That agent, that Okada Kimi... She fit far more of the physical attributes Kunikida was looking for in a girlfriend than I did—than I ever could—and I didn’t even have to reference Kunikida’s notebook to know that. Even an idiot like me could see just how much better she looked next to him than I did. In fact, she wouldn’t even have noticed me if Kunikida hadn’t said something, that’s how little he and I looked like we belonged together...

And Kunikida had been so determined to insist we weren’t dating, too...

I breathed another heavy sigh and brought my hand to my face.

What was I supposed to do now? We still had half the day to go and I was still nowhere near close to showing Kunikida that I could become the ideal woman he was looking for. Not only had I messed up everything that I’d planned for so far, I wasn’t even able keep to a simple schedule—a schedule I had created myself.

How was I going to get him to see me as a potential girlfriend now??

Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I turned around and prepared to face the rest of my day. And as I did so, I felt my fingers brushing against something thin and papery: the miniature notebook I’d bought just for today.

Could I still fix this?

I turned around to look at Kunikida, the gears slowly turning in my head as he slowly rose from the bench and walked towards me.

If I kept to the schedule as best I could for the rest of the day, would that be enough for Kunikida to start seeing me in a different light? Would it really be enough for him to change his opinion of me before I worked up the nerve to finally confess?

“Ready to go?” Kunikida asked, joining me by the trash can and throwing his wrapper away as well.

I nodded, my pulse hammering in my throat and my fingers closing around the notebook in my hand.

I could.

I felt my grip tightening around the pages.

I could still fix everything.

I just had to believe in myself and follow the plan...

“I’m ready,” I chirped, spinning around to face him with a bright smile. “How about you?”

Kunikida nodded, a gentle, relieved expression slowly making its way across his face as well.

“I am,” he said, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he met my gaze. “Where to next?”

“Let’s see,” I mumbled, taking out my notebook and flipping to the right page as Kunikida looked on beside me.

I might not be your ideal woman yet...

“Chinatown,” I told him, tucking the schedule firmly back into my pocket. “There’s a tea shop I wanted to take you to.”

But I could be...

Kunikida smiled.

“Lead the way.”

And as the tall, blonde detective quietly followed me out of the park and out towards the main street, I clutched the schedule tightly in my hands and marched ahead.

I just have to try a little harder.

<hr> ***

“Canceled?”

I stared incredulously at the girl behind the counter.

“What do you mean it’s ‘canceled?’”

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss,” the girl repeated, looking as though she truly meant it. “But unfortunately, the master had to call out sick this morning and without anyone else available to take over the tea tastings...”

I sagged a little on my feet as she continued speaking, seemingly oblivious to my plight.

“...we’ve had to cancel all of today’s appointments,” she finished, bowing apologetically. “Again, we are terribly sorry for the inconvenience. B-but if it’s any consolation...”

Straightening back up, she gestured to the fully stocked shelves all around us with a smile.

“The shop will still be open for the rest of the day, so if you wanted to purchase anything, we’d be happy to give you a small discount. Or—”

She pulled up a keyboard from under the counter.

“If you’d like to reschedule your tea tasting, we could definitely put you down for sometime...”

She paused to glance at her computer screen.

“Next month?”

“Next month?!” I cried.

Clapping my hands over my mouth to stifle the noise, I shot a discreet look over my shoulder at Kunikida, who was quietly browsing a collection of teapots on display at the far end of the room. To my relief, he seemed too caught up in what he was doing to have noticed my little outburst and I slowly turned back to the counter with a tiny, strained smile.

“L-let me think about it...” I mumbled, stepping away from the counter and leaving the shop girl to take care of her other customers.

Next month?

I slapped a hand over my face and groaned, wondering how I was going to break the news to Kunikida.

There was no way I could book a visit for the two of us for next month. After the way everything had gone today, I’d be lucky if Kunikida wanted to even stick around for the rest of the afternoon, much less spend more time with me in a month.

I fiddled with the strap of my bag, my nerves starting to get the better of me as I slowly approached my mentor.

So much for sticking to the schedule as closely as possible. Now that the tea tasting was canceled, what else were we going to do for the next hour and a half? Spend a little more time just wandering around Chinatown like a couple of tourists? Or would it be better to move on to the next location a little earlier than planned...?

I stopped walking and paused in the middle of the shop, watching quietly as the tall, blonde detective moved on from the teapots to the jars of oolong tea sitting nearby.

No. That wouldn’t do.

I squeezed the strap of my bag.

If I wanted to become Kunikida’s ideal woman—someone as organized and capable as he was—then I needed to come up with a backup plan—and fast.

But what?

I tightened my grip on my bag as Kunikida noticed me standing there at last. He slowly turned towards me.

What could I possibly plan for that could make Kunikida happy, get him to see that I could become the ideal woman he’s always dreamed of...

I gritted my teeth.

And prevent him from rejecting me when I confessed my feelings to him at the end of the day?

I chewed my lip, thinking as quickly as I could as Kunikida straightened up a little and tucked his hands into his pockets.

If only there was someone I could ask.

He strode forward.

Someone who knew Kunikida inside and out. Someone who would be willing to help me figure out what to do...

And as Kunikida slowly came to a stop before me, a familiar teasing voice suddenly rang out from somewhere deep within my memories.

“You can tell me the truth, you know.”

Dazai grinned, his chocolate-brown eyes shining bright.

“If you’re interested in Kunikiiiida-kun... I could help you get his attention.”

The memory faded, steadily blending into another, more recent one...

“And if you like, I can even help you win him over!”

Dazai’s tone was low, conspiratorial.

In the silence, his voice seemed echo throughout the empty conference room.

“I can tell you for a fact that there’s no one in the Agency who knows him as well as I do.”

He extended one half-bandaged hand towards me.

“What do you think...?”

His grin widened.

“Kyou-chan...?”

“Ready to go?” Kunikida asked, stopping before me.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I glanced at the tiny clay teapot in his hand and then up at his handsome face.

Was I really willing to go that far...?

Kunikida studied me. His eyebrows knitted together, as if in concern.

“Kusunoki-kun?”

In an instant, I made up my mind.

I took a deep breath in.

“Not quite...”

I would do anything for you, Kunikida-san...

I felt a tiny smile slowly spread across my face.

Anything.

“Why don’t you keep browsing without me?” I told him. “I gotta...”

I squirmed a little, trying to force the embarrassing words out of my mouth.

“I gotta go look for the bathroom.”

“O-oh.”

Looking awkward, Kunikida adjusted his glasses.

“Right, then,” he said.

He gestured with the teapot in his hand.

“I’m gonna just take this to the register. Shall I wait for you outside?”

I nodded.

“Please.”

And as Kunikida went to the front desk, I peeled off in the opposite direction, heading for the back of the shop where the door to the women’s room was open just a crack.

I had to hurry up and do this before I changed my mind...

Pulling out my cell phone, I ducked into the tiny room and locked the door, the list of “calls received” already glowing bright on my screen.

“I’m really sorry about this, Kunikida-san,” I mumbled, scrolling through the list until I found the one I was looking for.

“But desperate times call for desperate measures...”

I brought the phone up to my face and stared at the number on the screen—the only number I refused to save to my contacts.

Swallowing the last of what little pride I had left, I lifted one shaking finger to the keyboard and pressed “call.”

“Come on, pick up,” I whispered, letting my back rest against the door. “Please pick up...”

I bit my lip.

“Dazai-san...”

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (30/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I am not a fan of the fact that there are only 10 chapters left. Like, not at all. Where did all of this time go? How are we at this point in the story? I feel like I was just writing it!

Anyway, it seems fitting that this chapter posts in a week where a lot of us have gone home to see family because Killian is going home with Emma to meet Ruth😘 Thanks to you all for being you and thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for reading these words for me and checking my facts!

Found on AO3: beginning | current

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Tag list:  @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ 

-/-

“Did you know that it’s Friday the thirteenth and a full moon?”

“Thank you, Alec Trebek.”

“No, seriously. That’s what it says on my phone.”

“Love, I know the date.”

“But did you know about the moon thing?”

“I did,” Killian sighs, picking his suitcase up off of the security belt and placing it on the ground while Emma grabs her sneakers. “I read about it the other day, and I am prepared for all of the haunted werewolves to come out to play.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs before she plops herself down on a bench to tie her shoes.

It’s a little past four thirty in the morning, and JFK is nearly empty of anyone who isn’t traveling in some kind of suit. He and Emma are surrounded by people in black blazers and tailored trousers only traveling with a sleek black suitcase and their briefcase. He and Emma, meanwhile, are both in joggers with t-shirts on (Emma has on his Vandy sweatshirt over hers) and their hair tucked underneath baseball caps.

Emma got in from Detroit late last night, only taking five minutes to kiss him hello and take a quick shower before collapsing on his bed on top of the covers. The only flight they could get so last minute that wasn’t an exuberant amount of money is at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, so Killian insisted that she just stay at his place last night so that they could leave from the same place and save time. Considering they woke up ten minutes before their Uber arrived and could barely brush their teeth before they left, that didn’t exactly work in the whole saving time department.

It doesn’t help that Emma has pretty much been deadweight this entire morning until she started to wake up right before they went through security.

He, on the other hand, is wide awake. Nervous jitters run through his body, his stomach twisting in knots, and for someone who doesn’t get nervous for many things other than baseball, Killian is pretty much a wreck when it comes to meeting Emma’s family. Ruth is the last one, the final piece of the puzzle, and as intimidating as David was to meet, his mother might outrank her.

Killian both wants to spend the entire weekend sucking up to her and thanking her for taking Emma in and giving her the love she’s never had but has always deserved, but that could prove to be a bit much.

Then again, if Ruth hadn’t taken Emma in thirteen years ago, Emma would have never met David. If Emma hadn’t met David, David would have never taken her to the baseball game that truly allowed Emma to fall in love with sports. And if Emma hadn’t done that, he doubts she’d have ever gotten into broadcasting and found her passion there that makes her so damn happy.

The two of them also would never have met, and that thought sends a shiver down his spine.

It’s funny how such little things can change absolutely everything.

Everything.

So, yeah, Killian is most definitely a little nervous to meet Ruth.

“You want to go find some coffee, Swan?” Killian asks Emma as he props his foot up to tie his own sneaker. “I think the two of us are in some desperate need of caffeine.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll be able to find a coffee shop in an airport. There are never any coffee places here.”

“I don’t appreciate all of this sarcasm so early this morning.”

She pokes his stomach. “You’re the one who woke me up.”

“We’re going home to meet your family.”

“I don’t see your point.”

“You should.”

“Well,” Emma huffs, standing up and pulling up her pants so that he sees a flash of tanned skin on her stomach, “you should. Onto coffee we go.”

They both grab onto their bags and start walking down the terminal, passing gate after gate and store after store, but everything is black with the lights turned off and bars pulled over the stores. Nothing is open, not even the convenience stores, and the moment Emma realizes this, she stops walking and buries her face in his shoulder.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“There are vending machines,” he soothes. “I think they have coffee.”

“But it’s gross coffee,” she wines before wrapping her arms around his stomach. At first, Killian thinks that she’s being affectionate, but then he realizes that she’s using him so that she doesn’t have to stand on her own. He’s not sure he minds either way. “I need real coffee, and I need it in an IV.”

“Okay, Lorelai Gilmore.”

Emma laughs into his shoulder, the vibrations working through his shoulder. “You’re learning. I’m so proud, babe.”

“I might have watched an episode or two.”

Emma’s head pops up then, the bill of her cap hitting him in the chin. “When?”

“While you were gone. It was on Netflix, and it just kind of happened.”

“Good choice, twenty-nine. Good choice.” Emma’s lips brush against the corner of his jaw, and he tugs her a little closer as his hand runs up and down her back while she presses up on her toes to make contact with his lips. “I need a diet coke or something, and then when the stores open, I’m buying the biggest damn cup of coffee in this entire airport.”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

-/-

The flight is only an hour and a half, Emma sleeps the entire time despite them getting her the biggest damn cup of coffee in the airport right before they boarded, and Killian spends his time answering emails before closing out the app so that he won’t see anything else work-related for this entire weekend. It’s a conscious decision, one he’s happy to make, and it’s almost refreshing to know that he doesn’t have anything to worry about for at least a few days.

Well, anything to worry about except for Ruth Nolan and making sure that he can impress her.

-/-

The taxi they get from the airport takes them directly to Ruth’s house, so Emma doesn’t get much time to show him around, only pointing out a few landmarks. They pass the minor league baseball stadium here, the Portland Sea Dogs, and Emma tells him that she’s never actually been despite having such easy access. She was too caught up in everything having to do with New York and getting there that she never really thought about it. He teases her and tells her they’ll have to go to a game, but Emma turns him down by saying that she needs a break from baseball.

He does too.

So that’ll probably be knocked off the itinerary that Killian is sure Mary Margaret has made. Luckily, though, she and David won’t be here until early evening since they both had to be at work and school for half a day, so they’re pretty much free to do whatever they want with Ruth today.

He’s still slightly reeling from his injury and their fight and everything that came from that. He’s not angry or upset, but this is all still such an adjustment. He should be playing. He shouldn’t be here, but it’s his own damn fault that he is. He screwed up on so many levels, and owning up to it all has been a tough pill to swallow.

Hurting the people he loved nearly killed him, and he doesn’t want anyone to hurt because of him ever again.

In the blink of a bleary eye, they’re pulling up to a quaint two-story Victorian home with brown and white details and bright green bushes lining the brick-paved walkway to the front door. It’s a home, undoubtedly, one much the same as all of the ones in the city and yet entirely different in that he can see vibrant green grass and flushed trees that spread out all over the neighborhood. It reminds him of growing up in Ohio, even if they were not the ones to have the spaciously fenced-in backyard, and a little fluttering of his heart takes place as Killian takes it all in.

He’s always kind of wanted a place like this – away from everything.

“So, this is the place?”

“This is the place.”

“It’s nice.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought so.” Emma hikes her bag up a little higher on her shoulder and turns to look at him, trepidation written across her face. “We can still turn around if you want to. There are hotels around here.”

“We’re going inside, love.” He leans down and quickly brushes his lips over hers. She tastes strongly of coffee just from the little taste that he got. He’d like to kiss her more, to have the privacy of the hotel so he can show her just how much he’s missed her the past few days of her being gone, but they’re not doing that. “Besides, I believe I just saw Ruth peeking her head through the window looking at us, so it’s too late to turn around now.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “I guess it is.”

Emma steps forward and begins moving up the path, Killian following right behind her, and Emma barely gets a chance to knock on the door before it’s swinging open and Ruth is lunging forward to practically smother Emma with a hug.

Damn. Ruth Nolan is a force of nature.

Then again, she was already for being a single mom most of her life and still taking in foster children, especially one as stubborn as Emma. He can’t even begin to imagine.

He fully intends on finding out this weekend. There are a million questions running around in his mind.

“Oh,” Ruth coos, shaking Emma in her embrace. A dog escapes the front door and comes to sniff at Killian’s feet. This must be Wilby. “I have missed you so much. I think I’m going to have to move to New York so I can see you more often. Do you have room in that apartment of yours?”

“Only if the couch is comfortable for you.”

“I think it may kill my back.”

“No, it’ll definitely kill your back. I have no doubt. It kills my back. Killian’s couch is super comfortable, though.”

“Well, I hardly know the man. I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to sleep over in his apartment.”

“Who cares about proper, love?” Killian teases. “I would be remiss to not let a beautiful woman sleep over at my apartment.”

The words slip out of his mouth before he’s able to stop them, and he immediately regrets them. Ruth may not be Emma’s mom, the title something that Emma still struggles with no matter how much she loves Ruth, but she’s very much a mother figure. Yet here he is spewing words that pretty much scream in her face that he doesn’t care about proper and has been fucking Emma for months now. What a smooth start.

The pit in his stomach becomes a heavy, solid weight, one that’s going to have him breaking the wood of the wraparound front porch.

Shit.

But then Ruth is leaning her head back in laughter, her eyes shining brightly as her hair falls off of her shoulders, and that weight lessens a little bit.

“I’m not much of one for proper either,” Ruth says with laughter still on her lips. She releases Emma and steps toward him, wrapping him in a hug as well, even if this one isn’t quite as smothering. It likely helps that he’s larger than Emma. “Hello, sweetie. SoSo, you’re the infamous Killian Jones I’ve been hearing about?”

“From Emma?”

“No, my grandson. He loves you. I think he was probably more devastated about your arm than Emma was.”

“How did you know I was devastated?”

Ruth pulls back from him to look at Emma. “Intuition told me that you’d be upset over the fact that your boyfriend is injured. Mary Margaret gave me all of the other details.”

Emma’s eyes roll. “Of course she did.”

“You know she can’t keep a secret.”

Killian looks over to Emma to see what she’s got to say, thinking that this first meeting is going rather smoothly, but then Ruth’s eyes are snapping back to him and looking him up and down in a way that has him feeling rather naked under her scrutiny.

Obviously, it was wishful thinking for him to assume he was quite out of the woods.

“You’re much more handsome in person than on TV.”

“Thanks,” Killian laughs awkwardly as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I, uh, appreciate that.”

Emma looks over to him with raised brows that are pinched together, probably wondering when he turned into a stumbling fool instead of someone who can charm anyone, and all he can do is shrug is shoulders at her. She shrugs back before squatting down on the porch to scratch behind the dog’s ears.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet, Ruth?” Emma asks, obviously trying to save him. “We’ve had coffee but not food, and we’d love to take you out to breakfast.”

Ruth waves her away. “Nonsense. I’ll cook breakfast for all of us.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Mrs. Nolan.”

She smiles at him. “It’s Ruth, and yes I do. I hear you’re quite the baker, so you can help.”

“Well, who told you that?”

“Mary Margaret. She’s where I get all of my information, don’t you know? Emma and David don’t give me nearly enough.”

“You know, Ruth,” Killian smiles, “I have heard a little bit about the two of them not sharing a lot of information. You practically have to drag it out of them. I would never do such a thing as keeping secrets.”

Emma scoffs but there’s that loving, playful smile. “Too soon, twenty-nine. Too soon.”

Ruth guides them inside and sends Emma off to take their bags to her old room. Killian raises his brow in question to make sure it’s okay for them to share a room, and Emma simply rolls her eyes before taking both of their bags up the stairs while Ruth ushers him into the living room.

It’s just as homey as the outside. Everything is covered in warm colors from the deep brown of the leather couch to the inviting green of the wall. Two windows sit on either side of the stone fireplace where the television is mounted, and that’s when Killian spots the myriad of picture frames on the mantel, as well as on the bookshelf in the corner of the room.

This is exactly what he’s been so excited about.

(Besides getting to spend a weekend away with Emma where she spent the last of her teenager years.)

There are a few photos of David as a child, ones of him alone and then ones of him with both of his parents. Most of them, however, everyone is a tad bit older. Killian knows that it’s so Emma can be included in all of the photos, and his heart swells a bit at the thought of Ruth being that thoughtful so that Emma doesn’t have to feel left out in any way.

A picture of David, Mary Margaret, and Emma sits in the middle of the mantle. David and Mary Margaret look much the same, if not younger than they look now, but with different hairstyles. Killian makes a mental note to tease David about his shoulder-length hair. Emma, though, is definitely a teenager here. Her face is rounder, far less angled, and he can see the tepidness of her smile as she leans into David in the picture.

“Are you looking at how cute I am?” Emma questions as she walks into the room.

Killian turns to look at her and at the shy smile on her face now, and he opens up his arm to let her walk into him so that her arm can wrap around his back while her head rests on his shoulder.

“How old are you here, love?”

“Um, that’s a question I don’t know the answer to.”

“Sixteen,” Ruth supplies, and Killian doesn’t miss the way she’s smiling at the two of them standing there. “That’s from Thanksgiving. Emma still wasn’t too sure about us.”

“I’m still not.”

Killian squeezes her hip. “Liar.”

“Nope, I’m serious. You’ve only just met Ruth, so I don’t think you can judge her character yet.”

“Oh no, darling, I can. She’s promised to tell me stories about you while we cook breakfast, and that’s good enough for me to love her forever.”

Emma groans and dips her head down. “Just let me sulk, and I’ll come to the kitchen when breakfast is ready.”

“Just like when you were a teenager,” Ruth teases.

The morning is mostly spent in the kitchen where they eat waffles and bacon, which is definitely not on his diet but he’s not playing right now anyways, and he gets to listen to Ruth tease Emma all about what she was like as a teenager. Emma’s cheeks are painted red, the embarrassment very clearly there, but she takes it like a champ and smiles and laughs along even when Ruth tells a story about Emma nearly breaking her arm while trying to sneak back into the house after meeting a guy who she wasn’t supposed to be meeting.

“Not my finest moment,” Emma admits as she bites into a piece of bacon. “And definitely not my finest boyfriend.”

The stories continue, and as the day passes on, Killian’s stomach hurts from all of the laughter. Everything about his time here just seems so…perfect. And he knows that there is no such thing as perfect, but the crisp breeze of the air with the sunshine filtering through the leaves of the trees tells him otherwise as the two of them help Ruth with some of her yardwork. Of course, he hasn’t done yardwork in over a decade, so he’s a little rusty. Ruth and Emma make sure to point that out to him every time he cuts a shrub in the wrong way or manages to screw up turning on the lawnmower.

It was complicated, okay?

And Killian definitely wasn’t aware that this is how they’d be spending the first part of their afternoon. It was not at all mentioned in Emma’s pitch of asking him to come here.

Not that he would have ever said no to helping. It’s good to feel useful when he’s been feeling a little useless lately no matter how well he thinks that he’s handling his injury layoff.

It’s decidedly different than the first time around. It likely helps that the injury isn’t as serious and that Killian knows that the end of it is in sight, even if there’s still bits of uncertainty that no one can answer and predict for him. Yet, it also has everything to do with the fact that the people closest to him know exactly what’s going on instead of him letting it all fester inside of him. Honesty is the better policy this time, even if his hand was the slightest bit forced.

Watching Emma easily guide him through Old Port with a beatific smile on her face may help as well.

No, it definitely helps.

She’s such a force of light in his life, even if she doesn’t like admitting that sometimes, but the fact almost seems reinforced after having been apart from her and facing the thoughts of what his life may be like without her in it outside of being someone who he works with.

Frankly, it would be kind of dim. She’s integrated herself so easily into every aspect of his daily routine, and while at first, he thought it really only had to do with her clothes in his closet and her shampoo bottles littering his shower, it’s more in the way that he’ll be sitting with Elsa and look over to see her texting Emma or the way that whenever he wakes up in the morning and she’s not in bed with him, his first thought is to check his phone for a text from her. It’s ridiculous and yet also…not.

She annoys him more than anything or anyone in the world, but he also loves her more than anything. It’s easy in a way that it’s never been before, and Killian wonders if this feeling of fluttering deep in his belly is what he was missing in the past.

They grab a late lunch at a quaint little seafood place, one he can tell is family-owned simply from the atmosphere, and instead of sitting inside, they settle down at one of the umbrella-covered tables outside so that they can have a view of the ocean with the salt-water breeze wafting over them.

He’s missed the water.

Of course, he’s been around it living in Manhattan and traveling to several places around the country that are surrounded by water. Hell, he’s even been back in it in the three years since the accident with Liam. But it’s been a long damn time since he’s sat and simply enjoyed getting to spend time near the water.

During the off-season, he and Emma are going somewhere that’s surrounded by water for at least a week, and they’re not going to let any outside distractions get to them. It’s making plans for the future, and that’s all that he wants right now.

(Some would call it baseball mating season, and while he doesn’t plan on them reproducing anytime soon, they can sure as hell practice.)

They get a call that David and Mary Margaret are nearly there when Emma is showing him some of the lighthouses while using a ridiculous voice that she calls her “tour guide” voice, so they quickly gather their things and start walking back to Ruth’s car since she absolutely cannot wait to see the rest of her family and refuses to have them be at her house before she can get back to her house.

David and Mary Margaret get there first because they are apparently the fastest drivers on the planet today.

And Leo practically tackles Ruth in all of his ten-year-old glory when he sees her.

That’s how Addy and Lucy are with Elsa’s parents too, and Killian imagines that being a grandparent is a hell of a lot of fun since you aren’t in charge of molding a little person into a functioning human being. You just have to give them candy and all of the things their parents don’t want them to have.

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks Ruth does.

(That’s what he does as an uncle and wishes his mom could have done as a grandmother.)

They all eat takeout dinner together from an Italian place that Emma and David swear by, and while it’s certainly not the best thing he’s ever had to eat, it’s pretty damn good. Then again, he’s had so much to eat today that his stomach very well may explode soon. He’ll have to get up and go for a jog in the morning.

But right now, it’s a little past ten at night, he’s been up for over eighteen hours, and all he really wants is to sleep. His body is dragging enough that he imagines he’ll have no trouble falling into a slumber as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He’s wrong.

Because then he sees Emma’s teenage bedroom and sees just how empty it is. It’s absolutely nothing like her apartment in New York full of throw pillows and blankets and every artificial plant known to man with a colorful paintings above her headboard. Everything here is rather…beige.

Emma walks out of the bathroom where she’s been getting ready for bed, and he watches as she rubs lotion up and down her hands and her forearms. “Why that glum look on your face? Are you still trying to figure out better ways to argue with David over soccer? Because that dinner conversation is long over. I thought Leo was going to climb on top of the table and start beating on his chest or something equally ridiculous.”

“Hm, no,” Killian chuckles, opening his knees so that Emma can step into them and his hands can find their spots on her waist, warm flesh against his fingertips.

“Then what?”

He blinks up at her, not entirely sure if now is the right time to ask, but then he sees the glint of his mom’s ring falling against Emma’s chest and is reassured in who he is to Emma. “I can’t help but notice that your room here is not quite as colorful as your room at home.”

Emma sighs, and he squeezes her hip in response so that she looks down at him and smile. “It’s kind of a stupid reason. You don’t want to hear about it.”

“I’d love to know more of your beginnings, Swan.”

“Haven’t you heard enough about them today?”

“There is never enough information, love.”

She smiles and reaches to push his hair back off of his head, her hands a magic touch as they move through the strands there. “I’m not a sentimental person. Or, I wasn’t.” Her right hand leaves his hair to find the chain around her neck. Killian’s heart stutters at that movement. “And I never trusted that I was going to stay in one place for very long, so if I had the chance to decorate my room, I didn’t. I kept everything I owned in a little box that was always ready to go.”

His heart may actually break for Emma in this moment, the sad reality of what she’s telling him something that’s hard for him to take in. He can’t imagine what it must be like for her to have lived that way.

“I think this place worked out for you, though.”

“Yeah, it did.” She smiles again, but Killian can see the twinge of sadness in the corners of her lips. “You sure you still want to know about these beginnings of mine when they’re a little bit sad?”

“Like I’ve said before, love, we make quite the team, sad backstories and all. I do, however, think that you need a little something on these walls of yours.”

“I think all of the home décor stores may be closed.”

Killian winks. “Well, I think I’ll just have to get a little creative then.”

His hand slides around her back to squeeze her ass before he’s pushing Emma back from him and getting up from the bed to walk out the door. Everything is darkened with the lights turned off, and since he doesn’t want to wake up everyone else in the house, he uses the flashlight on his phone and quietly walks down the stairs to find his way to the kitchen where he knows there were sheets of paper in the printer as well as a few pens in a cup right behind it. Emma is on his heels, questioning what the hell it is he’s doing, but he doesn’t tell her until he’s grabbing the paper and a thick blue marker.

“What are you doing?” Emma hisses.

“I’m making you some artwork for your wall.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s endearing.”

“You say that about every weird thing that you do.”

“Because the weird things are endearing,” he corrects, looking back at her and smiling. “What kind of drawing do you want? I’m pretty talented, if I do say so myself, but it’s been awhile since I’ve drawn anything.”

“Just…do whatever you want. I’m going to fix myself a hot chocolate. Do you want one?”

“Does Ruth have any tea?”

“I’m going to make you the hot chocolate. It’s better than tea.”

Killian rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t protest as he starts sketching out what he can remember of the view of the lighthouse today. It’s rough, definitely not his best work, but considering his original plan was simply going to be writing her name out, it’ll have to do for quick work.

Strange things happen when he’s far past tired.

“Milady,” Killian sighs, picking up the paper as well as a bit of tape before walking the few steps toward Emma as she sits on a barstool at the island with two cups of hot chocolate, her mug piled up with whipped cream and sprinkles of cinnamon, “I present to you your artwork for your wall.”

Emma’s eyes glance over it before glancing up at him with a slight smile on her face. “You’ve got to sign it.”

He taps the corner of the paper where he’s scribbled in his number. “Already done.”

“Ah,” Emma laughs, “how could I have missed that?”

“You were distracted by the beauty of the picture.”

“Exactly.” Emma presses up over the countertop and leans forward to quickly brush her lips over Killian’s, and while a part of him wants to deepen it, he doesn’t want to get carried awhile while here. “Thank you. That is very sweet of you to do.”

“Endearing, right?”

“Sure.” She shakes her head and slides his mug over to him so that he can have some of his hot chocolate. “I hope today hasn’t scarred you for life, especially since you still have to survive tomorrow.”

“It’s been fun, Swan. I’ve been…I think it’s gotten me majorly out of my own head. I needed that. And I liked getting to see you be so happy. My only complaint is that I’m under strict instructions not to make your bed squeak. I don’t like that rule.”

Emma reaches over to slap his shoulder, but he moves it out of the way quick enough that she doesn’t get it. It also causes a slight twinge in his shoulder that reminds him that he needs an ice pack for tonight. He hasn’t gotten to put ice on it all day. So, he turns toward the fridge and opens up the freezer, grabbing one of Ruth’s ice packs, and placing it on top of his shoulder before turning back to Emma whose fingers are tracing over the drawing.

Emotion lodges in his throat again, something that’s been happening quite a lot tonight, and it’s what propels him forward to step behind Emma’s back and wrap his arms around her stomach before resting his chin on top of her head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Emma,” he promises, meaning every word. “Not unless you tell me to go. So, you can plan on hanging paintings and making plans and keeping little trinkets in more places than a box. I love you more than I know how to tell you. That’s not going to change.”

Emma audibly sighs, something that he feels under the palms of his hands, before leaning back into Killian and simply staying in that spot so that he can breathe her in.

“I love you,” she breathes out as her head tilts up so that her lips can move across the underside of his jaw. “Let’s take the hot chocolate upstairs and go to bed.”

“And your picture?”

“Yeah, that too.”

-/-

Killian’s arm tingles, the feeling nearly gone, when he wakes up in the morning and finds Emma’s body pressed around it. This isn’t how they fell asleep, not even close, and he’ll probably never have use of his arm again. It doesn’t seem to matter, though, and he flexes his fingers a bit before nuzzling his nose into the back of Emma’s head in an attempt to get to go back to sleep.

They were up until maybe two in the morning talking, sleep never really coming to either of them no matter how much they both wanted it, and judging from the dim light coming through the blinds on the window, it’s still early yet.

He desperately needs coffee. He’s probably not going to be able to go back to sleep, and he desperately needs coffee.

Slowly, Killian begins to extract his arm from Emma’s grip, stopping when she flinches, and after several careful minutes, he’s able to quietly get off the bed and step out of the room, leaving her door cracked so as not to make any kind of noise. He walks down the hallway and uses the guest bathroom before walking down the stairs and wandering to the kitchen in search of coffee.

To his surprise, David is already there sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop open and a cup of coffee sitting next to him, the smell wafting toward Killian.

“Hey,” Killian greets. David nearly jumps out of his chair and knocks everything over, and Killian can’t help but laugh at the shock on his face. “Did you really not hear me coming down the stairs?”

“I, uh, I – ” David is stuttering, obviously at a loss for words, and Killian can’t quite figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t think Dave is usually this flustered in the mornings. “I wasn’t expecting you or Emma to be up this early.”

Killian shakes out his arm, still trying to wake it up. “Believe me. I wish I wasn’t up. Do you always work this early in the morning on a Saturday?”

“No, I don’t, but my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with emails this morning, so I came downstairs to see so it wouldn’t wake Mary Margaret up.”

“Ah, I turned off my emails this weekend for that exact reason.”

“You probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“What’s that, mate?” David coughs in response, and Killian steps forward to the table and sits down across from David, confusion running through him as his stomach twists and turns. “Seriously. What?”

David can’t look at him, not really, and that doesn’t help calm any of Killian’s nerves as he tries to figure out what in the world is going on with him this morning.

“I didn’t know this was happening, I swear. I’d have stopped it if I got one whiff of it, but there’s been an article.”

“An article?”

David turns his computer around, and Killian reads a headline that he’s always expected to see and yet has always hoped to avoid.

The Truth Behind Killian Jones: A Story Told by His Father.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs, his eyes taking in the picture of his father that’s plastered on the screen. Killian hasn’t seen him in years, actual years, and yet he looks exactly the same. “What kind of shit is this?”

“It gets worse.”

“How could it possibly get worse?”

“Look at the journalist.”

Killian’s eyes glance toward the screen again, his gaze finding more words he didn’t want to see.

Walsh Osborne.

As in Emma’s ex, Walsh Osborne who she still works with at ESPN. Though, this article is decidedly not on ESPN’s website.

Holy fucking shit.

Killian’s got to go back to bed. This isn’t real. This is all some kind of messed up nightmare that he’s experiencing, and soon, he’ll wake up and none of it will be real. And yet Killian keeps scrolling through the article, skipping the words to instead look at pictures of himself that Killian hasn’t seen in years. His father shouldn’t have these pictures. Liam should have all of them. And yet, somehow, he doesn’t.

Childhood pictures are nothing, though, at least for right now, when at the bottom of the article are pictures of Killian and Emma standing in the airport yesterday with Emma’s arms wrapped around his waist as well as a picture of them kissing in his car from who knows when. Then there’s one that he knows is from the hallways of Yankee stadium in what was supposed to be a private room.

“Everyone knows about you and Emma,” David tells him. 

This is too much. It’s all too much, and he doesn’t know how to handle the reappearance of his father and the very public reveal of his private relationship.

Fuck.

[carolinahurricanesstan]

Dougie Hamilton x reader

It had been three months since you graduated from college. Unsure if it was because of that or because you were quickly approaching your 25th birthday, but you were spiraling. Not gonna lie, college was freaking hard and honestly, you were unsure of what you wanted to do but if something didn’t get you out of the house soon, you were going to go insane.

You had applied to a few different marketing positions, but nothing had materialized yet and you were frustrated. 

You decided to go and grab lunch with your best friend, (y/bf/n) one HOT September Friday and as you sat down at your favorite downtown Raleigh restaurant, your phone rang, but the number was not one that you recognized. It was a local number so you decided to answer it, hoping that it was one of the many jobs you had applied to. 

“Hi! Is this (y/n)?”

“Yes, it is!”

“Hi, (y/n)! I hope you’re doing well today! This is Shannon, head of marketing here for the Carolina Hurricanes. I’m calling in regards to your extremely impressive resume. We would absolutely love to set up an interview with you to see if you would be a good fit for our team. Are you free this week sometime to come in and chat?”

You were speechless. This was finally your opportunity. Quickly, you regained your composure and were able to choke out,

“Absolutely! I’m free first thing Monday morning! What time works best for you?”

“Let’s say 9 am? You can meet me at the North entrance of PNC.”

“That sounds fantastic. I will see you Monday morning at 9 am, Shannon! Thank you so much!”

“See you then, (y/n)! Have a great weekend!”

You smile at your friend across the table and she looks back at you with a confused look on her face.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“Head of marketing for the Canes. I have an interview for a position on their marketing team on Monday!” You were beaming.

“Holy SHIT, dude! That’s awesome! You’ve been waiting for something like this!” 

\\\

Monday snuck up on you. You decided to go out on Saturday night for drinks with your closest friends to celebrate your pending job interview and spent Sunday recovering from that. You were excited for sure, but now the nerves began to set in. You slept like shit, tossing and turning all night. You woke up around 7 am, groggy as all. You knew that you were really great at interviews, but looking in the mirror, you knew that you needed some work to feel as confident outside as you were inside. You drug yourself to the shower, turning on the almost-scalding water. After getting out, feeling a lot less groggy, you take extra time getting ready, being very meticulous with each step. You curl your hair into loose waves and apply your normal, natural makeup: a little eyebrow, a little mascara, and that’s it. 

You step back into your room, putting on the outfit that you picked out a few days before. A super flattering pair of slim fit, black ankle pants, a more casual shirt, layered with a modern blazer. You slide on a pair of ankle boots and stop at the full length mirror propped up in the corner of your bedroom. 

Pleased with how you looked, you grab your keys and head out the door. You lived 10 minutes away from the arena, so you jump in your car and turn some music on to hype you up before pulling out of your driveway and eventually onto 40.

You pull into PNC arena, familiar because of the many events you’ve attended, you go directly towards the north entrance. You quickly park and begin heading towards to door, only to be greeted by one of the friendliest faces you’ve ever seen. 

“Hey! You must you (y/n)!! I’m Shannon!! So nice to put a face with the name!”

You quickly walked towards her, shaking her hand. “Likewise! So nice to finally meet you!”

You two begin walking inside of the building, she starts: “So, nothing to be nervous about! We loved your resume and just wanted to familiarize you with our organization before we officially offered you the job.”

You two arrived in what appeared to be the offices for the staff and you were mesmerized. Hockey in Raleigh hadn’t been much of a thing to write home about until two years prior, when they qualified for the Stanley Cup Playoffs for the first time in a while. You’d been to a few games, but to be honest, you didn’t know a whole lot about the team. You knew about hockey because your college had a team, but you never really cared about who the players were.

Shannon continued to talk and fill you in on the history of the team, who the leadership was, and chat about the upcoming season. You were engrossed in every word she said. She asked a few questions about you, seeming to really like your answers. The atmosphere here was incredible, everyone was buzzing with excitement, which in turn, made you excited. While invigorating, everyone was extremely friendly and laid back, including Shannon.

Finally, your tour came to a stop as Shannon led you into a conference room. She had some paperwork laid out on the table as she took a seat and gestured for you to sit across from her. As you sat, she began talking.

“I have been given pretty open freedom to do whatever I need to do to make this marketing team the best in the NHL. I do not beat around the bush at all and so, I’d like to formally offer you this position on our marketing team. I think that you could really bring a lot of incredible energy and ideas to our team and to Carolina in general and we would love to have you.”

Your smile took up your entire face. 

“You guys seem like an amazing group of people to work with and I would be totally honored to accept.”

She smiled back at me, “Awesome!! Welcome to the team, (y/n)! Let’s go meet the boys and then, we’ll come back and fill out this paperwork!”

///

Shannon leads you down a hallway, chatting you up the entire way. You’re halfway present, nodding along and smiling at what she’s telling you about the team, but your excitement is making it hard to focus on anything at all.

Finally, you walk out of the hallway into one of the openings leading to the rink. You recognize that you’re now beside the bench. She informs you that the guys are doing their morning skate. She motions a man over and introduces you to him. His name is Rod, the head coach. He shakes your hand, firmly, and welcomes you to the team. He seems friendly and warm, just like everyone else you’ve met, but you can also sense that he does not handle nonsense, at all.

Shannon asks him to bring the boys over for them to meet you as well. This terrified you a little, because as you’re scanning, you realize that these are not busted up hockey jocks, missing teeth, but these are young looking guys that are intimidatingly handsome. As she introduces you to the guys, you become a little self-conscious as a lot of them come to shake your hand, each giving you his name as he does. 

“(y/n) will be working specifically with creating our social media content and maintaining it. She’ll be doing an array of things in regards to working with you, including photographing and helping with video work. Her accomplishments are super impressive and we are so excited she’s decided to be apart of our organization.”

The guys all clap, a few even cheer and yell, for you as Shannon finishes up her announcement regarding you. You don’t typically blush, but as you’re standing there, talking to Shannon, you can feel it beginning to rise up your neck as you realize some of the guys are studying you as they skate back out.

Shannon sits on the empty bench and motions for you to join her as she begins telling you how she got started with the Hurricanes a few years back. You’re listening along, scanning over each guy on the ice. One in particular catches your eye and you realize it’s one of the same ones you caught looking at you earlier when Shannon was introducing you to everyone. 

He was tall. Like, really tall. You were only 5′3, so it didn’t take a lot for someone to be taller than you, but he was probably the tallest on the ice. You realize that you hadn’t been introduced to him when you met a majority of the other guys,

Shannon’s phone began to ring and she excused herself, leaving you alone for a minute to continue watching from the bench.

You continued to watch this tall man. He took his helmet off momentarily to expose his blonde hair. You also noticed his beard was gingery and he had probably the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. Definitely your type. He skated over towards the bench to retrieve a gatorade and you felt your body stiffen a little when you realized he had caught you studying him.

As he got closer to the bench, he plopped down on it, breathing heavily from the drills he had just run and drinking from one of the bottles. You knew that you were blushing now. How could you not? He was freaking handsome. You avoided looking at him by pulling out your phone, but you could feel his gaze.

He swiftly put himself back over the wall, but not before stopping on the ice directly in front of you, causing you to look up at him. He smiled and stuck his hand out. He cleared his throat and said, “Hey, (y/n). I just wanted to introduce myself after you got bombarded by the rest of the guys. I’m Dougie.” 

His voice startled you a little. It was deep, with a slight rasp, and smooth as butter. Trying to pull yourself together, you shook his hand and smiled back at him. God, he was handsome. “It’s so nice to meet you,” you managed to get out. 

He held onto your hand a bit longer than a normal person would, holding eye contact with you, causing you to giggle and divert your eyes. He finally let go and added, “I should probably get back to morning skate before Roddy gets me. I’m looking forward to seeing you around, (y/n).” He smiles at you again before skating off to rejoin his teammates.

You finally release the breath it feels like you’ve been holding onto for an hour and look out at the ice one more time, catching eye contact with Dougie again, finding him smiling at you before running the drill he was apart of. 

Shannon finally ends her call and comes back to where you are, smiling at you. “You ready to go fill out your paperwork?”

///

Your first official day was a few days after you’d been hired. You knew that the season didn’t start for a few weeks and Shannon informed you that this was a big time for the marketing team to push out a lot of content to get the fans excited about the coming season. Fan attendance was up the last two years, but they really wanted to continue pushing out content that helped them get to know the players and feel connected with all of the boys. 

You guys had brainstormed a ton of new video ideas for the youtube channel, a few new promo shoots to get done, photo and video, and now the ideas just needed to be executed.

In the weeks leading up to the beginning of the season, you had been trusted to take the lead on a few of the different video projects and you were hooked. You loved being around the guys. They were freaking hilarious and so fun to be around. The repertoire they had with each other was dynamic and there was no denying that they all cared about each other. 

There had been a few moments during filming videos and photoshoots that you and Dougie had exchanged. Glances, short, friendly conversations. You were trying to remain professional and keep work and private life separate, but it was hard to do here. This was one of the most laid back environments you’d ever been in and you loved being able to open up and be yourself.

On the way to your car after work that day, you felt your phone buzz in your hand. You waited until you sat down in your car to unlock it and see a text from an unfamiliar number.

“You have been brilliant the last few days. It’s incredible to see you do what you’re so passionate about. Can’t wait to see you at the game this week. - DH”

Ah, Dougie. You smiled down at your phone for a minute before responding. He was so damn good looking and you admit, you’d caught yourself staring a little too long or scanning him up and down, longing to just reach out and touch him. 

“You’re too kind. See you then. ;)” 

You debated leaving the winky face off, but decided to leave it. You were feeling a little more adventurous than usual.

//

Before you knew it, the season was starting. You were buzzing because you got to photograph the game from beside the bench. The arena filled up quickly and you got to witness your first game as a staff member. The crowd was insanely loud. You spent the first two periods in awe, snapping photos during play, letting yourself get sucked in. There were a few times that you felt a few eyes on you from the bench, but you assumed you were being ridiculous. Once, you happened to glance over to catch a particular blondie watching you before he looked away. 

You grinned at the thought of Dougie being embarrassed that you caught him watching you, especially since you’d been watching him for most of the game. 

Towards the end of the third, the Canes were up two points with 2 minutes left in the period. Dougie came off of a shift and sat at the end of the bench, right beside where you were. He tapped your leg with his stick and smiled over at you. You smiled back at him. God, you hadn’t looked at him that close in person in a while. You guys had been so busy prepping everything for this night that you had been running around like a mad woman.

You both turned your attention back to the game as the clock wound down to zero. Dougie flashed a smiled at you as he and the other guys went out onto the ice to celebrate their first win of the season. You followed out onto the ice to grab photos of the storm surge, as you knew that was tradition that was so important to everyone.

//

You were in your office, packing up your equipment as you imported the images and videos onto your computer. You sat back in your chair, waiting for the import to finish, as your scrolled through your phone. You heard a knock at your door and you look up to see a freshly-showered Dougie in his pre-game suit that he had shown up in earlier today. 

“Hey, get any good shots tonight?”

You chuckled, knowing that this was a joke you had made with each other before, during the countless video and photo shoots you’d done with the team that last few weeks. 

You held eye contact with him, still chuckling, “You know I did. Did you”

This caused him to laugh as well, “Man, I could have sworn you watched me score that goal. I’m hurt that you didn’t.”

You both giggled before he came and sat at the chair in front of your desk. As he sat down, he looked slightly nervous, maybe uncomfortable? 

“So, I’ve been trying to push this off because you work for the team, but the more I think about it, the more I realize how unfair it is for me to not do this and always wonder what if.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of where this was going. Yeah, you guys had been friendly with each other, but a lot of the guys had been friendly. You were super attracted to Dougie, but you didn’t think anything different of the way he’d treated you vs the rest of the guys.

“If you are not interested, feel free to say no and we will forget this whole thing ever happened. But, I was wondering if you wanted to go grab a post game meal with me, (y/n)?”

You were slightly stunned. You wanted this, so you finally mustered up the confidence to respond. “Uhm, absolutely. I would love that!” 

///

DOUGIE’S POV

I was nervous, but good nervous. I hadn’t wanted to date anyone since I came to Carolina, but she was different. She was this presence that really lit up any room she was in. She was brilliant, thoughtful, hilarious, and always made anyone she talked to feel like the only person in the room. It was no secret that she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. A lot of the boys on the team shared that opinion with me, how could they not?

I sat there, after putting myself on the line to ask her to hang out, nervous as fuck, hoping and praying she’d say yes.

She looked up at me with those beautiful eyes and that killer smile and accepted my invitation. 

Thank God.

 She closed her laptop on her desk and stood up, putting it in her bag.

“Ready to go?”

She looked up at me and flashed that heart stopping smile. “Yes, please.”

The whole way out to the parking lot, I wanted to hold her hand so bad. Ever since meeting her, I have had this desire to make her feel secure and safe, and walking with her now was no different. I didn’t understand the effect that she had on me, but I didn’t feel the need to fight it at all. 

I knew which car was hers and had made a point when I got to the arena today to park near her. 

“So, I thought that we could run through a drive-thru since it’s so late and then I have a secret spot that I want to take you to.”

She smiled at me as we approached the cars. “That sounds perfect.”

Every time she smiled at me, my stomach did a backflip.

///

(Y/N) POV

He offered to drive or gave you the option to drive separately, but you just wanted to be around him. In this moment, his presence was intoxicating.

He held his car door open for you, carefully closing the door before he retreated to the driver’s side. He smiled at you before starting the car and driving out of the arena. He asked what your drive thru guilty pleasure was and happily obliged, heading in the direction of it.

You both asked a few questions back and forth, easily filling your time with quality conversation on the way to whatever he had planned for you.

After pulling away from the drive thru, he drove for a few minutes, before turning down a road you were unfamiliar with. He parked and walked around to open your door. He opened his trunk and pulled out a blanket and you followed him as he began walking. Finally, you stopped in an opening and he gestured for you to look out into the field. You could see the entire city lit up in the distance. It was beautiful. He watched you sheepishly for your reaction.

“I figured we could sit out here, eat, talk, and look at the city or the stars.”

You were stunned, but in the best way. You looked up at him, with the biggest grin on your face. “Dougie, this is gorgeous.”

///

It had been probably close to two hours that you two had been sitting in front of the city, under the stars. To be honest, it felt like a fairytale to you. You were convinced that you could do the most mundane task with Dougie and it would feel like the lottery.

The more you talked to him, you realized how incredible he was. He was arguably the most handsome guy you’d ever seen. He was intelligent. He always seemed to be hinged on every word you said. He made you feel like you were all that mattered in the world.

You felt your adrenaline coming down and decided to lay back on the blanket and look up at the stars. Dougie did the same. You two continued your conversation, taking turns talking about anything and everything.

Before you knew it, it was 4 am. Dougie offered to take you back to your car at the arena but you knew that you lived close to his apartment from the last time you filmed a video with him and the boys, so you asked if he could just drop you off at your apartment. He obliged. After he opened your door for you and got into the driver’s seat, you said, “thank you again for dropping me off. I’ll just catch an Uber in the morning for work.”

“That’s nonsense. I’ll just swing by and pick you up.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you get up any earlier than you have to.”

“Nonsense. It’s not an imposition at all.”

You smiled out towards the window. The feelings that you were developing for Dougie were intense. You guys had spent the night talking about things that made it feel like you’d known him your entire life. Something about him made you want to open up and share everything you’ve ever said or done with him.

Part of you felt like he knew the effect he had on you. He glanced over, catching you smiling, trying to hide it. He contemplated for a second but decided to slowly reach over, resting his hand on your knee. He didn’t want to be too forward, but you had the same effect on him as he did you. He knew it was risky because this was the first time you’d hung out.

You smiled over at him before resting your hand on top of his. He was so warm and his hand almost engulfed your entire knee. He was perfect.

He finally pulled up to your apartment building. He parked on the street and got out to come and open your door. He grabbed your bag from you and offered to walk you up to your door.

As you got to your apartment door, you turned to face him. He held your bag out for you to take. You smiled, thanking him for such a lovely night. He smiled back at you. You loved that smile.

He debated kissing you. He had wanted to since he met you on your first day. He decided against It and pulled you in for a hug instead, opting for a kiss on the forehead instead.

Without breaking the hug, he said, “(y/n), thank you for spending tonight with me. You are incredible, truly. Can we do this again sometime? I would love to take you out for a nice dinner or maybe I can cook you dinner?”

You smiled into his chest, before slightly pulling away to look up at him. “I would love that. I’m free Thursday night?”

“Thursday night is perfect.” He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead one more time before pulling away. “Goodnight, (y/n)”

“Goodnight, Dougie” you said before unlocking your door and going inside of your apartment. You rested your back against the door, not wanting to move as you recounted the night, trying to remember every little detail about him. The way he smelled when he hugged you, how safe you felt with him.

You heard your phone ping with a text message. You took it out of your bag, wondering who would be texting you at this hour. It was a text from Dougie:

“Thank you again for tonight. You’re an incredible woman. I can’t wait to see you in the morning. x Dougie”

His message made you smile so big that your cheeks hurt. You were smitten.

///

Thankfully, you weren’t due in to the office until 10 the morning after weekday games, because you felt like you slept for maybe an hour. As you were almost done getting ready for the day, your phone pinged with a text from none other than Dougie.

“Hi gorgeous. Stopping for coffee. What can I bring you? :)”

You couldn’t stop smiling. God, he was perfect. You sent him your coffee order, along with a thank you, and continued getting ready. You had just slid your shoes on when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it and there he stood with that heart stopping smile, holding out your coffee for you to take. 

As you took it, he bent down and kissed your cheek. “How did you sleep, (y/n)?” You almost didn’t answer, caught up in his smile and the way he says your name. “I hardly slept at all, if we’re being honest.” Saying this, you threw a cheeky little smile in his direction. “But, I’m not mad about it at all,” you added, winking at him. 

You start to see a blush rise up on his cheeks and he looks down towards his feet, smiling he entire time, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. You’d never seen him like this before. He was almost bashful. This caused you to smile softy before saying, “we should probably get going.”

///

The car ride to the arena was anything but quiet. You loved talking to Dougie and the feeling was mutual. You brought out a side in him you’d never seen being around him at work. Halfway through the ride, he reached over and grabbed your hand. A warmth washed over here. You loved being around him. There was such a security with him, knowing that if you were his, he’d take care of you always.

///

You had spent the whole week thinking about your upcoming date with Dougie. You could not stop thinking about him. Every second of every hour. You caught yourself sending him quick little texts throughout the day. He came to your office and ate lunch everyday. You couldn’t wait to spend more time with him, away from work.

Thursday finally came. As your workday was coming to a close, your phone buzzed with a text.

Dougie: “Hey beautiful. Roddy let us out early today, so I’m running to get things for dinner tonight. Meet me at my apartment when you’re off?”

You: “I’ll be there. :)”

///

You didn’t even want to go home and change before heading over to Dougie’s. You just wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. There was an away game Sunday, so both of you were off the next day. 

You parked outside of his apartment building, shooting him a text before heading up. You were greeted by him at his door. He pulled you in for a tight hug, pulling you into his apartment in the process. With your face against his chest, you breathed it. His scent never got old. You pull away to look back at him. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and slim fit jeans that fit him in the best possible way. God, he’s fit. You were so lost in your thoughts of him that you didn’t realize that he was watching you sum him up. He laughed and closed the gap between you, wrapping you into his arms again.

He brought one of his hands up from you waist to the side of your face, brushing your hair away and tucking it behind your ear. His eyes were intense, like he was deep in thought. After rubbing your cheek with his thumb, he was tired of waiting. He couldn’t handle his desire to be closer to you anymore. He brought your face closer to his, closing the gap between your lips, kissing you with the most intense passion you’d ever felt. He pulled away, that sheepish Dougie grin taking over. 

“I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now,” he smiles, forehead still resting on yours.

“Me too,” you chuckle.

///

Watching Dougie in the kitchen was the most attractive thing you’d ever seen. While he was working, you just imagined your life after this moment, with him. Seeing this all of the time. 

After making you the most incredible dinner, you guys ended up on his balcony, with a bottle of champagne, giggling like school children, sharing the occasional kiss, him sitting in a chair, you sitting on his lap, one arm around your back, the other resting on your thigh. You were so infatuated with him.

///

You felt yourself begin to get more and more tired. Unable to fight it anymore, you laid your head down on Dougie’s chest, feeling yourself floating between being asleep and being awake, still conscious of where you could feel his skin touching yours.

“I should probably head home,” you say, into his neck, where you’ve nuzzled into him.

“No, no,” you hear him mumble into your hair. “Just stay here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your bed,” you mumbled, still pressed into his neck, sleepily.

He is getting ready to object when you say, “I’ll stay, but under one condition: you have to stay with me.”

He contemplates for a minute, unsure of if it’s the champagne or the sleep talking, but he just wants to be close to you. Without saying anything, he scoops you up, bridal style, and carries you into his room. Setting you down so that you’re standing in front of his dresser, he pulls out some sweats and a canes t-shirt, handing it to you and kissing you quickly before he leaves the room for you to change. After you’ve changed and thrown your hair into a messy bun, you walk into the kitchen, finding him cleaning up from the dinner you two shared.

You smile to yourself. Eventually, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. You heard him chuckle a bit before turning around and engulfing you into a hug. He ran his hands up and down your back.

“You look nice in my clothes,” he said, examining you, up and down.

You giggled, looking up at him, getting lost in those eyes.

“You ready for bed, gorgeous?”

You nod at him. He takes your hand and you walk with him back into his room. You stand behind him as he pulls the blankets back for the two of you. He gestures for you to lay down and as you do, he covers you up before removing his shirt and walking to the opposite side of the bed.

You turn to face him, finding his bright eyes already studying you. You grin slightly, soaking in all of his features one by one. You reach out and run your hand through his beard, seeing a smile play on his lips as you felt the stubble on your fingertips. Holding eye contact, you could see that his eyes were intense, studying your face more intently than you’d ever seen before.

Seemingly all in one motion, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his body, face face only inches from yours. He smiled big before pulling you in for another kiss. Since your first earlier, this was all you had craved. His lips were soft and tender. You felt his hand move to your cheek, pushing your hair back. You deepened the kiss, running your hands into his hair, down his bicep, before stopping at his forearm. 

You felt his kiss throughout your entire body. He was electric. All too soon, you pull away to catch your breath. Foreheads still pressed together, you hear him, barely above a whisper, “You are all I’ve thought about for days now, (y/n). You drive me wild in the best way possible. Everything that you are...” he pauses and begins stroking your hair, “is everything that I’ve looked for for so long. You make me want to be the best version of myself. For you. For us.”

His words cascaded over you like velvet. You let them soak into you, hanging onto every word he said. You’re lost looking for words to have the same effect on him that he’s had on you. You decide to kiss him in response to what he’s said. 

Things become more heated the longer you two kiss. Hands begin to wander. You feel his large hands run down your back, down to your bottom. After giving you a little squeeze, he runs his hand down to the back of your knee, swiftly pulling you up, so that you were straddling him. You smirked into the kiss before kissing him harder.

///

You woke up to sunlight beaming in on your face with strong arms wrapped around you tight. You felt him brush your neck with his lips.

“Good morning. You are so incredibly beautiful first thing in the morning.”

His raspy, morning voice paired with him mumbling into your neck, made him more attractive, not knowing that that was possible. Being here with him, you knew that you never wanted to do this with anyone else...like ever.

///

You laid there with him for the longest time, listening to the two of you breathe, exchanging secrets in the form of glances. Unknown to you, he was feeling the same way you were. You had never felt this way before and he hadn’t either.

///

You two decided to spend the day together, starting with brunch after a lazy morning spent between the sheets together. You ventured downtown after stopping by your apartment to change out of Dougie’s clothes that you had slept in. You offered them back to him, but he smiled and sheepishly told you to keep them.

Dougie drove you downtown to his favorite brunch spot. As you parked and were walking, he reach for your hand.

“I hope this is okay. Y’know, doing this in public. We really haven’t done that yet.”

You just smiled at him, giving his hand a squeeze to let him know that you didn’t mind. 

“It’s great. Really.”

///

You two had the best conversation over brunch, delving deep into topics that you hadn’t yet talked about. After you were done eating, he reached across the table to take your hand, as he’d done before your food arrived, and held eye contact with you, before saying:

“(y/n), I have something to say to you, just because I always want to be upfront with you. I actually don’t know if I could keep anything from you if I tried,” he said with a chuckle.

“Of course you can tell me anything. What’s up?”

“These days with you, since the moment you walked into the arena, I have felt so connected with you. I am so honored that you said yes to spending time with me. You have made me feel like the luckiest man in the world. The way that you look at me is the most incredible feeling, bar none. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever, especially in only a few weeks. I think I am falling in love with you, (y/n), and I know that that seems insane but I just want to be open and honest with you.”

You could feel your heart turning flips in your chest. Again, he’d left you speechless. You could feel tears pricking your eyes, but you finally managed to speak.

“Walking into that arena full of men, a large amount being bachelors, my eyes have always been drawn to you. Now that I know you, my heart, my soul, and my body literally crave your presence. Being around you makes me feel alive, makes me feel like a new person. I feel the exact same way about you, Dougie.”

You had avoided his gaze until the last sentence came out of your mouth, but finally connecting your eyes with his, he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. There were truly no words that either of you could say to describe your connection with each other.

You felt him squeeze your hand, pulling you from your thoughts about him. 

“You ready to get out of here?” he smiles over at you.

///

You two decide to hang out at your apartment for the rest of the day. You’re sitting on the couch, snuggled into his side. It felt safe. You were safe. Dougie was rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb, humming sweet nothings to you. You always thought that your job would be what made you feel the most fulfilled. But, this, this was it. This was what you’d been searching for this whole time. 

______________________________

Thank you so much for reading!!! Do you guys want a part 2???

[xserpentlife]

Everything Was Normal

Reqested: No 

A/N: I've been thinking of this concept for a year now and I think it is finally time to release it. I really want you guys to concept off of this. After the situation, What are there lives? Sex, Live, Horror, Etc, Everything no matter what it is, send the concepts and ill answer. Thank you to all my betas who have helped me throughout this process. @wayward-river with the concept, hearing my crazy ideas and leading her off in 20 directions and to @sweetpea-fvck who I bounced moodboard Ideas off of. 

Warnings: Blood, Guns, FBI, Swat, Hostage, Mentions of Death

Word Count: Almost 5600

Pea always got his shot, He was the hottest sniper that the FBI had, the Hostage Rescue Team to be exact, an elite group of specialized individuals who worked to save people from various hostage situations. He took out Edgar and Evelyn Evernever in regards to the safety to half the town of Riverdale, he took out Penny Peabody when she began doing works of bidding with one of the highest-ranked drug dealers in the entire country, even taking out the drug dealer as well. One-shot all around Pea never missed his target. It was more than that though, working with the FBI for years he was the best of the best only being called for the most important job duties that could leave no room for error until his whole world flipped upside down.

Pea Moved out of Riverdale at 17, with you by his side, his girl, his world. It had been years since Pea had left the Serpents, he still did odd jobs here and there, but he had gone to school, went to the police academy expecting to be a cop, but got so much more. He had a unique skill set that did not go unnoticed by the higher-ups at the academy. He had been put on drill upon drill, of shooting targets, both still and moving even sometimes the line of visibility removed right when he shot and without fail, he hit his target every single time.

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

He woke up like any normal day, giving you a kiss on the lips before being lazy staying in bed for a few minutes longer than he should of.

“Don’t wanna get up”

You mumbled out  “You got too baby”

“But I wanna stay with you and baby Pea, plus mama you should stay home after last night” You had found out that you were pregnant 2 months ago. He had proposed right before you found out 4 months ago to be exact You began planning right away, when you found out about your little pea you both put your marriage aside, waiting on a side burner because you wanted to worry about your growing child first. You hadn't started showing but just knowing your little pea was growing inside of you made you the happiest person in the entire world. Pea was ecstatic. You were afraid he would be upset that you were having a child significantly younger than you imagined you would, but he was nothing but happy. He wanted a kid, wanted to be a better father than what he had. And you wanted to be a mother, more than anything in the world. And now that dream was a reality for you both. Since you were only two months no one knew, you wanted to keep it a secret, not wanting to deal with the stresses of everything until you had to. So no one but you and Pea knew, you were planning to tell everyone this upcoming weekend while at the monthly family dinner that included, Fangs, Jughead, Betty, Joaquin, and Toni.

“I don’t have the luxury of staying home Pea, we have a shipment of rings coming in from a  new seller that I need to verify and…”

“Okay, but promise if you feel sick you’ll come home, you were pretty bad last night, and just think about maybe taking off”

“Okay, I'll think about it. I know, I just don’t think baby pea liked the watermelon, even though that pisses me off cause you know it's my favorite” Throughout your whole pregnancy you have had morning sickness, hoping that soon it would stop, last night Pea found you face down in front of the toilet because you figured sleeping there would be better than having to get up every 5 seconds. But he sat with you through it all carefully carrying you to the bed after you fell asleep for the final time without throwing up again. “By the way, thank you for bringing me to bed”

“Of course baby, you still got a couple minutes till you gotta be up, so sleep some more okay”

“Mhm” you were slowly drifting back off

“Wish I could stay here and take care of you and cuddle”

“ We’ll be here later and can cuddle, promise, love you” With a kiss to your cheek he was up.

He brewed you a cup of tea knowing you would get up for work minutes after him, he even slipped toast in the toaster that you could put down for yourself because he knew if he didn’t you would have forgotten to eat. He hated he couldn’t be there with you in the mornings. When you first found out you were pregnant he was there every morning, requesting to work an hour later than usual because he wanted to help you through the morning sickness. He drove to work minutes from being late but luckily was there right on time. Everything was normal.

“You’re late dude”

“No not late Fogarty, close to being late there is a difference”

“Whatever, how’s Y/N”

“Good, but she’s been having this stomach thing recently”

“Oh yeah after the other day at the taco place?”

“Um sure, yeah, but anyway, its finally getting better I hope it ends soon. I just feel so bad you know, like I can only do so much. I hate seeing her like that”

“Yeah I get it, Hey why don’t you two come over for dinner later this week. I’ll make it for you both so you guys don’t have to worry about it, and if she doesn’t wanna go out ill come over to ours and cool it”

“That would be great thanks Fogarty” Pea lifted his legs placing them on his desk, as Fangs was sat as his own as the two began to cull over files.

“We have a domestic case that was cleared but we are passing it to SVU for a look over, we had a hostage call at the bank down the street but it was cleared as a false alarm, some dumbass new employee”

“Hope they got fired”

“We made sure they did”

“Good”

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

The first few hours of your shift were normal. You went and inventoried all the new rings validating the authenticity of the gems, gold, and other precious metals that were sent to your shop. You were a head jeweler at one of the most prestige Jewelry stores in all of Riverdale and its surrounding towns. People came from all over for both the rings and for you since you became known for helping individuals picking the most perfect rings for their hopeful partners. You were about to go unpack another shipment that came in with new necklaces but you saw a man sitting in the waiting area that looked like he was growing impatient.

“Hello sir, were you waiting for help to get a ring?”

“I love her, but no one ever fucking listens!”

“Sir, I am here to listen, so sorry we were busy with other customers. I can surely help you find the most perfect ring for the occasion”

“I already told you, No one fucking listens!” He stood up, towering over you instantly so close you could feel his breath when he leaned down “No one listens!” It was not a response that you were expecting from him. He grabbed your hair from behind your head ripping you down to a leaning position as a gun was pulled from his back pocket. Oh no

“O-www stop, stop I can help I can make it better just, ow” You panicked your eyes welling with tears as he pushed you to the ground your arm connected with the corner of a metal display case causing pain to rip through you. You watched as people ran out as he shot 2 shots directly to the roof above and people dropped to the ground. Now a hostage situation as he had locked the front door.

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

Pea was called down to the debriefing room a few minutes after finishing the reports on his case files. He figured it was similar to the cases he had heard all morning, not something that would require his skill. It was mandatory for everyone that could possibly be needed to join in on the briefing just in the case that they would be needed. Pea figured he would be back upstairs sitting at his desk but that thought was so wrong.

When he got downstairs Fangs was waiting there next to a few other agents he had worked alongside of for years. Everything was normal.

“Director” Everyone called to his presence when he walked into the room.

“Okay as some of you know we are preparing for a situation we were just called. We need to act fast so I need your attention. Exactly five minutes ago an alarm was sounded at Sycamore Jewelers located at the center of central avenue”  Pea’s heart stopped. No, not stopped, more like dropped froze completely stopping as Fangs put his hand on his shoulder. He hoped deep down that Y/n had actually decided to stay home, he needed to check his phone, she would have texted him if she did, but it was at his desk. “The individuals' name is undisclosed at this time, all we have is an alarm that was sounded off and reports through the front window of the store. It is confirmed to be a man in his mid-30s to 40s, he had a girl by the hair before he closed off the main entrance. We have 911 calls being reported by individuals that had fled the scene. Since this is a hostage situation I need Special Agent Fogarty on the ground and Chief Marsman Sweet Pea sniper at the ready at the parking garage across the street. Understood” Everyone nodded towards him. “Dismissed, trucks are at the ready”. Pea dropped sitting in the seat behind him as Fangs looked down his way.

“You good”

“Its… Y/N, I there… why is he holding the jewelers' hostage? Fangs, she works there”

“Oh fuck, she’ll be okay, promise, maybe she stayed home”

“It’s on my phone Fangs, my phone is upstairs I don’t know if she is at home or at work”  

Everyone was sent on their way to suit up. Everyone left, except Pea and Fangs. They stood Fangs trying to garner Pea’s attention.  

“Yo Pea, fucking pay attention, Director wants you, now”

“Okay, I got it”

“Sweet Pea, your fiance”

“Yes sir”

“Is she in the building”

“I am not sure sir, told her to stay home today but she is stubborn, you know, so I do believe she is inside the building.

“I wanted to confirm we do have reports of descriptions and she matched as a potential hostage”

“Fuck, why didn’t she just stay home, no, no no”

“Look at me Sweet Pea, you need to pay attention, be strong for her you understand me. Y/N needs you now more than ever, you are the top marksman in the field, you are her best chance right now, I swear to you we will get him”

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

You sat curled in the corner shaking with the fear of what was occurring around you. People being shot, as the glass was being destroyed, even though he was stealing nothing.

“You know you are all lucky you are not dead yet, guess we will see if I chose to leave you alive or let you die while I watch” He shouted through the store as he walked around igniting fear in everyone that was sitting on the ground.

You were completely alone your co-workers and customers scattered around, but you were still on the ground the same spot he pushed you to in the first place, scared beyond shitless to move even for a mili-second.

“You know you all work in this perfect jewelry store, giving people the perfect rings, to start their perfect lives with their beloveds. Well, it is all bullshit! All of it! You will all be dead before I feel betrayal and sorrow like I did when I used this ring! Do you hear me.” You jumped a slight yelp escaping you from his voice that boomed. “Scared darling, I see that you have a happy ending, a ring on that finger must be sad your fiance may never see you again”

“What is your name”

“Danny Deluca, don’t wear it out darling” Deluca walked over, stomping his feet as he went, sending chills to everyone on the ground. He grabbed you standing you up and bringing you to the center of the room. “Gonna make an example out of you sweet girl, a nickname ruined a nickname that used to make you feel safe. Gonna make everyone here watch, make you scream and beg, you don’t deserve that happiness the ring on your finger grants! No one does, but I fucking do!”

“Sir you really do not have to do this”

“Oh but I do sweet girl, I most definitely do”

“No, really. I am sure everything will work out in all honesty, it will all be fine, ask her again I am so sure she would say yes, we can even try a different ring, on the house. I swear it will all be…” The gunshot rang through the air, the sound causing your ears to ring, next came the sweltering pain from the wound on your leg, the pain, the hot wet liquid trickling down. You were shot, he shot you when you were trying to help him. You sank to the floor your hand trying to cover the wound that he had caused.

“You do not give me ways to make my life better! Nothing will make it better because I am unlovable according to her! DO not tell me that she would say yes because she won’t!!, Who wants to give me some advice next huh!” He pointed the gun to one of your customers and then to a coworker you knew. “Someone just… just get him a phone” You knew the way it worked, you saw it on TV, heard some stories Sweet Pea would scream in his sleep when things got bad, you knew it all.

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

Pea trembled as he made his way up to the top of the building. His girl, his fiance, his soon to be child, was in there with that psycho, and he could do nothing.

There were no reports of injuries thus far, according to their report there had only been shots fired but no evidence that anyone had been hurt, which meant he was not allowed to take a shot. Pea set himself up, his sniper at the ready in an instant. He began canvasing starting at the street to detect any involvement from outside individuals but he came up empty. This man was most likely alone. “Sweet Pea in position”

“Fogarty on the ground, Reports have surfaced that bombs have been placed on the interior of the building”

“It has to be a bluff”

“Does not matter Sweet Pea, we have no other evidence”

“Y/N is in there Fogarty I am going to take the shot if the opportunity arises, Director do you read”

“Director present, Sweet Pea do you have eyes on the suspect”

“I do not as of yet sir”

“You are not to shoot, do you read, we have no knowledge of whether those bombs are real or just ploy”

“I copy”  There was no way to argue with his director, he was the head, the lead of the entire unit. What he said went. He searched each window hoping somehow he would see her, or even the suspect for that matter. He moved to a lower corner vantage point hoping to gain sight. But it was to no luck yet.

“Director I need an update”

“He got a phone Sweet Pea, has made demands of his girlfriend to come and wed him, however, we can not meet them, we can not send her in”

“I understand sir, I have eyes on him” He wanted to understand, but he lied. He wanted his fiance’s life safe.

“You are to remain in observatory state, do you copy”

“I copy, sir” He slowly began to break down, his eyes watering knowing just how much danger his beautiful girl could be in. Was she safe? Was she going to die? Was their baby okay?

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

You were leaned against a glass case blood pouring from the wound on your leg, A sweater from a  coworker wrapped around, pain radiating through your entire body.

“Willow” You poked her arm dragging your body closer to hers while Deluca was pacing the front of the store waiting for a response from the agents, you could see them outside, see their guns drawn, you could even see Fangs at one point until he disappeared. “You, you need to get out of here. I have to distract him I know how this works. They are not shooting due to the bomb threat they have to know, bring as many as you can”

“I can’t leave you”

“You have to, I can’t run right now” Deluca stood watching the agents every move. You untied the sweater hoping he would pay attention to the blood pouring from you. You stood making your way over to him, in front of the window. “I need something to stop myself, I’m gonna bleed out Deluca”

“What did I say about using my name” the gun pointed towards you as your leg popped you dropping to the ground an agonizing scream leaving you as a majority of people were fleeing from behind the case.

“You fucker!, Why would you do that! They were my lifeline” he watched as the door slammed behind you.

“They do not deserve this!” He pointed his gun firing a bullet directly into your shoulder. You fell back onto the concrete your hand clutching your shoulder, as he sauntered over, his finger landing directly onto the wound and pressing, your eyes clouded with black dots.

“Leave her alone!” Jonah your coworker screamed before two bullets were put into his stomach.

The only thing you were lucky for was for him not to have shot there yet. Leslie came over running to you as Deluca got onto the phone once again. “Why didn’t you run”

“Couldn’t leave you”

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

5 hours and Sweet Pea hadn’t been told a word. No word of hostage conditions, no word on demands, no word to take a shot even though he had sight on the suspect once again which he relayed to the director multiple times. He was losing his mind at the what-ifs. What if she was hurt, what if she got shot? What if it was her stomach? What if she fell? It was typical you were his sweetheart his whole world. You knew each other since you were kids never thinking of dating till your heart got smashed and he finally had the balls to tell you that he likes you. It took years for that to happen. Years you would never regret though. And you would never regret the heartache the boy before him put you through cause without that you would never have been with him, and he was your world and you were his. Being in the unknown scares the daylights out of Sweet Pea. He spent his life as a serpent, nothing ever really scaring him. The only thing that ever did was when you were in danger, and now more than ever, you were.

Pea listened so intently to every sound coming through his earpiece, every movement of the wind, every drop of the pins waiting for those two words marksman fire but it never came.

“Director I was not aware you would be joining us here, why are you not at command?”

“After 5 hours of practically waiting around, and playing yes sir no sir with a very frustrated marksman. I need to find out for myself, something just doesn’t seem right” the Director huffed.

“Director we have been trying for hours to gain an entry point, but with no knowledge of the bombs we have no way of knowing or trying, Fogarty follow”

Fangs followed closely behind their director, walking to the side of the building where the back entry door was to see the police escorting hostages to ambulances and giving them water and warm blankets.

“What in God's name is going on here!”

“Hello Director Chief Adams here, we are holding and medically checking all the hostages”

“Has anyone said anything?” A young man spoke up.

“I did, sir, I told the officer over there that there were no bombs in the building, it was a fluke she would not listen to me told me I was imagining that there surely was bombs, she would not listen and there is a girl in there bleeding!, I tried to get her to listen. His, his name is Deluca and he, he doesn’t have bombs just a gun” Fangs went over consoling the young man. “Sir she was, she was bleeding… a lot of it was covering the entirety of her blue pants and, and we heard another gunshot and scream when we left, it was her again I know it” at that moment Pea knew, Y/N was always one to lay out her outfit the night before. Last night's choice a pair of blue checkered paints a black button-up. It couldn’t be. She was fine. He told himself. Pea screamed in frustration the sound making Fangs coil back. He didn’t know Pea was on his channel, he did not call for him. He had no idea he was listening, but he knew Pea was in a full-on panic at that point.

Fangs screamed alerting his director on the state of their marksman “Director he knows!” He didn’t need to ask Fangs new protocol, no bomb threat, meant that the suspect would be taken out. “Sweet Pea do you read, place your target marksman and make your shot”

“I… I can’t”

“What do you mean Sweet Pea”

“I mean he is gone Fangs, I don’t see him in my view. No! Fuck! Fangs I had him. I had the perfect shot. I should have shot hours ago when I had the fucking chance. I knew there wasn’t a bomb, I fucking told you”

“Protocol would not have allowed you to shoot and you know it, You gotta stop dude, she needs you. Refocus and find your target do you copy”

“I copy” He repositioned his sniper, that had gone awry in his rage, tears slipped out of his eyes as he was trying to locate the suspect now known to him as Deluca. He couldn’t wait any longer though he tried finding him for 20 minutes with no sight or word of anyone on the ground. He needed to save her. Needed to have her life in his hands to know she would be safe.

Fangs was startled by a hand on his shoulder. Pea placing his rifle into the truck next to him while grabbing a tatical vest. “What the fuck do you think your doing Pea”

“Marksman...”

“Director, I, I need…”

“I know what you need son, save her, that officer fucked up and she will pay but right now you need to save your girl fuck all protocol there is no other way to end this I understand that”

“Thank You, sir” Pea handed Fangs a vest as they both got geared to rush Deluca Pea, cocking the gun he was handed ready to save his girls life.

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

“Deluca! This is Elite Marksman Pea with the hostage protection unit put down your weapon or we will shoot to kill!” He prepares himself full armor alongside of 20 agents and Fangs, ready to storm the man that had caused so much paint to his girl. He heard her hopeful scream

“Marksman!” He felt a relief knowing she was at least breathing. You were in bliss knowing your man was there and your life was protected by him. “He’s here” you whispered to Leslie as she smiled down at you.

Deluca needed a hostage, a hostage that could protect his life so he grabbed you knowing there was no fight left. “Leave her alone!”

“Too fucking late!” You cried out your leg snapped, and your arm was riddled with pain from where his fingers pressed close to your open wound. The pain radiating through your body everywhere throbbing and dripping with what felt like all of your blood. His arm snaked around the front of your throat the gun pressed to your temple. His hands around your neck a feeling you would never quite forget. The cold metal sending another shock through your warm body.  You couldn’t see Pea yet but you knew he was there with you.

“Shoot me! Fucking do it. You don’t have the balls! I hold her life in my hands! And I will take her down with me!” Enough was enough, he knew he had you knew he had to save you. Fangs busted the door open Sweet Pea behind firing around straight into the center of Deluca's eyes. He never missed. It was the one skill he had in every facet. Unparalleled skill to every other sniper. People had ranks, had times where they missed but Pea never did. He was a marksman a skilled one at that. You never heard of missing and in the situation that mattered most, he did his job flawlessly. You fell to the ground with a thud as he did the same. Pea rushing over to your body in an instant.

“Pea” He scooped you up into his lap as the stretcher was being brought in. Your voice smaller than he had ever heard it before. The pain sounding through the quiver that left your lips. You were in so much pain he could hear it, so, so hurt by a man and he didn’t save you soon enough. So, so injured, bleeding, shaking pain, and all he wanted to do was take it from you. To make you feel happy and safe again.

“I love you, mama, your gonna be okay, I promise” Pea moved the matted hair out of your face as he watched your eyes begin to roll further and further back. “I love you so much, do you hear me, you gotta stay with me, okay, you have to mama just stay with me. I’m gonna get you fixed up and you and baby pea are gonna be a-okay Fuck stay with me please, please don’t leave me Y/N” Pea sobbed a tear running down his cheek and landing on the smeared blood that adorned yours. Your eyes closed as you fell limp in his arms, no fight left to stay awake. “No, Y/N… no, no, no you can’t”

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

“Pea rode with you in the ambulance Fangs following closely behind as everyone else stayed at the scene. Upon arrival he saw Pea sitting in a chair, blood covered his hands, his shirt his pants, your blood, the blood of his fiance, his baby's mother, his love, blood that was not in his control, blood that he could have prevented but didn’t.

“Pea she will be okay, promise”

“You can’t promise me that Fangs! She went limp! I felt her die in my arms! Fuck, Fangs. I… I can’t lose her don’t you get it she, without her, this life, I never would have done it, fuck you never would have done it. She pushes everyone she knows better, she finds the best in everyone I mean god, I can’t lose her”

Without another word, Fangs sat next to him holding him close as the marksman, the protector, the man who never showed feared cried and cried not knowing what was happening to his fiance.

Pea sat waiting covered in your blood. You were a fighter through and through. You were on the table clinging to life. You lost pints of blood throughout that day needing multiple transfusions to even get you up to a minimum amount needed in your system. Multiple bullets removed; one from your leg and two form your shoulder. Your entire leg was fractured and had to be reset, a good chance you may not be able to walk. 201 stitches to be exact. You were in between doctors multiple working on you during surgery. You were hooked to life support, oxygen, breathing tubes, heart monitors the whole nine. They thought they lost you for a bit your heart flatlining for 25 seconds before it began to pump on its own once again. You were stable, stitched, color returning to your face that had begun to grow pale by the minute. You were not out of the woods yet, still sleeping as the anesthesia wore off.

Pea and Fangs were still huddled together when the nurse came to get him. “Family for Y/N Y/L/N”. They stood up in an instant. “Relation to the patient”

“I am her fiance, and this is her brother” Yeah they may have lied, Fangs was not her brother, but Pea wouldn’t be able to do this alone. “How is she?”

“There were complications, she lost a lot of blood, but transfusions were given. She died on the table but began pumping her heart once again, and she has many stitches and a cast on her leg because it had to be reset, but everything seems to be going well, and they are both fighting strong”

Fangs was confused both? “She’s pregnant Fangs” Fangs wanted to congratulate him but instead he followed, the monotone voice pea had shown just how broken he was after having his girl die in his arms how much he didn’t need the congratulations at that moment. No matter if she was alive or not that would always haunt him.

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

From the moment Pea was allowed to be by your bedside he didn’t leave for a second. You deserved the rest. So tired after fighting for two lives. Both yours and your unborn child. Pea held your hand slipping your cleaned engagement ring back on your finger so, so careful not to hit your shoulder or move it in any way that would cause discomfort.

He sat there watching you, so broken, so bruised. The guilt rushed through him. He needed to get it out needed to convey how afraid he was before he burst. “Damnit Y/n I thought I lost you, God I feel like I’ve been to hell and back today and to see you safe I’d do it again just please come back to me” Sweet Pea whispered. He was talking to himself more than anything. You twitched softly, eyes opening as a hi was whispered out from your lips.

Pea got up in a second standing above so she could see him, as he rubbed his fingers through her hair. “Shhh. Hey, I'm right here. I’m here with you, okay, but don’t move too much okay mama, your gonna be in a lot of pain.”

“I’m here... you, you saved me”

“Yes, baby you fought so strong for you and little Pea and I am so proud of you mama” he didn’t acknowledge the part about saving her, because to him saving her meant her not being injured at all, he failed at the duty he promised

“I love you Pea”

“I have to go get the doctors to come and check on you”

“NO, NO, NO!, DON’t” tears raked through your body the panic in your voice rising, your breathing heavied, your heart monitor skyrocketing.

“Ok, ok, shhh, I won’t leave, I’ll just push the call button okay. Look at me, I won’t leave, promise.” His fingers raked through your hair as the button rang, you not letting go of his hand for even a second needing to know he was there.

“Alright Mr, Sweet Pea can you please leave so we can conduct some tests on Y/N”

“I…”

“NO! Don’t make him leave me”

“It will only be for a second Y/N”

“No, no, no, no DON’T MAKE HIM! I Need him” your eyes clouded with tears both from the pain of your body shaking and the fear of Pea having to leave you. He was your savior, your knight in shining armour. “Don’t”

“Look at me Y/N, I promise I’m not gonna leave you okay,. You gotta calm down baby, your gonna hurt yourself, okay. Y/N look at me, not even the toughest of people could make me, I’m right here with you, okay. Hey, shh look at me” His hand came cradling around your cheek as he raised your eyes to look to his. “I’m not gonna leave, promise”. He kissed the top of your head before turning to the doctors.  “I can’t leave her, I won’t leave her, not for a second”

“Alright we will work around you, as I can see she won’t let you go”

“Thank you” They checked everything your vitals improved substantially from the last time, your pain level had risen a bit due to the trashing when they tried to take pea away from you, but other than that you were looking good, and so was the little pea inside of you. The doctors left to your own. Pa sat next to you carefully stroking your forehead with his thumb as the pain meds began to work.

“Pea..” You poked his cheek, a small chuckle coming fro his lips

“What do you need baby?”

“Lay with me”

“I can’t baby, I don’t wanna hurt you”

“Please, can’t sleep without you, I want you next to me” A tear slipping out of your eye.

“Hey, hey, shhh. Okay, I will,  but if I even cause the slightest pain then i'm getting up okay?”

“Okay” You sat quietly with him for a few minutes, before he spoke up after connecting his lips to your forehead.

“Baby I just, I’m so sorry for... for not getting you out of there earlier. I am so fucking sorry for causing you al this pain. For, putting your life and baby pea’s life on the line. Fuck if I could...” You placed your hand on his cheek making him lean down and connecting your lips with his.

“Shhh, babe, You saved us Pea, none of this was your fault. You did what you had to do, and, you, you saved us both” He knew he did, but it still haunted him. Your shoulder throbbed as you moved your hand atop sweet pea’s that rested on your stomach. But he saved you. Saved you and the little pea that was growing inside. He was your protector.  

[stolethekey]

i close my eyes, let it surround me

COMIN’ IN HOT THE NIGHT BEFORE THE DEADLINE HERE WE GO

this is for @397bartonstreet, who asked for something about amy knitting jake a scarf pre-relationship and it being his favorite thing in the world bc he's already lowkey smitten with her. what a concept honestly it took me so long to just wrap my head around how incredible that idea was.

and shoutout to the team at @b99fandomevents for hosting yet another successful event! these things are not easy to do well and y’all do it consistently. thanks for providing a platform for us writers to share our work and make some new friends. 

anyway. you can read this on ao3 here. enjoy!

-

Amy loves the fall.

It’s the perfect season, really – the crisp air is a welcome reprieve from the swampy New York summer, but it’s not the unbearable cold of December, either. It’s a season of scarves and sweaters but not snow boots, of morning walks with a warm coffee in hand but no need for mittens.

It’s also flu season.

And while Amy hasn’t gotten the flu in ten years (flu shots and home remedies, baby!), she takes a sort of strange satisfaction in watching her coworkers succumb to the illness. It’s not that she enjoys their pain – she doesn’t, no matter what Rosa mutters under her breath every year – but this perfectly benign illness is a way for her to finally take care of her colleagues without them complaining.

She likes to take care of people. And flu season is her time to shine.

The only annoying thing about flu season is that Jake somehow also never gets sick. This is a phenomenon, she thinks, that is inexplicable by the known laws of nature, much like platypus eggs or the horizon problem. It is patently unfair that he remains healthy (to use the term loosely) on a diet of sour candy and orange soda, whereas she has had to concoct a careful schedule of Vitamin C and ginger broth to stave off the flu.

In any case, Jake never gets sick. And no matter how unjust Amy believes that to be, every November sees the two of them become the only constants in the bullpen.

So, when she walks into the precinct the second week of November to see his desk empty, the uncomfortable surprise that jolts through her body is completely reasonable. It is completely reasonable for her to badger Captain Holt for her partner’s whereabouts, and upon learning that he is sick, it is completely reasonable for her to hole herself away in the evidence lockup and call said partner.

Jake picks up on the third ring, his voice sounding muted through the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Amy says, feet shuffling restlessly against the floor. “Holt said you called in sick.”

He gives a weak murmur of assent. “I think I have the flu, or something? I’m so congested and my whole body is cold and I think I have a fever? I can’t really tell.”

Amy feels her eyes narrow. “You’re never sick.”

“I know,” Jake says sourly. “Guess my good luck ran out.”

A faint, triumphant smile starts to make its way across Amy’s face. “So, what you’re saying is – I beat you.”

Jake groans. “Don’t let it go to your head. I personally think the fact that I lasted as long as I did is impressive, considering you spent hours of your time trying to prevent the flu and I just coasted and did nothing.”

Amy’s grin grows wider as he keeps going. “If anything, I think I am the true winner, because I invested less time and still got just as far. It’s about the return on investment. I got an equal return on zero investment.”

“You did not get equal return. I’m not sick. Which means I got more return.”

Jake snorts. “Details.”

“Make fun of my methods all you want,” Amy says loftily. “I get results, boy. Which is why you are currently sitting at home, miserable and cold, while I am working a double homicide.”

A high-pitched whine comes through the receiver, and Amy laughs. “Bye, Jake. I have a murderer to catch.”

She doesn’t talk to him again until later that day, when her phone lights up with a text.

From: Jake Peralta amy help i think it’s getting worse 2:34 pm

She feels a twinge of pity as she types her response.

To: Jake Peralta yes, it does that sometimes 2:35 pm

From: Jake Peralta can u give me some of ur weird home remedies pls i promise i’ll stop making fun of them 2:37 pm

To: Jake Peralta you just called them “weird” 2:38 pm

From: Jake Peralta :( 2:38 pm

From: Jake Peralta ok starting now 2:39 pm

From: Jake Peralta please I think I’m dying 2:45 pm

Amy sighs as she glances at his empty desk, mentally calculating the time it’ll take for her to drive home after her shift and gather her things.

To: Jake Peralta Fine. If you can stay alive for three more hours, I’ll be there at 5:40. 2:47 pm

From: Jake Peralta always so specific (ur the best thank u) 2:48 pm She shows up at his door at 5:40 sharp, two plastic bags in her arms. Her instinctual sarcastic comment dies on the tip of her tongue as the door opens to reveal a disheveled, very-clearly-just-asleep Jake.

“Oh,” she says, taking in his knotted hair and deathly pale skin. “I mean, hi.”

“Yeah, it’s bad,” he grumbles, his voice muted. “Come in.”

He shuffles aside, socked feet sliding against the floorboards, and Amy steps into his apartment.

She notes with some surprise that the floor is mostly bare, uncovered by dirty clothes, and a quick glance reveals no empty take-out containers on the coffee table. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your place is…surprisingly clean.”

Jake coughs weakly behind her. “I tried to shove some stuff into the cupboards before you got here,” he says, shutting the door. “I know you hate mess.”

Something very unwelcome swells in Amy’s chest as she sets her bags on the counter. “Oh my God, Jake, you really didn’t have to, you’re clearly so sick –“

“Mmm, ’sfine,” he mumbles, turning toward the bedroom. “I’m gonna sleep now. Make yourself at home.”

“Oh,” Amy says again. “I mean, yeah, of course, you need it – I’ll set up here and wait for you.”

“You’re the best.”

She laughs, he gives her a weak, soft smile, and with that, he disappears into his room, leaving her to rifle through her bags in an attempt to bury the flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

-

When Jake wakes, it takes him a minute to remember that he’s not alone.

It’s a good thing that he remembers when he does, because walking mostly naked into the hallway while his colleague whom he respects very much and may or may not have a tiny crush on is rustling around in his kitchen is absolutely not something he wants to do, no matter how sick he is.

He doesn’t completely remember taking his clothes off, but he guesses somewhere in between him sliding into bed and now, his fever made him go from freezing cold to unbearably hot and that’s why his sweatpants are currently lying abandoned on the floor. He pauses to pull them back on, and as he grabs his T-shirt off the foot of his bed he notes with some relief that he feels somewhat more like himself.

Amy is perched on his couch when he enters the living room, and the gentle kindness in her eyes as she looks up makes his heart clench.

He clears his throat, determinedly trying to focus on something else. “Are you knitting?”

Her eyebrows scrunch together as she looks him up and down, the needles stilling in her hands. “Are you really in a position to be making fun of me right now?”

“I’m not making fun of you,” he says hastily, holding his hands up. “Just – observing. Is that a scarf?”

“It’s going to be, yeah. Good eye.”

He smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s really good. Honestly. I love that shade of blue.”

She returns his smile, and for a moment he thinks that maybe he could get used to this, that maybe he likes the sight of her snuggled comfortably into the side of his couch.

Amy coughs. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” he answers, making his way into the kitchen to hide the blush that’s spread onto his cheeks. “Did you bring those magic cures you promised?”

“Yeah!” She jumps almost excitedly off the couch, laying her half-finished scarf on his coffee table. “Here, let me set it up.”

She hurries past him and starts untying the top of a plastic bag he hadn’t noticed initially. “I actually ordered you some soup and bread – I brought you some meds, too, but you should have something in your stomach before you take them.”

A large plastic tub emerges from the bag, and she grins. “Lucky you – it’s still hot.”

He takes it with a murmur of thanks, and she shoves him toward the table. “Go eat that. I’m gonna prep.”

The soup is heavenly, although Jake isn’t sure it’s possible to mess up chicken noodle soup, and as he tears into the bread he sneaks a glance at Amy.

A pot of liquid is boiling on the stove as she chops something on his cutting board, and as he watches her maneuver easily around his kitchen he feels a curious sense of longing start to rise in his chest.

“Okay,” she says, and his head snaps up. “Push that soup to the side. The goal here is to minimize steam loss, so I’m gonna brief you now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She rolls her eyes, but the authoritative tone remains in her voice when she continues. “When I slide this bowl in front of you, you’re going to lower your face so that it’s immediately above the liquid. And then you’re just gonna breathe it in.”

“Like the way pop stars steam their vocal cords.”

“Sure. Yes. Ready?”

He nods, she pours the liquid from the pot into the bowl, and before he can react, his face is directly above a translucent, brownish-orange broth and a towel is being draped over his head.

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“It’s to keep the steam in. Shut up and close your eyes.”

He does, breathing deeply, and immediately starts coughing. “Wha – what is in this?”

“Don’t move!” Amy says indignantly, her voice muffled through the towel. “It’s apple cider vinegar, ginger, garlic, echinacea, and some peppermint. It should help with the congestion and clear some stuff up.”

“It’s spicy!”

Amy laughs. “You’ll get used to it. Keep breathing.”

He falls silent obediently, and as they lapse into a comfortable quiet he starts to feel it again.

The flu is definitely messing with his brain, but a part of him never wants to be sick without her again. Maybe she could take care of him every time he’s sick or hurt or sad. Maybe he could take care of her, too. Maybe he wants the comfort she brings when she’s here. Maybe her coat could find a permanent place draped over his armchair. Maybe it could stay – and maybe she could stay –

“Okay,” she says suddenly, making him jump almost guiltily. “It’s been like ten minutes – how’s the temperature?”

“Um, good,” he says, forcing his voice to remain casual. “It’s pretty lukewarm, actually. Not much steam left.”

Her voice says, “I think you’re done, then,” and then the towel is yanked off his head and he’s blinking in the bright lights of his living room.

She whisks away the bowl before he even has a chance to react, sliding it onto his countertop with a little flourish. “You can reuse that up to three times – it’ll probably still be good tomorrow. Just re-boil it. I’ll text you the full recipe for when you need to make more – you should probably do this twice a day until you feel better.”

“Um, okay. Thanks.”

She gives him a small smile, then passes him a handful of pills and a glass of water. “Take ‘em.”

He swallows them obediently as she holds up a pill organizer. “I’ve put a week’s supply in here, so you don’t have to figure out how much to take. You should be almost back to normal by the time it runs out, but if not, I’ll give you more.”

He gives her a petulant frown. “I’m not an old man.”

She snorts. “Don’t get sick and beg me like a baby, then.”

He laughs, and she smiles, wringing her hands almost nervously. “I think that’s mostly it – so, um, I’ll head out, let you get some rest – I’ll leave my peppermint and echinacea for you to use, I have plenty at home – ”

“Wait,” he says, much too quickly. “Do you – would you want to stay? I mean, if you’re busy, I totally get it, I just – I’m actually kind of sick of lying in bed all day, and, um, I’d love some company – I read an article about this documentary on cubism we could watch – “

“You’d watch a documentary about cubism with me?”

He gives her an embarrassed smile. “You brought me soup. It’s the least I can do.”

She blushes slightly and rolls her eyes. “Technically, Paul from Postmates brought you soup.”

“Then give me his number and get out of my house.”

Amy laughs, lively and bright, and Jake’s heart soars.

“Fine,” she says, pouring herself a glass of water. “But I’m finishing my scarf as we watch it.”

“Deal.”

And maybe it’s just a coincidence, maybe it’s fate, but when the precinct’s annual Secret Santa rolls around and Jake tears open the wrapping paper to find a familiar, hand-knit blue scarf, he can’t help but feel like the world is trying to tell him something.  

Or, maybe, one person is trying to tell him something.

And as he walks into the bullpen the next morning with his new scarf warm and secure around his neck, he finds it really, really hard to tell the difference.

[barnes-belle]

Beauty and the Barnes (12)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Lots of Smut, Light Hints of Non/Dub-Con, Prostitution, Swearing, Dark Bucky. (I can’t stress enough that this is kinda dark, Buckys an asshole and the kind of behavior that goes on in this fic is in no way acceptable in the real world)

When your father falls deathly ill you fall into a lifestyle you would have never predicted for yourself. Selling your body as a high-class escort isn’t ideal but it’s the only way to find the money you need to help your father, until your first client offers you another way.

Bucky’s mean, coarse and gets a kick out of watching you squirm but he is willing to help your father. All you have to do is sign yourself over to The Winter Soldier, body and soul.

Trapped in The Avengers compound, serving as a PA to a man who’s an absolute beast you find yourself wondering if there’s such a thing as a happy ending?

Masterlist

Chapter Twelve 

Your fingers tentatively probed at your throat, marvelling at the accelerated healing. Tony had injected something into the skin that had made the bruising fade in a matter of hours. When you woke up you looked like a horror show and now, only a few hours later you were good as new. You could still feel a slight ache, but it was manageable.

Physical trauma had been dealt with and now you were taking on the phycological side of things. The snow had continued to fall and the grounds of the compound were a pristine white. Not a drop of red in sight. You wrapped your scarf around your neck tightly and tugged your gloves on before slipping out of the door, hesitantly making your way through the snow.

 “What are you doing?”

 You yelped and spun around, nearly slipping on the icy ground in surprise. Bucky moved quickly, his arms grabbing your hips and keeping you upright while he looked almost apologetic about scaring you.

 “I’m sorry.” He said softly, letting go of you.

 “It’s alright, you just surprised me.” You said, grinning at your own clumsiness.

 “My question still stands, what are you doing?” He asked, frowning at the bag in your hands.

 “It’s birdseed!” You exclaimed, holding up the bag for him to study.

 “Why?” He asked, utterly perplexed.

 “Well with all the snow and the ground being frozen solid, the birdies can’t find food very easily so I wanted to help them out.” You explained.

 “Is there anyone you’re not kind to?” He asked in awe.

 “Hydra agents.” You said with a grimace.

 Your quick answer drew a surprised huff of laughter from him before he looked sheepish for laughing at the obviously painful memory.

 “Sorry.” He said, running his hand through his hair nervously.

 “It’s not your fault.” You assured him, linking your arm through his to his astonishment.

 “What are you doing?” He demanded.

 “Trying to stay upright.” You said innocently.

 “Oh.” He said, with a hint of disappointment.

 You untied the bag of birdseed and carefully sprinkled some on top of the snow before pulling Bucky back a few feet to wait. It was only a few moments before one or two birds came to investigate, chirping happily as the pecked at your offering. You watched them happily, glancing at Bucky from time to time. He seemed strangely fascinated by the birds, watching them carefully.

 “Can.. I mean, could…” He stammered, looking at the bag of seed you were holding.

 You smiled and pulled his metal hand towards you, palm facing up and tipped a small pile of seed onto his hand. He closed his fist around it and looked at the birds, deciding against throwing it and scaring them. He silently crept closer and knelt down, slowly extending his hand to drop the seed on the ground when one very brave and curious birds chirped loudly and hopped across the snow to perch on his hand, eating the seed directly from Bucky’s metal appendage. Bucky made a huffing sound of surprise and looked at you helplessly.

 You had to cover your mouth to stifle the laughter at the sight of the big bad Winter Soldier knelt in the snow, too afraid to move lest he scare the robin perched on his metal hand. More and more birds fluttered over, seemingly unbothered by Bucky’s presence and gratefully pecking away at the seed he was holding for them. Slowly, the tension and surprise faded and he actually smiled softly at the strange turn of events.

 Your laughter dissipated into awe and admiration at the sight before you and you felt something like butterflies in your stomach. This was the Bucky who had been hidden beneath the mean and coarse, unrefined man you’d first met. The tender way he held himself was so sweet and kind, you honestly wondered how you had never seen it there before.

 Bucky glanced over at you to see if you were laughing at him and his heart faltered at the way you were gazing at him. Like he was something worth gazing at and not something to recoil from. Even when you’d poured the seed into his metal hand, you hadn’t so much as shuddered at the cool metal despite it having been wrapped around your throat the day prior. You had always been so patient with him, so kind but this was different, It was almost like lo… no, he was imagining things. He turned away, determined to ignore you. Still, you’d never looked at him this way before.

 “Are you seeing this?” Sam asked, peering out of the window.

 “What?” Peter asked, running over, trying to push between Steve and Sam to see what they were looking at.

 “Well who’d have thought?” Steve said, grinning at the sickeningly sweet sight.

 “You did, you can gloat.” Sam sighed.

 “What are you looking at?” Peter asked again.

 “Yes, but I didn’t think they’d come together on their own. I thought they would have needed more of a push.” Steve admitted.

 “What’s going on?” Tony asked, wandering over to see what the fuss was about.

 Steve moved over so Tony could see.

 “Aww, come on!” Peter protested.

 “Well, this is new.” Tony remarked with clear amusement.

 “WHAT’S NEW?” Peter demanded.

 “Nothing your young, innocent eyes needs to see.” Tony joked.

 “But..”

 “They’re gone now.” Steve said apologetically.

 “Who’s gone?” Peter asked.

 “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Tony said, ruffling Peter’s hair obnoxiously.

 When Bucky finally tore himself away from his new friends he came over and straight away offered you his arm again.

 “Did you want to go inside or, maybe walk a bit?” He asked.

 “We can walk.” You said, trying to hide a shiver.

 “You’re cold.” He of course noticed.

 “I’m ok, I have a coat on.”

 “Have mine.” He insisted, shrugging it off and draping across your shoulders before you could protest.

 “I don’t need it, really… what’s that?” You asked, noticing the heavy weight in the inside pocket.

 “Oh, that’s your book.” He said, blushing slightly.

 “You’re reading it?” You asked delightedly, pulling it out.

 “Yeah. I actually liked it.” He admitted.

 “Liked, you finished it?” You asked, flipping through it.

 “I’m re-reading it, now I know how it ends I wanted to go back and pick up on all the bits I might have missed the first time.” He explained.

 You looked up at him in surprise.

 “You really did like it.” You said softly, not trying to mask the happiness in your voice.

 “I did. The main character was interesting, he started out kind of unlikable. He was naive and foolhardy but I liked how he grew and changed the more he saw of the world and his friendship with the slave grew.” Bucky said eagerly.

 “Yeah, he was a bit stupid at first. So consumed with how everyone else saw him and selfish really but he changed so much as it went on. I really liked how his entire perspective changed as it went on.” You agreed.

 “Why did you lend me that one? How did you know I would like it?” Bucky asked.

 “It’s actually one of my favourites. The author writes a lot of kind or creepy teen fiction stories I grew up with but this was the first thing of his I read that was more grown up. It still has that almost childlike wonder feel to it though.” You gushed.

 “You grew up reading creepy teen fiction stories?” He laughed.

 “I grew up reading just about anything and everything I could get my hands on. When I was about six I was upset because I didn’t have many friends. My grandmother gave me boxes of books she spent weeks collecting from charity shops and second hand stores and told me that ‘as long as I could read, I would always have a friend’.” You admitted.

 “She sounds like an incredibly wise woman.” Bucky noted.

 “She was. She really was.” You sighed wistfully, smiling at the memory of her.

 “I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be your friend.” He told you honestly.

 “You didn’t want to be my friend.” You pointed out.

 “I did. I do.” He whispered.

 “You say that like you had a chance of refusing.” You smirked.

 “How foolish of me.” He snorted.

 You smiled up at him until you remembered what you’d spent the morning doing and dug through your pockets.

 “Here.” You told Bucky, smiling sweetly and holding out a slip of paper.

 “What’s this?” He frowned, looking over the list of numbers.

 “Phone numbers for physiatrist’s who specialize in working with veterans and people with PTSD. All of them were checked over and recommended by Sam and then thoroughly checked out by Tony and Friday before Steve and I called them all personally and removed any we didn’t think you’d like. If you crumple that piece of paper up, you and I are going to have a problem.” You told him sternly.

 His mature response was to snarl at you.

 “I know you’re from the 40’s where people didn’t talk about the mess inside their minds but if you can bring yourself to accept colour television then you can try therapy. All you have to do is meet them, you don’t even have to talk at all until you want to, even then you can say as much or as little as you like. If they give you advice, it’s your choice as to whether or not you take it. Just pick a name, call them and go sit in an office for an hour a week. Or we can bring them here.” You pleaded.

 “No.”

 “I’m sorry, I’m not explaining this very well. You’re doing it. Once you meet with them it becomes your choice but you are meeting somebody.” You ordered.

 “No, I’m not.” He growled.

 “James Buchanan Barnes so help me god I will drag your snarling ass there myself if I have to.” You huffed.

 Bucky looked confused by your attitude, like a puppy who had just been scolded for the first time. It almost broke your resolve, it was that adorable.

 “No.”

 Adorable or not, bionic arm or not, you were going to start throwing things at him.

 “Look Bucky, you can agree to it or….” You trailed off.

 “Or what?”

 “Steve and Tony want me to move out of your suite, I argued them down on the agreement I would get you to see a professional.” You admitted.

 “NO! They can’t take you away from me.” He said possessively.

 “Then go sit on a couch and glare at a stranger for an hour. Please?” You begged.

 Ideally, therapy would be something that someone would do willingly. Blackmailing him into going was a very last resort though and you weren’t lying when you’d said Steve and Tony had tried to move you into a different room. They were at the end of their ropes with him, the bruising on your throat being the final straw. If this was the only way to get him to speak to someone then so be it.

 “Fine.” He huffed.

 “Really? You’ll do it?” You asked hopefully.

 “For you, I’ll do it for you.” He promised, slipping the paper into his pocket.

 You felt bad that you’d spoiled the good mood but you’d done it with the best of intentions. You knew he needed help, he needed to be able to learn to live with the pain instead of letting it consuming him. But maybe there was a way to get him to smile again… or get yourself in trouble. Either way it was a distraction.

 “What’s that?” You said, frowning at something on the ground.

 “What?” He asked as you pulled your hand from his and ran over to check, bending down for a closer look.

 “Belle what is it?” He demanded, following you.

 Just as he approached his question was answered in the form of a face full of snow and your laughter ringing loudly in his ears. He brushed the powdery white flakes from his face in disbelief and watched with narrowed eyes as you scarpered away, running for cover. You ducked behind a tree and bit down on your lip to stifle a laugh. You nervously peeked our from behind the trunk but he was nowhere to be seen.

 “Looking for me doll?” He whispered in your ear, arms ensconcing your waist to stop you escaping.

 “If I beg for mercy, what are my chances?” You asked timidly.

 “Slim.” He admitted, picking you and carrying you over to a large pile of snow.

 “Bucky no! Please! MERCY! UNCLE! I SURRENDER!” You shrieked to no avail.

 He unceremoniously dumped you into the ice cold pile of snow and chuckled at your shocked spluttering.

 “Cold!” You yelped.

 “It is frozen water.” He shrugged.

 “I hate you.” You huffed, struggling to get up.

 He laughed freely at your pathetic attempts before he finally took pity on you and helped you up. During your struggles, his coat had slipped from your shoulders and your scarf had loosened and you saw his eyes snap to your throat. His hand gently brushed your hair away from your neck and he frowned at the remarkably clear skin.

 “You’re healed.” He said in wonder.

 “Tony. Well, the famous Doctor Banner actually. He gave Tony something to speed up the process and honestly, it was only light bruising anyway.” You explained.

 “Tony did this for you?”

 “Well, I asked if there was anything he could do to speed it up.” You admitted.

 The unspoken confession, that you wanted it gone so he would touch you again, was heard even though you didn’t say it out loud. He leaned in, his lips brushing over the skin in the hollow of your throat and it wasn’t the freezing cold surrounding you that had you shivering. He tenderly kissed every single centimetre of your neck, an apology in every light press of his lips and you basked in the affection. When his mouth traced your jawline you sighed dreamily, cold forgotten.

 He moved up, his lips dangerously close to yours and you sighed softly. That was when your body decided to remind you of how cold you were and a painfully violent shiver rippled through you.

 “You’re frozen!” He exclaimed, fixing his coat around you securely again and pulling you towards the building.

 You didn’t say anything, still affected by what had just transpired. Or almost transpired. There was no denying that something had shifted in the dynamic between the two of you and where there had once been anger and attitude, there was now tenderness and… maybe joy? Whatever it was, it was new and a bit alarming.

A/N - The thing Belle's grandmother said to her was actually something my wonderful granny said to me when I was a little girl and she was right.

Sam: I don't like him. Belle: That's a shame because your family loves him. Sam: What? Belle: *Points at Bucky sat on the ground, covered in birds*

@spnqueen02 @nogardsoahk @chipilerendi   @youwerespared @jessieray98@nochampagnesocialist@scarlettswxtch@dropthepizza346@jsmith509@musingpredilection@shirukitsune@dragonrosegardens@sexyvixen7@spicymagz @teh-nerdette@nerdy-bookworm-1998@australianhorrorstory @thejourneyneverendsx@mysweetcookie99 @likes-to-smell-books 

[sharkmartini]

here's some end of year things :D 1. First things first, did you have a good year? 18. What was one nice thing you did for someone else? 19. What was one nice thing you did for yourself?

🥰🥰 THANKS FOR THE ASKS 🥰🥰

1.  First things first, did you have a good year?

I had an excellent year- probably because 2018 was such a shit year everything else looked amazing by comparison. I reached a lot of professional and personal goals, and now I’m side eyeing 2020 because I doubt it will be as productive.

18.  What was one nice thing you did for someone else?

A lot of the nice things I’ve done that I’m proud of can be directly tied to my job- which makes them not as nice in retrospect so I won’t count those.

BUT- I’m back in school to upgrade my credentials and I’m a hyper competitive person. I try really really hard- so it kills me when I’m not the best at something. There’s a guy in my program who kicks my ass all day long while also raising his kids and supporting his wife and working a full 40 hour week outside of our rotations and placements. So naturally I didn’t like him. 

During one of our semesters he had a family member back home die and he was about to drop the program because he couldn’t keep up- which made me SO ANGRY. Instead I kicked his ass for weeks from halfway across the world, taking notes and secretly recording lectures and sending him study materials and making summary notes and all that. I even signed him up for all my advanced projects and had him ‘contribute’ long distance so he’d get credit and not fail assignments or have to redo the semester next year. FINALLY he was able to come back and sit his exams and rejoined our cohort without missing anything.

We’re pals now. And he still kicked my ass during our consolidation examination, which still makes me burn inside but winning by default would have been even WORSE. Also I’ve realized it costs me nothing to admit that he deserves it because he works hard and is a great person.

19.  What was one nice thing you did for yourself?

I tried a lot harder to be nicer to others, including myself. It’s lame advice, but it really makes a difference. Usually I panic and throw tantrums (lol, for real) when things don’t go my way, but this year I actively tried to chill out and treat myself the way I’d treat a friend instead of spiraling. It made the year much better and easier, and now instead of panicking over everything I am unable to achieve I prefer instead to build on my strengths and encourage others to do the same. I think it made all of my personal relationships better too- and made me happier because of that.

THANKS AGAIN FOR ASKING!

Ask me about my year

[jeritaylorswade]

DSA: Direct Selling and the Virtual Push because of COVID

“ Like most people, direct selling executives are crossing out travel and large in-person gatherings from their calendars. For an industry known for its relational appeal, eliminating the face-to-face factor should be crushing. But instead, many executives are reporting that they feel more connected to their teams than ever before and are experiencing record engagement.”

“I’ve been involved in more field events in the last two months than I have been since I started the company in 2014,” says MONAT President Stuart MacMillan. Connecting virtually has become part of the daily workflow for MacMillan and many direct selling executives like him, as their teams and distributors take part in trainings while experiencing the benefits of connecting from home for both small- and large-scale events. “I still don’t believe there’s any replacement for face-to-face, and our people are itching to get back together—both employees and the field,” MacMillan says. “But I think what we’ve learned is that between those opportunities to get together, there are better ways to do this.”

Increasing Engagement with Function and Fun

This shift to virtual has opened the event doors wider, allowing people who would normally be limited by family obligations or financial flexibility to participate. For SeneGence Founder and CEO Joni Rogers-Kante, virtual events have drastically impacted the company’s attendance numbers. “Only a percentage of distributors go to our events, and ours was never a huge percentage,” Rogers-Kante says. “But we have five times more distributors than we have ever had at a single seminar because it was online, and they just got to sit down and login.”

The SeneGence virtual event sought to emulate a lot of the function—as well as fun—of a live event by passing out virtual awards that instantly appeared across social media channels as names were announced, conducting drawings and shipping prizes to distributors’ houses. While their next company-wide in-person event has been postponed, the SeneGence team is already implementing plans for a conference that will take place in Tulsa. “We think it will be the largest event we’ve ever had because people are so excited to get back together, and we have so many new distributors who can’t wait to actually physically show up at a SeneGence event. We just know it’s going to blow everything we’ve done out of the water.”

“We have five times more distributors than we have ever had at a single seminar because it was online, and they just got to sit down and login.”—Joni Rogers-Kante, SeneGence Founder & CEO

10 Cents on the Dollar, 10 Times the Reach

Twenty-four hours after a recent Mannatech virtual live event, the entire 12-hour event was available for replay. The 6,500 unique visitors, representing a ballpark of 8,000 to 12,000 viewers who watched the virtual event live, quickly multiplied as people shared the content and participated after the event had ended. A traditional Mannatech event hosts 1,200 to 1,500 people.

“For one-tenth of the expense, we were able to connect with six to ten times the number of people we would have connected with,” says Mannatech CEO and President Al Bala. And although event product sales were one-third of the normal amount, Bala says it was offset by the savings in product transport to the event and the convenience of shipping it directly to consumers’ homes. “It was more efficient and definitely more profitable sales than we would have had normally.”

“Even though we aren’t all together, we see you!”

“Going virtual” has a simple ring to it, but executives in the driver’s seat know the challenging behind-the-scenes experience of sifting through broadcasting options and platforms. Arbonne, who planned to launch 13 new products at their live convention this year, suddenly had only a fraction of their usual preparation time to devise communication strategies that would build excitement while playing well through the screen. Social media, which has always assumed a role at Arbonne events, was now critical, and the company leaned hard into these social integrations. To allow the executive team space to focus on engaging with attendees through the chat function, much of the content was prerecorded.

“Virtual GTC 2020 was created in about four weeks, and because of the incredibly pressing deadline, we absolutely learned as we went,” says Arbonne Senior Director of Communications Kristen Gruber. Gruber’s social media team developed teasers, quizzes and other interactive content that posted throughout the event. “This provided a level of engagement to our audience to really say, ‘Even though we aren’t all together, we see you!’”

Despite the fog of uncertainty during the first few weeks of the stay at home orders, LegalShield dove headfirst into creating virtual experiences and may have been the first direct sales company in North America to pivot to an entirely live-streamed international convention on April 4. When it became clear that their planned live event would not take place, the company transformed the auditorium in their Oklahoma headquarters into a full studio with only three weeks’ lead time. From there, they offered 16 hours of training content and recognition from over 40 field leaders and live hosts to more than 10,000 viewers. In addition, more than 5,000 associates joined their two-day Zoom Breakout Trainings before the larger event.

“For one-tenth of the expense, we were able to connect with six to ten times the number of people we would have connected with.”— Mannatech CEO & President Al Bala.

“Our field leaders are extremely creative in using Zoom as a recruiting and training platform,” says LegalShield Network Division President Don Thompson. “They use breakout rooms to host associates and their guests after a presentation for a Q&A session and for associate interaction.”

To not only survive, but thrive in this unprecedented environment, LegalShield’s CEO Jeff Bell has cast a vision for the company as a “digital disruptor” who uses technology to fulfill their company’s mission. The focus for the company is not on their limitations, but rather on how they can innovate and improve and use the tools available to spread their message and keep the field engaged and excited. “We are not at the level of Netflix or CBS,” Bell says, “but we are getting smarter and more successful in producing engaging content.”

As companies expand their live-streams to their international markets, the existing cultural and language barriers will have to be considered. Elepreneurs Chief Impact Officer Garrett McGrath, who also serves as President of the Association of Network Marketing Professionals, is watching as these virtual events begin to take shape on a global, multi-lingual scale. Although these broader events are more complex, McGrath is encouraged by the existing platforms that can do the heavy lifting for the direct sales industry.

Vimeo, a tool the ANMP relies on for its broadcasts, is paired with remote translators who use the Interactio app—which McGrath describes as a flawless application—to tap into the livestream and recreate the content in their listeners’ language.

“All you have to have is a good originating broadcast quality, and that becomes the place from where everybody views the actual convention, even though we’re bringing people in from all over the world,” McGrath says.

Caution: Challenges Ahead

Everyone is more than eager to get back to normal and industry leaders are at the front of the line, hurriedly trying to recreate their office environment from thousands of satellite home offices scattered across the globe where their leaders live and now work. But as the world has quickly discovered, working separately but together has come with its own set of unique challenges, and large virtual events are not immune to these foibles.

Security has been a hot topic for Zoom users (LegalShield reported instances of “Zoom Bombers” during their first few training sessions before password protections halted any further disruptions), but for other, more complex broadcasting platforms, hacking isn’t as much of a concern. The security concern, according to Katapult Events President Erik Johnson, should be privacy. “I wouldn’t put anything out on a stream that you wouldn’t want the world to see,” Johnson says. “Someone at home is likely recording it whether you want them to or not, and it’ll be on YouTube by the end of the day.” For companies who live and die by FTC compliance, it’s a stern warning for leaders. Even if a distributor thinks they’re in a private virtual room with only top-tier leaders, there is great potential that their words will become public.

“Our field leaders are extremely creative in using Zoom as a recruiting and training platform. They use breakout rooms to host associates and their guests after a presentation for a Q&A session and for associate interaction.”— LegalShield Network Division President Don Thompson.

There will also be a fluency issue for older distributors who aren’t used to virtual interactions and for whom these new changes will require a steep learning curve. “I feel sorry for companies that are older and already have their culture set in stone because they’re going to have to switch at some point to this,” RevitalU CEO Andrew McWilliams says.

Even though virtual events are notoriously less expensive than their in-person counterparts, going too cheap can be very obvious. “A lot of people think they can just hop on Zoom and be fine,” says Johnson, who now produces SeneGence’s virtual events. The result of a frugal presentation, however, is fuzzy resolution, glitchy streaming and a visible mouse pointer on shared screens—not the high-quality presentation multimillion- and multibillion-dollar brands should attach their names to.

For the April SeneGence virtual event, Johnson utilized Vimeo for live streaming at the Enterprise level and set up studios at the Oklahoma and California SeneGence offices. With his crew and all of their gear at both locations, they connected the two offices live on camera for a high def broadcast that looked like prime time tv.

As physical events reemerge in the months to come, Johnson warns that virtual events should never be just a recorded version of the live event. Instead, he encourages leaders to plan for physical and virtual hybrids. For example, his crew is building a side stage that is reminiscent of the ESPN Sports Desk for the host of the virtual watch party at one of his client’s upcoming in-person events. Even though one large event will be happening, two different audiences with different attention spans will be watching. By having a dedicated host, he’ll be able to accommodate both.

Facebook Live Fright

As leaders who are used to delivering speeches from stages in loud rooms begin broadcasting from their kitchen table or home office to an audience they can’t see, they’re discovering that stage fright and Facebook Live fright are two different fears and require two different skill sets.

McGrath described his feelings about hosting an eight-hour live event as somewhere between nerve-wracking and exciting. He and wife Sylvia, Elepreneurs Chief Experience Officer, introduced live speakers and announced prerecorded segments and then watched comments and emojis unfold in real-time over an eight-hour stretch.

The stamina required to create these engaging content segments back-to-back for that length of time is similar to expecting sprints in the middle of a marathon. “The biggest concern you always have is: can you keep people’s attention for 12 and a half hours?” Bala says.

But it’s not just the audience’s attention that leaders are concerned about. “I don’t think you can underestimate what it does to the speaker’s energy to talk to a crowd,” Bala says. “When you’re a speaker, it engages you at a different level. You can’t replicate that virtually.”

An Attention Shift

Change can be a dirty word in an industry rooted in tradition, and that’s why McWilliams is choosing to embrace this time of disruption. As people readily accept digital platforms out of necessity, McWilliams says this temporary shift to virtual will now be permanent for his young organization. “I’m never going back,” he says. “It has been the most cost-effective thing we’ve ever done.” In April, RevitalU experienced double-digit percentage growth over March. After their first major virtual event on May 2, the company was up almost 55 percent over April by May 7. “It does not feel like a blip on a radar screen,” he says. “What it feels like is a shift of attention.”

These live virtual events with openly visible comment boxes bring with them a lack of control, but the effect, McGrath says, is unparalleled. “We were very aware that people don’t want a presentation; they want a conversation,” he says. “There’s a risk with a conversation because you don’t know what the other person is going to say, but that’s why people show up: because it hasn’t gone through the corporate whitewash and hasn’t been overly sanitized. It’s spontaneous and real.”

“We were very aware that people don’t want a presentation; they want a conversation.”– Garrett McGrath, Elepreneurs Chief Experience Officer

In the short term, physical events aren’t possible, but even when the restrictions from the global pandemic are lifted, some executives are expecting a slow return as people remain gun-shy about close social interaction and even handshakes. McGrath says the question of when things will go back to normal is the wrong question. “The real question is, between now and then, can we document a plan that people can rely on as proven to work today?”

Is Virtual Really a Success?

There is no industry-wide metric for success when it comes to this new switch to virtual. Still, as many leaders face pent up demand and anxiety swirling around the new normal that has been thrust upon them, the measurement for success will depend upon each company’s specific goals and missions.

For affiliate-focused companies, comment engagement on a Facebook Live event could provide a gauge for distributor reach. Many executives are now reporting a sharp increase in sales during and after virtual events—when distributors would usually be socializing or traveling home—and are using that as their new benchmark for success.

Virtual can’t mimic the adrenaline rush of a packed arena, but industry leaders are approaching this new playing field with cautious optimism. For now, there is convincing emerging data that pivoting to virtual is doing little to harm the health of direct selling companies, and might actually be making a once-in-a-lifetime paradigm shift that offers a glimpse into where the future of the industry might be headed.

“This is here to stay,” Bala says. “It’s just going to become another tool in our toolbox to create that engagement with our associates and for associates to create engagement among themselves.” DSN

VirBELA: The New Virtual Headquarters

Virtual events may be booming, but it will be finding ways to digitally recreate the ordinary daily interactions that will be key for direct selling to weather this storm of isolation and uncertainty. RevitalU has found its solution through VirBELA, a technology platform that allows companies to create a virtual headquarters. With VirBELA, people can come together formally for events, like a conference room where they’ll hear keynote speakers, as well as informally, like in virtual hallways between sessions where they can start up casual conversations.

Through avatars and multi-dimensional rooms, users can interact digitally in a personal way that doesn’t create the Zoom fatigue that comes with endless video chats. “It gives you autonomy to interact with whom you want to interact with and go where you want to go,” says VirBELA Founder and President Alex Howland, Ph.D. “When you read a book, you’re not paying attention to the black and white words or pages; you’re getting immersed into the book. The same thing happens with VirBELA. Your brain starts to feel like you’re physically in the room with colleagues.

Glenn Sanford, eXp Realty Founder and CEO, has been using VirBELA as his company’s virtual campus since 2016. During that time, he grew his number of agents from 900 to 29,000 from the virtual headquarters that he mans from the casita over his garage. In April of this year, his success with the virtual platform led him to join the VirBELA team as the company’s Chief Strategy Officer so that he could extend his knowledge and experience with simulated campuses to other business leaders navigating these unprecedented waters.

Sanford offered advice to McWilliams, one of the newest CEOs to become an adopter of the VirBELA technology, by explaining that the simulated campus will only work if McWilliams insists that people meet him in his virtual Planet RevitalU office, rather than picking up the phone. “We have an office, and I don’t care if it opens back up,” McWilliams says. “We’re going to make the physical office voluntary. For our business practices and working together, it’s going to be done online.”

Virtual Event Tips

Take your virtual event to the next level with these tips from production expert and consultant to the direct selling industry, Erik Johnson of Katapult Events.

“How good your first event is will determine if they buy your next.” — Erik Johnson, Katapult Events President

Forget Zoom. Use Vimeo to live stream.

Prerecording some content eliminates the potential for user error, streamlines transitions and trims the boring out of stories.

Use permissions to put events and event extras behind paywalls or passwords. Erik uses Phinkific.com to preserve special VIP treatments, like a Q&A with the keynote speaker, for specific distributor ranks and above.

Hire a professional. Picture-in-picture, title animation and HD screen shares matter.

Show others what they’re missing. Even if you’re charging for a virtual event, share a short segment onto Facebook Live for things like new product announcements. At the end of the segment, offer viewers the opportunity to buy access to the rest of the event. It’s a double bang for your production buck and a quick upsell.

Everything has to be faster. What might have taken you four minutes to say on a live stage, should take you 90 seconds when speaking to a virtual audience.

Shoot with two cameras. A simple wide shot and a close up will give your broadcast movement and will be more likely to hold attention.

A high-quality mic is just as important as good video. If they can’t hear you well, they will leave.

Don’t be afraid to hire an outside emcee. Professional talent can take your event from stagnant to funny, drive the energy of the show, and be in charge of throwing it to different hosts—chief executives, distributors—to keep the show moving.

Rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. Get rid of the extra stuttering and “um” sounds and give your team the chance to feel the flow of the event.

Double-dip your filming days. When broadcasting virtual events, you’ll likely have the members of your executive teams and an elaborate, staffed studio all in one place. Use this opportunity to film upcoming product launches, expand your expert interviews and update your opportunity presentation.

Five Ways to Simplify Your Pivot to Virtual

Don’t confuse virtual with automated. Even though there are no smoke machines and spotlights, this is not a set-it-and-forget-it type of environment. Building an interactive experience is key to getting virtual events right.

Prepare your team. Expect worst-case scenarios and plan how they’ll be addressed on the spot to protect your brand.

Choose your comment comfort level. Instantly visible, unfiltered feedback may complement the tone of a keynote address, or it might exacerbate the awkwardness of lackluster attendance. Pick an audience participation level that matches the event vibe.

Tap into existing partner platforms. Seamlessly charge registration for large events and automatically capture potential customer contact information. (Eventbrite, PayPal, Pardot and HubSpot are good leads for these functions)

Deliver an in-person experience. Pick two or three elements of your usual in-person events that can be creatively replicated while apart. If distributors have come to expect a lavish lunch break at events, send restaurant or food delivery gift cards to registrants ahead of time. These small gestures will build community while making a memorable impact.

[allhailkingrooker51]

Sooo, I got Rookered again...

Soooo, I got Rookered again.  This time at Geek’d Con in Shreveport, La.  And just like the 1st time I saw Rooker, this time was just as amazing.  I went up to see him several times each day resulting in some pretty epic Rooker moments, and I'm gonna try my hardest to remember every detail.  So, without further ado, here’s the story of my 2nd adventure with the Rooker.   

A little intro before I get to the good stuff. 

First off, y’all have no idea how stoked I was that Rooker was coming to Shreveport!  I was afraid I wasn’t gonna get to see him this year.  He wasn’t coming to a con anywhere near me, and it’s an act of Congress for me to take off work to be able to travel to him.  Geek’d Con was pretty much my last chance.   

I had been watching Geek’d Con’s Facebook like a hawk hoping there might be a slim chance they would announce Rooker.  Then they started hinting and dropping clues for about a month that they had their biggest guest so far coming this year.  And every hint pointed directly to Rooker.  I knew it had to be him.   

One night, Geek’d Con posted on their Facebook page the last clue and that they would be announcing the guest at 8 am the next morning.  I hardly slept a wink that night.  I was too excited and failing miserably at trying not to get my hopes up.  Geek’d Con is not a big con, and even though Rooker likes Shreveport, I was afraid that it might be too small of a con for him to come to.    

Morning finally came, and I was awake way before my alarm.  I decided to get up and go into work early to wait for the announcement.  It’s not like I was sleeping anyways.  This next part might be a little too much info and a little weird, but I’m gonna tell it anyway.  While using my body wash in the shower that morning, a little bubble came out of the bottle and floated up in front of my face.  I blew on it a couple of times, just playing around, and watched the bubble drift higher in the air.  Then I followed it as it came back down again in front of my face, made a quick turn to my left, went around to my side, and landed smack dab on the cheek of my Rooker Skillset portrait tattoo on my left arm.  That bubble was like a Rooker heat-seeking missile, making a bee-line straight for him.  I took that as a sign.  It had to be Rooker. 

I finished getting ready for work and at 8 am on the dot, I checked Facebook.  No announcement yet.  I kept refreshing Geek’d Con’s page over and over again like a lunatic.  I swear it felt like an eternity.  Then at 8:03, I refreshed the page once again, and I saw Yondu.  My heart flipped, and I damn near dropped my phone.  Rooker was coming to Geek’d Con! 

I immediately took a screenshot, and with my hands shaking like crazy, told the Rooker Hookers first.  Then I texted my sister, my mom, my best friend, hell anyone that I could that Rooker was coming to Shreveport.  I couldn’t stop smiling.  For once, I was actually excited going to work.   

When I got to work, I showed my boss, who is also one of my best friends and who has to put up with my Rooker obsession more than anyone.  He was excited for me, and I convinced him to come meet him, too.  

So for the next 4 months, I waited and waited and waited for Geek’d Con to get here.  I ordered Rooker’s gifts, designed a special shirt to wear that Saturday, printed out some goofy Rooker pictures for him to sign, even had Rooker socks made.  When August 16th, finally arrived, I was ready. 

Friday, August 16th, 2019 

Geek’d Con was only open from 6 pm to 9 pm that Friday, but I had been told that Rooker would be there all 3 days, which meant I would be there all 3 days. So I took off work early and drove the almost 2 hours to my parent’s house, who live just outside of Shreveport.  I had been a nervous wreck all week.  I guess I was a little nervous about seeing Rooker again, but mostly I was nervous about getting all the gifts I had planned on giving him through security.   

I had to get into town early because I had a few errands to run before I picked up my friend, who had also gone with me to see Rooker in Houston last year.  One of the errands was picking up some dark chocolate-covered pretzels that I had ordered just for Rooker at a local chocolate store in town.  I hadn’t planned on bringing him pretzels since he gets those at cons all the time, but these were dark chocolate which I knew he liked the best.  And, boy, am I glad I decided to get them! 

I picked my friend up a little later, and we headed up to the convention center.  I wore one of my Rowdy Burns shirts and one of the pairs of socks I had made with Rooker’s face all over them (I had 4 pair, and I mixed and matched them each day, and of course, forgot to show Rooker any of them...AARRGH.)  That line getting in couldn’t go fast enough.  I was so excited to see him again! 

Again, my only worry was getting through security with Rooker's gift.  I’ll get to what the gift was a little later on, but the closer we got to bag check, the more anxious I got.  Luckily, we made it through without any problems. 

We headed inside and walked towards the back and found Rooker’s table.  He wasn’t out yet.  No biggie.  The doors had only been open about 30 minutes or so.  We walked around a little, and then found a table near Rooker’s booth.  We decided to just sit and wait until he came out.  Seven o’clock came.  No Rooker.  Eight o’clock came.  Still no Rooker.  At 8:40, they announced there were 20 minutes left before closing.  We headed out after that.  I admit I was bummed that he wasn’t there, but that just meant I’d have to go see him extra the next day. 

Saturday, August 17, 2019

Saturday morning, I was up and at ‘em early again.  My racing brain wouldn’t let me sleep.  But, I had to be up early anyway to go pick up the rest of Rooker’s gift for that day before the con opened at 10 am.

I had decided a while back that on the Saturday morning of the con, I was going to bring him a bunch of snacks, some from local places around town.  The pretzels and a bag of Zapp's Voodoo chips were a part of that, but I still had two more things to get.

I picked up my friend again and headed to a bakery that I swear makes the best cakes in the world and picked up the little, mini red velvet cake I had ordered for him.  We left there and drove alllll the way across town to get Rooker some donuts from Southern Maid (if you ever get the chance, definitely get donuts from there - they're not fancy but seriously they’re the best ever).  

When we got to the convention center, I put all of his snacks in a gift bag (with the no outside food/drink rule, I figured there was a better chance getting it all through security if it looked like an actual gift).  And it worked!  The snacks and the other gift made it through!  My nerves instantly calmed, and I was home free to finally see the Rooker.  

We immediately went towards the back to his booth, but he wasn’t out yet.  There were a good many people already waiting for him, but I didn’t want to get in line just yet.  I was hoping the crowd would kind of lessen just a little first so I would have some time to explain all the stuff I brought him.  We sat down at the same table as the night before and waited.  About 30 minutes later, there he was!

Omg, I was so excited to see him!  He was wearing black jeans, a black shirt, and his Atlanta Metro Studios cap.  And no shades!  Which is very important when one of your favorite things about Rooker is those damn eyes of his.

We waited about 10 more minutes, but the line never got smaller.  I decided it was now or never and went to get in line.  

While we were waiting in line, there was a person in an inflatable T-Rex costume nearby that had a sign for “Free Hugs".  You probably already know what happened when Rooker saw it.  He escaped from his table and hugged that T-Rex so hard his cap fell off.  

When we finally got to his helper, she noticed the shirt I was wearing and busted out laughing and took a picture of it.  I was hoping Rooker would have the same reaction.

The person in front of me finally got through, and it..was..my..turn.  Surprisingly, I was still very calm.  I walked up to Rooker and said, “Hey, Rooker, you remember me?”  He said, “I do!” I put the gift bag of snacks and his other gift on the table in front of him and he busted out laughing.

“What is all this?!”  

“I brought you a bunch of snacks in case they don't feed you good here.”

I started to tell him what was in the bag and that's when he noticed my shirt.  Awhile back when Rooker had first started growing his hair out again, Sean Gunn had posted a picture of Rooker with his hair all crazy and called him an “international sex symbol” in the caption.  So, naturally, I had that same picture printed on a shirt with the same caption.  He laughed when he saw it and said, “Ya' know, not many men can pull off that look.”  He took his cap off and started pulling his hair in all directions.  His curls were a little wild.  I said, “I know, but you pull it off really well.”  He was still playing with his curls and I wanted to touch his hair so bad.  So I went for it.  I said, “Can I touch ‘em, I gotta touch ‘em, Rooker.”  He leaned over and I grabbed a handful of his hair.  It's so soft, y'all!

After the hair touching moment, we went back to discussing his snacks. I said, “I brought you some of the best donuts in the world and…”  That’s when he saw a fork in the bag and asked what it was for.  “For this.”  I pulled out the little mini cake and told him it was red velvet (which I had read a long time ago was his favorite).  Y'all he smiled and laughed the whole time.

He immediately came around the table and gave me a huge hug and said I was too sweet always bringing him stuff.  Then it just kind of slipped out of my mouth.  I didn’t even realize I had said it ‘til it was too late.  As he's still hugging me and telling me how nice I am and that I don't have to bring him stuff, I said “Well, I love you, Rooker.  You’re my favorite person in the world.”  Good God, I told Michael Rooker I loved him to his face.  And I don’t really say that to anybody.  Looking back now, though, I'm glad I did.  That man makes my world go round, and I want him to know that.  

After he hugged me and still laughing, he walked over to my friend, grabbed her face in his hands, and said “She always like this?  Bringing presents and stuff?”  She said yes and Rooker laughed again.

I went over to the bag and pulled out the little box of chocolate covered pretzels.  I said,” Look, Rooker, I wasn’t gonna bring you pretzels ‘cause I know you get them all the time, but these are dark chocolate ones I had made especially for you."

He grabbed the box, opened it, held it out for the people in line to see and said, “Aww, look everyone.”  That's when one of the best things that's ever happened to me happened.

Rooker took one of the pretzels and held it up to my mouth for me to take a bite.  Unfortunately, I had just gotten a piece of mint gum from my friend not 10 minutes earlier.

I said, “Ew, Rooker, no I have gum.”

I shoulda known Rooker wasn’t gonna take ‘no' for an answer.

He grinned and pushed the pretzel further towards my mouth, "Take a bite.”

So I did.

As soon as my mouth touched that pretzel, he leaned in and took a bite out of the other side at the same time.  We ‘Lady and the Tramp'd’ that pretzel.  His mouth was like inches away from mine.  Gotta admit, I was a little shocked, but I laughed, he laughed, hell his whole line was laughing.  I'm sure my face was redder than a tomato.

As I’m still chewing the now disgusting combination of chocolate pretzel and mint gum growing into an oddly textured rubbery substance in my mouth, he says “Here, lemme have it" and he holds his hand out for me to..spit..my..gum..out..in..his..hand.  

I said, “Ew, Rooker, I'm not gonna do that …it’s ok, I'll suffer.”  He laughed again.

Still trying to recover from that moment, I realized I still hadn’t shown him his other gift.  We walked closer to the table, and he said, “What is this?”   I said, “You remember last year I gave you the shot glass?”  He said yes.  I opened the box and said, “Well, I got you these to kind of go with it.”  This time I had gotten him two whiskey glasses made with .45 caliber bullets molded into the side (hence the reason I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get them through security).  On one glass, I had “I'm Mary Poppins, Y'all!” etched, and the other with an ‘R' and ‘Rooker’.  He loved them.  He said they were beautiful and took each one out and showed it to everybody.  He looked at me and said, “At least they’re .45s.  That's the only thing that'll stop a Jack and Coke.”  He made himself giggle.  It was great.  

He ended up giving me like a gazillion hugs the whole time and then told me that I got to pick out a picture for him to sign.

I laughed and said, “No, it's ok, Rooker.  I don't bring you stuff to get free autographs.  I have some stuff for you to sign in my bag anyway so I'll be back in a little while.  You know you gotta put up with me all weekend.”  

He laughed again and before I walked away, I lifted up my sleeve and asked him if he remembered my “Sexy Thanos" tattoo as he called it last time.  He said, “Yeah, I remember and that ain’t sexy Thanos, that's sexy Rooker.”

I don’t think I could have smiled any bigger than I was when I walked away from his table. 

A little while later was photo ops.  I had bought one for Saturday and Sunday.  His line stretched almost the entire length of the convention center.  You could definitely tell that Rooker was the star of Geek'd Con.  

The whole time we were waiting in line, Rooker would periodically stick his head out of the curtain and pull the curtain up tight around his face to where his face was all that was showing.  I tried to get a picture cause it was adorable as hell, but as soon as I would get my phone out, he would disappear behind the curtain again.

When it was my turn to take the picture, I went up to Rooker and he put his arm around me and I did the same to him.  Here's where it gets really good.

Usually, photo ops go by insanely fast.  Like seconds fast.  But for some reason, there was a delay between my photo and the one before.  Rooker's event manager was talking to the photographer about something so that left me and Rooker to ourselves for a moment.

If y'all don't know yet, Rooker in a backwards baseball cap is THE sexiest thing on the planet to me.  Last year, he wore one of his Penman hats so I didn’t get to ask him this.  This year, I said ‘fuck it’ and went for it.

With him standing right next to me with his arm still around me, I leaned over and said, “Rooker, will you do me a favor?”

He turned towards me, his face inches away from mine, and looked right in my eyes and said, “What's that baby?”

I..could..have..died..right..then..and..there.  The feeling of Rooker that close to you.  His eyes staring right into your soul.  Lawd help me.

I said, “Will you turn your hat around backwards?”

He gave me a slow grin and said, “Yeah, baby.”  He turned his cap around but kind of looked a little confused.

I said, “I like it better that way.  It's hotter like that.”  Yeah, I still can’t believe I said that, too.  But I felt I needed to explain why I asked him.

He laughed and grabbed me in a big bear hug, the kind that almost knocked both of us over.  He said,” Oh, that gets you all hot, huh?”  I said, “Uh, yeaaah."  Fuck it.  I was being honest.  He busted out laughing again, but it was time to take the photo.  So we straightened up and I said, “Now you gonna have me blushing.”  He grinned and said, “I know, it's great.”

We took the photo and he hugged me again and then held my hand and said ‘thank you, baby’.  His event manager asked if he had seen my shirt.  He laughed and said yes, and held my hand ‘til I really had to walk away.  

We immediately got back in his line so I could get my first autograph.  This time, I had him sign one of his old headshots which was him as Zeedo from The Replacement Killers.  

Time for a little backstory.  A couple of years ago, I got a new dog and named him Rooker.  Last year I showed Rooker a meme I had made with him and my dog.  He got a kick out of it.  Well, almost two months ago, I rescued another dog that had been living in horrendous conditions at a puppy mill in south Louisiana.  From the first time I saw this dog, I knew he was supposed to be mine.  I got approved for his adoption, named him Zeedo, and he became one of my pack.

Now back to Rooker.  When it was my turn, I went up to him and gave him the Zeedo headshot to sign.  I pulled out my phone and said, “Rooker, you remember last year I showed you my dog, Rooker?  Well, I adopted another dog last month and named him Zeedo.”  I showed him a picture of him.

He said, “Aww.” He looked back down at the headshot and said, “Zeedo frommm?”  He couldn’t think of the name of the movie. I said,” The Replacement Killers.”

He laughed,” Yes! The Replacement Killers! You know when I grow a goatee like that now, it’s definitely not that color anymore.”

He then noticed the packet of headshots and other pictures I was holding in my hand.  He grabbed them and started flipping through them saying he was gonna sign another.  I said, “No, you signed all those last time.”  He said, “I'm not gonna sign all of them, just my favorite one.”  He pulled out the hot young headshot and signed it again and then said something about his resume on the back.  And I still forgot to ask him about clown training!  I’m so mad at myself!

Another backstory - I need to mention that earlier one of my mom's old co-workers had found us at Geek'd Con.  She knew I loved Rooker and had been messaging me about him a couple of months before Geek'd Con.  She stood with us in line during the Zeedo headshot signing.  Before we got to Rooker, we were talking about going to his panel which was in a couple of hours.  She had never met Rooker before or been to one of his panels.  I told her how Rooker doesn’t play by the rules, and there was no way he was gonna sit at the table on the stage.  I don’t think the Geek'd Con folks really had any idea what they were getting themselves into with Rooker, and I was super curious to see how his panel would be.

While Rooker was signing his old headshot, my mom’s co-worker asked him how old he was in that photo.  He figured he was in his early to mid-20s.  That original 1991 press photo I have of Rooker with his soda and popcorn at a movie premiere was also in the stack of headshots.  He saw it and I said, “Aww, lookit that baby.”  He laughed, “Yeah, that young, hot baby.”  I said, “Oh, Rooker, you’re still hot.”  

He gave me a tight, squishy sideways hug and we said our goodbyes for the moment.

We snuck in late to the panel before his to try to get a good seat.  My boss had also texted me in the meantime that he and his wife were on their way.  They weren’t sure they would be able to come that particular day, but they ended up making it just in time for his panel.  

Rooker’s panel was full of typical Rooker shenanigans.  And just as I had expected, Rooker never sat down at the table and lasted about 7 minutes pacing on the stage before he jumped off and ran out into the audience taking questions.

After his panel, we rushed back to Rooker’s booth one last time before he left for the day.  I couldn’t wait for my boss to meet Rooker.  You know how Rooker and James Gunn are together?  Best friends who are constantly bullshitting one another?  That’s exactly how me and my boss are.  And for the longest time, I’ve been telling my boss every time he fucks with me that someday I would get Rooker to beat him up.  Now, they would both be in the same room, and I could finally get Rooker to ‘beat him up’.  

I had Rooker sign that goofy picture of him behind the scenes of “Super”.  He said, “Hey, it’s Super!  I was just talking about Super!  Lookit that expression!”, talking about the silly face he was making.  After he signed the picture, I pointed to my boss and said, “Rooker, I need you to beat him up for me.”

“Whhhhy?”

“Because he’s my boss and he’s mean to me and I always tell him that I’m gonna get you to beat him up.”

Rooker told my boss to give him his hand.  My boss thought he was asking to shake his hand, but instead, Rooker takes my boss’s hand and starts smacking the back of it while saying ‘Bad! Bad! Bad!’ like he was scolding a little kid.  

We said goodbye after that and I told him that I’d be back tomorrow to see him again.  I also said, “I have some more things to give you.”  He misheard me and said, “WHAT?  You have more things to do?!” like he was upset or sad I wasn’t coming to see him.  I busted out laughing and said, “Noooo, more things to give you.”  He smiled really big and said “Ohhh..omg more stuff?" and called me a doll and said I was too sweet.   And that was the end of the epic first day.

Sunday, August 18th, 2019 

My friend couldn’t come with me to Geek'd Con on Sunday due to work so I drug my 10-year-old niece along.   She didn’t mind though.  She loves superhero movies and she knows who Rooker is because of me.   Plus, I bribed her by telling her I would buy her something while we were there. 

We got to the convention center right when the doors opened at 11 that morning, and after going through security, went straight to Rooker’s booth.  He was already out and there weren’t that many people in line at that time, so I decided to go ahead and go see him.  I had my Bud Melks poster for him to sign and another gift to give him. 

As soon as we got to Rooker, someone brought him another cup of coffee.  I had to wait for him to pour his new coffee into his old cup, laughing and watching him almost spill coffee all over the place.  When he was done, he asked, “Whatcha got?” talking about the poster I had in my hand.  I unrolled my Bud poster out in front of him and said, “You remember I have your Bud coveralls?  I’m gonna frame this to hang up, too.”   

“Yes, you do.  Oooh, this looks nice.”  He held the poster up for everyone to see, and then asked everyone in line if they had seen Belko.  I don’t think anyone said yes.  He laughed and joked, “Well don’t, it’s terrible!”  The line had gotten somewhat longer behind me so I decided to give him his gift a little while later so I wouldn’t take up any more time. 

My niece and I walked around some, and I made good on my promise of buying her something.  When we came back around, there were only like 2 or 3 people in Rooker’s line so I went up to give him a gift.  This one needed a little explaining. 

I went up to Rooker and gave him one of those Yondu car air fresheners I had posted to my tumblr and Rooker Facebook pages awhile back.  He said, “Aww, what is this?”  I told him how I had found these Yondu air fresheners a couple of months ago and that I had posted them to FB and IG.  I almost didn’t want to tell him that I had a Rooker FB page, but I kinda had to.  I said, “I have a Rooker FB page called All Hail King Rooker.” 

He said, “All hail what?” 

“King Rooker.” 

He busted out laughing.  “Ahh, King Rooker. Okay.” 

“Ok, so, I posted these on my Rooker FB, and Kim (who runs the Rookerholics FB page) commented on the picture saying that you needed some for your Airstream.  So, I was like ‘yesss, he needs some for his Airstream!’  So, I go to buy you some, but they were sold out.  And they’ve been sold out ever since.  Soooooo, I’m giving you my extra one.” 

He loved it and said, “Awww.  Thank you, baby.”  He took it out of the package and put it together. 

I then told him that I had taken out the air freshener thingy ‘cause it was shit and never worked but the little Yondu still looks cool. 

We talked a little more and he came around the table to give me another hug.  He then asked my niece her name and held out his hand for her to shake it.  He teased her a little bit about not shaking his hand hard enough so he taught her how to shake hands properly but not too hard that it would break his hand.  I explained to him that she was my niece and that I didn’t have any adult supervision anymore.  He laughed and told my niece not to let me get in any trouble.  I told him, “You know the only trouble I’d be getting into is over here with you, Rooker.”  He laughed again and gave me another hug, telling me how sweet how I was.  And I did it again, y’all.  While he still had his arms around me, I said, “I love you, Rooker.  And, I’ll be back later to give you more stuff.”  He said, “Dammit, woman!” as he pulled away and I left his line again smiling like an idiot. 

I had another photo op a little later, but not much happened during that one.  I mean other than the fact that I got to stand close to him again with his arm around me and he held my hand as I walked away, but... 

It was nearing the end of the afternoon and Rooker had another round of photo ops at 3 pm.  The con closed at 5 and I was afraid he might be leaving after his photo ops.  I decided to go get in his line one last time and do the thing I had been dreading all weekend, saying goodbye. 

I had him sign a couple more pictures, one being a photo of him from Thief, which he filmed in Shreveport.  He was like ‘Oooh, Thief.”  I said, “Yep, you signed my Super (which was also filmed in Shreveport) pic yesterday and Thief today.”  He told me he still has the suspenders he wore in that photo.  I asked if he remembered me telling him that my stepdad was a cop and that he had been working on the set of Thief and met Rooker years ago.  He said yeah, and I explained to him that my stepdad had just retired from the force after like 30 years or so and that his retirement party was in a couple of weeks and it was being held at the same place that he filmed his last scene in Thief.  (The place is actually an event hall and my sister works there now.)  He thought that was pretty cool.  I also had him sign the crazy-haired “International Sex Symbol” picture, too.   

His line started to get really long and I felt like I needed to hurry, so I gave him the last few things I had for him, a Shreveport Police Dept. patch, a Shreveport Fire Dept. patch, and a Matchbox car of a Shreveport Police cruiser.  I explained the stuff really quick and said, “This is it, Rooker.  I gotta go.  This is all I got.  I won’t be coming back anymore.”  He grabbed me up in another tight hug that nearly knocked us off balance, and said, “Me neither!”  I said, “Noooo, Rooker, you have to come back.  Please!”  He laughed and said he would.  He then pointed to my niece and said that she’d be full-grown next year when he’s here.  I told him goodbye and walked away one last time.  

I swear it was like instant depression walking away from his table knowing that I wouldn’t be seeing him again.  And I know he calls a lot of people ‘baby’ or ‘sexy’ or any of his other pet names and gives hugs to everybody, but damn if he doesn’t make you feel special.  It’s like no one else exists but the two of you when he’s talking to you.  He makes me forget, if just for a moment, all the negative thoughts that I have about myself, the depression, the way I’ll never be good enough for anyone.  He makes me truly..happy, and no one else on earth makes me feel the way that he does.  And I hope that he knows that.  Walking away from him is seriously one of the hardest things to do. 

So, again, that’s it.  That’s my second adventure with the Rooker, the most beautiful person inside and out in the entire world.  I’m not sure when I’ll get to see him next, but if it’s up to me and written in the stars, there will be a next time.  I already have some more gift ideas (gotta keep up my sugar mama ways) and another pretty epic shirt design that I think he’ll get a kick out of.  So, until next time, farewell y’all! :) 

[burliforti]

Rose of England

My entry for the Good Omens fanwork exchange arranged by @transarmageddon. I created this based off a prompt from @vecieminde. The prompt that I was most heavily inspired by was “Aziraphale and Crowley exploring an abandoned place which glory days they might have witnessed”. Full disclosure: I am a bit of a history nerd and so one abandoned place turned into many which turned into a road trip across rural England with a pit stop in Wales. At certain times I veered a bit further from the main prompt than I was hoping but I hope you still enjoy! (About 9.5K and no warnings apply. I’m having a beta review it and then I’ll probably post to AO3) Heavily inspired by the Vera Lynn album “Rose of England” (I am bad at titles and simply borrowed that.) Definitely recommend a listen, it’s a wonderful album. Fic under the cut.

Prologue: London

It had been three weeks since the very last day of the rest of their lives. Not surprisingly, in the aftermath of perhaps the most chaotic week in all of creation Aziraphale and Crowley had been having some difficulty slipping back into their old routines. The sudden lack of oversight was a relief but left them both with a degree of freedom that they weren’t quite sure what to do with. Crowley no longer had to plan elaborate schemes to generate widespread low-grade evil and Aziraphale found himself without his usual laundry list of miscellaneous miracles and holy interventions, leaving both with a sudden and dramatic increase of spare time. Heaven and Hell had, apparently, taken their warnings to heart and had left them alone. 

They managed to slip into parts of their old routines. Aziraphale would go out to lunch in small french bistros and read Virginia Woolf in the plush reading chair in his study. Crowley had continued to scheme for a time out of habit but eventually tapered off to random pranks and messing with people who drive below the speed limit on highways and members of parliament. His house plant hobby had flourished into a full horticulture obsession. The apartment whose predominant palette had been black and grey for several decades now found itself green, green, and green. He wasn’t really one for flowers, preferring varieties such as ferns, ivy, and more recently, mosses. Crowley had acquired an impressive and wide array of mosses, spanning continents and centuries, quite literally finding himself with the only remaining iteration of certain ancient mosses (Crowley’s imagination did not know that these had gone extinct. He simply remembered soft, curling greenery on teak trees and there they had appeared). 

Aziraphale had also picked up a few hobbies. He had a tendency to do so. Dancing, magic, prophecies. They weren’t exactly phases (for he did still truly enjoy all of these things), but Aziraphale had a meandering mind that was always eager for new knowledge. Recently, he had come across an antique store looking for any interesting books. Instead, he had left the premises with a vintage camera that stood on a wooden tripod, that by all accounts should not have been able to work anymore, but miraculously, did indeed take photos. This began a new collection of vintage cameras and various other photographic contraptions. He particularly enjoyed taking pictures of nature (trees were much better at sitting still than wily serpents who would fidget and blur the images). Eventually, Crowley bought him a polaroid camera. He was annoyed of being forced to sit still for the negatives and dealing with Aziraphale hauling his many apparatuses on their walks. The polaroid was a bit newfangled for Aziraphale’s taste, but he enjoyed not having to develop negatives and being able to immediately see the images. Crowley did not mind this hobby as much as he had others (nothing could be worse than the magic. As long as taking photos of birds and elms prevented Aziraphale getting into card tricks or whatever nonsense than he would limit his complaints.) Yet even as they settled into old routines and found new ones, both beings found themselves on edge despite the apparent resolution to most of their problems. You see, Aziraphale and Crowley were bored. And Aziraphale had just the idea. 

“A vacation?” Crowley replied as they sat in St James Park, sitting on a bench watching the ducks bob in and out of the water. 

“It’s been so long since we left the city. Not since all that nonsense, and even that was barely two hours outside London. Before you mostly got around for work, and since our, well, retirement, I don’t believe either of us has really traveled much. Thought it might be a nice change of pace.” 

“And where exactly were you thinking?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular. Although there are a few sites that I’d like to revisit. It’s been so long since I properly traveled. Human beings have created some truly marvelous places.”

“Destroyed just as many too.” 

“And then rebuilt. I’m sure even you have an old spot or two you wouldn’t mind revisiting.”

Crowley paused, considering this with a great amount of reluctance. “I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve been ‘round the countryside.” He replied, begrudgingly. 

Aziraphale’s face lit up in a bright smile. “Splendid! I suppose there is no point in waiting around. I’m already packed, I will see you at the shop tomorrow, bright and early!” 

Crowley looked at him in disbelief. “Tomorrow?!” 

Rochester Castle

Crowley did arrive early, although it wasn’t a particularly bright October morning. He pulled up in his Bently and had hardly gotten out of the car when Aziraphale burst through the shop door, hauling a large two-piece antique luggage set and two vintage cameras.

Aziraphale flashed a brilliant smile “Good morning, dear boy!” Crowley walked over to Aziraphale and grabbed the luggage out of his hands. “Let me take that.” Aziraphale let him take the bags and took the cameras in both arms. “Why, thank you.” Crowley dragged the luggage toward the Bentley. “What on earth do you have in here? You’ve been wearing the same outfit for over a century.”

“Books, mostly. Some light reading I’ve been meaning to do.”

“Hardly light,” Crowley complained, lifting the luggage into the trunk with great difficulty. Aziraphale carefully laid out the camera equipment in the backseat, with the exception of the polaroid which he kept in a small camera bag over his shoulder. Crowley slammed the\trunk and sauntered over to the drivers side.

“So where are we off to, angel?”   

“Well I didn’t want anything too adventurous, and I know you’re hard-pressed to leave your vehicle. Perhaps a week or two, just in the countryside. Breath of fresh air, maybe even revisit some old favorites?” 

“Fine by me.”

“And I thought it best to start south and work our way up. What do you think?”

“Any destination in mind?” 

“Oh, not really. It’s been so long since I’ve been that farther south than London.”

“Ever been to Rochester Castle? Less than half an hour from here.”

“Rochester? Off the Medway? Shouldn’t that be at least an hour– Crowley slow down!”

They arrived 40 minutes later. Aziraphale was not incorrect in that it should have taken an hour and Crowley had also not been mistaken in that it could have been merely half an hour, but at Aziraphale’s continued pleas of “Slow down Crowley!” they had met somewhat in the middle. Luckily tourist season tended to slow down this time of year. The employees of the estate had kindly left them to their own affairs. Aziraphale had picked up a brochure and was reading it as the two of them explored the keep. 

“They say it had originally been given to Bishop Odo, probably by William the Conqueror.” 

“Never met him.” 

“Oh you weren’t missing much, I didn’t find him to be particularly charming. Although it is possible that I insulted him upon our first meeting. Never could wrap my mind around french. All that gender and tense. Feminine chairs and male houses, utter nonsense.”

“I believe houses are also feminine.”

“My point! Completely arbitrary. And the tenses, what language needs nine different types of past tense? They live such short lives I don’t see the point.” 

Crowley let Aziraphale rant as they continued to stroll along corridors and in and out of almost accurate historical reimaginings of bedrooms and parlors. Crowley hadn’t been to Rochester Castle since the Peasants’ Revolt in 1381. He really had absolutely hated the 14th century. He had gotten so fed up, in fact, that he had whispered in a handful of ears of ‘injustice’ and ‘revolution’. He hadn’t had much of an end goal in mind, just anything to shake up that dreadful century. It hadn’t really gone anywhere, unfortunately. He didn’t see much of Aziraphale that century, not with the war and the plague. Such a bore and with awful fashion. It had been such a relief when the Renaissance properly took off. 

“You’ve been awfully silent, Crowley.” 

He quirked an eyebrow over his glasses. “Let’s go to the gardens.”  

They made their way into the Castle’s exterior and into the gardens that encircled the estate. English roses, bright Dahlias, twisting ivys, and sweetly scented Begonias dominated the courtyard. Aziraphale was enjoying the vibrant colors and heavenly floral perfumes while Crowley glared critically at pests and withering leaves. 

“I think this is going to be a marvelous holiday.” 

Crowley wandered over to one of the bushes and picked one of halfway decent begonias, sauntering back over to Aziraphale. He walked directly in front of him and stopped just shy of the other man. 

“If you say so.” He replied, pinning the flower to a blushing Aziraphale’s lapel. 

“Oh, no need for all of that.” He said waving his hand toward the plucked stem. An even more vibrant flower bloomed in its place.  

“So,” Crowley asked, returning to his place by Aziraphale’s side, “where to next?” 

Bodiam Castle 

Aziraphale had asked one of the local historical guides, who suggested Bodiam Castle, which was an hour south of Rochester Castle near Robertsbridge in East Sussex. She had also suggested a local family run pub for lunch. Aziraphale had given Crowley a wide-eyed look to which Crowley could only roll his eyes and say “Yes, yes alright. It’s your holiday, angel.” Aziraphale had taken note at some point of the increase of Crowley’s use of ‘angel’ to describe him. He had subsequently filed away the observation to ‘thoughts that need no further introspection or deliberation’. They ate (or Aziraphale ate) a slow and peaceful lunch. He seemed to enjoy his fish and chips and was particularly impressed by the tartar sauce (homemade apparently, an old family recipe). The batter was also very pleasant but he didn’t much care for the chips. Crowley picked a few off of his plate absentmindedly. They ate mostly in silence, Aziraphale enjoying the fish and Crowley enjoying Aziraphale. 

They continued on their journey, arriving in Robertsbridge in significantly less than an hour (much to Aziraphale’s terror). Aziraphale had in fact once visited Bodiam Castle, many years ago during the war of the roses. It had been abandoned in picturesque ruins for decades but had been restored in the early 20th century. Crowley and Aziraphale explored the property. While the exterior had been well preserved, the interior was now in ruins. 

“It had been quite nice when I had visited. I was presenting as a clergyman on the road back in those days, you know. Made seeking shelter much easier and people would listen to me, which was quite helpful on certain occasions.”

“I imagine it explained all those Bibles you carried with you.”

“Well yes, I suppose that’s true.” 

“There is still a beauty to it now, albeit a different sort of beauty.”

“Seems like regular old ruins to me.” 

“You don’t feel any sort of, oh I don’t know, whimsy or appreciation?” 

“I don’t really go in for whimsy, angel.”

They continued to explore for quite some time, Aziraphale taking full advantage of their solitude and the picturesque ruins by taking many photographs, both with the antique camera on a tripod and the polaroid. Aziraphale had started off carrying the larger camera but Crowley had soon taken over after a passing mention of discomfort by Aziraphale. They made their way outside, strolling along the edge of the moat as the sunset. 

“Oh, what a beautiful sky it is tonight. Crowley, do you mind putting down the camera? I’d like to get some photos, lighting is simply marvelous.”

“Not like we’ve seen the sunset a million times already. The same sky and the same sun for 6,000 years.”  

Aziraphale ignored him, setting up the camera into the correct position. The tripod was close to the water's edge, overlooking the horizon. Aziraphale watched the sky change from red, orange, and yellow to deep purple and pitch black from behind a camera lens. Crowley watched Aziraphale burn brilliant in a fiery sky to softly glowing in the moonlit night.   

Tintagel Castle

Crowley suggested the next location: Tintagel Castle. It was quite a ways away on the southwestern coast but he insisted that the view was worth it, and besides it had been ages since either of them had been to the Celtic sea. It was by far the longest drive they had undertaken so far. A direct route would have taken five hours (perhaps three with Crowley behind the wheel), but Aziraphale had asked if they could drive past the channel on the way there and Crowley wasn’t exactly in the habit of denying any request or desire the angel had. With the scenic detour, the drive should have been close to 7 hours but ended up closer to five anyways, accounting for a lunch break.

Aziraphale was able to manage (tolerate, more accurately) Crowley’s breakneck speeds on the lonely country roads. Rolling hills with the occasional grazing livestock and farmhouses turned into rocky cliffs and blue-grey waters. Aziraphale enjoyed the picturesque landscapes and lack of the usual urban chaos, while Crowley enjoyed the lack of other vehicles and an open road where the speed limit was hardly a thought. They hadn’t talked much, Aziraphale occasionally putting on a CD (he didn’t quite grasp the concept at first but he was getting the hang of it.) Most of the disks had been left in the car and forgotten for more than a fortnight, and Crowley could only tolerate ‘We Will Rock You’ by Benjamin Britten or ‘We Are The Champions’ by Handle so many times. Thankfully, he had remembered to bring in some CDs from the apartment that had yet to become a compilation of Queen’s Greatest Hits. Aziraphale preferred classical, so they listened to Bach, Vaughn Williams, Holst, and various other (although predominantly British) composers. They were listening to Simple Symphony (actually by Benjamin Britten) when Crowley finally slowed and pulled into a half-full parking lot. Luckily the castle and surrounding expanse were quite large and the two could easily keep away from any crowds.

They explored the ruins of a castle for a time, Crowley relaying stories of his time in Richard of Cornwall (both from his time in the castle and during the Barons’ Crusade. Aziraphale had been preoccupied at the time by some work further west in Southampton.) Eventually, the crowds started to bother both of them and they naturally wandered away from the ruins and over the large bridge. 

“You know I rarely made it out to this part of the country, but it’s quite lovely.  The view is spectacular.”

Crowley squinted and peered upwards towards the gathering clouds. “Looks like it might rain.”

“Oh, I’m sure it would only take a slight miracle to ensure clear skies until the end of our visit. I was thinking for after– oh!” Aziraphale’s eyes went wide as the unfortunate combination of a strong gust of wind off the sea and a damp patch on the footbridge made him stumble and lose his footing. Before he could find purchase on the guard rails he felt two hands reach out and grab his arms, helping him upright. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley who in turn looked down at him in concern. 

“You alright?” 

Aziraphale laughed nervously, brushing himself off. “Oh yes, I’m quite alright, just taken a little off guard I suppose…” He trailed off. There hadn’t been any danger really, the footbridge had quite a high railing and Aziraphale had wings for heaven’s sake but peering down at the cold water crashing up against the stony cliffs made his head spin for a moment. “Thank you.” He finally said. 

Crowley made a noise of displeasure in return, “Can’t have you being discorporated middle of your vacation abandoning me in Cornwall of all places.”

“Our vacation. Besides, you suggested Tintagel.” 

“Ngk.” 

Neither of them made the first move, remaining stationary on the footbridge for another beat. 

“You can let go of me now, Crowley.”

He looked down at his hands which were indeed still wrapped around the other's arms. His cheeks turned slightly pink as he let go, refusing to look at the other as they continued on.  

Glastonbury Abbey 

Aziraphale insisted they stop by Glastonbury Abbey the next day, tentatively starting northward. 

“I’m shocked you never made it out there yourself back in the day, dear boy. Frightfully important, I can recall quite the drama and importance for quite a long stretch of time. Second only to Westminster.” 

“I avoided abbeys as a general rule. Parishes, monasteries, cathedrals, whole lot of them. Not exactly my scene.”

“Shame really, some truly exquisite architecture. The food wasn’t exactly top-notch, but some of the better dining from that era at any rate. I’d imagine you’d be quite fine now, been in ruins for centuries.” 

The sky was clear and blue, the grass a vibrant green. There were a few tourists who were wandering about the grounds but left the two beings be. They wandered through the decrepit cathedral, ceiling completely gone and missing good portions of the walls. While Aziraphale doubted that any previous blessings were still in place, Crowley was wary and remained outside of the ruined Holy buildings. 

“It really was quite a marvel. I had the occasion to visit on a number of occasions throughout the centuries, sent here quite often for holy interventions, miracles, enlightenment, heavenly visions, the whole nine yards as they say. You’re sure you never made it over here during, well, the Arrangement?”

Aziraphale quieted at the last two words. He had always been much more prudish, more embarrassed regarding their previous understanding. Perhaps it was because Crowley had much more experience rebelling and bending rules, but if they were being honest with themselves (although they rarely were), Aziraphale also had a fair bit of experience bending rules, he was just more adept at making excuses for it and felt much more guilty about it afterward.  

“Nope. Besides, I believe the heyday of the great Abbeys predated our agreement.”

“I suppose that’s true. Those old Catholics enjoyed their drama. I tried to stay out of it mostly, politics was never really my forte. I recall having to give a vision to one of the old Abbotts back in the 12th century. Something about inspiring a new sermon, I can’t quite recall.”

Crowley made some noise to indicate that he was still listening (which he was in fact doing. He liked to put up an air of indifference but he always listened, and Aziraphale knew this.) 

“You know I was able to get a first edition of “On the Antiquity of the Glastonese Church”? Signed by William of Malmesbury. Wonderful historian, and splendid company. He had a terrific collection at the Malmesbury Abbey and was kind enough to give me a number of his books, all with signed inscriptions. Later in his life, he was kind enough to gift me some of the notable works in his personal collection. His second edition of Gesta Regum Anglorum is a classic.”

Aziraphale continued to ramble on as they explored the Abbey grounds. Crowley listened quietly but intently. Their conversations usually involved both of their active participation but Crowley had never minded whenever Aziraphale would stumble into his ramblings. They occasionally reminisced, exchanging amusing stories and recounting shared adventures, but on that rare but treasured occasions a topic would arise and Aziraphale could literally talk for days on end, one story spilling into the next. Crowley’s original thought to describe it had been cute, but that couldn’t possibly be it.     

“It’s impressive how long these have stayed standing, even if they have fallen into a bit of disrepair.” Aziraphale finally quieted, inviting a response from Crowley. 

“‘Spose. They always did like to show off. Always obsessed with posterity.”

“And these are hardly the oldest, even just in England. And we’ve been there for all of it.” Aziraphale spoke softly, his eyes unfocused as he gazed far beyond the old Abbey. Crowley glanced at him. He had a tendency to be sentimental after these long trips down memory lane. Crowley himself had never quite at the proclivity for the sentimental. 

“And they’ll keep building places of worship and keep writing history books. Come on, I saw a sign for a nearby for an italian restaurant, we’ll grab you some lunch.” 

Bath 

After lunch, they drove a bit farther north to the city of Bath. This had been the largest city they had visited so far. They stopped by bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the town, preferring the larger space, quiet countryside, and easy parking it provided. They took the day to explore the city, visiting various historical sites. They walked by the Abbey (although they did not venture inside as a courtesy to Crowley), Pulteney Bridge, strolled down Royal Crescent, popped briefly into Holburne museum but quickly left when Aziraphale got fed up with the minor inconsistencies and incorrect speculation. They continued their walk and eventually came across a beautifully restored Georgian home with a bronze plaque that reads: 

Here lived William Herschel 

A.D. 1781 

and a sign above that that read ‘Herschel Museum of Astronomy’. It looked to be mostly vacant, which made sense seeing as it was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday during the school year, with the peak of the tourist season being a few months behind them.

“Oh, I remember that fellow. Quite the eclectic man; astronomer, biologist, musician, and composer, though if memory serves his scientific career fared better than his artistic one. I saw the premiere of his eighth symphony and you know, I really did enjoy it. I’m not sure why he’s been relegated to the background of classical composers. I suppose now it’s so strongly dominated by Mozart, Haydn, Shubert, and a few other fellows that it didn’t leave much room for others. Truth be told I think Haydn might be slightly overrated. You write 107 symphonies but only a handful are noteworthy in any way. You knew him, didn’t you? I recall you hanging around with the Royal Astronomical Society for a time before sleeping through most of the next century.” 

Crowley hummed in acknowledgment. “Yeah, hung around with that lot periodically end of the 18th century. He and his sister, Caroline, pushed the field miles forward. Shall we head inside?” 

Crowley held open the door for Aziraphale and they headed inside the quiet Georgian household. They handed over a few pounds to the receptionist who put a little stamp of a planet with stars on each of their right hands.  They quickly passed through exhibits pertaining to more recent events, preferring to linger in the sections that focused on Herschel and his discoveries. 

“I liked him. Quite sharp. Corrected a few older discoveries, which I appreciated. It was annoying having to sit through some of those Royal Society lectures calling some of the star clusters nebulae. He and Caroline discovered and cataloged a boatload of nebulae, clusters, comets, the like. Nice to finally have your work properly appreciated after nearly 6000 years. We used to gossip about the bores over at the Royal Society and I helped get Caroline get a paid position at the government. I mean why would they be paying him but not her?”

“That was very kind of you, Crowley.” 

He made a face of displeasure in return, “Hardly. If she hadn’t been employed who else would have discovered my comets and cataloged my nebulae? Quite proud of those, you know, and no one there to appreciate all my hard work. ‘Oh look at the beautiful waterfalls, the beautiful forests’, please. Hardly any craftsmanship in a waterfall. Some rocks and a river. But a planetary nebula? A red dwarf? Combustion, gravity, electromagnetism, a delicate balance of helium, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and however many other elements. When old Will finally got that telescope of his up and running, the look on his face when he saw them all, it was like finally, someone can appreciate some true artistry. I will say the nerve of those two constantly referring to it as ‘the heavens’. Heaven wished it looked like that.”

Aziraphale looked wistfully at a newer photo of the butterfly nebula. “You know, during all that time it took humans to properly observe the cosmos, I appreciated it. All the stars and nebulae, pulsars and supernovae. I wasn’t able to get out much personally, but I was lucky enough on a few occasions. It was breathtaking. And on earth, we can see much farther than they can, even with some of their telescopes. I’ll spare a glance here and there when I get the chance, and it really is unparalleled.” Aziraphale stopped, still looking firmly at the nebula in front of him. He spoke softer this time. “Dare I say it, maybe even more beautiful than anything here on earth.” A pause. His head turned slightly towards Crowley and met his eyes beneath the shades. “Or rather, almost anything.” 

Crowley’s head snapped violently back towards the image, not daring to look back at Aziraphale. Earth had been almost entirely God’s pet project, the vast majority anyways. Some details had been relegated to other angels. But the earth had always truly been Hers. Aziraphale’s proclamation of the superior beauty of the cosmos was… a lot to process. Not to mention the meaning of the angel’s pointed glance at him. It was a bit too much for Crowley. He coughed, still not meeting the other’s eyes. 

“Off to the Baths then?” 

Kenilworth Castle 

“Kenilworth, now this is a real castle,” Crowley said, picking away at the grapes on the fruit platter. They had driven north from Bath that morning, exiting the South West and entering into the West Midlands. Crowley accompanied Aziraphale to a hearty breakfast before their departure. They continued to avoid the main roads, Crowley speeding through old dirt roads in the countryside. Aziraphale would point out every herd of sheep, every single baby calf, every mangy looking old goat while a look of utter delight and whimsy. He had become completely enamored with the countryside and Crowley was beginning to worry about how he would ever get him back to the city. 

“Oh look at those horses! There’s a small black foal, isn’t it just darling? Shall we stop by to say hello?” 

Crowley glowered at the animals that were grazing the field they were driving past and pushed down even harder on the gas in response.

“You’re no fun, my dear.” 

“Awful creatures. They smell, they buck, they attract flies, painful as all hell to ride, and generally terrible. Not even properly evil, just badly designed and poorly executed. The automobile is definitely among the greatest human inventions along with alcohol and sunglasses. Shame when they stopped making glue out of the bastards.” 

Aziraphale smacked him (not so lightly) on his arm, “Crowley! What an awful thing to say!” 

“What? They deserve it.” 

“My goodness, what on earth did horses ever do to you.”

“What didn’t they do? Centuries of sore buttocks, horse flies, and manure. The smell, Aziraphale, do you remember it? The streets were absolutely disgusting, it’s no wonder I stayed inside for most of the 18th century.”

“I think you’re being too harsh on them. I find them quite majestic.”

“Nothing majestic about your teeth taking up more room in your skull than your brain.” 

“Well, I quite like them.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Suit yourself, angel.”

They continued north for another hour or so, eventually stopping in Stratford-Upon-Avon to pick up some food for a picnic (actually Crowley’s suggestion) and to pay respects to an old friend. They continued on, taking many detours, arriving at the castle just in time for lunch. Crowley pulled out a picnic blanket from the trunk (whether it had been there the whole time or if he had just miracled it then, Aziraphale didn’t know. Regardless, he was touched by the gesture.) He laid it out under the shade of a nearby Ash tree that grew just a bit outside the central keep. 

“Yes, it had its fair share of excitement back in the day.” Aziraphale agreed. 

“Came to see King John here once. What a prick. That whole family was a mess. Richard and Henry weren’t that awful in the grand scheme of British royalty, although that’s quite a low bar. Oh, but John, totally insufferable. I was supposed to tempt him into rebelling but the bastard was already scheming before I got there, and not very well mind you. Didn’t bother helping out when it failed, I didn’t really feel like getting involved.” 

“I accompanied Elizabeth here a few times. Very intelligent woman, difficult life though. Popped in every-so-often to lend her a helping hand. I remember tutoring her briefly when she was a child. Incredibly bright and kind for a child of her age. The crown hardened her considerably, but who could blame her.” 

“Oh yes, she was a feisty one. One of the few British royals I had any respect for at all, although she still had her fair share of flaws, but who am I to judge?” 

They continued to eat, somehow always remaining in the shade despite the passing of hours. Aziraphale was usually quite silent when he ate, his mouth constantly full with the next delight Crowley had packed away into the wicker basket, so Crowley took it upon himself to fill the silence by recounting his many tales of Kenilworth and the events surrounding it, sprawled out on his side, one arm supporting his head. 

“You know the tennis balls had been my idea. I had meant it as an insult but I think Henry overreacted a little bit.”

Aziraphale paused his enjoyment of some shortcake, “At least we got a good play out of it.” 

“Fair enough. The old Bard never really bothered with historical accuracy but I didn’t mind with him. Made it better usually.” 

“I’d be inclined to agree.” 

Eventually Aziraphale had had his full and pulled out a book, leaning up against the Ash. Crowley moved closer, laying down beside him. 

“What are you reading?” 

“The Anabasis of Alexander.”

“He was a drama queen.” 

“This is a classic.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Aziraphale ignored him and pulled out his reading glasses. Crowley had never said this out loud, but he loved Aziraphale’s reading glasses. The glasses were practically ancient, picked up sometime during Crowley’s respite in the 19th century. He didn’t need them, and Crowley didn’t know why he wore them. A fashion he had picked up? Perhaps he simply enjoyed the completion of his ‘old bookkeeper’ look? At any rate, Crowley never complained when Aziraphale opened a large tome and took out the spectacles. He looked up at Aziraphale; ‘Cute’ he thought. There that word was again. The glasses made Aziraphale look intelligent, sophisticated, extremely out of date, and certainly not cute. Or at least, that’s what Crowley thought (or did he?) 

“Read a bit for me. I’m sure it’ll put me right to sleep.”

The angel huffed at the minor insult but settled in closer to Crowley anyways. The demons head was up against his thigh, arms at his side and legs bent upwards. There was a gentle warm breeze and songbirds that flew in and out of the ash. The sun was bright and hot but they were cool and comfortable in the shade, both subconsciously leaning into the warmth of the other. 

“In Ecbatana, Alexander offered sacrifice according to his custom, for good fortune; and he celebrated a gymnastic and musical contest…”

Plas Newydd

They stayed the night in Kenilworth after allowing themselves the luxury of a lazy afternoon followed by a warm meal at a local pub (in this part of the country, most options for dining out were pubs). The next morning they took the Bentley further northwest, crossing the border into Wales. The signs changed into a jumble of consonants and seemingly misplaced vowels. 

“I haven’t been to Wales in so long. I adore the people here, very charming folks. I do hope my Welsh hasn’t fallen out of shape, it has been quite a while.” 

They drove down the old country roads, Crowley for once not doing nearly double the speed limit, perhaps as a courtesy to Aziraphale or maybe because even he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the sleepy atmosphere of the small villages they passed through (although the most likely cause was simply extending their time on the road. He enjoyed the peace and solitude he shared with Aziraphale while they rode in the Bentley.) 

Aziraphale looked quizzically down at the map they had picked up in Shrewsbury. “I believe you take a right up here, dear boy.”

“Hope you aren’t getting us lost in the Welsh countryside, angel. All these villages look the same to me.” 

He looked up from the map and up to the signs with arrows on the side of the road, “No, we’re still in the correct direction. My navigation skills were unparalleled back in the day, I’ll have you know. Served on a privateer ship for a number of months and guarded over an exhibition or two back in the age of explorers.”   

Crowley looked up at the signs, recognizing one of the names, “Off to Llangollen then, are we?” 

Aziraphale looked over to him surprised, “You’ve heard of it?” 

“Visited it to, a couple of centuries ago.” 

Aziraphale looked delighted, “So you must have met the ladies then! Can’t imagine what else would bring you to the north-eastern Welsh countryside. I never realized you made it out to see them.” 

“Yeah, I visited them a handful of times while traveling between London and Dublin. Eleanor and Sarah. Haven’t thought about them in quite a while. Kept hearing about them and got curious.” 

“They were a delightful pair, wonderful hosts too. Elenor and I would sit in the parlor and discuss the recent literature. Poets, in particular, seemed to be drawn to Plas Newydd and most had left behind a copy or two of their work. I recall walking around the estate with Sarah and exchanging thoughts on current events. They were both surprisingly insightful despite their isolation.” 

“Bit too fond of horses for my taste, but I could respect how they rebelled against the system. Caused quite a stir for a while, and I enjoy good gossip. The scandal, the outrage, pretty funny if you ask me. Had a few interesting chats with them over tea.”

 What Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t realize is that on multiple occasions, they had both shared details of each other to the ladies of Llangollen. Crowley and Aziraphale were both singular personalities in their own way and it had not taken much for the two ladies to connect the dots between both ‘men’ (or what both had assumed to be men) stories. Aziraphale had visited them first, introducing himself as a friend of William Wordsworth. He had indeed discussed literature and current events, but sometimes over dinner one evening he had begun disclosing certain details about a dark fellow (certainly not a friend) that Aziraphale was doing business with whom he had some conflicting emotions. Within a year, a dark fellow with bright red hair had strolled up to Plas Newydd and introduced himself as a friend of the Shelley's. They had welcomed him in, but he was much more reserved than some of their previous visitors. However, after a bottle of gin, the stranger was much more open and willing to share some strange stories of his travels. He was well journeyed and quite connected, having stories from famous scientists, authors, criminals, and even royals. After a bottle of brandy had been opened, he started talking about a friend of his, or perhaps more of a coworker. They had known each other for quite some time but in recent years it seemed as if their relationship had developed a few more layers. As he continued to describe the acquaintance, Eleanor and Sarah had both glanced sidelong at each other with the same realization. 

As the two beings came and went, bringing new stories and sharing new details of their other half, the glances between the two women while the otherworldly being relayed their most recent thoughts on the other become more frustrated and knowing. It had been difficult not to intervene but they had both known it was for the best. One day, Aziraphale (or simply “Mr. Fell”) had come to visit. He discussed literature and current events like usual but never seemed to bring up his mysterious coworker. When they asked him about it, his face contorted like he had eaten something sour. They had had a falling out and were not talking to each other at the moment. The two women looked at each other in concern but didn’t attempt to press the issue. 

They had never seen Crowley again. 

Crowley and Aziraphale pulled up to Plas Newydd a short time later. Both Aziraphale’s navigation skills and Welsh had thankfully remained intact despite the disuse. The house had been well maintained throughout the centuries. Crowley purchased admission for them both. It had been turned into a museum a number of years ago, but both of them weren’t focused on the exhibits, sparing only a pacing glance at the displaces and descriptive plaques. Instead, they took in the house itself and the memories that returned to them with each room that they passed through. As they strolled within the many rooms: bedrooms, parlour, kitchen, library, and outside of the estate in the vast gardens and green rolling fields, the two cast sidelong glances at each other, not unlike two Irish ladies from centuries ago. 

Hadrian’s Wall 

They continued north on the same day, stopping for lunch in the village before they resumed their journey. After lunch, before they set off onto country roads, Crowley thought they should pick up some more CD’s. They had burned through most of the ones he had brought in from the apartment, and he was starting to get sick of not only “Killer Queen” but also “Fantasia on Greensleeves”. There was a little music shop in the quaint downtown that sold a handful of instruments, some sheet music, a bin of records, and yes, an assortment of CDs. It was a shame Aziraphale never slept since he had been mostly unable to listen to some of his personal favorites as the other being would be awake for the duration of their car rides. Aziraphale had fallen behind the times recently. Back before the advent of recorded audio, Aziraphale had needed to go out into the world to enjoy music, which kept him fairly up to date with the trends. However, after the advent of recording, Aziraphale had been able to enjoy the pleasures of the symphony from his own home, able to read or eat while he enjoyed the sweet melodies. And so he stopped attending the opera, symphony, or any sort of concert almost entirely. He still got out occasionally, when they were playing Beethoven series or one of his favorite Italian operas, but after the 19th century he was pleased to simply keep returning to old favorites (certain notable examples exist. Aziraphale was a fan of Kafka, Vaughn Williams, Rachmaninoff, Ravel, Bartók, and a handful of others.) He had listened to some ragtime and bebop, but he hadn’t been a fan and had simply abandoned all popular music afterward. Crowley drifted through the aisles but was mostly with content to let Aziraphale pick out the music. He was mostly hovering through the classical section, already with half a dozen new CDs. He wandered through a few other sections before walking back over to Crowley. 

“Nothing for yourself?”

“You seem to have enough already.”

They walked over to the cashier, Aziraphale setting about all of the CDs and Crowley pulled out his wallet. The old woman behind the cash rung up their purchase and Crowley pulled out the exact change out of his wallet. She accepted it graciously. 

“And where are you two from? Don’t get many visitors this time of year.” She spoke with a thick Welsh accent but must have overheard them speaking in english. 

Aziraphale smiled warmly, “London. Just taking a bit of a holiday, driving around the countryside.” 

“Oh that’s lovely. I prefer the weather this time of year anyway. I like the heat, but in the summer, a bit too hot in recent years. My husband and I drove up to Edinburgh back in July to visit our Lizzie for her wedding. We used to travel all over Europe in the summer months. A bit more difficult after the kids but we were able to bring them along when they were a bit older.”

“Oh yes, Edinburgh has become quite lovely in recent years. It’s been quite a while since I’ve visited myself.” 

“Well if you and your husband are continuing north, I would definitely suggest you stop by.” 

Aziraphale went red at her assumption. He sputtered in response. “Oh, um, well yes, thank you for the suggestion.”

She gave him a wide smile, “No need to be embarrassed, dear. Our Lizzie was marrying her girlfriend, Mackenzie, up in Edinburgh. Most people in these parts are quite accepting.” 

Aziraphale could only redden and nod his head. She handed Crowley a receipt. 

“Diolch.” He replied coolly, face unreadable behind the tinted glasses. 

“Cael diwrnod braf!” She replied as they walked out of the shop. 

They were finally back off onto the road. Aziraphale pulled out one of the new CDs. 

“Look what I found, Crowley. I thought you might like it.”

It was a collection of William Herschel recorded by the London Mozart Players. Crowley returned with a neutral grunt of acknowledgment that didn’t convey any particularly positive or negative sentiments regarding the recording. Aziraphale ejected the previous CD and put in the new one. 

“So where are we off to next, angel?” 

“You know, I’m not quite sure. I thought we could just… drive for a bit, and see where we end up?”  

Crowley grinned, “Not your usual style, ‘going with the flow’, ‘seeing where the road takes you.’”

He shrugged in response, “I’ve been trying many new things these last few months.”

And so North they went, out of Wales, up through the West Midlands and into the North West. They continued to bypass the highways in favor of country roads. They drove along the Irish sea, passing by Liverpool, Southport, and Blackpool. At Lancaster, they continued due North towards Kendal instead of continuing along the shoreline. Crowley made most navigational decisions, simply following his intuition. Every so often he would ask Aziraphale for input, but mostly they drove in silence. The angel mostly watched out the window, every so often cracking open the book he had with him. 

After another hour or so, Aziraphale finally perked up.

“Ah.”

Crowley looked over to him, “What?”

He pointed to one of the signs. It read “Hadrian’s Wall” and had an arrow pointing right. 

“We should go there.” 

And so Crowley make a sharp turn to the right, and off they went. 

After only another 10 minutes (Crowley’s maniacal driving had returned in full force), the two found themselves at the base of about a 5ft 2000-year-old wall. 

“Sort of a dumb plan if you ask me.” 

“Hm?”

“Not sure what Hadrian was thinking with this one. Bloody long wall on the fringe of the empire, middle of nowhere? Always seemed like nonsense to me.”

“Perhaps.”

“Next guy pretty much completely abandoned it. Did it ever serve any useful role at any point? Not like it was ever that high in the first place, not sure what he thought he could stop with it. Humanity has found its way across rivers, mountains, and deserts, but oho, not a five-foot wall, that’ll stop ‘em.” 

Aziraphale was setting up his camera. The wall was surrounded by kilometers of green fields speckled with trees that were changing color in the autumn season. There was a small lake about a kilometer down from the stretch of the wall that the two had found themselves at. 

“Sit still, won’t you? You’ll blur the image.” 

Crowley pulled his crossed arms slightly closer in. “Don’t see why you wanted a picture in the first place. Can’t you just get a couple of snaps of the herons over there and be done with it?”

“I have so few photos of you, dear. I’d like a few from this vacation. I’ve had such a lovely time so far. Maybe I’ll make a scrapbook when we’re back in London. Have you heard of those? Came across the idea a few weeks ago and I’ve been meaning to try my hand at it.”

“Don’t see why I need to be in them. Why do you need a photo when I’ll be around anyway? I’ll just ruin your landscapes.”

Aziraphale looked up from the camera and directly at Crowley with a twinkle in his eyes. “You know I think you look positively lovely, dear boy. Now shut up, I want at least one good one.”

And shut up he did. 

Tynemouth Priory and Castle (Edward II and Piers Gaveston + Duel?) 

They found a little country inn in one of the nearby villages. Crowley slept soundly in his single bed while Aziraphale stayed up reading. They ate the continental breakfast that was provided, Aziraphale putting a fair portion of homemade strawberry jam that the owner’s son had apparently made onto his rolls while Crowley enjoyed his cup of Lady Grey. 

“I feel like going to the coast today,” Aziraphale said in between mouthfuls of toast. 

“Which one?” Crowley replied, leaning back in his chair on the outdoor patio. 

“How about the North Sea? We did the Irish Sea, the Celtic Sea seems like the next logical step.” 

“Anywhere in particular?”

“Have you ever been to Tynemouth? There’s an old Priory and Castle. I was there all the way back in the 7th century. Nice little spot on the coast.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been, later though. Briefly in the 14th century, with Edward II.” 

“Well?”

“Fine with me.” 

They left a bit later that morning, going towards the morning sun due East. It was starting to get a bit chillier as they stretched further into autumn and the closer they got to the sea. It wasn’t a long drive by, even without Crowley behind the wheel. Soft piano music that Crowley didn't recognize was coming out of the stereo. It was pleasant, music that sounded like it came right out of a 19th-century parlor. Aziraphale was humming along while he read (a new book, yet again. He seemed to burn through a new one each day.) 

They drove up a hill right beside the coast to the ruins. They were the only ones there when Crowley pulled the Bentley off to the side of the dirt road. They got out in tandem and walked toward the abandoned castle. 

“Long time since I've been around here. I wouldn't mind making a habit of these little excursions.”

“I guess it's not half bad when you avoid tourist season.” 

“You said you'd been here before?”

“Yup, I was briefly a part of Edward II entourage trying to rile up some tensions within the court. You ever meet him?” 

“Unfortunately, no.” 

“Eh, weren't missing much. He and Piers Gaveston had been inseparable. Bit annoying but mostly harmless. Tragic end, but that was pretty common for that lot back in the day.”

“Nobles?” 

Crowley laughed, “Not quite, angel.”

They walked through the main archway. It had obviously changed significantly throughout the centuries, the brick and mortar now exposed to the elements, large chunks were missing and covered in moss, and yet in some ways, it hadn't changed at all. All of the roofs had crumbled away centuries ago, leaving the bright blue sky above them, with clouds blowing in from over the sea and the sun creeping higher into the sky. Birds nested throughout the ruins in little nooks and crannies, perched atop old towers and in between the remnants of windows. 

“I had my fair share of adventures here as well,” Aziraphale remarked. 

“Oh really?” Crowley said playfully, grin on his face. Aziraphale enjoyed the frequency with which Crowley had smiled during the trip. 

“I did return once after the 7th century, mid 16ty century after it was taken over by Henry VIII. Got into a bit of a tiff with a few visiting Italians.”

“‘Bit of a tiff’? What'd you do, get into a heated argument about the marinara sauce?” 

“Don't mock me, old boy. No, we handled the affair like men.” He replied primly. 

Crowley turned to look at him, “You didn't duel them, did you?” 

Aziraphale blushed a little, “It's not my usual style but the situation quickly escalated.” 

Crowley laughed, and it echoed around them. “Did you win?” 

Aziraphale looked insulted, “Of course I won! I wasn't given a flaming sword for no reason.” 

“What was the argument?”

“I can't quite recall where it started but I believe it ended when he called me a son of a bitch and I replied with something along the lines of 'You dare refer to the Lord that way!?' and drew my sword.” 

Crowley gave him a wicked grin, “Would have liked to see that.”

“We should spar sometime. I may be a bit out of shape but I'm sure I could show you a thing or two.”

“Definitely not. I was always rubbish with weaponry. Never really bothered with it. Prefer using my wits, and when a sword was necessary I just got someone else to do it.”

“Maybe I could teach you?” 

The offer was left unanswered, the two naturally returning to a comfortable silence as they continued their exploration of the old castle and priory. It was an old place, humans had been occupying the land for 2000 years, and yet they were still much older. This castle had been in ruins for centuries, and they had been there before, during, and after. They did not feel old within the new metropolises that had popped up in the last century but in the ruins of the civilizations that they outlived by millennia. They were old, but they were old together, and now nothing was there to stop them from being so. 

“Shall we go home?” 

Home. Crowley liked the sound of that when Aziraphale said it. 

“Yeah, let's go.” 

Epilogue: Dover Castle 

They drove south along the coast. Aziraphale had gone through nearly all of the CDs he had acquired in Wales, except one.  

“Vera Lynn? Didn’t realize you were a fan.”

“She had such a lovely voice. They broadcast one her performances on BBC during the war and I bought a record the next day." 

“How modern of you.”

“This one apparently came out this year. I like the cover art. Technology is unbelievable nowadays, over 30 tracks on a single side of this tiny disc.” 

It was later in the afternoon now, Vera Lynn serenading the duo as rolling hills passed them on one side and choppy grey waves on the other. It had been a well-needed disruption in their daily routines, a literal and figurative breath of fresh air. If Crowley was being honest (which he rarely was with himself) he enjoyed spending all this time with Aziraphale. The angel had allowed himself to enjoy their vacation much more openly, but Crowley had enjoyed it too, in his own way. He was old, which he did not care to admit. Humanity had aged him. 6000 years in the pits of hell was nothing, but 6000 years amongst billions of the busiest and most diverse animals on the planet had a way of reminding your how ancient you truly are. Most humans believed that the earth was billions of years old, and that was a length of time that Crowley did not care to imagine. Revisiting all of these old castles and villages reminded him just how much he had experienced already, so much more than any person could imagine, longer than any given human civilization. Up until now, the future had been finite, but now, thinking about all that he could still experience here on earth with seemingly no expiration date was equal parts exciting and terrifying. He looked over at the angel. He kept doing that throughout the trip. Glancing over at Aziraphale in the passenger seat, either reading a book or looking out at the scenery and on one extremely treasured stretch of the drive when he closed his eyes and ‘slept’ (Crowley doubted he had been completely successful in his attempt but it was a marvel to behold regardless.) How many more vacations would they have? How far would they go? The anxiety that had hovered over their previous encounters still loomed slightly, but it was quickly fading with each passing month. Where would they be in a year? He was nervous, terrified even. But looking over at the angel, the knot in his stomach seemed to disentangle itself slowly but surely. 

Aziraphale’s thoughts were significantly less deep. He was extremely happy with how the vacation had shaped up and was excited to plan out the next. He was still ready to be back home in his bookshop, he could only handle so much excitement and travel, but it had been energizing and thrilling in its own way. This trip had reminded him why he had settled in England. For all its flaws (notably the weather. Crowley would have also said the politics but Aziraphale didn’t make a habit of keeping up with current affairs), it was a beautiful country filled with kind and well-intentioned people. And had produced its fair share of good music. He had not listened to Vera Lynn in a while but somehow all those old tunes were still in his head as he hummed along watching the sun descend closer to the horizon. He saw a sign that said ‘London’ and when Crowley did not turn onto it, he looked over at the demon curiously. 

“Thought we’d make one more stop before heading back home. Just a bit further south.” 

Aziraphale was in no rush, so he made no objection. He slid back into his spot up against the window, head perched on his hand. They view slowly grew more and more populated, quaint villages into small towns and then again into cities. Aziraphale closed his eyes, just enjoying the music, enjoying the peace, enjoying Crowley. Even though he was not saying anything the demon's presence was so easily felt. He let himself soak up that feeling and they carried on. They crossed over the Thames and slowly returned to those quaint villages and green fields. The drive wasn’t very long (almost certainly to do with the incredibly dangerous speeds the Bentley had been driving at). They got out of the car and Aziraphale gazed upwards towards the imposing structure in front of them. It was well preserved, in a much better condition than the other castles they had visited. The main keep was surrounded by enormous walls on all sides. The castle itself stood upon a hill overlooking the English Channel. The sun was setting over the water far in the distance. Crowley hadn’t driven them up to the main castle, instead of off to the side closer to the rocky cliffs. 

“Dover Castle, the Key of England.”

Crowley got out off the car without turning it off so the music continued to pour out of the Bentley. Aziraphale followed, meeting Crowley who had walked around the car to his side. “Red Sails in the Sunset” faded out and familiar flute and string orchestra began to play. 

“They’ll be bluebirds over, the white cliffs of Dover.” 

Aziraphale began to blush, “Oh my dear, you didn't.” Except, when Aziraphale said ‘my dear’ the accent was not on the my and full of disbelief or frustration, but on the dear, and was not so much of an exclamation than a term of endearment, gentle and full of care. Crowley would never say it aloud, but he adored the way it sounded out of Aziraphale’s mouth, and especially since it was directed at him. He didn’t respond, instead, leaning against the angel watching the sunset over the castle, which he hoped was in of itself enough of an answer. 

Now it should be noted that ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ was that in fact included in the recording Aziraphale had purchased, but Crowley did not know that and imagined that it must be, and so there it was, just in time. The song (miraculously) matched up perfectly with the setting sun. Crowley (or maybe it had been Aziraphale. Both had slowly drifted into each other as night fell, hands brushing up against the others) slowly slipped his hand into that of his best friend. A quiet display of affection that meant so much as the stars began to emerge from the darkening the sky. 

“Tomorrow, just you wait and see.”