#i imagine that beth is in a position where she wants to date him and has made it quite well known. rick knows she wants to date him.

[hournites]

I saw Hournite and immediately rushed to send in an ask! 😁 "Is this a date?" -Rhuben

Homemakers

Beth wiped silky cobweb film on her patchwork jeans. Mindful to not let her upbringing with wealthy parents and a spotless home cloud her judgment, she stepped away from the giant 80s curtains, continuing to meander through the fixer-upper. The wooden floorboards were swollen with old water damage and spreading apart by the front foyer, creaking beneath her tennis shoes. A stubborn stale smell lingered in the air, even after Rick opened windows to stop her sneezing.  

“I know it needs work.” Rick glanced around at the stains and barebones furniture, seeing his home through her eyes for the first time. “A lot of work.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” She turned around, full with so much gratitude. To her knowledge, Rick had never let anyone visit his house. When he casually suggested they stop by because he forgot his hourglass in his room, she nearly kicked her feet with giddy. She was happy just to be on his property for the first time, she didn’t expect him to give her a private tour. “I think this place is wonderful.” 

“It’s a shithole,” he corrected, shrugging a shoulder. “There was a pipe leak just last week. You don’t have to lie.” 

It wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t about to deny that it needed serious TLC. The rugs could use a good beating and every room she saw was practically begging for a deep clean. The only mirror was dirty and cracked in the bathroom. The couch could at minimum use a cover, but honestly needed to be replaced…Swiffer could do a commercial here for their mops. No dishwasher and a clothesline for his flannel to dry. At the same time, in all its depressing neglected glory, many trinkets belonging to Rick’s parents were left behind by Matt Harris, writing them off as worthless in value. It was humbling and reassuring to see the reminders of the house this once was. It brought Rick’s past alive. 

In fact, she was certain she could transform this into a rustic, positive and hospitable space Rick wouldn’t have to feel ashamed of. With some flowers in window planters and a few fruit trees for Grundy, they could even revive the farm and make it beautiful again. 

“Nonsense.” Sitting down on a soft duvet in the room they ended up in, she slipped her hands behind herself to curb the itch she had to fetch her goggles and measure dimensions. She flashed him a grin instead. “It just needs a trip to Ikea.”

“…Ikea?” he repeated, like it was a foreign word. 

Beth gave him an excited nod. “Mmhm!” 

Rick crossed his arms with a strange look on his face, leaning against the doorpost as she looked around, noticing a mismatching vibe she couldn’t quite place. She sniffed after another tickling sneeze, nose no longer quite so clogged with dust mite. An earthy scent greeted her at last. A hint of sandalwood and trees.

 “It smells so good here.” She settled in, crossing one leg underneath the other and pulled out her phone for Ikea’s web browser while ideas were still fresh. “Best spot so far.” 

“This is my room,” he told her, amused. “And that’s my bed, so you’re smelling me.” 

She gaped at him, ignoring the flush warming her cheeks. “Your room?” 

But there wasn’t a single personal item here on display! No books, snack wrappers, or any pictures…There was the bed and a chair, and, yes, admittedly now she did see his phone charger plugged into the outlet in the corner, but…she at least expected the hourglass to be somewhere noticeable. 

“What?” he teased. “Didn’t think my bed would be made?”

She stood up, sensitive to what was growing between them and unsure how to proceed. “I didn’t say that!” she protested hotly. 

“I know, B. I’m kidding.” 

His tone went soft. Like he loved to ruffle her feathers for the opportunity to gently set her at ease. 

Opening his door to her also opened a part of  himself that Beth always craved after. As guarded as he first was that she knew everything about where he came from, he’d quickly adapted and affirmed her presence much like the baby steps it took for Rick to invite her to sit shotgun in the Mustang. And now it was her unofficial official seat. 

“But why is it always you now,” Yolanda used to whine when Rick picked them up for school. Beth would shrug innocently, like she hadn’t been aware their dynamic was charged from the start. 

She wasn’t sure how long he’d ever had the peace they fostered in the Mustang, knowing this was the very place he’d used the car for to escape. It wasn’t lost on her that their friendship filled a lot of voids. Connection, solidarity, and, well, partnership. Which, at first, worked in the traditional sense on the team, but had now sailed into the uncharted gray area beyond intense friendship. She couldn’t help longing for more. And, she knew, she was the one that usually tested the boundary as the extrovert of the two, but it secretly thrilled her when it was Rick’s doing, which he was more often. 

It had only occurred to her that she’d never let Rick into her bedroom all the times he’d stayed over. Why was that? Her parents never set out any ground rules. And there she was, curling up in his private space–She could only dream what was running through his mind. Was there such a thing as too comfortable? How much was too much?

“And—” she continued to justify, even though Rick never asked. “I likely have your scent memorized because I’m familiar with your car. Or something.”

“Sure.” Rick lifted an eyebrow at her, and kept going. “Or, you just really like my aftershave.” Bending down, he pulled out a storage container from under his bed with a padlock and that had all his stuff. 

Beth glanced out the window at the field of dry grass, hoping he’d open it too when the room only grew warmer as more unwarranted thoughts of Rick shaving leisurely swirled around her head. 

Meanwhile, Rick latched onto the golden chain of the hourglass and slipped it round his neck. She decided she’d rather be embarrassed about finding such random things Rick does attractive than stay sad about the state of his living habits, clearly developed from living with his uncle. He deserved a teenage room, not a hotel safe. Now that thought drove her to wrap her arms around his middle. 

“Thanks for bringing me here.” 

Rick returned her hug hesitantly, genuinely confused. “Is this just an excuse to smell me?” 

“No,” she said with a roll of her eyes, a teeny tiny fib–she’d already buried her face into his shirt. But this was not the time for that, so she sacrificed the sandalwood for propriety and regretfully pulled away. “I know it matters, that’s all. You could’ve told me to wait in the car but you didn’t. So, thank you.” 

He nodded and Beth stepped back, folding her arms.“So, Ikea after training?” 

She watched him nervously rub his jaw and added, “We can set a budget. And you get veto power over anything we get.” She crossed her heart but in their business, didn’t think it prudent to hope to die. 

“Okay, but I veto.” 

Her hand is still over her chest. “You veto.” 

“It’s my budget not yours.” 

“Okay, but can I buy a few things?” 

“Define a few.” 

She held out a hand. “Ten things?” She saw his face twist and quickly adjusted. “Five things! Five things you really want!”

“One thing. Maybe. I’ll pay you back later. And, I’d need your advice anyway so don’t give me that look. And this is my house, not yours.” 

She saluted as he shepherded her out of his room with a hand on the small of her back.  “Message clear and understood.” 

-.-

“Is this a date?” She peered into a display box with a dozen different door knobs in one of the Ikea showrooms. Rick gave her a long sideways glance as he pushed a cart twice the length of Courtney’s staff. 

“What?” She laughed in his pointed silence. “People go on Ikea dates all the time! They browse interior decor, ask probing questions to get to know each other, share Pinterest ideas to share their dream house aesthetics, and find pieces that fit both styles. There’s a restaurant to eat Swedish meatballs for dinner…Not to mention the teamwork required afterwards for assembly.”

“You think building furniture together with wordless instructions is romantic?” 

“It can be with the right person! And a pair of very useful AI goggles. Or a guy with very convenient strength.” She picked up an eight dollar lampshade. “This one?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Does it come in black? And I thought you were very against using JSA stuff for non-JSA things.”

“Exceptions can be made–Are you sure you want black? That’s a depressing color.” 

“I’m sure.” 

She sighed, resigning to the unforgivable fact Rick was a monochromatic minimalist by default. She noted it down to collect in the maketplace. “So, is this a date?”  

The long cart came to a stop. Rick rested his elbow against the metal grate handle. “Believe it or not I do have standards. I’m not having a first date be a trip to Ikea because my house is so ugly it rendered you to tears.” 

She laughed again in disbelief, having so much fun. “I did not cry!” 

“You hugged me!” 

“Because you smelled really good, and I was in your room, which also smelled really good, and I was happy,” she explained, gesturing wildly. 

“You’re going to bump into that dresser,” Rick warned her, avoiding a backwards collision with the KOPPANG by tugging her close just in the nick of time. 

Greeted by sandalwood yet again, she whispered, “So a first date in your books would not include Ikea at all?”

“Not a first date. Not any date.”

“Noted.” She peered at him quickly, then glanced away to watch other families and couples shop, clasping her wrists behind her back as they walked along the long natural way. Rick strayed away to pick up a few things.

It was when she got lost going through the Turkish rug samples hanging from the ceiling that an arm wrapped around her and she got a kiss on her cheek felt all the way down to her toes. 

[brooklynislandgirl]

Only if you want! 💚 :' ) And if so, whichever verse speaks to you!

Imagine You and Me || -

Beth cannot remember a time where Ben wasn't in her life. As she grew older she realised how unusual that was, because everything about them should have made them enemies; Ben is dyed in the wool Protestant, the Rileys have been Catholic from almost from the time of Raghllaigh, Prince of Breffney in the Year of the Lord 981. The Rileys enjoy a privileged life of wealth, position, and titles where as the Tallmadges were more modest. But their fathers were fast friends, enjoying debate and arts and philosophy, so it was natural that their children would also be friends. Ben and Andy certainly were meeting when Beth was still in swaddling. For years the small group of children, Beth chased them through hill and dale, merely content to be included by the older ones though Ben reserved a special place in her world, as beloved as her brother Andrew was and remained. Ben was the only person who could ever call her Lizzie. And when the family moved from Setauket to Boston, then Boston to Philadelphia, leaving land and property thriving, Beth became inconsolable. A furious wave of letters written and sent eventually dwindled, and Beth carried on with her life and education, though she never forgot Ben. She always believed they would find each other again, she simply hadn't expected it to be a war with England that would do it. The second the murmurs made their circles, of course Andy threw his hat into the Continental ring. If Beth had had the luxury of being a second son, she would have followed soon after. From his letters home, Andy was pleased to report meeting back up with Ben and Brewster, Samuel and a fair few others. Having the responsibility of the household, Beth began to send funds and supplies as she could while maintaining the facade of neutrality important to Society.   When Andrew goes missing in battle, Ben took it upon himself to personally inform the family, to offer his condolences in person because he knows better than most that Andy is likely no longer in the world. Beth is devastated by the news, but equally shocked to realise three things; that Ben has grown into a fine man of some standing, that her feelings for him have only changed from their tender kinship to a fire burning in her chest, and that she won't let this chance slip away from her. Elizabeth Riley loves Ben Tallmadge, and she is serving two causes; freedom for her nation, and capturing the Major's affections. Her Straw Haired Soldier, her Good Reverend Oat. {{I am not gonna lie... I didn't see this one coming, but from the first sets of posts I absolutely fell in love with this ship, and am constantly amazed and delighted by how it's unfolding, and the plans we are making for them. I love how you write Ben, and I think he's absolutely darling under your care! 20/10, I will give them up when I am dead}}

Earl Grollman tells us: "Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve." They don't meet conventionally, as one doesn't take a grief counselling meeting to be a place where one typically picks up a date, but they do find each other, and reach out. They make each other laugh and have such amazing chemistry from the get go. It's funny and it's awkward, and they are both holding back so much of their real lives and real selves. Maybe they want the other to see them as the people they wished they'd grown into. Maybe the baggage of everything they've experienced is too heavy and this is a fresh start. Regardless, it strikes me as both poignant and heart warming. There will be upset in the future of the story when the little lies told unravel and they become exposed to one another's truths, but I look forward to that, too. One of the things I find fascinating in this modern twist is that Ben has lost his younger brother, whom he was so very protective over, and "Ellie" has lost her older brother, who was so protective over here. The pieces left behind in the wake of their tragic too-young passings meet up in the ones who survive them, and they have perspectives and parts of themselves to offer that match up almost seamlessly. I love Ben's dark sort of humour, and I love how they have a lot in common despite leading very different lives. They will grow, they will change, they will leave a mark on each other and hopefully come out the better for having each other in their lives, and I don't really make a prediction of the future here, except I think it will be one of those lasting bonds. I love that they seem to have it it off like a match tossed into a pile of kerosene soaked rags. I love how Ben is and can be soft, can be open, can be a lot of things that go against stereotype, without missing a beat and without coming across as out of place, despite being sort of 'old fashioned'. Once again, you've hit one out of the park on this.

{{20/10, your honour, I love them. These are some of the sweetest, dearest ships in my heart}}

[curmudggeon]

Southern Hope (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

❝ If by any chance...in another lifetime, we happen to see each other again, I'll come and find you. And I'll make you fall in love with me, over and over again ❞

In which romance novelist, Mary-Beth under the pen name of Leslie Dupont, writes a coming of age love story based on her favourite gang members in the past, You and Arthur.

Trigger Warnings; Violence | Blood | Angst | Sexual Intentions

A/N: This is a project I've been working on for quite a while. I had the idea in mind when I had the chance to experience the musical composition of Aaron Copland's quintessential American Dream, 'Appalachian Spring' -one of my favourite pieces with such a beautiful storyline. And I wanted to retell it in the form of a book that is available on my Wattpad (ongoing) for you to enjoy from Mary-Beth's POV. I hope you show love to this book as much as I loved writing it. Have a sneak peek at the prologue!

Read on Wattpad here for more chapters to come!

PROLOGUE

Leslie Dupont; Mary-Beth Gaskill

Lemoyne, Saint Denis

November 1907

-

“Mademoiselle Dupont, we expect your next manuscript to be submitted by next summer. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Here we go again

Mary-Beth sighed as her editor, Céline Laurent, had warned her once more for not meeting the deadline to her books. She was in a crucial position in her life. After her debut as a romance novelist, The Lady of The Manor was an instant best-seller across the country. It was the kind of thing she specializes in, silly ol’ romances.

“I promise you, I’ll get it done by then.” Or maybe, at least not for now. She shouldn't have promised something she couldn’t keep, especially in the meantime.

“I’ll take your word for that, if you don’t meet the deadline by then. Y’know what will happen to your contract, Leslie.” Céline stood at the door frame of Mary-Beth’s office with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

She knew exactly what she had meant. In fact, she knew the consequences on the back of her head when she first signed that contract with her publishing company. Two more books were requested of her. Or else she would be evicted of her apartment and be forced to live along the streets of Saint Denis for the rest of her life. A life of luxury slipping between her fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary-Beth disclaimed, the moment her editor slammed the door as she left her office. Heaving yet another exaggerated sigh, she crosses her arms on the grand rosewood desk, flopping her head on top of it. “What am I going to do now…” She murmured into the crevice of her arms.

Mary-Beth was in the middle of a major writer’s block for a few months now. She lost sight of that imaginative space of hers, consisting of the most swoon-worthy romances to the picture-perfect life she portrayed through her characters. A part of Mary-Beth that her readers absolutely adored. But, her head was now a clouded space of everlasting void. It was difficult for Mary-Beth to come into terms of writing again, but she couldn’t quite identify what had put her into this position.

Once she gathered the courage to write again, it all came crashing down like violent tidal waves when she came face to the daunting blank page of nothingness —almost drowning her.

It was as simple as that. Come to work, have a cup of tea, sit down, and a blank page.

Every. Damn. Time.

Maybe it was because she was already nearing her mid-thirties, and she hasn’t found someone to sweep her off her feet. Maybe it was when she first held Tilly’s baby that she found the need to be a mother someday. Maybe it was the overwhelming response towards her writing, she felt the need to hide away into an abyss. Or maybe she couldn’t stop thinking about the time she had come across John again after so many years that the memories just come flooding back.

Or maybe, just, maybe. It was because it’s November.

The most dreaded time of the year. November, in which the seemingly fearsome Van der Linde gang had officially broken up. Guns were fired, ties were broken and deaths were grieved. An unforgettable, painful memory.

She would often think about campfire songs, the girls and, Miss Grimshaw’s constant nagging about undone chores. Oh, how best of friends Céline and Miss Grimshaw would have been if she had heard Mary-Beth had been slacking again. It was her coping mechanism, think more about the good times to get rid of the bad ones.

Mary-Beth remembered when she took in her hands at being a matchmaker. Prancing around the camp, she would eye her two best contenders. You and Arthur.

She knew from the start when you had laid your eyes on each other for the first time, she could see through the inexplicable connection in between. You were both extremely awkward when it came to small-talk or addressing each other as you walked by across camp. However, it never stopped Arthur to come to camp as soon as he could just so he could see you, even just for a second.

The conversation would often start with Arthur while on his way to Dutch’s tent,

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Yea sure…”

—and that would be it.

At the same time, every single day, at the course of sunset.

You poor socially inept fools.

Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen would always see the interaction happen in the middle of their afternoon chores. Grinning from ear to ear. They would elbow each other whenever there was something different about the correspondence.

One time, you would walk past him, suddenly kissing him on the cheek and scurrying away.

Arthur would stop in his tracks, stunned, with a hand-over where your kiss tingled on his skin. Then he would look back at you as you laid down, smiling to yourself against a tree with a book in your hands. And Dutch would yell his name, knocking him out of his stupor before he noticed he was staring for a little too long.

The girls would start applauding for your heroic performance, it was like a groundbreaking plot twist Mary-Beth couldn’t wait to write about when the idea came into mind.

The both of you were like a walking excruciating slow, slow-burn romance novel. That was when Mary-Beth would cue in her entrance as matchmaker as soon as the interaction slowly died down. Your story had to have a happily ever after in her book.

She would pester you and Arthur separately, mentioning each other’s names and slipping in hints of romantic intentions from the other side so the both of you can address whatever this relationship was.

Mary-Beth knew it was a mission accomplished the night Sean was rescued back to Horseshoe Overlook. When she stood aside of the camp watching Dutch and Molly ballroom dancing into the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of you and Arthur behind them. Running into the woods, hand in hand, giggling to yourselves like prepubescent teenagers.

After that night, it was a considered job well done when your chance encounters slowly turned into planned ones. He would take you on dates, and you would show him affection like nobody’s business. A perfect couple, your American dream.

Until it became a nightmare.

And Arthur had passed,

your Arthur.

Ever since then, Mary-Beth wondered what had happened to you. Were you still alive after all these years? She couldn’t imagine how hard you must be coping with the news. Or what if you didn’t know at all? Even when she asked John and Tilly, they said you disappeared that night he passed.

Not even a single trace. Where were you?

Mary-Beth dismissed the thought out of her head, lifting her head away from the desk. She had to let go of these memories for her own well-being. For what seemed like yesterday were merely years ago. But it couldn’t have hurt to reminisce just a bit, for old times sake.

The story of You and Arthur was unwritten, left to collect dust from the lack of content. The perfect example of a sepia-tinted photograph, forgotten. Mary-Beth believed the both of you deserved something much more than a devastating ending. She wasn’t as ruthless as the other authors she had met that held an iron fist when killing off their characters. Mary-Beth wasn’t like that.

And the idea came to mind. She was a romance novelist for a reason; to fulfil all the possibilities for the unconditional love you shared.

And so Mary-Beth picked up her beautiful fountain pen,

She began to write on the great desk in her quiet room.

To write the most beautiful story of the century,

You and Arthur. Arthur and you.

A perfect couple. The American Dream.

A life that could have been so much more,

A life to remember…

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 35

A/N:  Alright folks...here she is: the last chapter.  To say that I love all of you so much and appreciate with my entire life every like, reblog, comment, tag comments, canon question, ask, etc. would be an understatement.  You guys TRULY make my stories what they are and encourage me to write and post every single week.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you thank you thank you ❤️

Like with all my stories, there will be epilogues for Aberdeen and Willy so we see into their future.  I’m not sure how many I have planned -- probably three right now, thinking of four, depending on how I split things up.  

After the epilogues are posted, I will be starting my new Brock Boeser mini-series “Peaceful Easy Feeling”.  Stay tuned for a post date -- check my Masterlist for future reference.

Without further ado...

August 31st, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was looking into William’s eyes.

They were getting Korean walnut cakes from Hodo Kwaja.  They were out in the open.  Alone on Bloor Street West, in Little Korea, where no-one would recognize him.  He convinced her.  She couldn’t hold back anymore.  She’d tried so hard and she’d succeeded for months – fuck, the better part of a year at this point – and now, she just wanted to have a date out in the open with her boyfriend instead of having to drive to some park on the lakeshore in Etobicoke to secretly hook up in his car.  

“These better be good,” William said as he looked away briefly at the shop owner making a new batch of cakes behind the glass wall.  Even though they were both wearing masks, Aberdeen could tell he was smirking.  “When you say bean paste…”

“I promise you,” she stressed.  “They’re amazing.”

“You wanna bring them to Christie Pitts after?” William asked, reaching for her hand.

Aberdeen nodded.  This was the first time he’d reached for her hand in a public place.  She’d always remember Hodo Kwaja as the place now.  They could never close or tear this bakery down.  “We can eat them under a tree or something.”

“Romantic.”

“I try to be,” she said.  “Especially with my boyfriend.”

“Especially when we’re out in public.”

She crinkled her face.  So did William.  He pulled her into his body and wrapped an arm around her.  They were silent for a few moments before William decided to speak again.  “You should try calling Beth,” he whispered, his voice low.  “You said Alec wouldn’t get back to you, but Beth might.  She’d let you know whether or not they chose to publish the article.”

A shiver ran up Aberdeen’s spine.  “Maybe I’ll email her or something,” she said.  “Alec’s silence speaks volumes though.  I don’t think—”

“Fuck that guy,” William interrupted.  “Call Beth.  Call her.  Maybe she rooted for you.”

The shopkeeper handed Aberdeen the brown bag full of walnut cakes, and she paid for them.  She grabbed at William’s hand and their fingers intertwined before leaving the shop.  “I just think I would have known by now,” Aberdeen mused.  “I mean, the new issue will hit newsstands soon.  Usually they’d tell the writers.”

“Call her,” William urged.  “You’ll never know if you don’t call.”

They walked down the street hand in hand.  It was dusk outside, the hot and humid air of the city finally giving way to a nice breeze that cooled everything down.  Aberdeen’s dress swayed back and forth as they walked towards Christie Pitts, switching subjects to the next bakery they should try.  William made Aberdeen laugh recounting the story of how much Cam loved the Swedish pastries he brought the family during his surprise Christmas visit.  Aberdeen’s heart swelled when William brought her hand up to his lips and kissed where the ring was – the ring he got her, which she’d been wearing ever since.  

As they passed by all the different storefronts – most closed, saved for a few convenience stores or 24 hour laundromats – they both noticed a loading truck parked by the curb with two men going in and out of it, hauling new magazines and the next day’s newspapers into the shop.  William made them stop.  He watched them for a few seconds.

“What are you doing?” Aberdeen asked him.

“Excuse me, sir?” he ignored her, instead calling out to one of the men hauling in the newspapers.  The man looked at him.  “Are those next month’s magazine issues?”

“Of course they are.”

“William—”

“Do you have the new issue of Toronto Life?”

“William—”

“We’ve got everything in the truck, bud,” the other man said, setting down a huge stack of Vogue magazines all bundled together.  “Either you wait or you jump in there yourself to get it.  

William looked between the truck and the men.  He let go of Aberdeen’s hand abruptly.  Her eyes bulged out of their sockets.  “William what are you doing?!” she asked as she watched him climb into the back of the loading truck.

“What do you think?!” he called back out.  “It’ll be a good off-season workout finding the stack!”

“William!” she repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time.

“Oh!  They’re right here!  They’re covered but…” he trailed off.  Aberdeen held her breath.  He emerged hauling a giant wrapped stack – you couldn’t see anything besides the white paper covering it and the plastic ties tying them all together.  He jumped off the back of the truck.  The two men were just watching him.  “You got scissors?” he asked them.

One of them handed him an exacto knife.  William cut off the plastic zipties.

“William, stop,” Aberdeen pleaded.  She wasn’t ready.  She wasn’t ready to know yet.  She had to psych herself up for the inevitable disappointment of not seeing her name on the cover, not seeing her article anywhere in the magazine, and she wasn’t given ample time to do that.  She knew William was being William – proud and spontaneous and excited on her behalf instead of riddled with anxiety and doubt and all the bad things one could be riddled by when their dream job was in their midst but definitely out of their grasp because of an asshole editor – but she needed time to process that she was going to be faced with a huge disappointment.  She needed time to process that she would have to keep looking for a writing job.

William could hear the fear in her voice.  He could sense her uncertainty and her anxiety about it all.  He stood up from his crouching position.  “Hey…” he said softly, taking a step towards her.  He grabbed her hand again and held it in his.  “Minskatt, don’t be nervous.”

“I need time to psyche myself up for not seeing my name on there,” she said.  She felt her phone buzzing aggressively through her purse but she decided to ignore it.  “It’s gonna hurt, Willy.”

He squeezed her hand tighter.  “Are you listening?”

The question they’d always ask each other.  “Yes.”

“Remember what you told me before and after the bubble?  That no matter what happened, you’d love me no matter what?” he asked.  Aberdeen nodded her head.  “Whatever happens here…whether you got it or not…minskatt, I’ll love you no matter what.”

His words were so soothing.  And as always, they were so simple, but so perfect.  They immediately put her at ease despite all the anxiety she was feeling, that had rushed upon her within just minutes.  She nodded her head slightly as she squeezed his hand back.  “Can I open it?” he asked.

She nodded her head.  

He crouched down again and ripped open the packaging.  Aberdeen took a step forward and looked down to see the iconic red rectangle header.  And then the headline.

The Bubble Diaries: Aberdeen Bloom explores the characters, stories, and all-too-real tribulations inside the NHL’s Eastern hub.  

Aberdeen’s entire body jolted up, and she let out a short and quick scream as the bag of walnut cakes went flying.

Then she realized what this meant.

And she screamed at the top of her lungs.  

William’s eyes lit up as he heard the shriek – the entire city heard the shriek.  He watched as she started jumping up and down through more shrieks before he got up himself.  Aberdeen jumped on him – just fully and completely jumped into and onto him – and he caught her expertly in his arms as she shrieked in his ear.

“They did it!  THEY DID IT!” she screamed as he set her down.  She bent down to pick up a copy of the magazine and shrieked again as she held it in front of her.  Maybe this was a fever dream.  Maybe she was delirious.  Maybe the gratuitous walnut cake the bakery gave her to try before ordering was laced with some hallucinogenic and she was imagining things.

No.  That was her name attached to the article.  That was her name on the cover of Toronto Life magazine.

“You did it, minskatt,” William said as he reached up to her face to pull her mask down, planting a giant kiss on her lips.  The energy was radiating off of her.  She was a ball of sunshine, a star radiating energy bigger and better than anything in the universe.  “You did it.  I’m so proud of you.”

“I can’t believe it!  I can’t – oh – oh my GOD Willy!” she was still shocked.  “I—they—I’m published!  I’M PUBLISHED!”

“Your name is on the cover of a damn magazine, minskatt!” he giggled.  

“My name is on the cover of a damn magazine!” she repeated more emphatically, kissing him again.  “I can’t – I – oh my God – oh my God my phone is…” she trailed off, feeling her phone buzzing violently from her purse again.  

She pulled it out and saw Beth Zadakis’s name flash across the screen.  She immediately picked up.  “Beth!”

“Surprise,” she practically purred into the phone.  “I’m assuming you saw it just posted on our website?  Alec was overruled.  He knew he would be.  The way you wrote about the boys, Aberdeen…there’s no way we couldn’t publish it.”

“Thank you.  Thank you,” she stressed, putting her hand over her heart.  “From the bottom of my heart Beth, thank you.”

“You should celebrate, Aberdeen.  We’ll discuss the logistics of your new position with Toronto Life later,” she said.  “It’s not every day that a novice writer gets the lead cover story.  Pop a bottle of champagne.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Aberdeen hung up.  She looked into William’s eyes.

She did it.

***

September 4th, 2020

Aberdeen walked into the MLSE offices like she was going to work.  Except she wasn’t.  

Brendan had called her in for one last meeting.  He didn’t say it would be their last, but both of them knew it would be their last.  It was bittersweet, of course.  Aberdeen had walked these halls for a year.  She’d walked in on the team nearly naked on her first day.  She’d tried to pick up a hockey bag and fell over.  She’d taken countless calls from very important people she had no idea existed before this job.  She’d gotten called out by her boss for being an idiot.  She’d walked Niklas Lidstrom through the halls to impress her boss.  She’d waited countless hours for jersey proofs.  She’d made friends.  She’d made enemies.  She’d learned the game of hockey.  She’d travelled countless miles up and down the steps and up and down the elevators to the ice, to the locker room, to the offices, and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. 

She ran into her summertime hookup in the elevator on her first day.  She’d fallen in love with him in these hallways.

It all happened here.

When she approached the doors of Brendan’s office, and looked at her desk – well, now her former desk, she felt her heart flutter.  This was it.  She stepped into the doorway and saw him looking out his window.  She knocked.

He turned around, giving her the proudest smile she’d probably ever received from a boss.  She took off her mask so he could see her smiling too.  “Hi Brendan.”

“Aberdeen.  Sit,” he nodded towards the chairs.  This was where she cried and told him she’d been sexually harassed in the kitchen.  This was where he fired Ethan.  This was where he’d bared his soul to her after the Leafs lost to a Zamboni driver.  She took a seat.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you,” he said after looking at her for a few moments.  “What you’ve been able to accomplish in a year is outstanding, Aberdeen.”

“I would be remiss if I didn’t thank you,” she began.  “You had the biggest role to play in this by setting up that meeting in the first place.  None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.”

Brendan shook his head.  “I didn’t write that article, Aberdeen.  You did,” he said sternly.  To think that he had the faith in her to put the meeting together in the first place, knowing she could pull it off, spoke volumes.  He was definitely her most powerful supporter.  “I keep reading and re-reading it and I find new things to admire every time.”

She smiled humbly.  “Thanks.”

Brendan paused for a moment.  “You know, Aberdeen…most people would have sold us out,” he said.  She nodded her head, understanding what he was getting at.  He knew – he knew the demands Alec put on her.  Beth must have told him, because she certainly didn’t say a word about it.  “It…it speaks absolute volumes to your character that they demanded that scoop for you but you refused to give it and instead relied on your talent to get you the job anyway.”

She nodded.  She could read between the lines.  “Thank you.”

“You’ve got some fucking guts on you, kid.”

They both giggled.  “I guess being around some gutsy hockey players did me some good this year,” she joked.

“I’ll say,” he said.  “All the boys know.  They love it.”

“I know.  I got texts from pretty much all of them.  Travis sent me a picture of his dogs reading it too.”

“That last night in the bubble, when I told you that you were the soul of this team, I meant it,” he said.  “And I don’t think…I don’t…well, I don’t think it was a big secret that William had a thing for you since that first day in the elevator.  And I know…well, I think we’re all aware the feeling is mutual.”

Aberdeen gulped.  She felt like she already died and got rigor mortis in that tiny amount of time.  So they were going to go there.  Brendan was bringing it up with absolutely no shame.  On her last day.  Last meeting.  She looked him in the eye.  “Am I safe to assume that nothing happened between the two of you in the year you were here?” Brendan asked.  

She could do it right now.

Be honest.  

She was leaving, after all.

And she had the job already.  

She looked Brendan right in the eyes.  

“No sir,” she shook her head.  “I…it was clear to me at the beginning too, and…and the feelings did grow on my end as well, I will admit that.”

“So the feeling is mutual, then.”

“Yes sir.”

“And I’m also correct to assume that once you leave these doors and employed by Toronto Life, you two will get together?”

She was already lying to the man she respected most in this world; there was no use in lying even more.  “Y—Yes.  I—I…” she hesitated.  She took a deep breath.  “William waited for me, Brendan.  He waited for me this entire time.  I don’t want to make him wait any longer.  I don’t want to wait any longer, either.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what she was expecting, but she definitely wasn’t expecting Brendan to smile.  “Understandable,” he said.  “I could see it at the Christmas party – William’s crush on you.  And I kept wondering to myself if he ever…well, you know, acted on it.  Told you, at least.”

“Didn’t need to tell me.  It was pretty apparent,” she smiled slightly.  “He wears his heart on his sleeve.  Well, at least for me.”

Brendan nodded his head.  There was a moment of silence between them.  “You’re welcome here whenever you want,” he said.  “In this office, in the arena, in the back – whenever.  You’re family now, Aberdeen.  And you’ll always be family.  I’ll make it a clause in the contracts all the future presidents sign that Aberdeen Bloom can come in and do whatever she wants in this building.”

She giggled slightly.  “Who are you kidding?  You’ll be the president of this hockey club ‘till the day you die.  Tanenbaum won’t let you leave.  There won’t be any others.”

“Are you going to write my biography when it’s time?”

“If you let me.”

Brendan stood up from his chair.  He extended his hand across his desk.  Aberdeen hadn’t touched another human being since March 13th besides her family and William.  She extended hers to shake his hand.  “Aberdeen Bloom, my Etobicoke girl, it’s been a pleasure,” Brendan was proud, so proud of her.

“Brendan Shanahan, it’s been an honour,” she replied.  

He side-stepped around his desk, and Aberdeen knew what was coming.  She knew she wasn’t going to be able to leave the offices without one.  It was another thing that she’d only given to her family members and to William since March 13th – a hug.  But in that moment, she wrapped her arms around Brendan, and he wrapped his arms around her, and they hugged each other tightly.  Aberdeen could smell his cologne.  She heard him sniffle.  She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t start crying as well.  “Thank you, Brendan,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

She sighed.  When he let go of her, he kept his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her.  “William’s coming to pick you up?” he asked.  She smiled and nodded her head.  “Jason’s around the building somewhere.  For negotiations.  You should find him.  He’ll want to see you before you leave.”

Aberdeen nodded her head.  “I’ll find him.”

She left his office, closing the door behind her.  She felt a heavy feeling in her heart, knowing it would be the last time she’d exit Brendan’s office, no longer his executive assistant.  Now, she was a writer at Toronto Life magazine.  And before she could process that thought, she had to find Jason.

As she wandered through the building, popping into rooms and asking whoever she saw if they knew were Jason was, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket and knew, like a sixth-sense, that it was William.  She stopped walking so she could look at the message.

i like this one

He’d attached a quick video Aberdeen had taken the other night.  The video couldn’t have been more than four of five seconds long.  In the first second, the video showed hands being held, one hand dragging forward the other.  In the second second, the camera panned upwards.  In the third second, the video showed the back of a figure, with increasingly long blonde hair, broad shoulders, and a stupidly expensive designer t-shirt on with the CN Tower in the background at sunset.  In the fourth second, the head turned, and the face smiled at whoever was behind the camera.  It was all a bit blurry.  It was all a bit fast.

It was William looking at her.

She promised him she’d post whatever he wanted to her Instagram feed once they could be official, and out in the open, not having to hide anything anymore.  He wouldn’t dare post anything on his feed, so Aberdeen would.  She understood why.  Even now, even though they could be out in the open with their friends and family, with William’s teammates and Aberdeen’s extended friend circle, William wanted to keep their relationship out of the spotlight.  Judging by what she’d gone through with the media and what she’d seen herself in the year she worked for the team, she understood completely.

She found the video in her own camera roll, editing the colour tones slightly before uploading it to her own Instagram feed with a simple caption: ❤️

She continued to look for Jason.  And in looking for Jason, her phone kept going off.  It was almost annoying, but she knew it was all the guys probably commenting something on the photo.  After a particular string of constant notifications when she walked into the trainer’s room hoping to find Jason – which at this time last year would have been filled with shirtless, half-naked hockey players with their thighs and bulges out rolling on foam rollers, but was now empty – she couldn’t help but take her phone out again to see what the hell they were commenting.

@austonmatthews: FUCKING FINALLY

@travisdermott: awwwww s’cute

@tysonbarrie4: look at you lovebirds!

@rasmussandin: he likes lasagna!!!!!  gotta make sure u learn how to make it

@1jackcampbell: you guys!!! What a bunch of beauties <3

@morganrielly: i second what @austonmatthews said

@buzzinb0831: YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST

@marner_93: finallyyyyyyyyyyy

@aleidacasillasandersen: Cute cute cute!

@kasperikapanen: cn tower…shocker

She couldn’t help but smile at them all.  Especially Auston’s.  That twerp.  

Without warning, William’s name flashed across the screen for a phone call.  She immediately picked up.  “Hey.”

“Hi minskatt,” his voice was sing-songy.  “Did you talk to Brendan?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking down at the floor.

“Was it bittersweet?”

“Mhm,” she nodded her head.  “I know this is what I’ve dreamt of for the longest time, but I can’t picture myself not coming into this office every morning during the new season.  I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it yet,” she admitted.

“I get it.  It’s okay,” William said.  “The team’s gonna miss you.  Brendan’s gonna get a new assistant and he or she is gonna have some huge shoes to fill.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile.  “He asked about us, you know.”

“He did?”

“He said it wasn’t a big secret that you had a thing for me since the first day in the elevator.  He also said everyone is pretty much aware the feeling is mutual.”

“And?”

“And…he asked if anything had happened between the two of us.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Well I didn’t exactly tell Brendan fucking Shanahan that we randomly hooked up the night of my graduation.  And I didn’t exactly tell him we’ve been secretly hooking up and in a relationship since January,” Aberdeen said.  “But I told him the feeling was mutual, and that we’d both waited long enough, and the second I walked out of those doors I wasn’t going to make you wait anymore.”

“Okay…” she could hear William exhale.  “Okay.”

“I lied to him, Will.  I know.  I lied to him about the last nine months.  Hell, I’ve lied to everyone these past nine months about us being together.  About our feelings, about your late-night visits to my hotel rooms and us hooking up.  About loving you.  About being with you.  I’ve lied about everything.  Everything.”

“We’ve lied to everyone about everything in the last nine months,” William corrected her sternly.  “You’re not alone in this.  You know that.  We lied to everyone.  We kept it a secret.  But none of that matters, Aberdeen.  What matters is that we get to be open about it now.  That’s all that matters.  That’s it.”

Aberdeen nodded her head.  She knew he was right.  She collected herself so she didn’t get emotional on the phone.  God knows if she shed at least one tear and then found Jason, Jason would automatically be able to tell.  “I just have to find Jason to say goodbye and then I’m out of here.”

“I’m actually already waiting outside, so take your time,” William said.  “I’ll be here whenever.  Take as long as you want.”

“I love you, William.”

“I love you too, minskatt.  I’ll see you soon.”

Aberdeen locked her phone.  She took another deep breath, replaying the conversation in her mind, before resolving to find Jason.  She turned around to keep searching.

Only to find Jason standing a few feet behind her.  

When she saw the look on his face, she knew immediately that he’d heard every single word of the conversation she’d just had.  Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.  No – her heart dropped into the depths of hell.  Her breath caught in her throat.  She felt like her entire body was on fire.  “Jason,” was all she could say.  

“January,” was all he said.

Her hands began to shake.  She reached out to him.  “Jason—”

“Don’t,” his tone was harsh, and his entire arm flinched away from her.  She tried to say something but nothing would come out.  “Since January, Aberdeen?  January?!”

“Jason, please—”

“I don’t – I – late night visits to hotel rooms?!” his voice kept rising as he verbally began to piece all the information together.  “How – how could you?!”

“Jason, I can explain—”

“No!  No you can’t explain!  There’s nothing to explain in a situation like this!  You lied to us!  You lied to all of us!” he kept saying, his voice strained.  He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.  He couldn’t believe the words that had come out of Aberdeen’s mouth.  “Aberdeen, I went to bat for you time and time again.  I looked out for you this entire fucking year and this is what you were doing behind my back?  Hooking up with William Nylander?!”

“Ja—”

“You promised me, Aberdeen.  You promised me that day that guy stalked you that there was nothing happening between the two of you.  I took your word for it, Aberdeen.  And William – William promised me nothing was going on that night you got stitches.  And now you’re telling me this has been going on since January?!”

“Since the Night With the Blue and White,” she said, voice strained, tears welling in her eyes now.  There was no use in lying to him.  He was Jason Spezza.  “The first time it happened was that night when I got home.  When we got home.  I can’t – I couldn’t…”

Jason was quiet, but she could hear how heavy he was breathing through his nose.  She knew he was trying to calm himself down so he didn’t blow up at her.  At this moment in time, though, she wasn’t so sure he’d be able to do it.  “I can’t believe you’d do this to the team.  To me.  To Brendan,” he stressed.  His voice was calm.  Eerily calm.  “I never want to speak to you again.”

Aberdeen’s cheeks flushed red with emotion almost instantly.  No.  It couldn’t end like this.  It couldn’t.  She tried reaching out to touch him again, but he flinched once more and took a few steps back to distance himself from him.  “Jason—no—please—let me explain—”

His next words cut Aberdeen like a knife.  He looked her dead in the eye.  “I’ve never been more disappointed in you.”

A sob escaped her and she covered her mouth, but it was no use.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks like Niagara Falls and her heart was sliced into a million pieces as she watched Jason turn around and walk out of the room, not bothering to look back at her.  

What hurt most of all was that so much love goes into disappointment.  Someone can still love you but be disappointed in you and that was infinitely, infinitely worse than someone hating you.  It hurt so much more.  Jason wasn’t wrong when he said he’d looked out for her this entire year.  He wasn’t wrong when he said he’d went to bat for her this year.  He’d done all those things out of love, because he cared for her, because he wanted to see her succeed in an environment that was, historically, not kind at all to young women.  He’d done it to look out for her, to make sure she didn’t get hurt, to make sure she got where she wanted to go.

Jason Spezza was disappointed in her.  And that hurt more than anything else.

Aberdeen sat down in the middle of the room and began sobbing.

***

William was scrolling through his phone when he noticed Aberdeen walking speedily towards his car.  He unlocked the doors and slipped into the passenger seat, taking off her mask and throwing it onto the dashboard.

He immediately saw that her entire face was red, and her eyes were practically bloodshot.  “What happened, minskatt?” he asked.

She looked like she was going to cry again.  She turned her head towards him.  “Jason overheard our conversation.”

William stopped breathing momentarily.  “So he knows.”

She nodded her head, face scrunching up to stop tears from falling.  “He said he never wants to speak to me again.  And he said he’s never…he’s never been more disappointed in me.”

“Hey—hey, c’mere,” he said, grabbing her chin and leaning over the centre console to give her a loving kiss, feeling the tears stream down her face.  He continued to kiss her for as long as he could.  “It’s gonna be okay, minskatt.  It’s going to be okay.”

“No it’s not,” she shook her head vehemently.  “It’s not going to be okay.  It’s not.”

“Yes it will.  He’ll get over it.”

“No he won’t,” she was steadfast.  “He hates me William, and he never wants to speak to me again and he’s disappointed in me.  He’s not gonna just get over me lying to him for the past nine months.”

“We lied to him,” William clarified for her again, like he did on the phone.  “We lied.  He’ll be madder at me than you.  He’ll get over it.  It’s going to be okay.”

Aberdeen shook her head.  She wanted to believe him – she really did, but her mind was all over the place right now.  “But what if it’s not?” she asked.

“Are you listening?” he asked.

She visibly calmed down at the question.  “Yes.”

“It’s going to be okay because I love you, minskatt.  Because we love each other.”

She nodded her head.  He loved her.  She knew he loved her, and that he would for the rest of their lives.  And she’d love him too.  That brought her more solace than anything.  “I love you too, William.”

He gave her one last, long, lingering kiss before he put the car in drive.  He fiddled with his phone to start the music, the opening notes of “Quitting You” by the Arkells playing through the speakers.  He grabbed Aberdeen’s hand and held it in his enormous one, bringing to his lips and kissing it tenderly and holding it against his heart momentarily before settling it on his lap.  She looked out the window at 50 Bay Street, saying goodbye.

She looked at William.  The man she loved.

[dreamdaddydutch]

Colter cosy headcanons

So bearing in mind the time of year (where I live) I wanted to write a few seasonal headcanons. Rather than going with Christmas/Holiday headcanons I decided to write a few short headcanons for warming up/getting cosy with the gang in Colter. I haven’t included every gang member as it’s gone 10pm and I’m super tired, so I’m going to post these for now and will write more between Christmas/New Year.  Happy Holidays!

If you feel uncomfortable at any time or uncertain of the way things are going, Arthur will be there to talk to. He may be a man of few words at times but he’s a comforting soul to sit with when eating/resting and he makes a wonderfully strong coffee which he’ll happily share with you.

Javier is always happy to help you build a fire and sit with you while you warm your hands/cheeks. Provides some of the best company around the campfire and helps you to stay positive even when it’s freezing, dark and a little scary.

Card games with Lenny to pass the time while you’re waiting for things to happen/news. You’ll both have to wear gloves as it’s so cold but the game is a good distraction from the cold and Lenny is good at cracking jokes and making you smile. 

Mary-Beth will warm your heart and that of others by telling tales or reciting poetry she’s written. She tells the tales in such a way that if you close your eyes it really is just like you’re wherever she’s describing. 

Don’t expect too much from Molly, she’ll likely keep herself to herself, but if you’re friends/close she might lend you one of her shawls to help you keep warm. 

Hunting with Charles to help time pass by more quickly - if he sees you looking a little lost or worried, he’ll invite you out with him. With Charles he has a way of saying things without words, there’s an expression on his face and a kindness in his words that lets you know it’s because he cares and wants to help keep you busy. If you need to talk he will listen. 

Hugs from Hosea - whether it’s because you’re cold or feeling a little scared, Hosea won’t back away from a hug and will happily pull you in and pat you on the back, full of reassuring words as he does so. 

Sharing a whisky or two with Bill, practically hiding away like naughty school children incase you get caught when you should be doing chores.

If you’re stuck twiddling your thumbs, Susan is sure to find some work for you to do! Perhaps helping her to make the cabins feel a little warmer and make up the beds. As well as the chores, Susan is also good to talk to if you have any concerns and soon will inspire you to hold your head high. 

If you can’t sleep and decide to get up (wrapped up in your coat, blankets etc.) then you’ll find there’s at least one other member of the gang up too. You help one another get through it, talking, having a drink, sitting side by side to stay warm. Members of the gang this is likely to be would be Sean, Karen, Dutch and Javier. Definitely wouldn’t be Uncle, he’s asleep most of the time! 

Early mornings as the sun rises, overlooking the snowy vista as you share a smoke with Javier. You don’t speak much but he’s good company for that little morning ritual and helps start the day with a smile.

Helping Pearson with the cooking (if he’ll let you) you might bicker a little but it's good to keep busy and do something productive. Once you get closer to him he’ll open up more about his past and tell you all about the amazing food he’s tried in the past and promises to cook something better for you in the future.

Dutch provides uplifting/rousing speeches (because of course he does) perhaps won’t have as much 1 to 1 time, but if you are concerned he will do his best to reassure you (probably quoting Evelyn Miller.) If you’re close to Dutch/dating Dutch I do imagine he would be one for sleeping curled up next to his partner for warmth. Definitely the big spoon. 

[whump-town]

Beth

I feel like I never see any Hotch/Beth stories so here is my contribution. Beth got done so dirty by the writers and I’ll never forgive them for that. She could have made Hotch happy...

It doesn’t take long for Beth to realize that her perfect man-- come on, how often do they come tall, handsome, sweet, athletic, and as good fathers?-- isn’t all that perfect. He’s strange and it’s just as enchanting as his goofy laugh but there are just elements to him that she can’t understand. She finds herself itching to pick him apart but something tells her she’s messing with Pandora’s box. Is breaking him worth understanding him?

He freezes. 

It’s like a glitch in his hardware. There’s this spot where the kitchen meets the living room of his apartment and it’s the only place the glitch occurs. She’d noticed it about a month into dating him and the first time she’d laughed a little, surprised by the look on his face. It was a shock factor kind of laugh, inappropriate, and wrong enough to make her cheeks flush. He hadn’t noticed. His eyes were glued to the carpet. 

His face was pinched in concentration. Dark brows furrowed and shoulders tightly pulled back. It’s complete unease and tension like she’s never seen before. For a moment, it kind of scares her. He’s got this lost look in his eyes. Wherever he is when he’s looking at that spot in the carpet, he’s not here. He’s not anywhere she can reach him. 

The thing is, no matter how many times she looks at that spot… she can’t see what he sees. There’s a bit of a disturbance in the fibers that form an edge. It looks like someone might have replaced a section of the carpet but it’s nearly impossible to tell or even be certain. 

As curious as she is, she also can’t find the courage to ask. Something… Something tells her she doesn’t want to know.

Still, she can’t help but turn a curious eye to this perfect man. He’s got flaws, like anyone. It’s hard to get past his defenses and it’s a slowly learned lesson forming an understanding of his love. When they argue, he gets desperate. Voice hoarse but he never raises it, not even when she wants to shout. It’s hard to place her importance to him but whenever she starts to doubt his love he swoops back in. It’s a tiring thing, being pushed and pulled away.

He catches her smiling at him and his heart leaps to his throat. It’s hard being Hotch here, with her. So hard to keep the emotions at bay or within his control. “Wh-What?” he asks. His cheeks flush, unsure of what to do under her attention and not used to anyone really looking at him. Not with the love, he thinks he sees in her dark eyes-- but maybe he’s just imagining that. 

She kisses him. Smiling when he works a hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer. 

Another thing she’s noticed… he never takes his shirt off. The sex is amazing. No matter how “rusty” he’d claimed to be. He also never initiates sex. It’s not a subject to talk about or even one they really dwell on. Unless she starts putting on the “moves” nothing happens. She really can’t complain. Men can be pushy and demanding, a huge turnoff and red flag. Not Aaron. 

She smiles into their kiss and playfully runs the back of her finger across the little bit of stomach his shirt has risen up to expose. He reacts as she expects, shirking away with a choked laugh. It’s positive reinforcement. Deepening their kiss, she sneaks her hand the rest of the way under his shirt. Gently, waiting and feeling every bit of his nervous inhale, she places her hand against his fluttering stomach. 

“Okay?” she asks.

He nods. 

She’s not sure what she’s expecting to find. 

“They--They,” his chest keeps it’s panicked rise and fall. Not quite full breathes. “It’s just-- they’re just… I can’t--”

George Foyet. He won’t ever tell her much more than what she has to know. That he hurt Aaron and killed Jack’s mother Haley. She’s seen glimpses of the scars. He’s very good at hiding them. She’s very aware of his medicine cabinet, even if she’s not aware of the scars. 

Clomipramine. She’s aware of the panic attacks and compulsivity he can fall into. The way that he checks the locks four times every night before he can fall asleep. Some nights venturing back out two more times to make sure. Hypervigilance but also if he doesn’t do this, he knows he’ll wake up and they’ll all be gone. Beth. Jack. Dead. She’s seen the nightmares. 

Xanax. A medication that’s supposed to bring relief in 30 minutes but she’s sat on the bathroom floor while he’s sobbed. Choking on the air his lungs struggle to bring in. 30 minutes is a very long time to watch someone you love panic in pain. Convinced of something that you can’t even understand and they can’t explain. The AS NEEDED label had once convinced her it was of less importance. She’s certain that over the course of the last few years she’s nursed him through taking the medication more times than she ever has anything else. 

He’d taken Lexapro for two years. It’d stopped working and that had been an awful thing to watch. She’d sat with him through the detox, trying to convince him to eat and shower when his brain slowly tried to kill him. 

That’s not even the beginning. There’s an entire cocktail of anticoagulants and common over the counter things that he has to take. Some for old wounds and others for his forever skewed blood pressure and damaged vessels and arties. She just knows-- five in the morning with his coffee, three at night before bed. 

But he’s… better. 

He’ll make little jokes about her profiling abilities. The way she’ll steady his hands in her own and softly encourage him to go take a Xanax. Often just pulling him to her chest, stilling his anxious movement until his breathing has slowed and he never gets the chance to panic. 

That’s why she stops. Hands drawing away from his chest, she cups his cheeks. “Aaron,” she whispers holding him close. Keeping calm while his hands move over her back. A motion she understands. He’s trying to reassure himself that she’s real. She’s here. She won’t let him forget that. “I love you,” she whispers.

He pulls back to look at her. Eyes darting between hers so really place what he’s seeing. To pick up on the little cues she exhibits when lying. 

“I love you,” she says again, conviction strong and palm warm against his cheek. 

He averts his eyes but turns his head to her palm. “You sure?” he asks teasingly, tear streaking down his cheek. 

She brushes it away. “Most of the time.”

[glynnisi]

ShieldShock Holiday Fic 2020       FOR  @ava-rosier      

At Ao3:  Snowbound Christmas

Prompts:

-There's only one hotel room left and it's a blizzard outside and There Is Only One Bed.

-Either at a Mall or an Airport during the busy holiday season, a villain is trying to steal/ruin the holidays and Steve and Darcy, who are both there for Reasons, team up to foil the dastardly plot.

-When Darcy wore her new, risqué Captain America xmas/holiday sweater to work that day, she didn't expect that he would actually...y'know...SEE it.

---

So, it’s been a while since I wrote. Hi, friends!!! :)  But I adore ShieldShock still and will always adore @mcgregorswench and the ShieldShock Holiday Fic Exchange.  I tried to capture the feel of your prompts, @ava-rosier .  I’ve done holiday in the airport before but can NEVAH get too much of THERE IS ONLY ONE BED.  Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday, enjoying seeing 2020 finally end, and that you’ll enjoy your ShieldShock holiday fic gift!!! :)

---

Snowbound Christmas

Darcy startled as the car door scraped open over deep snow and a gust of wind blew in to steal her breath. It was even colder than the previous times. Steve could move fast, but not faster than the blizzard winds. He shook his head as he slammed the door closed behind him, sealing them in the relative calm. The only sound at first was the rustle of her shivering. He turned the car on again and they both savored relief as the air around them warmed.

She shifted position in her seat. “Steve, my friend! No room in the Inn?” Darcy tried to sound upbeat rather than weary. “I’d so hoped the eleventh try would be the charm. I mean, those two were raved over in Google as ‘simple’ and ‘budget’. You wouldn’t think that would draw a crowd.” She continued to watch the snow fall, eyes going out of focus.

Steve shook his head and pushed his snow-damp hair back. “I tried all five places in the village. Cut across town on foot rather than wasting gas.” He frowned. “I’m too stubborn. Should ‘a stopped twenty miles back where there were more possibilities. I’m sorry, Darcy.” He kept his eyes on the road as he started slowly moving. The snow was falling hard, gusting winds whipping it around them with abandon. Even with four-wheel drive, good snow tires, and perfect reflexes- Steve didn’t dare go more than fifteen miles per hour. Driving was hazardous, more by the minute.

Darcy shrugged her shoulders. “The forecast was off. I thought we had more time before it got bad, too. I swear! I only closed my eyes for like twenty seconds. When I opened them again it looked like I’d missed seeing three inches fall. You must be freezing. The other motels are two miles away, aren’t they?” She shivered, both sympathetically and because the car was still warming up.

“I’ll be fine.” Steve sighed again and glanced at Darcy’s phone before staring ahead of them again. “Any other ideas?”

Darcy squinched up her features, “well…” She was glad Steve focused his attention on the road. She worried that her idea wouldn’t be well received. “We could ask the others for suggestions? Surely Tony owns something between here and the City.” Darcy held her breath. She’d seen Steve and Tony clash at the Avengers Upstate Base enough to know that he didn’t want to ask Tony’s help.

Steve reached in his jacket pocket and handed his phone to Darcy, groaning in resignation. “Had the same thought. See if he’s replied?” He steeled himself.

Darcy laughed merrily as she read his incoming texts.

“That bad?” Steve’s frown lines deepened.

Darcy’s lips twitched. “Nah, buddy-o. Tony’s busting your chops about being a damsel in distress. He reminds you that he’s been away from Pepper for a week and has injuries to rest up from. Says to cool your heels at a summer lake cabin of hers. Coordinates and key code provided. And to resist the urge to crash dramatically into the lake as it wouldn’t be very festive of you. Cabin can be drafty, but was cleaned recently. Which, yay! They were going to come up last week for a dating anniversary celebration before the weather changed and he took that mission.”

Steve nodded and blew out an impatient breath. He glanced at Darcy again, “does anyone other than Jane know you’re with me?” His tone sounded wary.

Again, Darcy shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I dunno. If the local mechanic didn’t have sick kids at home, I’d be driving myself through this like I planned. Probably would’ve crashed in a snow drift by now or be caught in the sadly-parked madness on the interstate you were smart enough to skip. Why? I’m sorry that coming for me put you behind schedule. You’re too kind, putting yourself out for little ole me. You probably have plans with close friends, or something.” She trailed off, uncertain if that was a fair assumption regarding Steve. As much time as they’d spent together since they met over a year before, he seemed to always be working.

Darcy frowned, sad for Steve. And for herself. She’d tried in vain to shake the crush she had on the loneliest Avenger. He seemed determined to stay lonely and fill his time almost entirely with work. Whenever he came to Jane’s lab, she struggled not to let her extreme thirst for him show. She ended up babbling most times, griping about stuff and talking nonsense. He came by the lab a lot, so she had many embarrassing memories to cringe about.

“Not really. And don’t apologize, Darcy. I wanted to help you. I’m glad you’re with me rather than stuck, or worse.” Steve chose to ignore part of her question for the moment. “I was just going by Tony and Pepper’s party at the Tower to keep some peace between us. Then I figured I might go to Brooklyn to see the crazy lights they put up there these days, and then maybe head down to D.C. to see Sam. Nothing firm. No big deal.” He turned into a skid and eased up on the gas. Anyone else would have registered alarm at the need to maneuver like that. The majority of drivers would have wrecked. Sleet mixed in with the precipitation.

Darcy nodded, silent. She clicked on the coordinates Tony had sent and turned up the volume on the phone directions. When there was a pause, she spoke up, “still sorry to keep you from your party, lights, and Sam. I’m relieved that you weren’t just planning to ignore the holiday at the Upstate Base again this year, though. No offense, but hearing you did that last year made me mad at you.” She let out an indignant huff and blinked back tears.

He raised his brows, but didn’t reply at first. Finally, not wanting to seem rude, Steve asked, “mad? Why?” He fought against both flickers of hope and melancholy.

Steve tried not to wish for what he believed he couldn’t have. He’d found that Darcy won friends easily, but rarely let anyone get close enough to know her the way he’d like to know her. She kept things light and funny, using her humor as a shield against intimacy.  He admired her ability to deflect when she used it with others, lamented it when she used it with him.

The first day they met, Steve fell hard for the brash, strong-willed, funny, gorgeous dame. And then he met her boyfriend, Ian. Even after that relationship ended, Darcy made it crystal clear that she saw Steve only as a friend. Her emotional shield pushed him back like the strongest of force fields. She bristled if he held a door or pulled out a chair for her. She acted like it was weird if he did anything for her- like bringing her coffee when he was getting some for himself in Jane’s lab.

Also, there was Darcy’s apparent dislike of soldiers. She cursed agents and soldiers as ‘jack-booted thugs’ every time a piece Jane’s equipment misbehaved. He’d overheard Darcy rant to Jane about her sister’s hard life with a military guy Darcy disdained as ‘Soldier Boy’. Steve was a soldier. He'd never regretted it until it came between him and the only 21st century woman he’d met who captivated him.

Her tone as she spoke next brought Steve out of his reverie. “I know that those you love from your time were more like family to you… that you still mourn all you lost.” Darcy avoided looking at Steve, “But, I consider you a friend and I don’t like for anyone to treat my friends bad… especially, themselves. Thinking of you doing busy work and walking echoing halls alone. Imagining you eating frozen dinners and training alone while the rest of the world celebrated? Too sad. Awful. I wish you would’ve let me, I mean, someone, anyone, know that you didn’t have plans.” Darcy swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She’d held that in for the better part of a year and was terrified that she’d overstepped enough to anger Steve. If her voice sounded brittle, she couldn’t help it. Her feelings for Steve ran deep. She’d taken one look at Steve Rogers and lost her heart irrevocably.

Steve shook his head and joked to offer one correction, “I hardly ever eat frozen dinners.” He cleared his throat. “What did you do for Christmas last year?” Steve’s tone was mild, unreadable. He’d spent a lot of the previous year’s holiday week reliving the pain of seeing Darcy being kissed by Ian under mistletoe. It was a harsh blow since he’d heard rumors that they’d broken up and dared hope for a chance with her. Thinking of that terrible moment still filled Steve with potent jealousy.

Darcy cut a glance Steve’s way. “I went to the usual lame lab holiday party, complete with joke gifts and too much mistletoe. Then, un-fun family time. As soon as I could escape my dumb sister Beth and ‘Soldier Boy’, I got back to Jane’s. I made Thor watch Christmas cartoons while I struggled to explain the pop nuances of them to him. We drank eggnog. I exchanged joke gifts with him and Jane and Erik. Then we all helped serve Christmas dinner at homeless shelter. And I ate too much and fell asleep on the couch at Jane’s place that night. I ‘peopled’.” She glared at Steve and repeated in an accusing tone, “’Peo-ple-d!’”

Darcy frowned as she also remembered Ian cornering her under mistletoe before Christmas. He tried to get back together with her until she threatened to tase him. It had cast a pall over Darcy’s entire holiday.  That was one interaction with people she did NOT look back on fondly.

Steve chuckled weakly, “and you’re mad at me for not ‘people-ing?’”  

“You never want anyone to pity you in any way, but then you do stupid stuff like that! I mean, I was drunk when Thor told me, but it made me CRY.” Darcy shook her head and looked away, frowning, angry. “Sorry. Said too much. Not my business. I know. Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders as though concerned he might offer a rebuke.

Steve's face fell into a sad grin. “No need to… It’s nice that you worry about me, Darcy. Thanks for that.” He resisted the urge to cover her hand with his. “I’m sorry I made you cry.” Genuine distress filled him, that she’d cried and that he had no right to offer comfort. Something in her reaction brought out his deepest protective instincts.

Careful to avoid distracting Steve from driving, Darcy poked his rock-hard bicep. “Pfft. Silly. You’re not alone, even if you try. You have friends. I’m your friend. You know that. Right?”

“Friends.” Steve nodded, grim. “Yeah. Thank you for being my friend, Darcy.” He sighed, long and low.

Darcy nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

---

 Soon, they arrived at the coordinates. A tiny cabin nestled in the deepening snow. It was dark, but for a dim light visible through its large windows.

Darcy moaned, “finally.”

“I could carry…” Steve’s voice trailed off as Darcy threw her door open and jumped out into the knee-deep snow. She almost fell, but righted herself. The winds swirled snow and sleet all around her.

“Shit! Cold!” Darcy trudged with purpose towards the cabin. “So cold! And, eww, wet. Oh!” She input the code Tony had sent for the front door lock and shoved inside. Darcy kicked off her snow-covered boots and dropped her coat inside the front door. She scurried to the bathroom. “Some of us don’t have super bladder capacity!” Her brief view of the cabin interior was minimal. Dark shapes stood out against the eerie snow light through the windows.

Steve slammed his car door and followed. He shook his head and yelled back, “nobody has that” as he picked up Darcy’s coat, shook snow off, and hung it on a hook. He toed off his boots and set them and Darcy’s boots near the fireplace. Then, he peeled off his snow pants and hung them on a hook near the door. They’d kept his jeans dry.

“Don’t get your tights in a twist. I’m hurrying!” Darcy called from the bathroom.

Brows raised; Steve surveyed the cabin. He flicked light switches and swore under his breath as low, golden light bathed the tight space. The room was dominated by a low bed and floor to ceiling windows. A Christmas tree decorated with lights stood by the bed. There were at least a dozen pillows and a sheer hanging canopy laced with warm string lights over the bed. There was no sofa, only two reading chairs and a small table in front of the fireplace. A kitchenette took space along one wall. It had a well-stocked wine rack.

Mostly, there was the ridiculously romantic-looking bed. Face prickling with heated anxiety, Steve found a thermostat and started the heater. Then, he began to build a fire in the brick fireplace. The cabin was cold and the windows were more suited to airiness than warmth. The back walls were brick, attractive but cold in winter weather.

“Uh, Steve?” Darcy sounded sheepish; voice muffled by the bathroom door. “Can you hand me a blanket or look for a robe or something? I’m sorry to trouble you. My pants are soaked up to the knees and I can’t put them back on. They’re freezing. Wet with snow.”

Steve closed his eyes, still for several seconds. He looked around for a closet and saw instead a wardrobe. He grabbed a black silk robe, frowning at the sheer and gauzy red alternative hanging beside it. The top shelves held baskets of swimsuits, shorts, and other summer clothes. He took the black robe off the hangar and walked to the bathroom. He knocked and held out the robe, eyes averted. Then, he went back to work on the fire.

“Thanks, I didn’t think. Just ran to the bathroom. I…” Darcy stopped as she got a good look at the cabin. “Oh, holy… uh, night.” She cut a careful glance Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “Something like that. Don’t worry. I can sleep on the floor. I’ve done worse.” He arranged another log in the growing flames and warmed his hands.

“You can NOT! Don’t be stupid. I won’t attack you. Promise. We both need to sleep and there’s room for two if we remove a few hundred pillows.” Darcy’s tone sounded more certain and stubborn as she talked. She rolled her eyes at him. “Make a line of pillows down the middle of the bed as a dividing line if you want to keep me away. Or, I can do it.” She frowned at him, set her jeans near the fire to dry, and moved to the kitchenette. Darcy opened the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets to see what they had to work with. “Sorry about my coat and boots. I was gonna get them, I swear.”

Steve frowned, disliking her urgent anxiety. “No problem.”

Darcy opened a bottle of water and drank it. “I didn’t dare drink much water while we were stuck in the car, but I still needed a bathroom for at least the past hour.” She offered him a bottle, which he accepted and downed before returning his attention to his work. Darcy moved food from the freezer to the refrigerator to thaw. She opened a couple of cans of soup and put them on to simmer, and sat in a reading chair. “I checked the weather forecast while I was in the bathroom. We’re not getting out of here on our own power before tomorrow night at the earliest.” She tightened the belt on the robe and leaned towards the fire, hands outstretched. “Nice. Getting a little warmth there. Thanks.”

Steve excused himself to the restroom. On his return, he sat in the other chair. He watched the fire’s progress, then turned his attention to the deepening snow visible through the windows all around them. “Quieter now. Slowing down, or a lull before more blizzard.”

“Lull, according to radar. Fresh snow absorbs sound. Something about air between the flakes dampening vibrations.” When Steve gave her an impressed look, Darcy grinned, “I saw it in a meme on the Internet. Must be true.” She winked at him.

Steve returned her grin. “Internet. So helpful.”

“Except when it’s REALLY not.” She made a face, both sad and angry. “Beth met ‘Soldier Boy’ online. And, of course his worst notions get amplified there. Bleurgh.”

Careful, Steve dared, “what branch of the Military is your brother-in-law with?”

Darcy choked on water. “Br... Whaa?” She shook her head, hard. “God, no! Don’t say that. It might come true if you say it.  Eww! Grandma Esther'd roll right out of her grave to beat the ever-living sh… heck… pardon me, out of Beth if she marries that Nazi wannabe.” Darcy shuddered dramatically. “Crud. They’ve been dating more than a year. And, Christmas… You may be right. Ugh.” She spoke as she texted into her phone, “‘If you marry him, I’ll give you kitty litter as a wedding present, used kitty litter. Dumbass. BTW I hate him. He’s awful.’ Ugh. Delete. Delete. Delete.”

Steve digested all this and stayed quiet. He noted with interest that Darcy’s cheeks reddened as though with embarrassment. In his experience she didn’t embarrass easily. Her plush lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Beth’s dating a racist faux-militia-type lunatic. She’s decided she’s Sub to his Dom and overlooks his politics and crazy behavior. It’s nauseating.” Darcy frowned, sad, “I don’t see the attraction. Mom says the sex must be great, cuz she doesn’t understand the attraction, either.” Darcy twirled a piece of her hair nervously on one finger. “Mom thought she had the worst taste in men in the family, but Beth’s making her wonder.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Nothing to you. You don’t know them. Crazy family of a sorta friend.”

“I know you… some. I care more than you think.” Now Steve’s cheeks reddened. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Darcy gestured as though to bump shoulders with him. “Nice.” She arranged the robe over her legs, both from cold and modesty.

Hesitant, Steve ventured, “you never mention your father.”

Darcy’s gaze turned his way. “Nope. Long gone.” Her expression hardened. “Thank goodness.”

After an awkward silence fell between them, Steve went to the stove and spooned soup into two bowls. He returned to his place by the fire. He handed Darcy her soup, noting her mild surprise at being served. They ate without speaking. When they were done, they both took their bowls and rinsed them in the sink.

Darcy walked over to the bed and started moving pillows. “Do you want a dividing line?” She didn’t try to meet his gaze.

“Not necessary. Let’s put the pillows by the windows. They’ll block some of the cold that’s coming in and making it hard for this place to warm up.” Steve pressed pillows along the bottom edge of one window. He glanced back as Darcy slid beneath the covers, still wearing the black robe. The warm light brought out red and light brown highlights in her long hair. She looked even prettier than usual in the golden glow. And he thought she was always beautiful.

Darcy shivered hard. “Sheets are freezing!”

Swallowing hard, Steve sat on the far side of the bed from her. “Want the decorative lights off?”

“N…n..not unless you do. They’re p..pretty. Make me think warmer thoughts.” Her shivers shook the bed.

Steve shifted so that he could lift the covers and lay underneath them. They were icy cold against his pants. He imagined the chill was worse against Darcy’s bare legs. He lay back and closed his eyes, feeling the motion of the bed from Darcy’s shaking. The winds began to wail again, harder than before. He opened his eyes and turned to look out at the raging blizzard. “Wanna lay back-to-back? I run warm.” As she shifted so that she faced away from him, he rolled to his side and moved back against her. He cursed himself as a masochist.

“Ohhh. Fuck, yes!” Darcy swore under her breath and whispered, “sorry. So sorry!”

“I know what you mean and you don’t have to avoid cursing around me. We’re not on a mission communicator in an official capacity. That ‘language’ thing they joke me about is nonsense. I don’t give a damn about how people want to talk in regular life.” Steve closed his eyes again, trying to keep his tone even as Darcy wriggled against his back. He heard her mutter thanks a few times. Making her feel good pleased him.

Five minutes later, Darcy rolled over and pressed her cold nose against his shoulder. She spent several minutes trying to figure out where to put her hands. She ended up crossing her arms over her chest and tucking her hands under her chin. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Listening to the sound of Darcy’s breathing as it evened out and deepened lulled Steve to sleep soon after. His face settled into a small smile.

---

 Steve supposed it was a slight change in the blizzard-muted light of day that woke him next. Languorous, sensual dreams dissipated through his hazy thoughts. Dream images of Darcy, kiss-swollen lips and bared creamy skin, heated his blood.

Then, awareness hit him hard. He and Darcy clenched in a lover’s embrace. Their legs entwined and her head was on his chest. Her sweet, feminine scent filled his senses. Her amazing breasts pressed against one side of his chest. One of her hands was against his arm and the other warmed the skin of his stomach, inside his shirt. It all felt so good and right that it stole his breath. His body’s natural response to his dreams, to her, and to waking was extreme. He was afraid to move lest any friction push him past sanity. A small, low moan sounded in her throat as she shifted against him. He tensed.

Her voice was raspy with sleep. “I know it’s awkward, but I’m way too comfy to regret it. You feel good, Steve.”

“Right back atcha’, Doll,” he whispered. Wishing himself back in his dreams, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her even closer. He wanted her so much he could hardly stand it.

Darcy made another small sound in her throat as she wriggled against him. The realization that he was aroused sparked her passions, but she didn’t dare to presume too much. Maybe it was only an impressive sign of morning. She followed his example and placed a chaste kiss below his jaw. She felt his heart pounding more quickly and closed her eyes again. She flexed her fingers against his ridiculously-cut abdomen and felt him jolt. She debated if any of his reactions had anything to do with her in particular. She wished they did.

Both of them were awake, but neither admitted it.  Each of them savored the embrace and the feel of the other’s body. They each fantasized about the other.  They fantasized about passionate first moves, expressing affection and desire. Want. They became lost in imagining more and more.  Time passed. Their emotions swirled like the blizzard winds that trapped them together.

They lay cuddled and simmering with unspoken desires until Steve’s phone rang. It broke the spell. He moved away from Darcy and answered the phone.

She watched the play of muscles under the back of his shirt and struggled to stifle her lust.  Darcy closed her eyes.  It was futile.  Her lust for Steve had been growing for over a year.  In this circumstance, lust was inevitable.

While Steve talked with Sam, assuring him that he was fine though the storm prevented him reaching the City, Darcy left the bed and went to the bathroom. She snagged her dry jeans on her way there. She took a shower and did what she could with toothpaste she found in the medicine cabinet and her finger. When she came back out, she hung the robe in the wardrobe and put on her Christmas cardigan. She looked through the wardrobe and giggled at the sheer red robe. Then, Darcy took a step back. She buttoned and straightened her sweater by her reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

Steve paused in his conversation, a gob-smacked look on his face, “what…?!”

“Oh! Yeah. I know. Gaudy, isn’t it? Well, last year Tony gifted the ‘ugliest sweater at his party’ winner $10,000. I know what he can be like, so I thought I’d stand a better chance of catching his wallet’s attention if I went a little on the sexy side. And I sewed in lights.” Darcy twirled and turned on the LED lights that adorned the sweater. Her dark green Christmas cardigan had bauble Avenger emblem buttons. A Captain America Shield button strained to hold the sweater together over Darcy's breasts. Silver and gold trim around the hem resembled tinsel. Red and gold lighted and embroidered ornaments dotted the sweater at random. It was a bit gaudy rather than ugly, but sexy most of all since the fabric hugged Darcy’s ample curves. She wore it over a tight red top and skinny black jeans. The ensemble played up her natural assets.

Steve could only nod in reply. He tried to turn his full attention back to his conversation, but didn’t do well.

By the time Steve was off the phone and had made the bed, Darcy found waffles in the freezer and syrup in the pantry. She had coffee brewing and was downing another bottle of water when Steve began stoking the fire embers and adding wood. They shared a quiet breakfast. Steve tried not to look at Darcy’s figure and failed again and again. He tried not to fantasize as Darcy licked syrup from her lips. He failed.

As they finished breakfast, Darcy looked around the cabin. “Aw, man. No TV?”

“Actually, there’s one over the bed.” Steve swallowed the last of his coffee.

“Over?” Darcy gave him a disbelieving look and went over to look up inside the bed canopy. “You’re not kidding.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “at first I thought it was a mirror.”

Darcy lay on the bed, on her back. She looked around for a remote control, finally finding one in the nearby window sill. “Icy remote.” She pointed it up and sighed, “but it works!” Channel flipping and streaming services browsing occupied her for some time.

She hoped rather than believed that Steve was looking at her with lusty interest.

Steve was. The intimacy of their situation and Darcy’s sensual appearance were a potent combination. He could hardly speak. He excused himself to go get a quick shower. He came back out a few minutes later, dressed again but still toweling his hair dry.

Darcy didn’t meet Steve’s eye as she offered, “you’re welcome to join me. Just friends watching television, ya know. I’m watching a silly Christmas movie. ’Scrooged.’ Okay?”

Steve shrugged as he made his way back to the bed. He shuffled, awkward, as he drew nearer.

Darcy shifted towards one edge of the bed, not meeting his gaze. “Plenty of room. Don’t mind me.”

He smiled as he sat on the other edge of the bed and forced himself to speak up. “Sam said that they’re busy helping first responders deal with stranded motorists. Hundreds of them all across the state. A lot of people didn’t have our luck and find shelter. I had to agree with him that it’s more important that they help them than us. I’m sorry you won’t have the chance to win the sweater contest.” He eased onto his back beside her, folding a pillow behind his head.

“Of course, they need to help people who’re stuck!” Darcy shuddered. “It’s super cold out there and the storm got out of hand so fast. I can only imagine. We’re fine here.” She grinned and turned to him. “You really think I’d win?”

Steve was struck by how pretty her green eyes were. He blushed. Her look turned quizzical. He nodded and spoke a thick reply, “yeah. Definitely.” Steve forced his gaze up to the television mounted above them. “I assume that ‘Scrooged’ refers to the Dickens novella?”

“Yup.” Darcy shifted further to the edge and lifted the covers so that she could get under the blankets. Once under there, she groused, “darned lights and ornaments are poking me.” She frowned, and unbuttoned the sweater again and lay it aside. Buttons and lights made a clicking sound on the floor by the bed.

After debating for what felt like an endless time, Steve got under the covers and shifted closer to her. “Can’t let you freeze.”

Darcy rolled up on her side and looked him in the eye. “It would be rude to let me freeze. I’m glad you’ve seen the light.” She winked at him, trying to seem playful. She thought that he was looking at her lips, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.

Steve assured her, “I’ll do my best to keep you from freezing. Wouldn’t want to be rude.” He put one arm around her, hand spanning the middle of her back. “I’m a polite guy.”

“You’re the nicest soldier I’ve ever met. Have I ever mentioned that?” Darcy ducked her head as a blush filled her cheeks. The way his hand covered her whole back made her feel tiny. Did things to her. Made her want his hands on her in other places. The fire she tried to play with was backfiring spectacularly, leaving Darcy breathless with desire.

“No. But I’m glad to hear it.” Steve gave her a squeeze.

There was a loud noise onscreen. Darcy rolled onto her back so that she could see the television again. She hoped Steve wouldn’t notice that her breath was racing.

After a few minutes, Steve nudged her. “Tell me about other soldiers you’ve met? There are good and bad apples in any group, you know.” He felt Darcy tense.

Though she didn’t look at Steve, Darcy decided to answer. She told him about Puente Antiguo and the SHIELD agents and soldiers who took Jane’s research- and their computers and even Darcy’s personal iPod. SHIELD ran a strange, temporary military base near the town and Erik worried about their absolute power. She told him about the shifts in those soldiers’ attitudes after Thor returned to Asgard. First, they were obsequious, but gradually more restrictive. They coveted Jane’s research and tried to control them all. After a long pause, Darcy shared, “some of them reminded me of my dad. He was military, Marine. Not a nice guy, especially to our mom.”

Steve rubbed Darcy’s arm as she talked. He felt that it was a privilege that Darcy was telling him something so personal. He didn’t want to break the spell, rather hoped that she might open up to him more.

Darcy blinked back tears. “He found fault with everything she did. She couldn’t do enough fast enough to avoid setting off his temper. Then he… well, you know.” Darcy ducked her head.

Realization dawned on Steve. “So, he never served her a dish or coffee even if he was getting something? He never held doors for her or pulled out a chair? You never saw him treat her with respect?”

Steve stilled as Darcy sat up on one elbow and stared at him, eyes wide. “Respect? No. No respect.” She grabbed the remote again. “Let’s look for something else. I saw…” Darcy glanced at Steve. “’White Christmas’ is about to start on this channel. I remember liking the dancing and pretty outfits and thinking it’s sweet. The story starts in your time, though. Do you mind?  Will that make you too sad?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve heard good things about it. I’ll be okay.” He wanted to say that he was more than okay with Darcy next to him, but was too tongue tied.

As the classic channel announcer talked, Darcy shifted closer to Steve again. “I want you to be okay. The 21st century’s not all bad, ya know.”

Again, Steve kissed Darcy’s forehead. “Yeah. Thanks, Doll.” He stroked her hair as they began watching the movie. “This okay?”

Darcy nodded, wondering if he was only being nice because he felt sorry for her or if there was another reason. “Yes. Very okay. Feels nice.” As his fingers trailed down her back, she shivered with pleasure. She wondered if he had any idea what his touch did to her. She savored the feelings, the want and heat, for a long time. Other thoughts ran through the back of her mind while she tried to ignore them.

Most of the way through the movie, the 'pretend-engagement' conspirators confessed to Bing Crosby’s character. Steve commented, approving, “at least they fessed up and set him straight. Too many times in romantic comedies the people avoid saying what’s on their mind until it’s too late. It's silly.” He stilled as Darcy pushed back from him and stared at him again. “What?  You okay?”

Darcy nodded.  “I… yeah. Sorry.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, paused the movie, and grasped her phone. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna make this call before I chicken out. Wish me luck.” She grabbed the green sweater from the floor and slipped it on over her red top again.

“Luck.” Steve got up and walked around the bed so he could sit next to Darcy. She looked up at him with a grateful warmth that transfixed him. He nudged her shoulder to offer comfort as someone answered her call.

“Beth? Hi. It’s Darcy. Merry something or other.” Darcy’s knee bounced, betraying her restlessness. Steve could feel tension fill her frame. After a moment, she continued, “yeah. Fine. I found a place to stay. I’m with a friend. And, Beth?” She took a deep breath, “He treats me with respect. Caring and respect. Even if he were…” Darcy paused. She rushed the next words out all at once, “well, if he was my Dom? He wouldn’t embarrass me or push away you or Mom by making me say ‘Meow’ and only ‘Meow’ to you at his whim. He wouldn’t think that's funny. He wouldn’t call me a ‘dimwit’ or a ‘bimbo’. He… Beth? I’m sorry to criticize your choices. But you deserve better than that kind of stuff. I hate the way Chad treats you, the way he talks down to you and tries to change you. You don’t need changing. I don’t know if it’s just me that Chad can’t stand. But, if it’s not? If he treats you like that in front of other people? I mean, would he demean you in front of your kids like Dad did Mom? Would he hurt you? How much like Dad…? Scratch that. Sorry. He’s not Dad. I’m not trying to be an unfair bitch to Chad, whatever he says. I worry that…” Darcy gasped, “don’t cry! I’m sorry! No! You… what? He what? He didn’t… What?!?” She shook, both in her body and voice. There was a long silence on Darcy’s end as her sister talked and cried. Darcy only interrupted the flow of words to utter sounds of disgust and disbelief.

Steve went to the kitchenette and got more water. He opened a bottle of wine and made thawed meat into fried burgers and baked French fries in the oven. He took Darcy water and returned to work on their lunch. The smell of good food soon filled the tiny cabin. He stayed busy, but most of his attention was on Darcy and her conversation.

Finally, Darcy rasped, “Well, that’s… What?! You’re thanking me? No. What? I thought you’d tell me to go to Hell, not take my call as a divine sign that you should say no and leave him. Oh, thank Baby Jesus!” Darcy laughed through tears. “Yes! I know I’m a bitch and I’m causing you to throw yourself on Mom’s mercy at Christmas. Enjoy her cookies for me. If it makes you feel better, I don’t have baking ingredients. Oh, fine! Hm? My friend? Awesome like you wouldn’t believe. Uh, I don’t know. It’s… pffft. I need to talk straight to him, too. Wish me luck?” Darcy wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes! I love you, too. Now, go. Text me when you’re safe at Mom’s and tell her I’m safe and I’ll call later. Merry Christmas.” Darcy hung up from the call and stared at the phone, rocking in place until she received a text. Then, she collapsed backwards onto the bed and stared up, unseeing.

Steve stayed quiet, letting Darcy calm from her talk with her sister. When the food was ready, Steve returned to her side and offered her a hand up, leading her towards the fire.

Darcy stumbled to a chair. “Thanks. You’re the best.” She drank more water.

“So, did he propose?” Steve began eating again and gave Darcy time to answer.

Darcy ate a bite of hamburger with a few fries and shook her head, “nope. TOLD her she was gonna marry him. Told her!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Jackass! Good riddance.”

Wry, Steve shook his head. “Not very romantic. Not that I’m an expert in that department, but…”

Darcy only nodded as she devoured the rest of her food and sipped wine. “I had no idea how hungry I was.” She looked at Steve, thinking how lucky she was to be trapped with a good person who exuded calm and kindness. She especially appreciated that after the intensity of her conversation with her sister. Darcy sipped the wine as she focused on Steve. Being with him settled her, made her feel safe. And looking at him was always a delight. Steve Rogers was handsome, to be sure. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his green and blue flannel shirt. Unfair of him to subject her to sexy forearms on top of all the rest. Like every shirt she’d ever seen him wear, this one struggled to cover his muscles. She’d given up trying to think of adjectives that could convey how attractive Steve was. And nice. He didn’t call her out for staring at him like a weirdo, mooning after him. He didn’t even press her to speak up now, when she was sure he must be curious about the ‘straight talk’ she’d mentioned. He gave her the space she needed to regain her equilibrium.

Respect. Steve treated her with respect. She had a wonderful friend who treated her with respect. She ought to be forever grateful rather than daring to wish for more.

Steve finished his glass of wine and poured himself another.

Darcy held her glass out for him to top off, then sipped it again. “This is good stuff. I never spend more than $10 on a bottle. I’d bet the cork on this stuff costs that much,” she giggled, “or even the label.”

“I’ll give Tony money to cover it when we get back to the Tower.” Steve shrugged.

Darcy glanced outside. Snow and sleet fell still. “That’ll be a bit yet.”

Steve nodded, not sure what to say. He felt happy trapped with Darcy, to have a chance to talk with her and hold her close. Even if she only saw him as a friend who kept her from getting too cold. Silence fell between them again.

“Wanna finish the movie? Sorry I shut it off without asking.” Darcy needed more time to gather courage.

Steve nodded, “no problem. Yeah. I’d like to see the ending.”

They took their dishes to the sink and then returned to the bed. There, Darcy took off her Christmas sweater. She threw back the covers and snuggled next to Steve under the blankets. He put his arms around her while she used the remote to restart the movie. Finally, the lovers in the movie sorted out their misunderstanding, kissed, and made plans for their future. Fierce longing overwhelmed both Steve and Darcy. Unconsciously, he stroked her back.

There was no one and nothing to distract them or come between them. Nothing except for their own emotional shields. But it was a day for dropping those.

Cheers and strains of the song ‘White Christmas’ sounded behind the words ‘The End’. Darcy ducked her head so that she didn’t have to look Steve in the eye. “I wish…”

Steve interrupted, “I wish that you didn’t dislike soldiers so much, Darcy. I’m a soldier and I can’t change that, never could.”

Darcy pushed back from him, “what? Change? You? No! I don’t… Oh! No. I only dislike the bad ones. I don’t like jack-booted thugs who steal Jane’s research and my personal stuff. I don't like Nazi wanna-be’s or, well, mean soldiers. I like… I like you, Steve.” She swallowed hard and jutted her chin out. “I wish that your work didn’t take pretty much all your time and that you didn’t miss your good old days so much. I wish…” She blinked back unshed tears. “I really wish you wanted to be here- in this time- with me, Steve. I’m sorry. I know you only want to be friends. And I won’t say anything more to make you uncomfortable, friend.” She smiled a small, watery smile. “Friend. I’ve done that for you all this time. I can keep doing it. I want any relationship we can have, even just friends.”

Confusion filled Steve’s expression. “Is that why you say ‘friend’ to me so much? Because you think that’s all I want?”

“Uh huh.” Darcy nodded miserably.

He inched closer. “And you like me even though I’m a soldier? And you want to be more than friends with me? Darce?” He whispered, “do you… want?”

Darcy looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry to make things so awkward when you’re stuck here with me. Yes. I want! I wish that you wanted to be more than fr…Mmph!”

Steve kissed her.

He pulled back and stared at her as he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Sorry. I should ‘a- May I kiss you? I’m crazy about you, Darcy. I’ve wanted you for months and months. Want you so much I can hardly stand it. Not just friends, please. More, Doll.” His eyes gleamed with fervor.

Darcy nodded, stunned.

Steve chuckled, kissed her forehead and kissed her cheek again, with reverence. “Darcy, Doll… can I get a ‘yes’ to me kissing you?” He shifted so that his lips were a hair’s breadth away from her lips. Charged air shook the space yet between the two of them. He waited.

“Yes!” Darcy closed the distance between them and met his kiss with her own. They both trembled into it, a feather-light exploration. They each absorbed the idea that they’d misread what the other wanted. She murmured again, “oh, yes, Steve.”

He grinned as he kissed her again, deepening the kiss. He nibbled at her plush lower lip as he’d fantasized and dreamed so many times. Reality was a million times better. Darcy shuddered against him and groaned with pleasure. Steve stilled and closed his eyes. “Oh, Doll.” Darcy teased at his lower lip and he groaned, “gonna be hard as hell to be a gentleman with you doin’ that.”

Darcy chuckled, “who says you have to be a gentleman?” She shifted her leg to brush against his hardness. “Mmm. You were saying?” She nibbled at his lip again and played with the top button of his shirt.

Steve jolted and cursed under his breath. He kissed her quiet, again deepening the kiss and learning how they fit together. Steve savored Darcy's lips and tongue and throat while also exploring what she liked best. Sensitive spots. Sweetness. Eagerness. It was pure bliss. Darcy was becoming short of breath. Steve lay back and looked up at the next movie that had started while his Christmas dreams began to come true.

Darcy glanced at the Santa onscreen and panted. “I no longer have anything to ask Santa for.” She undid Steve’s top shirt button and kissed at the base of Steve’s throat. “I can think of a few things I’d like to ask you for, though.”

Steve grinned down at her, “same, Doll.”

“Oh?” Darcy undid another button on his shirt and kissed the exposed skin. She looked up at him and held his gaze as she undid the next few buttons.

Steve pulled her up for a long, slow kiss that set Darcy’s every nerve ending afire. She undid another few buttons on his shirt. When he shrugged it off, Darcy stilled, staring at his naked chest. “Holy…”

“Night?” he suggested. She snorted a giggle. He shifted her so that she sat astride him. He asked with his eyes if he could lift her shirt.

She nodded. “I may freeze, but yes. Please do.” She lifted her arms.

He shook his head. “Not gonna freeze. Haven’t you heard? I’m the man with a plan.” His voice tightened as he pulled her shirt up over her head. He shifted another pillow behind him and sat up some, pulling her towards him. He kissed her breasts as he reached around and undid her lacy red bra. “Damn, Doll. You’re a fantasy come true.” As he began to tease at her breasts with his lips and tongue, Darcy shivered and moved on him. He groaned, “here.” He pulled his shirt out from beneath him and helped her put it on, open at the front but warming her arms and back. "Looks much better on you than Tony's robe."

“Ahhh.” Darcy tried to talk, but Steve returned to tormenting her with his insistent lips. “G...good plan. Ohhh.” She squirmed in his lap, grinding against his erection with abandon. He let out a lusty groan that made her proud.

Steve pulled her chest against him for warmth as he moved up to kiss her lips and face again. “You’re shaking.” He looked concerned, but couldn’t resist kissing Darcy again. And again. He plucked and teased at her with his dexterous fingers. He loved the frantic sounds she made in the back of her throat.

“Not cold.” Darcy pulled back, then kissed him again and again. “Just want. Want you. Want so much.”

Steve shifted, rolling Darcy down onto her back. “Good thing, Doll.” He kissed her. Long, slow, passionate kisses that she met with a fervor that lit him up more every second. He palmed her breast and continued his exquisite torment. Darcy arched up against him, writhing. He lowered his lips to her breasts again. First one, then the other. Kissing and nibbling and sucking. She cried out and bucked as he swirled his tongue, hard. Darcy wasn’t sure if she would be embarrassed to come just from his attention to her breasts or impressed. Possibly both. Likely both.

He resumed teasing her nipples with his fingers. He placed open-mouthed kisses all along her belly. Steve took his time. “Beautiful.”

Darcy whimpered and began to shove her pants down. Steve stilled her hands. “I got you.” He undid the snap on her black jeans and kissed the exposed skin. Then he lowered her zipper and kissed her more. Darcy held the covers up with one hand and ran the other covetously along Steve’s shoulder. Steve pulled her pants and panties off and then moved back up her body to kiss her cheek and lips again.

“Pants!” Darcy begged him between kisses.

Steve huffed a laugh and unbuttoned his jeans. Darcy pressed against him, skin to skin. She wore only his shirt and warm red socks. Finally, he pushed down his pants so that he wore nothing.

Darcy’s eyes went even wider. “Oh, my. You go commando?”

He shrugged. “Habit. The uniform requires special briefs.”

She reached for him eagerly and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed.

Darcy's grin had a wicked glint. “Something like that.” She kissed down his chest and abdomen until she finally took him in her mouth. Then, Darcy delighted in taking Steve completely apart.

When he’d caught his breath again, Steve gave Darcy a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen from him before. It was both delighted and full of mischief that caused her pulse to race. He again pulled her astride his legs so he could taste and tease at her breasts. He left lingering kisses along the column of her throat and over her wrists. He disappeared under the covers and kissed her thighs and the backs of her knees. Darcy squirmed and unseeingly stared up at the movie. Steve didn’t tire, didn’t cramp- only focused on Darcy's pleasure with single-minded, super-strong drive. He had her writhing with pleasure long before he let her come. Another Christmas movie was playing onscreen and halfway over before Steve came up for air.

Finally, when Darcy begged, Steve slowly slid home. She realized that he’d been prepping her so long because of his size. She felt stretched wide as he twisted to hit her G-spot just right. She came quickly and felt as though she continued coming again and again as Steve pounded into her. He twisted her around so that he could plunge in from behind while rolling her swollen clit between his calloused fingers. After he came, he laid his fingers flat, soothing. He cradled her body tight back against his. Aftershocks left her spasming with pleasure. Steve kissed Darcy’s head again and again, murmuring, “sweet Darcy. Crazy about you.” She dozed in his arms, warm and loved and completely satisfied.

Dinner that night was steak and vegetables from the freezer, paired with an exquisite red wine. As they lay in bed afterwards, cuddling and teasing each other, Darcy felt Steve’s arms tighten around her. He buttoned a few buttons on his shirt to cover her and murmured, “company.” Soon, Darcy heard the sound of Iron Man landing outside the front door of the cabin.

Tony threw the door open and sauntered in, “I’m here to rescue you.” He stared, looked around and saw the open wine bottle and two pairs of pants on the floor by the bed, and shook his head. “Or, not. I guess Pep can stop crying about you being lonely on Christmas again this year, Cap. And I can stop wondering why you’re not answering texts. Nice shirt, Lewis.” Tony was blinking hard, slack-jawed with surprise.

Darcy laughed, “you should see the sweater I was gonna wear to your party. It’s around here someplace.”

“Lights up, sparkles, and hugs her curves to perfection. I’m sure she would ‘a won your contest,” Steve grinned, enjoying Tony’s shocked expression.

Tony smiled, “I bet. Well, Mazel Tov! Thanks for popping Cap’s cherry, Lewis. ‘bout time.” He pretended to wipe away a tear of pride.

Darcy snorted, “no way was that his first time. Orgasm hall of fame. All my Christmas dreams have come true.”

Steve ducked his head against her hair. “Good to hear, Doll. Right back atcha’.”

Tony shook his head. “Good reviews all around then. Well, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays kids. I’d guess you’re all set here ‘til it’s safe to drive again?”

Steve looked down at Darcy and she looked up at him. They both nodded emphatically and turned to Tony, “we’re good.” Tony laughed.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Steve beamed. “We’ll see you in a day or two.” He repressed a shiver as Darcy began teasing him under the covers again.

Darcy called out, “Merry Christmas! Thanks for dropping in.”

Tony shook his head and waved back at them as he went out the door of the cabin.

Steve pinned Darcy on her back and began ravishing her again, mock joking, “naughty girl!” He pushed into her again and set a slow pace as he rained kisses over her breasts.

Darcy looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. “Your naughty girl.”

Steve kissed her hard. “And my nice girl. Merry Christmas, Darcy.”

Gasping with pleasure, Darcy answered him, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

 Fin

[dylanlila]

LITTLE WOMEN FANFICTION

CHAPTER 3: SEVEN

Escapism

"Please, picture me in the trees...

...before I learned civility."

- seven, Taylor Swift

***

one.

- Let's run away.

It's barely a whisper. It's said more to the open sky above them than to anybody else.

- Let's run away.

It's more than a whisper now. It's a call. An invitation for something greater than both of them. And Laurie would gladly buy a ticket for that particular train. He would. But the sun is so wonderful and the clouds are so enchanting in their unusual shapes that even getting up seems like a chore. He wants to stay here. On the grass. But Jo is persistent in her wishes. Jo March never, never, gives up.

- Won't you say something, Teddy? Can't you just see it? We could be anything, do anything, go anywhere! The world could be ours!

She, unlike him, is on her feet. She always seems to be. Gravity isn't very fond of Jo. Or at least that's what Jo will tell you. Laurie doesn't know if that's true or not, but he likes hearing her talk. He finds himself generally attached to sounds. The chipering of birds. The first note you play on the piano. Amy's chaotic laughter. Beth's soft chuckles. Meg's little mumbles. Jo's wild exclaims. That's one of the many reasons why Laurie loves the Marches. It's like these sisters have discovered an utterly fresh, vivid and extraordinary way to be alive. It's a pleasant contrast to what he's used to.

It's always quiet at home.

"What do you say Theodore Laurence, kindest and most noble of knights of this kingdom? Shall we follow the wind and see where it leads us?"

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Then you accept my proposal?"

"I sure do, Miss March."

People's faces usually look radically different when lightened up with smiles. They look prettier, more beautiful and somehow truer to themselves as opposed to non smiling faces. Jo's doesn't. She is smiling at him right now and her face doesn't look any different. It's just as true and warm as it was a thousand smiles before. And would Laurie even be allowed to call himself a comrade of Jo's if he didn't gift her with a smile of his own in return? He grins at her with no specific thought behind the expression. This is how people are supposed to be smiling, he thinks. Wide and real. Yes, people are supposed to be smiling just like this.

For a second, Jo and Laurie are the same person. Hair wild, shirts half unbuttoned, cheeks flushed. Laurie's hands are splattered with dirt from the ground whose hostility he was taking advantage of moments prior. Jo doesn't seem to care about that. Once he's up and standing, she grabs his arm a bit forcefully (which he doesn't mind), a bit theatrically (because this is Jo and life is a theatre piece) and they start running, both of them now embellished with dust. There's a lot of stumbling (and stumbling is blamed on the seemingly nonexistent objects that appear and disappear under commands of fairy like creatures) and there's a lot of laughter (laughter that comes in its most natural form and doesn't show any interest in being contained under anyone's wishes, especially not the ones of the world).

"Oh dearest, the world might not be for us, but us we are for the world."

***

two.

Freedom is both the most basic and the most complicated aspect of life to be gained. It is so simple of a concept, one could easily and rightfully so believe how all of thought guardians (more commonly referred to as humans) should have the right to not only experience, but spend their entire lives swimming in shinning lakes of freedom. But it's not how it all works. Some have tiny bits of freedom. Some don't have it at all. Some have loads. Some have just enough. Too much, sadly or sadly not, have none. 

Jo sometimes wishes she were a tree. High up in the sky, stretching out her branches towards infinity. She isn't a tree though.

Imagination is of grave help despite what anyone says. To a normal person, the tree is just a tree. Tree and nothing else. To Jo March, a tree is so much more. It's an opportunity. An adventure. It's a solace and a home. A sanctuary. She's climbing up one of her leaf providing friends as she's trying to figure out how to describe this moment the best. Her reflections are interrupted by a voice which surprisingly doesn't come from the bellow, but from the above instead. Once Jo spots the speaker's ground conquerors (or "shoes" if you are of dull old sameness and don't find the pleasure in crafting phrases unlike our Jo), she immediately recognizes their owner. She still isn't sure why Teddy let Amy paint his shoes with images of flowers, but she is mesmerized with the final result. And although she shall never share this with the oh, so great artist, Jo thinks Amy's creations to be exquisite.

"I presume you are coming here to put your mind at ease."

"That is correct, my boy, and I suppose you are here for the same cause. "

By the time they exchange these lines, Jo has already climbed up to the place where Laurie is. She finds herself a steady enough branch and rests her head against the surface of the wood. Her friend is positioned in a similar way, his leg gently swaying to a peculiar beat of his own making.

Two figures, who almost seem to be one with the wooden fellow, occasionally take an exceptionally deep breath. Their hands colored with bruises, souvenirs from many extraordinary expeditions, their clothes decorated with leaves. Seemingly they are flowers, nature is their most beloved companion.

It's quite a story how Jo and Teddy, these flower resembling humans, coexist without many syllables shared. The phrases they do sometimes grace each other with can end up being translated as meaningless or lacking in thought. But Teddy and Jo, among everything else, are inventors. They invented a language which only functions for them. What is mean to others represents to them a code. What is strange to some, playful and witty to them it is. What is impossible to comprehend, they understand with little to no effort.

"Language of flowers is the language of flowers for a reason. Nobody, but flowers, thinks it much sense."

***

three.

"I'M ALIVE! LOOK AT ME, EARTH!!! I! AM! BREATHING!"

This is just one of the many declarations that have furiously been shouted at the void today. Young people often have trouble befriending compromises, especially if those compromises are to be made with the creatures you live in close proximity with. Jo has again been fighting with her sisters for reasons she cannot exactly recall right this instant. It's funny, because this always happens to her. Something sparks her temper, she recklessly gives into it and at the end, it's all about the anger she doesn't know how to release. She usually goes on long walks or takes deep breaths. She basically tries to isolate herself from everyone until the storm passes.

Teddy has a different solution for her troubles, troubles that naturally turn out to be his troubles too because they are Jo and Teddy, Teddy and Jo, and they have the same troubles (which is both wonderfully relieving and awfully annoying at the same time). Jo wouldn't even call Teddy's solution a solution. They are both making these announcements of nonhuman frequency and dancing their heads off, and as ridiculous as it is, Jo feels it liberating. They aren't improving anything (just the opposite, screaming random things into the air represents the peak of impulsive behaviour) and the conclusion is: no profitable discoveries in the "containing yourself" department. But who cares? Sometimes you have to let it all out. Dance and shout the worries away. It wasn't a coincidence that Jo met Teddy under the circumstances that she did. They were both of hot tempers, strong wills and free spirits. And they needed to dance it all out out. Despite the absurdity and inappropriate mannerism a foreign eye would most certainly find in their actions.

"There exists no right nor wrong way to express one's self."

***

four.

Laurie is surprised with how much he is enjoying this. It's all very simple. Yet, he feels at peace. He feels like everything inside him has a chance to rest.

It's the fireplace and captivating movement of the fire flames.

It's the soft "click" he discovers every time Meg takes a step. Her shoes are marvellous singers.

It's the chattering of dishes he recognizes somewhere in the background. It must be Beth, cleaning the table after the meal.

It's Amy giggling mischievously after coming up with what Laurie supposes to be some kind of scheme or more accurately, a master plan. He wouldn't know what is it about, but whatever it is, Amy is destined to succeed in it.

It's Jo. This is all because of Jo. He wouldn't have come across the hidden delights of the "uncomplicated" and "boring" if it weren't for her. She takes a seat beside him interrupting the spectacular date he had with the fireplace, rests her head on his shoulder and sighs. It's like this with them. Touching has never been a big deal.

"Beautiful."

That's all Jo says. "Beautiful." He doesn't question it. He understands what she means even though he cannot explain it. He understands.

"Warmth. Choreographed chaos. Lines overlapping. Minds intertwining. Familiarity greeting you "hello". People. Family. Home."

***

five.

She cut her hair. She cut her hair and everything is supposed to be at least a little better if not completely fine. But she can feel the tears forming in her eyes as she's approaching the house. The money in her pocket is so incredibly present. No, the money is not just present in her pocket. Everything those dusty pieces of paper represent carries weight. A weight so grand Jo could swear there is somebody following her, kind of like the money has taken the shape of a person and is now accompanying her, monitoring her every move. What kind of world sees a green, ugly paper and claims of it a metaphor for greatest treasures? And the tears? The tears she cannot comprehend. Why would she care? It's just hair. If anything, she should be bursting with joy right now. She got rid of the womanly burden. But it doesn't feel right. It's all extremely selfish of her. Selfish and thoughtless.

Her sister is... not well. Her father is out there doing all sorts of heroic things and instead of crying over her sins, she's crying over this. For once she does something right, for once the part of her that's wrong different isn't screaming. And then it hits her. It's not just a part of her that's different wrong. It's her. The moment she realises this she steps into the house. Everyone is either too distant or too close to notice all that is hiding underneath her seemingly admirable actions.

Her body is barely handling the atmosphere. It's barely cultivating the facade. But her body is also covered with Teddy's waistcoat and just as she remembers this little fact she sees her best friend right there in front of her. He is not too distant nor too close. He is right where she is.

They have the same hair.

Jo is pulled towards him because this is Teddy and hugging Teddy is like hugging herself. They stay like that for a few moments, their realities greeting each other like two fellow soldiers, finally reunited in battle.

It doesn't make her feel any less hollow. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't alter the wrongs. But it does make it a little better. It offers an assurance. An assurance embodying validity so present, money can do nothing but hold a candle to. An assurance of rational absurdity. Because that's what Jo and Teddy are.

They are rationally absurd.

"It's a childish belief that all twins look the same. There exist many ways to be somebody's twin."

***

six.

She is holding his hand.

He has just told her how he doesn't fit within himself. He has just told her that and she is still here, laying on the floor with him, covered with blankets. She said it made sense. She must have been too tired or something. She must have misheard. She must have.

"Jo, are you there?"

She does not respond. She only squeezes his hand. It's not about the gesture itself. It's about everything the gesture holds.

Promises. Lifetimes. Daylights. Midnights. Setting suns. Growing spirits. Flowery Youths.

She is holding his hand.

" Mutuality sure is a wonderful creation. What is more wonderful though is mutual understanding. Mutuality means the returning of the same. Mutual understanding means accepting and loving of the different."

***

seven.

"I could run away for real this time. Explore the unknown, unravel the mystical. Encounter the miracles. Touch the heavens..."

Her words are empty. They don't mean much. They are empty and desperate. Empty, desperate and meaningless.

Her sister got married. Meg got married and she is talking to herself about running away. The wind is dancing with her again long enough hair, tangling its fingers into her rough curls, reminding her of the countless times it has done the exact same thing before. Mocking her with its endless supplies of stability and comfort. Jo is leaning over the wooden fence, despite the wishes of her dress which keeps complaining about her unlady like methods. Jo honestly does not care about the fancy bridesmaid dress and its wants. If one has the will to climb fences, one shall enjoy the act of doing so, no matter what some piece of fabric might have to say. She is trying to hold back rivers her eyes miserably wish to let flow. She cannot cry. She must not. She has an ongoing bet with Teddy about this. He was daring enough to assume she will turn herself into a paddle today and she ought to prove him wrong.

"What might a lady like yourself be doing here instead of enjoying the jolly ceremony out there in the open?"

"I am no lady Teddy, my being is in no need of such chains."

Laurie doesn't pressure her into answering the question (she would have answered it in the first place if she had the intention to) and steps on the fence beside her. He starts humming a random melody, rhythmically moving his fingers to the sound.  He must be composing something again, thinks Jo and silently envies his creative range. It's been too long since she's written anything worth sharing.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Everything."

"Isn't that a bit too much of things?"

"Oh, it's just a little over the top Teddy, but I believe I can handle it. This mind is no stranger to overcrowding."

The same tree they used to climb when they were younger is now observing them, representing an eternal and haunting reminder of everything that once was. Jo is frightened. That silent way in which Teddy is looking at her is frightening. He is looking at her in ways she longs for to be different and his eyes have too many freshly discovered stories to tell. She is frightened she won't find those stories to be very pleasant.

"Do you remember that day when I told you how I wanted to run away?"

"How could I not?"

"I need to run away again."

Laurie doesn't need to hear it twice. He jumps over the fence and starts running, his arms widely spread, his tie and jacket long forgotten. It isn't real. Jo knows they will never go anywhere. The sun is setting and the lines of separation are clearing up. The sun is setting and challenges, struggles and complications lie ahead. She knows all of this. Yet, she hikes up her skirts like she's sixteen again and follows the path her boy has chosen for as long as she knows how to. Jo and Teddy run through the endless fields of gold, specks of sunlight meeting their bones. Teddy and Jo, Jo and Teddy, high in the sky for one last time before nightfall.

They keep falling over each other and eventually end up wrestling on the grass, occasional screams and consistent laughter adorning the air around them.

The last song of Meg's shoes. The last symbol Amy will ever paint on Jo's hands. The last wide smile of Beth's. The last understood conversation of birds. The last fellow of the trees. The last arrangement of flowers.

The last.

The last.

The last.

"Oh, to live in a world where there are childhoods, fields of gold and raging hearts."

"Grab a coat, leave a note and run away with me."

- William Chapman

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Chapter One - Hello Chicago

A/N: So this is my first crack at Chicago fire fanfiction, so don't judge too hard, alright? This will unfold from the beginning of season three, so if you haven't watched it yet, but plan to; SPOILER ALERT! I tried to follow along with the storyline of the show, but some things have been changed. Shout out to my superawesome beta @thorne93​, you rock! 

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Beth (OFC) 

Warnings: None. 

Wordcount: 2975

Three weeks ago: 

It was a beautiful summer day in Chicago, the sun was high in the sky while a warm breeze fanned the air, providing some much needed relief from the scorching sun. Beth had just moved into a cozy little apartment on West Wolcott, a seemingly friendly neighbourhood that she hadn't really had the time to explore yet. One thing she had noticed though, was the little bar on the corner, Molly’s. It reminded her of the last place she worked at back in New York before she picked up her life and headed for the windy city. On this particular day, she saw a ‘help wanted’ sign on the bulletin board outside, and without thinking twice, she climbed the three steps and walked inside. A little bell above the intricate mahogany door chimed, and before it even closed behind her, three confused faces looked up at her from a table near the bar. 

“Sorry, we’re closed,” the woman in the group said, offering Beth a friendly smile as she did. 

“Oh…” Beth started, looking between the three of them. The woman was a beautiful latina, around Beth's age, with a kind smile. One of the men, the older one of them, looked like he was in his mid forties maybe, and the other one was around Beth's age, maybe a couple years younger. He had big brown puppy dog eyes and a thick mustache.  “I just saw the help wanted sign outside, and figured I'd see if you had an application I could fill out,” she explained. “But I can come back later,” she suggested when there was no answer. It felt as though she had walked into something here. She didn't know them, but it seemed as if there was a sadness behind their smiles. 

“Nonsense,” the older man exclaimed, getting to his feet. “Come sit down.” 

Beth put down her groceries at the door and went to join them. 

“I'm Christopher Herrmann,” he introduced, shaking Beth's hand. “That's Gabriella Dawson-” Beth shook her hand too. “And this here is Otis,” he said, patting the guy's shoulder. 

“Brian,” the younger man corrected. 

“Nice to meet you all. I'm Beth Andrews.” 

“So you’re looking for a job?” Gabriella wondered. 

“Yeah. I just moved in down the street last week, and I saw the sign upfront today,” she explained. 

“You have any experience, kid?” Herrmann asked in a very prominent Chicago accent. 

“I do. Spent the last ten years working as a bartender in New York. Two different nightclubs for about five years and then nearly five year's at a neighbourhood bar like this,” she explained. “Then I moved here. I have references,” she added.

“Any other work experience?” he wondered. 

“Yeah. I was a paramedic with the New York Firedepartment for eight years. We were on 24 hours and off for 48, so it was easy enough to combine with other jobs.” 

The three of them shared an amused look and Beth wondered if she had said something wrong. 

“We all work for the CFD at house 51 here in town. Gabby is a paramedic, Herrmann and I are on truck,” Otis explained, and Beth chuckled at the coincidence.

“Paramedic for now,” Gabby corrected. “I've graduated from the academy, and hope to start fighting fires soon.” 

“Really? Congrats,” Beth offered. 

“Thank you,” Gabby said with a wide smile. “Are you looking to be a paramedic here in Chicago too, or?” 

“Not really, no. I got injured on the job and the more time passed, the harder it was to get back to it. I made a real effort about three months ago, but the job had changed for me,” Beth tried to explain, hoping that a fellow paramedic would understand. 

“Alright,” Herrmann dragged. “So why Chicago?” 

“Heard you guys were hiring. Couldn't let that opportunity slip through my fingers,” Beth joked with a coy smile, looking between the three of them. 

Gabby looked at the other two and nodded before looking back at Beth. “Welcome to Molly’s.” 

“Really?” Beth exclaimed. 

“Yep,” Herrmann confirmed. “Be here at five and we’ll get you settled in.” 

***

And that was how Beth landed her job at Molly’s. A job that she absolutely loved. Never had she imagined that a simple bartender job would come with such a wide network of people and friends, but Molly’s had that family vibe to it. It was a place where firefighters, police officers, and doctors came to hang their hat and try to find a good end to an otherwise shitty day at work, or a place to celebrate the good days. She found many acquaintances during her first three weeks, but also some good friends… like Gabby. 

After Beth had Gabriella and her fiancee - who was a lieutenant at firehouse 51 - Matt Casey over for dinner, Gabby had convinced her to come to the house and cook for them all, which she gladly did. One thing she had learned through her year's working at NYFD was that the fastest way to a firefighter’s heart was through their stomachs. 

Firehouse 51 was still mourning the loss of one of their paramedics, Leslie Shay, who had died on the job just a few weeks before Beth rolled into town. Her death still cast a shadow over the place, but they were all trying to get back to normal. A normal that would be hard to find before the lieutenant of Squad 3 came back from his furlough. Kelly Severide had been Shay’s best friend, and the one that took her death the hardest. No one had seen or heard from him since Shay’s funeral, and they were all starting to wonder if he would ever return to the station at all. 

Beth hoped that a good meal would help cheer them up a bit, even if it was just for a little while. 

“This smells amazing, Beth,” Cruz complimented as he hovered over her in the kitchen. “Where did you learn to cook?” 

“Yeah… Tell them the story,” Gabby said with a chuckle, not looking up from the magazine she was flipping through. 

“Alright,” Beth dragged, very aware that all eyes were on her all of a sudden. “I was dating this guy back when I was nineteen. He was a really nice guy, but I didn't really see it lasting very long, so when Valentine’s rolled around I didn't want to splurge on a big fancy gift for him. So I got him a pen,” she started explaining. 

“You gave a guy a pen for valentines day?” Cruz asked with raised brows. 

“Yeah - well- he was studying journalism and I had it engraved.. It was a nice pen, kay? My point is I wasn't too invested in the relationship at this point.” 

“As evidenced by the pen,” Otis chimed in, earning himself a bitchface from Beth. 

“But it seemed as though he was in a different place then I was at that time, so he gave me a gift certificate for cooking classes, worth about 500 dollars.” 

A round of ‘aww’s’ went around the room followed by Gabby’s “Wait for it.” 

“For about two seconds I felt really shitty about the 14 dollar pen I had gotten him, so I started telling him that I couldn't accept his gift. That it was too much.. Too generous. He shut me down and told me it was an investment in our future and that - and I quote - he saw real potential in me, but if we were to start a family, he needed to know that I would be able to cook for them.” 

Now there was a mixture of ‘eww’s’ and ‘oh, noes,’ going through the room. 

“So I took the gift certificate and left. Then I spent 6 weeks learning to cook all these delicious meals that he will never get to taste,” she concluded. 

“Good for you, Beth,” Sylvie complimented. She was the newest member of the firehouse, filling Shay’s position after she died. Sylvie was a small town girl that had this sort of careful nature to her. She was very sweet though. Beth liked her a lot. 

“I don't get it,” Cruz said with a puzzled look on his face. “He was planning a future with you, isn't that nice?” Coming from anyone else, this comment would probably piss Beth off, but she knew him, and knew that he didn't really mean anything by it. 

“He wasn't planning a future with me, he was planning my future for me,” Beth explained. “Look… being a stay at home mom is tough work, and I admire the shit out of those who do it, but at that point I had my own aspirations and goals for my future. It was pretty clear to me that even though he knew all of this, he didn't care as long as he got the family he pictured in his mind.” 

“Oh… well… when you put it like that,” Cruz said, an apologetic look on his face. 

“It's alright,” Beth assured before she announced to everyone that dinner was ready, and for all of them to dig in. 

***

Dinner had been a huge success and she left the house with an open invitation to come back whenever to cook for them, which was their way of telling her that she had been accepted into their little family. 

Now she was back behind the bar at Molly’s, which was easily her favorite place in the world right now. Lieutenant Casey had finally been able to track down and convince Lieutenant Severide to come back to Chicago, and they had all decided to throw him a little welcome home party at Molly’s.

Gabby had already been in Beth’s ear about Kelly Severide, warning her that he was a bit of a ladies man, but Beth assured her that she wasn't interested. She was excited to meet him though, besides being a ladies man, Beth had heard a lot of great things about him. 

There was a good crowd already at the bar when Kelly finally showed up. The first thing that Beth noticed was that the pictures of him at the station didn't really do him justice. However, it wasn't the ocean blue eyes, or the plump lips, or even the broad shoulders. It was the way he carried himself. Standing tall and confident in his shoes as he was welcomed into the bar with cheers and pats on the back. There were few things more attractive in a man than confidence, Beth thought to herself, but there was a really fine line between confidence and arrogance, and from where she was standing it looked as though he was on the right side of that line. There was something else that she noticed about him, something that saddened her in some inexplicable way. As soon as the charming smile fell from his lips, his expression hardened. Not in an angry or mean looking way, but more… stoic. Like a man carrying around a pain inside of him that he didn't want anyone to see. Like he was trying to hide his vulnerability by appearing unapproachable.

Beth knew that underneath all that, there was a good man. Of course she hadn't met the man yet, but she knew that from the way people spoke about him. 

He didn't take a seat at the bar, instead he wedged himself in between two stools and leaned against the counter.   

“This is Beth, Molly’s new bartender,” Gabby said and Beth reached over the bar to shake his hand. 

“Kelly,” he said, his piercing blue eyes tracking her features. “Nice to meet you.” The hardness of his face melted away as he smiled politely at her, revealing a little gap between his front teeth. It was as though she caught a little glimpse of who he was behind the hard exterior. It was just a flash, a fraction of a second, and then it was gone again.   

“You too,” she offered. “What can I get you?” 

“Whiskey,” he said simply before he got roped into a conversation with Chief Boden and Casey. 

Beth did her best not to stare at the man, but throughout the night she caught herself looking for him, letting her eyes linger whenever they found him while her mind wondered who this man was underneath. Already then she knew she was in trouble 

“I knew it,” Gabby said suddenly into her ear. Beth hadn't even seen her approaching. 

“What?” she asked, pretending she had no clue what Gabby was on about. “I'm allowed to look,” she defended when her friend sent her a knowing look. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want to do,” Gabby said with a coy smile. “Just know what you’re getting yourself into.” 

“I'm not gonna get myself into anything,” Beth assured.

“Mhm… Anyway, Matt and I are going to head home. You okay to lock up?” Gabby asked. 

The bar was mostly empty now. Just Severide, Cruz, and Otis remained. “Absolutely,” Beth assured. She said goodnight to her friend and then made her way over to the three men. “Last call, boys. What can I get you?” 

The level of inebriation around the table was pretty darn high, but considering this was last call and they would be out soon, Beth didn't worry about it too much. As per their request, she grabbed them each a beer and then made her way back behind the bar to start getting ready to close up. 

“Hey, Beth,” Kelly suddenly called out, making her spin around. “Come have a drink with us,” he lightly demanded. 

She mulled it over for a second before she poured herself a glass of ice water and went to join them. 

“What's this?” Kelly asked, pointing to her glass with furrowed brows. 

“Water,” she stated simply. 

“You don't drink?” he asked, looking into her blue eyes. 

“Not at work.” Holy shit was he gorgeous, she thought to herself as she pried her eyes off of the freckles that peppered his nose. She hadn't noticed them earlier, but now that she was so close to him, she could clearly see them. She could still feel his eyes on her when she looked away, but she did her best to ignore the warm feeling that settled in her body under his gaze. 

“How are you liking Chicago so far?” Cruz asked. 

“It's good,” she said with a bob of her head. “Your pizza sucks though,” she added as an afterthought. 

“Oh come on,” Otis exclaimed. “Chicago style beats New York style every day of the week,” he argued, getting support from the other two. 

“Uhm.. no. Deep dish pizza tastes like tomato sauce and dough, and nothing more. New York style has the perfect toppings to cheese ratio on a crunchy crust. It's perfection.” 

“You’re wrong,” Cruz chimed in. “The thin crust does not support enough toppings. It's structurally unsound.” He gestured as he spoke, as if he was caught in a heated debate about the state of the world or something. 

That spiraled into a half an hour long argument about pizza and toppings, ending only when Beth said that she would prove them all wrong by coming into the fire house and cooking them some real pizza. This was met with much enthusiasm. 

“Alright, boys. Time to get out so I can close up,” she announced after checking the time. 

“You throwing me out of my own bar?” Otis asked as they all got to their feet. 

“Damn straight,” she said with a smile, trying to ignore the looks she got from the very handsome lieutenant.

“This because of the pizza thing?” 

“Absolutely,” she confirmed with a playful smile. 

“Never argue with the bartender,” Kelly noted. 

“Exactly,” Beth agreed. “Now get out so I can get home,” she ordered. 

The three men were still outside waiting for a cab when Beth locked the door behind her. From what she could tell, Kelly was trying to rope the other two into continuing the evening somewhere else, without much luck it seemed like. She felt for him, she really did. Being alone with your thoughts after losing a loved one was hard, she remembered all too vividly what that was like. 

“What about you?” he said, looking at Beth. “Wanna come have some drinks with me?” 

“Not even a little bit,” she said. It was a lie. She would very much like to go with him, but she knew how that would end, and tempting as it was, it wasn't really an option. “I'm gonna go home and slip into a light coma.” It seemed as though her answer surprised him, and she got the impression that he wasn't really used to getting turned down. 

“Can I walk you home then? Can be scary out here at this time of night,” he tried. 

“My apartment is right there-” she pointed a few houses down - “I'm sure I'll make it home before your cab gets here, so you guys can just keep an eye on me from here.” 

Cruz and Otis kept their eyes to the ground, trying to not get roped into this awkward interaction. They mumbled a goodnight as Beth left them, trying to hide their smiles from the lieutenant. 

“What just happened?” Kelly asked with a confused expression on his face. 

“You just got shut down, bro,” Cruz explained. 

“Twice,” Otis added, making the two of them laugh. 

Kelly watched as Beth made her way to her building, and just as the cab pulled up, she unlocked her door. He raised his hand and gave her a small wave before he got into the backseat of the car. For a while, he had the image of her bright smile, and big eyes in his mind, but soon enough she was replaced by Shay, and grief overtook him once again. 

If you want a tag, just shoot me an ASK and we’ll make that happen. 

If you like what you read, press that little reblog button, maybe leave me a little comment. Feedback is a great source of inspiration for me. 

[pogueshomecoming]

lover - john b routledge

requested? yes: if you happen to be a swiftie or know the song could I request a fic based on lover with john b?🥺 (I am not a swiftie but I will admit this is a song I could listen to forever)

description: having recently moved into the chateau officially, you spend a night reflecting on yours and John B’s relationship.

fill out this survey to join my taglist(s), here’s my masterlist, and requests are open

warnings: john b and reader are a little older in this, I imagined it as the summer after their senior year. domestic relationship vibes for sure, a lot of sweet fluff. I’m kind of in love with this so please don’t hurt my feelings

word count: 1.5k

++

You were never far from John B. At least, you didn’t like to be. Actually, he’d gotten in the habit of waiting for you to follow any time he got up to go talk to friends or get another drink at a kegger. Or anywhere, really.

But that’s where you are now, tucked into his side as he talks to some guys that were visiting the island. They were talking about surfing: the best places to go, the best times to go, what kinds of boards to use, and John B was shining. He loved knowing he looked like the guy people should ask questions, the guy that knows everything.

One of your favorite things is the way John B looks as the orange glow from the bonfire dances across his skin. You admire him as he talks, his face and hand (because one is secured tightly around your waist to keep you close) are so animated and show his excitement.

Watching John B do anything could never get old. Being right by his side any chance you got could never get old. You never wanted it to, anyway. John B was literally your best friend. The person you were closest to, the one you came to for everything. Three years of dating had passed in the blink of an eye, but at the same time, it felt like forever.

The conversation had moved on from surfing and the island to something else that you didn’t quite catch, but when there was a lull, you took the chance.

“Baby? Can we go home?” You whisper, not moving from your position of being attached to his side but tilting your head, so it was less noticeable that you were asking him something.

John B didn’t have to look at you to let you know he heard you, he just gave your hip a gentle squeeze, and you knew he’d wrap it up. You provide a polite wave to the three boys as you two walk away, going to tell the Pogues you’re leaving. John B’s arm stayed around your shoulders, his thumb at your hip, rubbing sweet circles just under the hem of your shirt. Another one of your favorite things.

“Hey, my lover and I are going home.” John B called as you two passed where your shared friends were sitting. The three of them collectively rolled their eyes but bid you goodnight anyway.

JB loved calling you his lover. To him, it felt more endearing, because he knew you loved him and he wanted to show it off. Even though you’d told him multiple times that people don’t usually use it in that context, but he never stopped. His excuse always was, “Well, saying, “the love of my life” takes too long.”

But John B was your lover, in every sense of the word. He showed you he loved you in a million different ways. It was in the way he kissed you awake every morning, in the way he was almost always touching you, in the way he protected you and made you feel comfortable wherever you were. The list could go on for days.

The van comes to a stop in front of the chateau, and John B hops out first. He jogs over to your side, opening the door with a goofy grin on his face. “Welcome home.”

Home. The chateau was your home now, yours and John B’s. His uncle had agreed to sign it over to him, and you’d both spent the last semester fixing it up whenever you had the time. It looked good now, and you were proud of what it was. So many of your memories had already been made here, but there were so many more to come.

“I think we should put Christmas lights up.” You say, playing with the hair on the nape of John B’s neck as he stands between your legs, still sitting in the van.

“In June?” He laughs, looking around.

“Why not? It’s ours now, we make the rules. Plus, it’s so dark out here at night.”

His hands that rest on the top of your thighs move to underneath, hoisting you into his arms. “Alright, we’ll go get some Christmas lights tomorrow.”

As John B is walking up the three stairs, he trips on the last one, stumbling inside but catching himself, and you, before he falls. You squeal, tightening your grip with your legs and your arms. “Jesus, John B, I could’ve died.”

“Oh, yeah, a near-death experience for sure. I’m so sorry, what ever could I do to make it up to you?” JB plays along, being dramatic with you is his favorite way of teasing you.

“Can we dance?” You ask, your lip jutting out.

“Let me shower first, okay?” John B kisses your forehead as he sets you down.

“Hurry back, I’ll miss you.” You wink, watching him skip to the bathroom with a goofy grin on his face.

“You could join me!”

Ignoring him, you sit down on the couch and wrap a blanket over your shoulders. As you look around the empty chateau, the old light bulbs cast a haze, making the air seem slightly foggy.

You looked at the empty table, five mismatched chairs sitting around it. Each one being claimed by one of your friends. The sixth one that completed the oddball set had been destroyed long ago, broken when JJ and John B barreled into it while they were fighting once.

What you’re really focused on is that your and John B’s chairs are next to each other. As if you’d be attached at the hips if you were actually sitting in them. Usually, the boys were the last ones at the table when you all gathered for game nights or dinner. You always saved him a seat. No matter how delayed John B was in getting to the table, or how many times the chairs had been rearranged, that never changed.

Then, your attention is brought to the kitchen. All of the nights that you and John B would stumble into the chateau, ransacking the cabinets for snacks or anything edible after a night of drinking at the boneyard. He’d get handsy after having to socialize all night long and not being able to tell you how good you looked dancing with Kie. It never failed that he saved his dirtiest jokes just for you.

But as you look through the window and to the couch on the porch, you’re reminded that not all of the memories here are good ones.

You’ve sat on that couch with John B and cried about so many things. That’s where you found him the day he got the news about his dad all those years ago. Even before that, he had sat there with you through a few breakups. You had this bad habit of giving boys your heart thinking they’d keep it forever, only to find out they were just borrowing it. John B was always there when it was returned in pieces, each time keeping one until he’d won you over.

John B shared plenty of heartbreak on that couch with you too. Girls had this habit of wanting to get close to him, but also wanting two of his four closest friends to disappear from the face of the earth. Boys having friends that were girls seemed to be a problem back then.

“Thinking hard over there?” JB’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s dressed in pajamas, his hair is stringy and probably still dripping, but he’s making his way toward you.

You stand, meeting him in the middle of the room like he’s a magnetic force that you’re attracted to. His hands make their home on the small of your back, and his arms pull your torsos together.

“Not too hard. Just remembering all those girls who swooned over you way back then. I think I’m still highly suspicious that every girl who sees you wants you.” Your nose scrunches in a teasing manner.

John B raises his eyebrows, chuckling while he shakes his head at you. “Oh, do girls still swoon for me?”

You hit his chest playfully, and he takes the opportunity to grab your hand and push you out so he can twirl you around. “There’s plenty, did you see that group of tourons at the boneyard tonight?”

He pulls you back in, shaking his head once more. “Nope, but I did see this one adorable girl. She definitely only had eyes for me, I could tell. Her eyes kept finding mine, and I was lucky enough that she sat next to me, much less talked to me. She did this cute thing where she asked me if we could go home. Turns out, she’s the woman of my dreams and my girlfriend. Crazy, right? It was unbelievable.”

JB’s face lights up as he talks, swaying you absentmindedly as he talks about you. You can’t help but laugh, your forehead falling onto his collarbone and your hair into your face.

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, but I love you.”

As the two of you dance around to nothing but the beats of your hearts, you feel content. You feel at home. You feel loved.

John B is your perfect match, your soulmate, but most importantly, he’s your lover.

++

thank you for reading! don’t forget to reblog if you liked it or send me feedback :)

john b taglist: @pogue-h , @shawnssongs , @hopelesswritingxd , @millie-753 , @thatsonobx , @jjtheangel , @ohbx , @babysbestlife , @psychicforest , @fanficscuziranout , @maebanks , @diverdown06, @thelocalpogue , @maybe-maybanks , @extratragic , @alexandracheers , @a-brooding-bird , @ughitslizz , @damonsalvawhore27 , @beth-winchester21 , @pixelated-pogues , @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar

[septiembrre]

GG Headcannons

Tagged by @sothischickshe. Thanks, boo ;-) 

Ship: Beth x Rio -- in honor of our lovebirds day for GGWEEK2020

38. What is/are their love language(s)?

Haha, this has already made its way into one of my ficlets. I am also writing love languages into my next chapter of Better Be Mine. I can’t let it go!! I don’t actually care about them as tool for my irl relationship but it’s so easily identifiable for Brio. So my headcanons here... 

Rio’s love languages: 

Rio prefers to receive love through Quality Time. 

Rio shows love through Physical Touch. 

Beth’s love languages:

Beth prefers to receive love through Words of Affirmation.

Beth shows love through Acts of Service

49. Do they have differing political opinions?

Lol, @sothischickshe I can’t believe you tagged me in this!!!! Stop reading into the underlying vibes of Beth/Rio conversations in my fics! 

So the short version of my response is: yes. 

Now the absurdly long response:

I think about Rio & Beth a lot. I think about them talking about politicized issues quite a bit and imagine them in conversation with each other, teasing their beliefs apart. I like picturing these conversations instigated by hard parenting moments, things in the news, and things that come up as they finally start saying more words to each other. I think Rio could also just directly ask Beth about her political beliefs (I can’t necessarily picture the reverse yet).  

I think Beth is definitely more conservative than Rio -- and that’s an assumption I make because Rio’s a Latinx guy who probably came up with lack of access to wealth, and Beth as a white woman in the suburbs who formerly perceived herself/her family as wealthy. 

Beth’s characterization is complicated -- sometimes it really leans into Karen stereotypes/white woman privilege (lol, I cannot believe they literally had her show up at Gil’s workplace. I CRINGE!) and other times her beliefs and actions positively surprise me. Personally, in my fic writing, I love leaning into an idea that Beth grew up more working class/experienced neglect from her parents. I don’t want to romanticize these experiences but trauma around financial insecurity & complicated family relationships personally resonates with me. Ugh, I love writing about it, and it’s something that I read in her childhood that I like to lean into. That flashback in Season 2 really humanized Beth for me and it really made me love her. 

Okay, that was a major digression about class, but her life experience must lend itself to her political beliefs. She married into a wealthier family -- a family that owned it’s own business, was financially stable and just... a family perpetuating all the harmful effects of white heterosexuality and problematic gendered labor. And she conformed to it! Beth diminished herself to make herself fit there, to find safety and stability, to feel worth. So, I think her politics as an adult are also “safe” and probably echo the popular moderate trends in normative, toxic parent groups. Honestly, irl as a queer WOC who is anti-capitalist and been forced to be political for my own self-preservation and preservation of folks I love, I would not seek out PTA Beth’s friendship for multiple reasons, but I still have such a soft spot for Beth as a character?

That being said, Beth in the context of Annie & Ruby is obviously a different Beth. She loosens up in these spaces, she speaks her mind much more freely and in these scenes she comes as a normal, relatable human and she’s funny and prim and awkward. I think she comes across as somewhat liberal but not particularly educated on the issues/progressive (as is the way most characters are characterized on network TV). In this vein, she throws around a lot of white privilege and because some of it has gone un-interrogated in the context of the show... I’m not sure how intentional these vibes are or if it’s just par the course of it being white-owned network TV. Obviously characters are allowed to make mistakes and do shitty things, but I wish there was more on-screen acknowledgement of race in the show, and more intentional naming of things. In regards to Ruby + Beth in particular, I feel like an American white woman can’t have a life-long/multi-decade friendship with a Black woman and not be intentional about acknowledging racism/the specific misogynoir that Black women face. But the show hasn’t really acknowledged this aspect of Ruby + Beth’s friendship... 

*stares at the camera like I’m on The Office* 

It would be such a rich opportunity to discuss the challenges of interracial friendship if done well. Also, what an opportunity to delve into what it’s like to maintain friendships across the years (um, it’s hard!!! Even with people you love so much! Tell us more about Beth & Ruby’s ups and downs!). Beth and Ruby care about each other so much. When they and Annie get friendship beats -- I cry! Just make it make more sense! If the show filled in these blanks, it would be so great. Beth is obviously awakening~ definitely so in regards to her gender and her power and it could shift her political opinions? The show definitely poked a little fun at her crime “wokeness” by having her push back on cultural appropriation with those other PTA parents. Just by the exposure of her own relationships, Beth has experience with the lack of American safety net, our terrible, impoverishing health-care system, and inaccessibility of higher education. 

So, on one hand the show tries to do a thing where they equalize and don’t name race in the context of the three leads, “they’re three women”, but then they play on racial tropes with Beth and Rio’s relationship... I would like for their interracial relationship to be more overtly discussed/acknowledged outside of Rio’s somewhat performative call outs of Beth’s white lady fragility. 

So anyway -- Rio’s politics. We don’t know a ton about Rio so we don’t have too much textual evidence to go off of. But, we do know that Rio picks at Beth’s facade of white women fragility all the time -- sometimes with more hostility and other times simply teasing. When I write him, I give him my own experiences of having to become well-versed discussing politicized issues by the default of growing up experiencing racism and xenophobia. Rio, like any Mexican-reading man, has probably been told to “go back to his country” throughout his life -- and I can’t imagine it not politicizing him... Though, conservative Latinx exist and constantly shock me with their assimilationist audacity. *stares at the camera like I’m on the office again* But, idk, it’s something about their characterization of him of being so worldly~~ I imagine him being informed and up-to-date on the American news. I want him throwing around his power and $$$ by donating to local, progressive candidates of color. But, this is all projection~ :-) 

Ha, I feel like this was too critical of my forever otp (and on ship day to boot)!! And of Beth. The show has a habit of putting Beth through the physical and psychological wringer, and what I want instead is for our baby to be out of harm’s way, financially stable, divorced and independent, and also forced to interrogate the more harmful ways she deploys her whiteness. Lol, no one would watch my show. I know. 

I love Beth & Rio. They thrill me. And like many others in the fandom,  I often want to remove them from the GG canon and make them have harder/real/necessary conversations -- and generally converse about anything/everything because they barely do that on screen. I love the drama of their scenes, but my happy place is skipping a year ahead and building headcanons about what they could look like in actual relationship with each other... and one of these daydreams is Rio pushing Beth on her politics. I’m in an interracial relationship with a white woman myself -- and one of the things I love is endlessly discussing political issues and processing and growing together, and I like transplanting that to Brio in my fic perhaps too much, and it makes them OOC in my writing at times. 

Okay!!! This got long again. Thanks for tangling with this if you’ve gotten this far. There were a lot of assertions up there and I’m happy to unpack something further (but, thats at your own risk y’know. Clearly I don’t know when to stop when it comes to writing these ridiculously long posts).

[lilliloves]

20. “I’m not playing truth or dare.” For Brio! Thank you :)

I got LOTS of requests for this one so hopefully it satisfies the masses! Part of this universe!

The corner of Beth's mouth tilts upwards as she watches her sister and best friend bicker back and forth about - well, she isn't entirely sure what it's about. It had started off as something stupid and veered it's way towards ridiculous. She's lost track of their current disagreement but the sound of the two of them arguing over something inane and meaningless is almost comforting.

The three haven't had a true girl's night in ages. It's no one's fault - life just seems to get in the way when you wish it wouldn't. It's not like they haven't seen each other - they always see each other - but on most occasions the kid to parent ratio is significantly unbalanced (not in their favor), leaving little time for catching up.

The night has been long overdue and while they have all been extra busy - Annie had just gotten married after all - Beth can admit that maybe, possibly she's been putting this off.

She wants things with Rio to feel more settled. She wants to have answers to the questions that she knows the girls will ask. She wants to feel confident about what she tells them.

Communication between her and Rio has gotten better and they have spent some time with the other's respective children but - something still seems off. Beth just can't put her finger on what. It still sometimes feels like he's just out of her grasp - that he isn't entirely hers yet.

Maybe it's the lack of a label between them. She doesn't know what she is to him - assumes that if he's letting her spend time with his son that he must care about her but is she his girlfriend? Can she even imagine a day where she calls him her boyfriend? Those particular titles seem...silly.

She sighs, wondering if maybe they aren't actually communicating better if she still feels this lost.

"Let's play a game." Annie says, interrupting Beth's thoughts.

Beth glances in the direction of her sister and then over at Ruby - both curiously looking at her. They haven't asked about Rio yet - surprising to Beth in some ways but also not in other ways. It's part of the reason she’s finally insisted they get together. She's starting to get the impression that Ruby and Annie don't actually realize how serious things with Rio have become.

Just the other day, Ruby had casually mentioned something about doing a double date with Stan and one of his single police friends. Annie had also not so subtly hinted that Nick had an older cousin who was recently divorced and looking to get back out there.

They know she's been spending time with him, it's only been a few weeks since he’d dropped by when they'd been prepping for Annie's wedding, but she's starting to think that they aren't taking it seriously and decidedly she's the only one to blame for that.

"I'm not playing Truth or Dare." Beth says immediately, leaning forward from her position on the couch to pick up her wine glass.

Annie's mouth drops open and she has the decency to look offended. "I would not suggest such a childish activity, Beth."

Ruby snorts, sipping at her own glass of wine before looking pointedly at Annie. "No? What's different today than the last time we got together and you suggested it?"

Annie smirks and holds up her left hand, ring sparkling under the light. "I'm a married woman now."

Beth laughs but can't help the genuine smile that pulls at her lips. She's happy for her sister and it's clear as day that Annie is happy for herself. Maybe that's part of the reason Beth suddenly feels so ready to move forward with Rio. She doesn't have to worry about Annie the same way she has been for years now.

"What game did you have in mind then?" Beth asks, humoring her.

"It's a new game I made up." Annie says excitedly but Beth is hesitant to share her sister's enthusiasm when she clocks the gleam in her eyes. When Annie slyly looks over in Ruby's direction, Beth narrows her eyes.

"What kind of game?"

"The tentative name is called 'Interrogate Beth' but I'm open to other suggestions." Annie answers seriously not taking her eyes off of her sister for fear that she'll run out of the room or, worse, throw a drink in her face.

"Doesn't sound like much fun." Beth deadpans, attempting to push down her ever growing impatience.

"It is, though. It's sort of like 20 questions except we ask all of the questions and you answer them without complaining."

Beth glares but instead of shutting her sister down entirely she contemplates the benefits of the game. While it's ridiculous and has clearly been created with the intention of putting her on the spot - wasn't her whole hope for tonight to enlighten her friends on her life?

She looks to Ruby and raises her eyebrows. "You support this idea?"

Ruby purses her lips and side eyes her friend. She sits up straighter and nods. "I support anything that gets you to open up to us a little bit."

Annie claps and smiles seemingly surprised that her game idea has been so readily accepted. She runs with it though, not willing to give Beth the chance to back out. "Good. Settled. I'll start. Beth, how's work at the bakery?"

"How's work at the bakery?” Beth repeats, the tone of her voice dripping in annoyance.

"Yes." Annie answers and she's either ignoring her sister's frustration or clueless to it.

"That's what you're going with?" Beth asks, giving her sister the opportunity to maybe ask something slightly more - personal.

"We'll work our way up to the good stuff." Annie says, her face serious. Beth sighs once again but instead of fighting her sister she rolls with it because, let's be honest, that's typically the best way to deal with her.

"Work is fine."

Annie shakes her head and pushes her leg underneath her to give her more leverage on the couch. She wipes her hands over her jeans and speaks. "No. Sorry, new rule. You have to elaborate. No use of the words fine or good."

"You realize I want to murder you more times than not right?"

Annie raises her eyebrows but doesn't look entirely put off or surprised by Beth’s admission. "Mm. And leave Sadie motherless? Leave Nick a widow? Yeah, no. My game, my rules. Go."

Beth looks to Ruby for help or support or something but she holds up her hands and shakes her head as if she wants no part of this.

So Beth relents and answers Annie's question. "Work at the bakery is going really well. The hours work with the kids schedule and I'm even doing some mornings on the weekends I don't have them."

Annie smiles, content with her answer. "Speaking of the kids, how are the little devils?”

"You just saw them two days ago." Beth answers dryly, already exhausted by the questioning.

Annie throws her hands up in frustration and turns to Ruby. "Why don't you ask a question."

Ruby contemplates the request for a second before shifting her body to face Beth head on. With one look, Beth can tell that Ruby won't be wasting any time.

"Are you interested in going out with one of the officers Stan works with?"

Beth shakes her head and feels her cheeks brighten. "No - I -"

Annie let's out a yelp and bounces in her seat excitedly. Before Beth can continue or Ruby can ask a follow up she chimes in:

"Are you interested in a blind date with Nick's newly single cousin?”

"No -" Beth says and once again her sentence is cut off before she can finish.

"Are you still boinking gang friend on the regular?"

"Annie!" Beth shouts, and now her face is definitely burning up.

"Jesus." Ruby mumbles, dropping her head into her hands.

Beth jumps off the couch with no real intention of going anywhere but she needs to feel more in control than she does at the moment. Annie mimics her action, jumping out of her seat as well, prepared to go head to head with Beth if necessary.

"You're out of your mind." Beth points out, her voice as steady as it can be after being so worked up.

"Someone's gotta ask the tough questions." Annie says with a shrug.

Beth sits back down and makes a gesture for Annie to take the spot next to Ruby. She perches herself on the edge of the couch and folds her hands in her lap. Beth inhales and exhales, once and twice and then three times before she looks up at the two sets of eyes staring back at her.

"Jesus, are you pregnant?" Annie asks suddenly. She’s whispering and her eyes are wide.

Beth's mouth drops open. She doesn't know how her sister can continuously surprise her but just when she thinks she can't possibly make another imbecile comment -

"No! What?"

Annie has the decency to look slightly bashful but it's also clear she thinks the blame lies with Beth. "You just seem so...nervous."

Beth groans and then decides to steer the conversation in the direction that it needs to go. She knows better than to let Annie start up a game and she should have ended it before it even started.

"Rio and I are seeing each other."

She's not sure what she expects but it's not the glazed over look both women give her from where they sit.

Ruby speaks up first giving her friend a reassuring smile. "Girl, how about tell us something we don't know?"

It takes Beth a moment to speak but when she does, she's clearly confused. "If you know than why are you trying to set me up with single policemen and divorced cousins?"

They both shrug but it's Annie who chimes in first. "It was that or tap your phone line."

Ruby swats at the girl next to her and speaks up. "It's not easy to get anything out of you. We thought it might...encourage you to share."

Beth sighs, resigned, and falls back into the cushions of the couch. "There was nothing to tell for a while. We were just...casual."

Annie holds up a hand and speaks bluntly. "If by casual you mean sleeping together I have to disagree. There are lots of things I'd like you to tell us about that. The size of -"

"Oh my God." Ruby says burying her head into the pillow beside her.

"Shut up." Beth says with a glare, stopping her from finishing the sentence. "We were just sleeping together but now it's...more...it's -"

"Serious?" Ruby asks, finishing her sentence.

Beth flushes and looks down. "Yes."

All three are silent momentarily. Beth's desperate for them to say something but it's taken her months to be accepting of her relationship - imagine how the two of them must feel?

"I truly don't get it." Ruby says finally and Beth deflates at the words. She understands - she doesn't really expect them to get it but...

"I know. it's just -" Beth trails off not sure what to say. Not sure how to make sense of it for them. Not sure if she wants to.

"Explain it to us." Ruby says and she's pushier now and Beth knows it comes from a place of love, of worry, of concern but Beth isn't sure she wants to - or should have to - convince them to be accepting of her relationship.

"I'm not sure I can." Beth answers quietly and it's, for the most part, completely true. One fact she's reconciled is that a lot of the reasons why they work together don’t necessarily make sense on paper.

"What do you like about him?" Annie jumps in and Beth gives her sister a small smile because she's always been a good buffer between she and Ruby when things get tense.

She's thought about this before. Thought about the things she likes about him (and doesn't) and the things that make her want to be with him...always. She flushes when she thinks of the obvious. How good looking he is, how charming and sexy and appealing the whole outside package is to her - to anyone with a pulse really. Annie clocks her look and waves her hands in the air as if to stop Beth from speaking.

"You can't say his dick."

Beth is ready for the comment - she knows Annie better than anyone after all - so the pillow that gets thrown at her face is mid-air before the sentence is even finished.

"He respects me." Beth says determinedly and she sees Ruby's eyes widen and can almost hear the thoughts in her head. How can she say he respects her when he's held a gun to your head?

Beth continues before Ruby can formulate a response. "The bad stuff is in the past. He respects me. He listens to me. He...gets me."

"Gets you hot and bothered." Annie mutters, quickly covering her face for fear of having another object thrown at her.

"There's that too." Beth concedes because their attraction isn't everything but it's what got them here in the first place.

Before anyone can argue, Beth hears the door in the kitchen open and footsteps enter the house. She turns, knows it must be Rio, it couldn't be anyone else, but she didn’t anticipate seeing him tonight so she’s thrown for a loop.

Three pairs of eyes watch him enter the living room. He stops short when he sees them all sitting quietly, watching him, and gives a small wave.

"Hey." He greets quietly but he's looking directly at Beth.

"Hi." She says back with a small smile but a question in her eyes.

A head peeks out from behind him and Beth's smile widens at the sight of Marcus in front of her.

"Hi Miss Beth." Marcus says through a toothless grin.

"Hi Marcus." She says happily. She can feel eyes on her back but chooses to ignore them for now. Her eyes shoot back to Rio's but she isn't annoyed, just curious. "This is a surprise."

"I know." He starts, his voice apologetic. Marcus wraps his arms around his father's legs when he notices Annie and Ruby in the room and he shyly pushes his face into his thigh. "Pop, say hi to Miss Beth's sister and friend."

Marcus gives a quick wave and smile but nothing more. Annie and Ruby return the greeting and Beth thinks they might excuse themselves to give some privacy but - no. It’s not their style to miss out on the very thing they'd just been giving her a hard time about.

"Everything okay?" Beth asks, standing from her seat on the couch.

"Power went out at the loft." Rio answers. His eyes swing to the window and Beth follows his gaze. For the first time she notices the rain pouring down. She briefly recalls hearing about a bad storm coming through but had forgotten about it in her haste to prepare for the evening with her friends. "I called."

Beth glances around the room but doesn't see her phone. She gives Rio a shrug and small smile as if to say, "sorry." He knows she's terrible at keeping track of where her phone is at any given moment, especially when she's caught up with her friends.

"S'ok." He says. "Brought pizza. We'll be in the kitchen."

Rio nudges Marcus and Beth watches as the two walk back towards where they came from.

Beth turns slowly back towards the girls and smiles. "He's a really good dad."

When they look at her in confusion she elaborates.

"Add that to the list of things I like." She says and as if to further make her point: "I can keep going too."

"Beth," Ruby starts hesitantly but Beth doesn't let her finish her thought.

"I get your doubts. I do. But you've only ever seen him in work mode and you've only ever seen us together that way too."

”So...he's your... boyfriend?”Annie asks and Beth opens her mouth to respond when she hears him clear his throat behind her.

Her neck swings around and from the look on his face she knows he’s heard Annie’s question.

ARE YOU? Beth wants to scream but she smiles and waits for him to speak.

”Enough pizza if you’re interested.” He says pointing towards the kitchen, smirk still firmly in place.

Annie giggles loving every moment of the situation they’re in. Beth knows she’ll be the easiest to bring over to her side on this one. She’s certain that, in Annie’s mind, anyone is better for her than Dean.

Beth mouths a thank you and turns away assuming he’ll just leave but -

“Boyfriend sounds a little juvenile, no?” He says with a laugh before walking away and Beth wants to crawl into a hole and die but also...at least they’re on the same page.

She’s not sure why she doubted it to begin with. She’s a different person in this relationship with Rio than the person she was with Dean. She’s older and wiser, sure, but - it’s him that makes her different.

Makes her better, she’s starting to think.

So she’ll attempt not to rush anything, attempt to figure things out as they go. She looks up at Annie and Ruby who both seem interested in the idea of pizza and thinks all they need is time too.

[twenty-sixumbrellas]

Cuddles?

Pairing: Older! Five Hargreeves x Reader

Prompt: “hi!!! so, could you make an imagine with five x reader as main pairing? can it be about how the reader sneaks into fives room and they get interrupted when his siblings knock on the door (they don’t know about them being a couple) and the reader tries to hide??”

A/N: thank youuuuu my dear @incorrect-tua-quotes !! I have meme songs playing repeatedly in my head so here we gooooo! You guys are around 15. Also I want to mention that while writing this, autocorrect changed “Luther” to “LuTHeR” and I thought that was beautiful.

( @itslosersclub ‘s gif )

You were trying to sneak out, emphasis on trying. You had made your way down the stairs, and were immediately stopped.

Your mom flicks on the living room light. “Where are you going?

“To Beth’s house,” you say simply. You hope you disguised the nervousness in your voice enough for her to believe you.

She squints. “Then why are you sneaking about?”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you say with a shrug.

“You may go. Sleepover?”

“We haven’t decided.” Once you shut the front door, you sigh in relief. That was close.

The walk to the Hargreeves manor was only around five minutes, but you were paranoid. This was a serious gamble. Five could get in serious trouble, and Reginald might kill you.

But you never have, and never will be able to resist Five’s puppy dog eyes.

You arrive at the manor and begin the climb up the fire escape. The entire way up, you mutter, “‘Come to my room at eleven,’ he said. ‘It will be fun,’ he said.”

You very ungraciously fall through his window at the top, and you hear voices from downstairs. ‘I must be early,’ you think. So you sit, in hello kitty pajamas mind you, on top of a very serious looking bed in a very serious looking room. You sigh.

You hear footsteps, and are a second away from hiding when Five enters the room. Covered in blood.

“What the hell?!” You run up to him, assessing the damage.

“Shut up, they’ll hear you.” You pick up a med kit you leave laying around. “And it’s not that bad anyway.”

You huff. “I’ll be the judge of that.” You turn serious. “What happened, anyway?”

He looks anywhere but at you. You grab his face.

“Five, what happened? Be honest.” You look in eyes, determined to get the truth.

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Luther called you weak.” He looks away again, and you sigh, but laugh.

“I am, Five.” His head snaps to you. “But it’s nothing to fret over. What’d you say?”

“I said, ‘Luther shut your mouth, at least she has a free will. And it’s better than dating my sister’.” He has to cover your mouth when a loud laugh bursts out. “And then,” he can’t help but chuckle, “he threw me into the China.”

“Five. Oh my gosh,” you say, holding your stomach and smiling like a dork. “It’s not worth that!”

“It is. And don’t ever call yourself weak again, or I’ll have to ‘roast’,” he uses air quotations, “you too.”

“Maybe. Come here, I haven’t seen you in ages.” He sits with you on the bed and snakes his arms around your waist. Laying his head on top of your shoulder, he pulls you back into the bed. You sigh in content, and run your hand through his hair, humming.

The soft moment is interrupted by a knock. “Five? Can we talk?” Luther.

Five quickly pushes you off the bed, and you hit the ground before rolling under. ‘Ow,’ you mouthe.

“What do you want, Luther?” Five tries to sound like he was busy, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he’s wearing a scowl.

“Listen, the things I said weren’t okay, and I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

“Allison?” Five quizzes.

“Yeah,” Luther mutters. “Please just say we made up? She’ll kill me.”

“Fine. Leave would you?”

“Right.” The door shuts.

Five peeks his head under, his hair sticking straight up, and says, “sorry.”

You blow hair out of your face. “Jerk. I hit my elbow!”

“I said I’m sorry! Come on.” He pats the bed, and you climb out from under it.

Getting into the position you were previously in, you sigh reluctantly. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Oh, how I am.”

“Five do you have the- oh. I’m so sorry,” Klaus enters and leaves as soon as he sees you two.

“Klaus!”

Five talked to him, and Klaus said he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Needless to say, he told everyone.

[hollenka99]

New York

Summary: Jameson moves away from home, meets new people who will play important roles in his life and starts a company with his brother. Chapter 1.

September 24, 1906 Dear Mother,

Clifford and I have arrived safely in New York. Our accommodation is a small and we have taken to alternating whose turn it is to sleep on the floor. Fear not, I am sure we will earn enough soon to pay for a better apartment. However, for now, our arrangement will suffice.

Manhattan itself has made a decent first impression on me. There are a number of theatres within walking distance of our apartment. Cliff is interested in auditioning for some roles once they are advertised. Carnegie Hall is near us too. Do you remember me telling you about it before we left? It certainly has a reputation. Neither of us has the ability to perform there.

How are things in Saint John without us? I hope you are not too lonely with only Pearl at home to keep you company. We both miss all of you.

Yours, Jameson

October 9, 1906 Dear Mother,

We have become successful in securing ourselves jobs. I have become a proof reader while Clifford is being paid as an actor. With our salaries combined, we can bring home up to $45 a week. That isn't a bad amount, if I must say. Of course, that is the best case scenario. Cliff's contributions will be inconsistent. I don't wish to be the sole financial provider but I will if I must. Although, I must admit the thought of it is fairly stressful.

I have heard from Cliff that you scolded him for our sleeping arrangement. Please do not treat him as if he is forcing me into this situation. I was the one who suggested it. Furthermore, lying on my back has never caused me to asphyxiate before. I highly doubt I will begin being affected by it any time soon.

I promise you, I am healthy. You can be reassured that I trust my brother with my life. Clifford has never done anything with the intent of harming me. He will not risk my health nor my safety, especially not in an attempt to be at an advantage. There is no need to fret over this.

Yours, Jameson

December 26, 1906 Dear all,

I hope you have enjoyed Christmas together. It was odd to be away from you this year as well as a shame we could not visit. Unfortunately, money is short for us as of right now. If all goes well, we may be able to celebrate together again next December.

Despite this, we were not lonely. Of course, we had each other. However, we did invite two friends of ours to share our pitifully small spread. It was a night full of riveting conversations and laughter. I enjoyed getting to know our friends better. One of them teaches piano to the local children. If I invite her to celebrate Christmas in the future, I should ensure there is a piano for her to play. It will certainly make the long nights pass quickly if there is music for us to sing to. I myself may not sing but I'm sure there is a carol or hymn that requires a duet. I could always assist with the chords while she plays the melody.

The funniest coincidence occurred yesterday. Cliff and I have both been interested in purchasing a Brownie from Eastman Kodak. At $1 a camera and $2 for development, I'd say one of those cameras would be a decent investment. The two of us both agreed we'd save up, prioritising essentials such as food and rent, then we would discuss buying one to share. I will confess that I suffered impatience. I may have bought the camera for Christmas. So, it would seem, did Cliff. As consequence, we appear to be in a situation where we have gifted the exact same present to each other. It was a humourous beginning to the day.

I can hardly take 117 photographs in the space of 24 hours. Once I have become familiar with the device, I may choose to include some photographs in my letters. I doubt the elements will be kind to them but unfortunately, I do not have another choice but to expose them to potential damage.

Hoping this coming year treats us all favourably, Jameson

December 28, 1906 Dearest Siobhan,

I would hate for you to be lonely as we greet the new year. Clifford and I would be more than happy to have you celebrate with us. Please consider joining us on Monday night.

Yours, Jameson

March 11, 1907 Dear Jameson,

I have a query that has been on my mind for the past couple weeks. I hope I am not overstepping any boundaries by asking you for the answer. If I am, I apologize and will not bring the subject up again. I am simply curious as to how your muteness developed. You are clearly not hard of hearing as you understand everything I say to you in person. For that reason, my intrigue into you condition has grown. This is not something you are able explain to me with your hands. It seems too complex for that.

On an entirely unrelated matter, would yourself and Clifford be interested in joining me next Sunday for drinks? You told me you were half Irish on your father's side. If you would like to consider celebrating that heritage, I would be more than happy to host the two of you.

Please, do not feel obliged to answer my question if it makes you uncomfortable. That would be the last thing I would want.

Sincerely yours, Siobhan

March 14, 1907 Dearest Siobhan,

You would be correct in your belief that I am not able to explain my condition through American sign language. Do not worry about offending me. I was planning to tell you this story regardless, only at a later date.

Years ago, when I was a boy of nine, I found myself suffering from a malfunctioning thyroid. The doctors suggested surgery to treat me. Unfortunately, they must have made a mistake as I woke to part of my vocal cords being paralysed. The condition is known as vocal fold paresis or, if you really want to sound sophisticated, recurrent laryngeal nerve paralysis. While I am physically able speak aloud, it is difficult. I found it easier to speak through sign. My family learned ASL alongside me.

What I was not aware of was that vocal cords also contribute to breathing. You can imagine the physical education lessons in high school I had to endure. You should not worry yourself after receiving this letter. The extent this affects me is not great. I simply have to be vigilant when exercising and eating. If you are present when I accidentally choke on a meal, by all means help me. Otherwise, please don't act like I will meet my doom at any second. My mother still does at times and it is unbelievably frustrating to convince her I am fine.

I hope this was informative and answered any queries you may have had.

Patiently awaiting those drinks, Jameson

April 15, 1907 Dear Jameson,

While I do appreciate the poems slipped into my mail, if you send me any more, you may actually succeed in making me blush. You're lucky Lent ended two weeks ago. You should know better than to tempt those you care for with such sweet things. The next thing you know, you'll have enough to compile into an anthology.

Ever yours, Siobhan

May 23, 1907 Jameson,

You must tell me what you think of Elizabeth. Lord knows your brother won't tell me. He barely knows her, he can't after only a handful of months. How long have you lived in New York now? I think it may be seven or eight months. That is not enough time to truly get to know someone. Especially when you are planning to spend the rest of your life with them. Marriage is not to be taken lightly. Clifford clearly does not understand that.

Mark my words, he will regret his decision. I will only attend the ceremony because I can see you again after all these months. I am surprised you are not angered by this. After all, you are the one who pays for everything. How much do you actually earn a week? $20? You can just about to afford to live on that. You can't, however, afford to live on $20 and pay for a wedding. Are you not irritated by this? You should be, Jameson.

In other news, it should only be a few days before you become an uncle. I, for one, am delighted to become a grandmother. Harvey has made me promise to stay by Edith's side while he works. As if I wouldn't do so anyway. Even if a midwife cannot arrive quickly, I know how to help her. It is difficult not to have some knowledge after delivering five children myself. She is in safe hands. I suppose you will be able to meet the child at the wedding.

You have my love, Your mother.

May 31, 1907 Dear Cliff and Jem,

I have good news to bring you. Yesterday, Edith safely delivered a girl. Both she and our daughter appear to be recovering well. We have chosen to name her Dorothy. I hope you visit Saint John soon so you both may meet her. As to be expected, our mother is fawning over her first grandchild. I will not deny that her help is welcome.

Additionally, congratulations to you, Clifford, on your engagement to Elizabeth. Myself and Edith are looking forward to the wedding. We wish the two of you a long happy life spent by each other's side.

Wishing you well, Harvey

June 8, 1907 Dear Mother,

Unfortunately, I am not responsible for Cliff's actions. He appears to genuinely care for his 'Lizzy-Beth'. If things end poorly, I have no way of changing it. I understand your 'let him repent at leisure' sentiment. That said, he is an adult now. I don't feel I am in the position to tell him what he can and cannot do.

Elizabeth herself is a respectful woman. She is a teacher so I assume she is intelligent. You mustn't forget she agreed to marry a man she has only known since November. There are always at least two parties involved in an engagement. If the marriage does not last, they can regret their haste with equal responsibility for getting married in the first place.

Either way, the truth of the matter is that Cliff is getting married regardless of our opinions. We must learn to tolerate that reality. At least he will be able to point to whereabouts he made his mistake.

Yours, Jameson

July 2, 1907 Dear Mother,

With Clifford preparing to marry Elizabeth, I am sure you wonder whether I have met somebody myself. I must confess I have indeed allowed myself to become a fool for a woman.

Her name is Siobhan O'Hara. You may remember me indirectly mentioning her during my Christmas letter. I met her last December when she was playing piano at a dance. I felt the need to compliment her musical skill. After that, I encouraged her to leave the music to someone else at the next dance she attended. For some unknown reason, she accepted my offer. In the months since, I have been teaching her how to sign and spending many spare hours in her company. We have already visited Central Park multiple times together.

You really should hear her play. She is so graceful it is as if an angel possesses her. In fact, her hair makes me wonder whether she is not one is disguise. She has been tutoring me, much like the local children who pay her. Perhaps I should demonstrate my improvement the next time I return home.

I am sure you will be able to meet Siobhan at Cliff's wedding. I have not properly discussed attendance with her yet but I doubt she will decline my offer. She is a friend of Cliff's too.

Yours, Jameson

July 23, 1907 Jem,

Thank you for the birthday present; I love it. Perhaps your gift for me next year can be understanding sarcasm.

Your angel, Siobhan

(P.S. With complete honesty, I do adore the compilation. I hope I am not mistaken in thinking I saw some new additions. I will have a thorough read when I next get the chance. Afterwards, I should prepare for your birthday. You are not the only one who can perform grand gestures.)

July 27, 1907 Jameson,

I certainly must meet this young woman. From your words, I can tell you are enamoured by her. I am happy you are finding joy in her company. I remember frequently meeting your father by the dockyard when we were young. They were simpler times. My biggest worry when I was your age was understanding your grandmother's accent.

My only advice is that you treat each other well and do not rush into anything. You are not yet 20 years old. You have decades of life ahead of you. You have time to be careful in your choices. If in time nothing changes for the two of you, I will be delighted to welcome her into the family.

Wishing you well, Your mother

November 1, 1907 Siobhan,

I know you have appointments today. I know I only saw you yesterday too. However, if you are able, would you spend time with me tonight? We don't have to converse. All I am really wishing for is some company. Normally, I would be surrounded by my mother and siblings, remembering our father. Cliff and I made do last year with only the two of us. Unfortunately, he is with Elizabeth tonight.

By all means, bring a candle for your mother. I think I may have a spare from last year you can use if you don't own one. We can watch the flames as we reflect in peace. Choose whichever option you prefer but I would rather not be alone this evening. That said, only come of your own volition. I don't wish to force you into dedicating your time to something you are not interested in.

Thank you for understanding, Jameson.

November 2, 1907 Dearest Siobhan,

Thank you for last night. I wasn't expecting to learn more about you when I invited you. I am sorry to hear your mother died the way she did. I know it runs through generations but perhaps there is hope neither you nor Michael will suffer the same way. There is that possibility, correct?

Even if you do become afflicted with the disease, know that I will be there to care for you until the end. That is my sincere promise to you. It does not matter to me how it affects you, I won't leave you in when you need me the most. Besides, you are nineteen and I have barely passed the threshold of my twenties. Should you be affected, we still have twenty or so years before the first symptoms make themselves known. A great deal can happen in twenty years.

I love you dearly, Siobhan. I simply wished to have someone beside me as I acknowledged another year without my father. After what you told me, I cannot go about my day without ensuring it is explicitly clear to you that I will be there for you always. So long as you will allow me, of course.

Thinking of you, Jameson

March 21, 1908 Dear all,

Cliff and I are proud to announce that Jackson Brothers Productions has officially been founded. The financial aspects of it are still yet to become stable. However, that won't stop us from doing our best to become respectable members of the film industry. At the moment, we are not concerned with securing the position of top dog. That can be worked on in a few years when we have established ourselves as filmmakers people want to see.

I will be the head writer and manage the money while Cliff directs. We will both act in our films. The plan is to start off slowly, working our way up. The script for our first short for the company is finished. Once it is released, we hope you will enjoy it.

Here's to realising dreams, Jameson

August 10, 1908 Dear Mother,

I visited the Statue of Liberty recently with Cliff, Elizabeth and Siobhan. Lady Liberty truly does look magnificent. I hear she stands at 93 metres tall. To reach her, you must travel by boat. It was a simple case of cycling to the harbour then boarding the vessel to Bedloe's Island.

As we walked around the statue, Siobhan told us about the first time she saw it. It was back in 1904, she was still on her boat to the city and suddenly she had a clear view of the Statue of Liberty. She explained it instilled a determination of sorts within her, motivating her to make her plans work. I knew beforehand that she arrived before us and was therefore younger but I never contemplated the fact she would have been sixteen. Even at 18, I felt slightly overwhelmed with only myself and Cliff when we first came to New York. I remember Pearl being upset she couldn't join us but she was 14 in 1906, barely out of school and only just old enough to work.

Siobhan became enthralled in her own story. She began switching topics as she went off on tangents, to the point where I was the only one listening to her. I can certainly relate to the initial financial worries. I am impressed that she was able to keep a level head during those early days. It also pleases me that she sees the statue as a source of inspiration like I do, if only in a different way.

I have been reflecting on the day. Something about Siobhan made me realise something new about how I feel for her. I am not sure whether she reciprocates. I will ponder more on it and make my final decision by the end of this year. Either way, I will ask her to accompany me on a trip to Saint John this Christmas. I met her father last month during his visit to New York as a way of celebrating her birthday. It is high time she met you all too.

Yours, Jameson

December 13, 1908 Dear Sir,

I wished to discuss some important plans I want to begin preparing for. It was a pleasure meeting you in July and a joy to witness how close your relationship with Siobhan is. I appreciate being received so warmly by you, especially as you were only intending to celebrate her birthday. I can tell Siobhan is such a kind and caring woman because of your influence.

I hope it was apparent that your daughter means the world to me. I intend to spend the rest of my life proving that to her. I would like to ask your daughter for her hand and I would be honored to have your blessing. Please, in the very least, consider it.

Yours faithfully, Jameson Jackson

December 16, 1908 Dearest Siobhan,

You don't need to fret about meeting my mother and siblings. You already know Cliff. They are just as easy to get along with.

My mother is a worrisome yet kind-hearted woman. Ever since my thyroid operation, she is constantly fretting about my health. You've known me for two years now, you can tell she does not need to worry so excessively about it. There was a period of a few months when I was 14 where we were greatly at odds. She was incredibly protective of me which only lead to irritability. In hindsight, I understand she was only paranoid that her sickly son was going to develop complications. After all, she lost her husband to health issues that declined into complications. I suppose we were all trying to figure out where we all stood after his death. On an unrelated tangent, I think the only fault she will find in you is your lack of sewing skills. She works as a seamstress from home. The only reason I am vaguely competent in mending clothes is the countless nights where I mutilated bits of material as peaceful entertainment. She made my sister-in-law's wedding dress a couple of years ago. No doubt, she has already offered to do the same for Mabel.

Harvey is seven years my senior and the eldest of us. He followed our father into the shipbuilding trade so with the long hours, it is possible he may not be present often while we are visiting. He and his wife Edith have a year old daughter named Dorothy. I haven't met her yet so I am quite excited to do so. If Harvey attempts to bore you with war stories, simply nod and pretend to listen. He acts as if his participation in the Boer War makes him more of a man than those who have never served. He was barely of age as it was. We all suspect he'll join the next big war, should there be one. As you can guess, we all hope that war never comes. There is also the hope that he will be sensible, now that he has a family to stay in Canada for.

Mabel, like our mother, is a seamstress. Occasionally, she will refer to me as an early birthday present. That was more when we were younger. Oddly, having birthdays so close together caused us to become close ourselves. I cannot really explain it. We were mutually enthusiastic about each other's birthdays approaching because it also meant our own were too. There was some distance as well because little boys can't always relate to girls who are 5 years older than them. Either way, the two of us have a good relationship and I know the two of you will hit it off easily. She recently got engaged so you are likely to see her again next year when we attend the wedding.

Last but not least, there is Pearl. I may be the youngest son but she is the true baby. She is still only 16 and I worry what kind of attention she is receiving from young men. I may do my best to be respectful but some schoolboys are more like Cliff was. Cliff never practised infidelity as far as I'm aware but he certainly had a number of girlfriends in short succession when he was about 17. I have no doubt Pearl can handle herself but I can't help but be apprehensive. As you know, I have moments where I am of a mischievous nature. It is uncertain whether Pearl encouraged that side of me to develop or I was the one to trigger it in her. I must confess, the youngest three of us caused our parents such a headache in our youth. It used to be only myself and Cliff who pretended to act out these childishly outrageous tales. Then Pearl arrived, became old enough to play with us and earn her place as our third partner in crime. She wants to find success with us in the film industry but I still feel she is a little too young. One day, perhaps. She would certainly be a useful asset.

This is the closest we have come to being a complete family again after Cliff and I left home. It is a shame he won't be able to come with us. I understand his priority is Elizabeth and being there for the birth. Let's hope next year things will be different.

I promise you will be fine, Jameson

January 14, 1909 Dear Jameson,

Have you bought the ring yet? After meeting Siobhan, I am eagerly anticipating your big news in a few weeks. St Valentine's Day cannot come soon enough. Did you have to tell us during Christmas? That is six weeks of waiting.

A new girl joined us at the factory a few months ago. She finished school only last year. Like me, she does not see the point of being educated on how to be the best wife and mother when our own mothers can teach us. I am not sure about her but I am the youngest in our family. Our mother has time to teach me. The only students she ever had were myself and Mabel.

I don't know how much longer I can keep waking early, work for the majority of the day and then help Mother with sewing. I use my hands too strenuously. A good night's sleep (if such a thing existed) does nothing to help them recover. I am telling you, Jem, I will become a cripple by my 20th birthday.

Speaking of birthdays, you should buy me a ticket for New York. You know full well I want to join you in your endeavours. Isn't New York where all the filmmakers are right now? Forget about the papers, I will deal with all that. I can find myself work in a factory or bakery once I get there too. Or perhaps I could stay in your apartment and work as a seamstress from home. You left me behind but I don't wish to stand for it any longer. Allow me to make the Jackson Brothers into a trinity.

I hope to hear back from you soon, Pearl

January 27, 1909 Pearl,

You must be patient. While I would love for you to help us create our films, a lot is happening right now. I don't have the time, energy or in fact the expertise to go into details. However, to put it simply, Thomas Edison is in the process of destroying the prospects of filmmakers like us. Last month, the Motion Pictures Patent Company was formed. In short, Edison is attempting to raise his chances of success by controlling the industry before it develops further.

As I'm sure you can guess, Clifford and I are not only stressed about our professional lives but our futures as creators as well. This has all occurred in the past month or two so where this will lead is undecided. Either way, Pearl, this is one of the worst times you could join us. I promise you it would not be worth it. On top of everything, Cliff has Clara to worry about now too.

Once my finances have recovered from the inevitably large expenses that come with a wedding and Cliff settles into fatherhood, we will figure out how to proceed. Don't worry, the timing may be bad now but, if all goes well, this will change.

Please give everyone my love. Jameson

February 15, 1909 Dear all,

More good news! I am officially engaged to Siobhan. We are both eager to start preparations as soon as we can. I doubt the wedding will happen this year. Personally, I would prefer to celebrate a marriage during the warmer half of the year. Knowing Siobhan, I feel she shares a similar preference.

With Clara being born last month and my engagement, this seems to be shaping up to becoming an eventful year. Perhaps this should be the year I visit Ireland. It may be difficult with all that is happening to smaller producers here. That said, I feel I owe it to Siobhan. She has visited Saint John but I am yet to set foot in her homeland.

I do wish to see Ireland for other personal reasons. After all, I was named after the grandfather we left behind. Do you remember Granny's stories about him? I have always been bothered by Britain starving the Irish until they had no choice but to flee. It broke families like ours apart and lead to some never meeting their posthumous children. I know our father wished he had met his own.

Well, I appear to have changed the mood of this letter rather quickly, haven't I? I certainly did not intend to diverge onto such a sad tangent. By all means, have a drink on my behalf. Although, I would not encourage doing so in front of your daughter, Harvey.

Wishing you the same happiness as mine, Jameson

February 21, 1909 Jameson,

How could you? You don't know how upset you have made us. You propose marriage to such a lovely girl and refuse to tell your mother and sisters the details.

You disappoint us, Whiskey Boy. You live in secrecy and drink to your victory over us. Mother is crying, insisting that she did not raise such a terrible son. You must rectify this wrongdoing immediately. We simply won't stand for it.

Congratulations on your engagement, Pearl

February 23, 1909 Dear Jameson,

Congratulations on your engagement. I will certainly be thrilled to attend with Edward.

I struggle to believe you are already preparing to get married. It didn't seem too long ago that you were convinced I was getting married when you saw Mother making my communion dress. You also kept delivering me sand and broken shells leading up the ceremony. I don't think Father Henry was too pleased with you. It didn't help that you wandered up to near the altar in your little suit. How young you must have been back then. You can't have been older than two or three. You were always as sweet of a little brother as you were happy.

I'm glad you have someone who allows you continue your happiness in adulthood. I recall Siobhan telling me you were rather sweet as her gentleman caller too. Anyone can see how well the two of you go together. I'm warning you now, Jem, don't you dare mess this up. Women like Siobhan won't find themselves in your life often. You lose her, you will never replace the joy she gives you.

I suggest we celebrate properly in July when you visit for my own wedding.

Your loving sister, Mabel

March 7, 1909 Dear Pearl,

You can tell Mother to dry her eyes because she has a daughter so overdramatic that she will certainly succeed in an acting career, should she choose to pursue one. I did not give details because there is not much to say. However, if you must know the course of events, I will happily tell you them.

I invited Siobhan to accompany me for an evening stroll around Central Park. We walked for a while before reaching a place to rest for a moment. I asked her to marry me. She said yes. I chose not to sign during that moment. While she greatly appreciated the gesture, I can tell you my throat did not. That is purely the extent of the proposal. Forgive me for not boring you with the tale beforehand.

In all sincerity, if I have genuinely caused any of you to cry, I hope they are from joy. I have found a new source of optimism. My future is beginning to stretch out before me and I have every hope that it will be good.

Yours, Jameson

September 28, 1909 Dear all,

The harbour is beautiful now. There are lights everywhere as the city celebrates the 300th anniversary of Henry Hudson's discovery of the river and the centenary of Robert Fulton's paddle steamers. To live so close to the river, I have been enjoying the decorations. We will also witness a number of parades while we celebrate history. It began on Saturday and will carry on until October 9th.

I have been a resident here for the past three years now. It struck me that there was so much I didn't know about this city's past. Perhaps I should read up on the subject and educate myself.

But, for now, I think I will invite Siobhan to gaze at the Statue of Liberty. It made me realise I wished to love her for the rest of my days. Something about Lady Liberty inspires me. I am sure she looks even more majestic when covered in lights, especially after dark. If the answer to the Edison problem is to move elsewhere, I will certainly miss that statue.

I am also reminded of Reversing Falls. I long for that place too. Perhaps one of you should visit it on my behalf. It is odd what will stay dear to you.

I suppose I will leave you with that thought.

Yours, Jameson

November 1, 1909 Dearest Siobhan,

Thank you for the hat. I've never worn one of this style before. The men in my family were always more of the flat cap type. I have been inspecting myself in the mirror whilst wearing it. I feel a bowler hat suits me. It might give the illusion I am of a higher social standing than in reality. And with this facial hair that's growing due to negligence, I might see if a moustache suits me as well. If I can get the look right, I might have a character brewing.

Thank you again for the birthday present and the potential inspiration. If you do not appreciate the moustache, I can always be clean shaven during the wedding.

Yours always, Jameson

April 21st 1910 GROOM FULL NAME: Jameson Albert Samuel Jackson AGE: 22 RESIDENCE: West 42nd Street, Manhattan NUMBER OF MARRIAGE: First OCCUPATION: Proof-reader BIRTH PLACE: Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada NAME OF FATHER: William (Deceased) MAIDEN NAME OF MOTHER: Florence Hilliard

BRIDE FULL NAME: Siobhan Maria O'Hara AGE: 21 RESIDENCE: West 52nd Street, Manhattan NUMBER OF MARRIAGE: First OCCUPATION: Pianist BIRTH PLACE: Limerick, Ireland NAME OF FATHER: Jacob MAIDEN NAME OF MOTHER: Eileen Kelly (Deceased)

[foxissofoxy]

My current muse…

“Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers. But, in fact, a person’s sexual choice is the result and sum of their fundamental convictions. Tell me what a person finds sexually attractive and I will tell you their entire philosophy of life. Show me the person they sleep with and I will tell you their valuation of themselves. No matter what corruption they’re taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which they cannot perform for any motive but their own enjoyment - just try to think of performing it in a spirit of selfless charity! - an act which is not possible in self-abasement, only in self-exultation, only on the confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces them to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and accept their real ego as their standard of value. They will always be attracted to the person who reflects their deepest vision of themselves, the person whose surrender permits them to experience - or to fake - a sense of self-esteem .. Love is our response to our highest values - and can be nothing else.” ― Ayn Rand ——————————————————————————————- “What’s that?”

I was silent. I could honestly hear what my friend was hearing. There wasn’t any denying it. The walls that separated my Dads bedroom from my own were practically paper thin based on the sound effects that were coming from his side.

My lack of response confirmed to my friend Andre that what he was hearing was the sound of-sex.

“That’s your Dad?”

I nodded.

“Wow! He’s really giving it to her.”

We both listened to the headboard knocking against the far wall, the rocking of the bed and my Dad grunting as he encouraged for more and faster.

“Since when did your Dad start back to dating?”

"Not sure. I do know he’s banging. Now you know too.”

“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t either.”

Andre and I did our usual fist bump and peace sign. He was out. Deuces.

I have known my Dad for 15 years, all my life actually. I can recall the earliest memory of him. I guess it’s the moment we all become self-aware based on a significant moment where an insignificant memory begins to build and retain on top of other long ago father and son activities. What I can’t remember is ever hearing him have sex with my Mom. Ever. The thought alone was cringe-worthy to think of my parents in that way. This new set of events that was on its fourth night, a school night I might add was something I would have to bring to his attention.

“Oh my God, Rick…Oh, my God. Right-ahh-there. Ohhh,Yes. Yesssss…Yessss.”

“You like how I’m giving it to you? You like this?”

My Dad was asking her over and over again. She finally responded to him.

“Yesssss. Oh, Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“I fucking live for this-All of this. Right here. Oh shit. Yessss.”

I wanted my Dad to say nothing else. I only wanted to hear her.

Whoever she was, she was way more vocal this time around with the oooh and aaahs that I couldn’t help but have more of a boner as long as my Dad kept quiet or quiet enough where I could unleash my teen fantasy on Beth Smith who worked in the lunchroom.

Beth Smith was four years older than me, and she was my girl crush, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Sunday was spent in the Catholic church where I spilled every sordid detail to Father Gabriel in the confessional booth. The heathen side of me was reborn every Monday like clock-work when my eyes would lock with hers in the cafeteria line.

I would fantasize about Beth. I imagined Beth and me together almost obsessively. I reached for the cock sock that I kept in my nightstand drawer. I was ready to burst at the seams. I was prepared until my Dad yelled, “Myyyyyyyyy. EHHHHH. Uhhhh.” Then silence. Seconds later, giggles. UGHH. I put my sock back in my drawer for another time.

Our confrontation happened in the kitchen.

I waited for him to come out of his bedroom the next morning. My Dad was dressed in his uniform. He’s a Deputy Sheriff. Our routine was always the same routine since Mom left him for what she considered a better life going on three years ago. He was adjusting his gun belt. I was at the kitchen table doodling guitar tabs to piano chords that were running through my mind at high speed. I am a gifted Pianist. I’ve also been told that I am a dark spirit. I take it as a compliment that my genius has manifested in order take over the world by storm.

“You missed the bus?” He was surprised to see me still home.

“I didn’t sleep.”

“Do you want me to take the TV out of your room along with your game system?”

This was his usual threat that he never acted on, but he felt it was a motivator for good behavior to not miss the bus 4 days in a row.

“I could turn up the volume of my TV to drown out other noises, but then neither one of us would get any sleep.”

“What are you talking about, Carl?”

I didn’t have a chance to answer because his phone vibrated loudly and his attention was on whatever was displayed. The smirk on his lips was every indication that it wasn’t work-related. If I had someone to bet against, I would put my whole life savings that it had everything to do with last night and the night before and the night before that and so on. I watched his fingers move and wondered when did he ever become so proficient with texting?

“You aren’t staying home. I will take you to school. If you get detention, you are going to serve it. I am not going to get you out of trouble.”

“Who is she?”

He began to search the refrigerator for the creamer. It was right in front of him, but it was like he couldn’t see it. It took him a whole 10 seconds to grab it. The refrigerator wasn’t stocked with much.

“Who’s who?”

“Who is it that you have in your bedroom?”

“What?”

“No. Who?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

I allowed him to have that. Her name was Oh. I was going to give him time to clarify if Oh was an Asian lady or if Oh meant something different. But it was more like a dragged out Ohhhhhh!

My Dad poured himself a cup of coffee, forgetting the creamer as he stirred and texted. He placed two slices of visibly green pieces of moldy bread in the toaster. I sat back and watched with amusement.

“We only have one Oh that I am aware of and he’s the math teacher.” I was referencing my former math teacher Glen Oh. My Dad knew Glen on a personal level for years. “Are you messing around with his wife Maggie Oh who works in the library?”

“For God sakes no.”

“Then?”

“For shit sakes, Carl. I’m not messing around. What’s happening…What’s going on is just…”

“Just what?”

“Different.”

“Different?”

“Very different.”

“You’ve had Jessie over, and I never heard anything. So, I guess. Whatever.”

My Dad was right, whoever he’s banging in his bedroom this time around has caused him to have an incredible vocal range of a grunting caveman that has scarred my brain for life.

"That was over a year ago. It was a mistake. Something I regret. Something that I would rather die than repeat.”

The Jessie fiasco.

The woman who was so abused and found her way into our home, in my father’s bed with her two sons attached to her hip sharing my bedroom whenever she came around. I would immediately take to the couch or stayed at my best friend, Andre’s home that was positioned directly behind where I lived. I would stay with him and his parents until where I lived with my Dad was cleared of the pests. I’d never liked Sam nor Ron. Their Mom was a Milf but not much else.

It still didn’t answer who could have my Dad flustered in revealing who he wanted to have sit on his face. Knowing what I know, I will never, ever drink or eat anything after my Dad. He likes to eat this person, and my brain will forever remember where his lips have been.

He took a look at his phone that indicated he got another message.

“I have to get my keys.”

I’m sitting back twirling my pencil between my fingers casually watching him set his phone down on the kitchen counter to go in search for his car keys. The keys were by the front door where he always leaves them. He went into his bedroom as if the keys would be in there.

His phone…

I was compelled to see. To investigate and hopefully have answers before he comes back out of his bedroom down the short hall.

Queen: Is Carl still home?

Rick: Yes. I will take him to school, and then you can slip out.

Queen: I was thinking about playing hooky. You in that uniform, yum.

Rick: That can be arranged. I’m crazy about you.

Queen: Oh yeah?

Rick: My son heard us last night.

Queen: No!

Rick: We may have to come clean.

Queen: Come into your bedroom NOW!

Whoever he’s banging was still in our home, and her name was Queen. Queen? Queen Elizabeth? We didn’t have any Queens that I was aware of in our small enough town to know a name like that. A name like that would stick out. Whoever he’s’ banging is royalty. This news is Gold. I couldn’t help chuckling.

The toast was finished. I tossed it in the trash along with the rest of the moldy loaf. I put the creamer back in the refrigerator while still scrolling through my Dad’s messages. I found a lot of sexting shared between him and Queen.

Rick: I can still taste you.

Queen: It’s my turn tonight.

Rick: Wonder if you can handle it.

Queen: Don’t doubt me.

Rick: Will I have to hold back?

Queen: I plan to swallow.

Rick: Yeah?

Queen: Lick every drop.

The sound of his bedroom door opening was enough to cause a slight panic to run through me. I turned his phone off.

“Carl, hand me my phone and let’s get going.”

“Did you find your keys in your bedroom?” I played it off cool walking over to him with his phone. It helped that he was visibly distracted by whatever happened in his bedroom.

“Why would I go into my bedroom for my keys? My keys are always by the front door.”

His response was an indication that he wasn’t 100 percent himself. I was going to have some fun.

“Dad, I left something in your bedroom. I’m going to check to see if…”

My Dad’s whole attitude had changed lightning fast. His agitation was on butt load when I boldly began walking past him heading to his bedroom. He grabbed my arm and hauled me out the front door with a not so friendly shove, slamming the front door behind him.

“Hey, I was just joking!” I pretended to be upset with him handling me the way he did.

“Let’s go.”

My Dad was pissed off. He didn’t give two shits.

Now going to school was another matter. I hated school. I hated the whispers about my Dad and Principal Benton. I hated the drop-off in his cruiser almost equally to everything else I hated.

The rumors were annoying to Andre, too. We were in the same gifted classes. Andre is a talented violinist. He’s gifted on the piano as well as having the sickest rap lyrics of all time. I’m his biggest fan. He’s considered to have a dark spirit too. He doesn’t care because he knows he’s going to take over the world by musical storm one motherfucking kick drum at a time.

Andre’s mom’s the Principal at our high school. His Dad is an attorney who works in Alexandria. I’ve only met his Dad a couple of times. He seemed very chill but his Mom…Principal Benton didn’t have much of a sense of humor. She was no-nonsense, by the book, and she rode us both hard if we were acting like delinquents. I have to be honest, Principal Benton was annoying as fuck in school.

I sat in the cruiser. My Dad’s mind was evidently a million miles away as he drove the usual route that was considered the fastest in the direction of King’s Gifted Academy. The road with no sidewalks was the reason for many of us to have to ride the bus if we weren’t lucky to have a parent willing to take us to school every day or old enough to have a license to drive. I much preferred the bus than the cruiser.

“Who’s My Queen?”

“I don’t know, Carl.”

I watched my Dad try to swallow his lie.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Do you just randomly text people about still tasting them?”

“What have I told you about snooping?”

“You know there are rumors, right?”

“What rumors?”

“You tell me who’s My Queen and I’ll tell you about what everyone seems to be talking about.”

There was no deal to be made other than maybe a silent epiphany that I could hear everything on the other side of the walls. I just couldn’t see through them.

“I met someone. Well, I’ve known her for awhile, and you may know who she is and right now we aren’t ready. She’s not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“To commit. To commit to me. I’m giving her time to handle things. She asked me for that, and I am giving her that.”

“Sounds like you’ve been giving her more than that.”

“Carl!”

“Dad!” I challenged him.

“There’s a reason your mother has you with me. You know that?”

“I’ve never heard her having crazy sex.”

“I’m sorry about that son. I wasn’t aware that we could be overheard and now that I know we will be more discreet about things.”

“There’s the Holiday Inn. There’s the Red Roof and Meryl’s Lodge.”

“Next time we will be quieter. If there is damn next time.”

By the time my Dad dropped me off in the school parking lot,I had noticed something else odd about his behavior, and it was what he didn’t do next.

“See you later, Dad.”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t drive off. He was texting again. He didn’t even realize I got out of the car or that I was watching him from a distance.

He got out of his cruiser probably thinking that I had gone inside of the school. Principal Benton had already pulled in to her designated parking spot.

Their confrontation happened in the parking lot.

I watched my Dad approach her without any regard to who could be watching or possibly overhearing what looked to be a very controlled, heated disagreement.

I wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying, but I did find it odd that Andre’s mom had on the same clothes from the night before that she wore to our soccer game. Her and my Dad wore matching sweatshirts with our school logo last night which could mean nothing because there were a few that had them on. Easy to dismiss.

My Dad was sitting behind her in the stands cheering our team on. Andre and I were forced in sitting the game out courtesy of coach Abe with the blessings from Principal Benton. Our stunt two weeks ago had affected almost everything in our lives. We were considered God’s by our peers but devils by our elders.

I refused to believe what was apparently true.

My Dad was having an affair with my very married Principal who was also my best friend in the world’s mother. She is who he’s banging, and I’d acquired videotaped proof a few days later that I just sent to all my contacts by accident.

——————————— https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12954337/1/

[okimargarvez]

WHEN THEY FIRST MET- JJ

Original title: When they first met.

Prompt: writing challenge.

Warning: none.

Genre: family, romantic, comedy, friendship.

Characters: all members of BAU team, O.C.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot (collection of individual tales of each member, except for Walker).

Legend: 💑💏😘😈👓🔦🎲🎈👻⚰.

Song mentioned: none.

When They First Met- Masterlist

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

JJ: The new dog trainer

 Penelope was very happy in this moment. In one hand she held the smallest of Henry, her beloved godson. In the other, a bag of biscuits for dogs. -You'll see, here there are many beautiful dogs, many cute animals to play with... - she enters in the building. -Hello Beth, today I brought a little man with me... - a woman of about fifty old, sticks herself out of the desk to scrutinize them. She immediately smiles.

-Oh, what a handsome young man! Penelope, there is a new dog trainer. Right now he's out with Rob.- the blonde's face is overshadowed.

-How is Rob?- the child seems to perceive her emotions from the simple handshake, as well as from the tone.

-It seems that the treatment is working, but you will see it with your own eyes. They are in the green area.- she nods and heads for the indicated destination.

-What is the grrrr...- he tries to pronounce the word correctly -...green ara?- she pauses for a moment and turns towards him.

-Green area, honey.- she corrects him with a sweet voice. -It's a place where the young dogs along with the oldests, go to rest.- Henry seems to have understod somethin else, because his eyes are big and shiny. -No, lovely, don't cry. Don't "rest", in that sense, come, when you will have seen, you will understand.- they begin to walk again. Finally they reach a lawn area with many trees that create various shadow areas. Here are three dogs that are sleeping, perfectly visible, two in normal positions and a third with air belly. A laughter escapes from the child. -Have you seen? They're all right, they're just doing the nap, like you do after your mother reads you a fairy tale.- she pronounces the magic word.

-Mommy...- he moans, taken from a sudden melancholy and nostalgia of the maternal figure.

In that exact moment comes another exemplary canine, battered, hedgehog fur perpetually disheveled, physically fully it shows his age, but right now runs like a puppy. And behind him a man, dark hair and Latin traits, chases him shouting his name in vain. -Rob, wretched, stop! Rob!- the nominated executes order, but him just hangs in front of Penelope and the baby, starting the washing stage on the latter. -Sorry, he's very expansive... - so closely, Garcia sees how the man is tall and his uniform that left only guess muscles: white T-shirt with logo of the doghouse and pants dark blue. -... but he's not bad.- he probably thinks Henry might be scared.

-Oh, I know well.- the blonde responds, throwing other looks. -You are the new trainer?- excellent choice, I approve unconditionally. Even before, she loved spending her free weekends here, but if the company is this... a few more days will not be a great sacrifice.

-Yup. Luke, nice to meet you.- the pleasure is all mine. Oh, heck, Garcia, how did you become trivial! Just see a piece of nice man and you go completely in mush!

-Penelope. And this is Henry.- she holds his hand, then observes the exchange between the two. Note yet another detail: he doesn't bring faith to the finger. This doesn't necessarily mean that he's not engaged. Penelope, come back to earth. You're here to volunteer, not the volunteer. Even Luke doesn't remain indifferent to the sight of that shapely blonde, dressed in a flowered habit and very short, very high-heeled shoes and a bow on the head. Not really the appropriate clothing to stay here. A decidedly sprint mom, he thinks, looking at the blond child even more than she, while she strokes Rob. -Anyway I know this scoundrel since he was little more than a puppy. I come here a lot of years.- she informs him, almost smugly.

-Ah, then I understand everything.- he whistles, calling the dog to his side.

-How are you?- she asks in a tone that reveals all her concern. -Beth told me that the treatment is working, but had a strange expression... I don't know ... maybe I'm a bit ... paranoid.- she smiles and Luke remains dazzled, for a moment stunned to stare at her. He looks at the child, as if afraid to talk about things too serious. Penelope nodes that there's no problem.

-I'm only here for a week, but yes, I can confirm that Rob is reacting well... - she approaches him, because she feels the "but" in the air, all his doubts. Nearly the man jumps, feeling her perfume and seeing her so close. He looks down and meets the big dark eyes of the blonde. -But his age is however very advanced, and... I think ... the disease won't have won... if you know what I mean.- Penelope understood this perfectly.

-Henry, would you like to go play with those dogs? Do you see them? I'll be here, I'll not lose sight of you for a moment... - the child walks away. When she turns back to him, Luke notices the first tears are trying to break the barrier. She doesn't say anything, in fact, tries not to get noticed, but it's a fairly difficult task. The man understands why Penelope is crying and he feels a growing desire to comfort her. Yet he has just meet her, from thirty minutes and already feels to have diagnosed her. -I always say that I should be able to restrain myself, but then I can't keep my promises... excuse me, you're probably busy, I don't want to waste your time...- she turns to Henry and makes to call him back, but Luke stops her, grabbing her arm.

-I'm not busy, it's nice to find someone who loves animals so much... do you have any? - it's clear that he touched a sore subject. The expression of the blonde becomes even more suffering.

-No, I've never had pet... even when I was little. It may seem ironic, don't you think?- she laughs. In this way Luke has the opportunity to hear that crystalline sound for the first time. -Maybe it's precisely for this that I became an animalist... - her eyes are far away, lost in time. -And you?- it seems ridiculous to continue with the formalities, but she'll certainly not be the one who takes next big step.

-I have always had a lot of animals, especially dogs. Right now... I have this monster.- while he talking pulls out his wallet and latter a photograph of a pretty Belgian shepherd. Penelope's blonde hair touches his arm, tickling him. -She is eight years old, yet the other day we noticed that she's pregnant... - his eyes light up as he is talking.

-What's her name?- he realizes that even the women's eyes are shining.

-Sandra.- he notices that she is holding back a laugh. -I know, it's a strange name, but don't look at me, it was my mother who chose it... oh, excuse me, I didn't want ... - he exclaims when he realizes that he uses a confidential tone.

-Oh, don't worry! It's not a problem, was beginning to be ridiculous, this thing of keep a distance, I guess we'll have the same age, more or less... - Penelope returns to direct her attention to the child, which playing catch with a dog about six months old, very snappy and playful. At one point, Henry loses the balance and falls, without being hurts, but she worried however and runs toward him. Luke follows her, reflecting on being a mother, on maternal love, perhaps the only real sentiment that exists on this earth. And this woman must be a fabulous mother... but also single? Because she doesn't bring faith, she didn't mention any husband... Luke, please, don't start with these thoughts. You should train Rob, not flirting with voluntary mothers and probably married... From a distance he sees her picking him up and checking that he has no sign, clean him from the ground, then caress the dog, with an equally sweet look. It will be hard to stay focused on the job, today... -... sure, mommy loves you very much ... - she's saying, when she reaches them.

-Hey, he's okay?- even Rob has followed him and looks suspiciously at the puppy.

-Yes, yes, fortunately not even a scratch. Otherwise JJ would have strangled me!- she laughs but stops when she catches the surprise expression (positive) of Luke, that's still staring her. And then she understands that he had thought...

-Henry is not your son?- he can't help but ask.

-Oh, no! I wish!- she always responds giggling and smiling, but the man seems to find some note of regret in her tone and a veneer of melancholy in her eyes. -No, I'm just the godmother. The mother is one of my best friends.- she shrugs.

He isn't her son. And by the way she has spoken I would say she's not even a mother... impossible to believe, seeing how she behaves with Henry and the animals... but that means it may not even exist any husband or boyfriend who's waiting her at home... What a hell of a thought, I have to stop it.

-And you? Do you have any children?- but she seems that she isn't going to change the subject either.

-No ...- and he would like to add And I never thought of having or wanting to, because I never found the right woman... -Only dogs.- Why I want to make her understand that I am loose as a goose? If all I want is to ask her a date, why I can't just do it? Heck, Alvez, a little courage. You face minefields, alleged wild beasts, every day and you do yourself put into crisis by a blonde with glasses, the innocent gaze and mischievous eyes... Suddenly an imagine glares him. She against the wall, he leans on her body. It almost feels like he really feels her breast pressed against his chest... Keep yourself! There's also a baby here! Better he doesn't understand ahead of time what reaction the women could cause at the men!

-Ah, I understood.- Penelope also doesn't know what to say. She has noticed a strange look, from the trainer, long and intense, although at one point seemed to be on another planet. Maybe his girlfriend had a miscarriage and that's why they broke up... Always run too far with fantasy, Garcia. Mind your business once in your life. Fortunately, the phone rings, removing them from that awkward silence. -Yes?- she has seen that the caller is JJ.

-Hey, Garcia, I wanted to tell you that we're already coming back. If you want to free yourself from the burden a bit before... - she laughs, and Luke asks himself who is from the other line, a man or a woman? A potential rival? But rival of what? You just met her, you just talked about dogs and children..., but in a roundabout way.

-But what a burden! Taking care of Henry is a joy. He has seen so many beautiful dogs today...- And I also seen a nice piece of latin male... Thanks to this last sentence, the man realizes that the caller is none other than the mother of the child. He doesn't hold a sigh. He's in a real bad way. But it never happened to such a thing at him, being so taken immediately by a woman; in fact, it's usually the women who buzz around him, but they are all boring, interested only in shopping, talking about diets... But she is different, how can you say it after such a short time? And yet he is sure of how much he feels, Penelope isn't a common woman, he could tell by the way she expresses herself, rather than how she dresses. And he doesn't take much effort to pretend that she is his... wife, that Henry is their son (even if he wouldn't has got any of his stuff), that they are choosing a dog to give him a home, to enlarge the family...

-Fantastic! We'll be home for... around 5:00 of the evening.- she nods, but her friend can't see her.

-OK it's good. And... JJ, I should talk to you about something, after... - yes, she has to talk about Luke to someone, because needs to explain all the evidence gathered, so she'll gets a dispassionate opinion and if the response is positive... come back soon to the doghouse, with any excuse, without children, to push more on the accelerator.

-Ok. You can't back out, now intrigued me!- she laughs and closes the call. Luke is still there staring at her.

-I have... I have to go. Mum today comes home earlier.- she explains, as if it were his business.

After the announcement she seems to grasp an almost sad expression, as if he was sorry she's going to leave. How I wish I could take a picture of him in this moment. Any clue that she'll lead to the check of JJ, will still be filtered by her head. And we know that we see what we want to see...

-Yeah. I still have to... continue the training with Rob.- Penelope nods, so to turn his back, holds the hand of Henry in hers -You'll come back?- he asks. She back to look at him, maybe a little too upset. -To see Rob, how is him, I mean.- but of course, of course he didn't want to know if she would come back to see him.

-Yes, I'll come back- she gives a slight smile. At that simple gesture Luke feels every piece of skin vibrate.

-Good.- he only responds. Stop it, ask her date and get it over. Penelope looks down. The next time, when she comes back, I ask her. First of all. Really.

-Yeah ...- she seems intimidated, as if she had feel, as if she understood what he feels -... so... have a good day.- another smile.

-Even to you, Penelope.- when she is a barely visible speck now, he caresses the head of the old dog, which seems to reciprocate his look. -You too.-

  -So? - after greeting her child, JJ throws on her friend to find out what this is the thing which she has to speak. Maybe she finally wants to publicly admit, seriously, that she feels something for their colleague, Derek?

-Before you. False alarm or...? - she tries to change the subject, but is really interested.

-Yes, you will become a godmother another time. But now tell me what you wanted to talk to me, you had a strange voice on the phone... anxious and mischievous. It's about a man, is not it? - the blonde with glasses sighs.

-Damned all profiler!- the other laughs. -Yes. At the doghouse... ... I met a tall, dark man, dark eyes... - her legs melt only remembering -it's the new dog trainer... the volunteer who cares for Rob, that old dog of which I was talking you the other day...- JJ nods, but signals her to return to the point. -and ... nothing, he was looking at me a bit too, so strange... and ... he's single, or at least, he said he has no children... he believed that Henry was mine!- not so hard to thinking, since all three have the blond hair. -Because I asked him if he had children and he said no and "only dogs". He really said that. I don't know, now I realize that it's not a great story, who knows what you expected...- and yet JJ is smiling, mischievously.

-Our Garcia got a hit here! And what's his name?- Does she really think that what I told her are clues that he likes me?

-Um ... I don't remember...- her friend looks at her surprised, then looks up at the sky.

-Lu... Luke.- the little Henry answers in her place.

 ***

 Everybody are silent staring at the author of the story.

-Now I can tell you that, like Emily, this thing has happened to me too. One evening we came back before and Penelope told me about this guy, Latin, which was trainer where she went as a volunteer for the dogs and I'm sure his name was Luke. It wasn't really him, but it's a good coincidence, at least.- JJ smiles, because she remembers that day perfectly and her son while uttering that name without knowing the meaning.

To hurry up, Stephen immediately begins to read the next story.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee @itsdawnashlie @talesoffairies @janiedreams88 @kiki-krakatoa @yessenia993 @teyamarra @c00lhandsluke  @gcchic @arses21434 @orangesickle @entireoranges @jarmin @kathy5654 @martinab26 @thisonekid @thenibblets @perfectly-penelope @ambrosiaswhispers @maziikeen92 @lovelukealvez @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @ichooseno  @ megs2219 @rkt3357 @franklintrixie @thinitta @chewwy123 @skisun @maba84 @saisnarry @myhollyhanna23 @thenorthernlytes