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infinitum-imaginaerum · 5 years

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DK | A.19 “Please don’t leave.” | @daehyun-naekkoya

Words | 3,500

Warnings | Angst... ouch. Some curse words. Mentions of implications of cheating???

Notes | All relationships have problems, kiddos. Be sure to talk to your partner about EVERYTHING. And that’s Ailea’s mom advice for the day.

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Tensions between you and DK were continually getting worse. Even though you both had tried your best to be understanding with the other and calmly work through your problems, everything seemed to be becoming more and more significant of an offense and you were determined to figure out why. He began picking fights with you over the tiniest things, no matter how insignificant—it was as if he was constantly I the most horrible mood of his life.

He never seemed to be happy to see you anymore. Doing anything with or for you seemed like a chore. Overall, he appeared to be disinterested in the relationship. It hurt your heart to ever think that he would be this way; at the very least you assumed that he was man enough to talk to you about what he was feeling, about what was going on between the two of you so it felt as though there was something else eating him that he began taking out on you.

Either way, you were going to get to the bottom of it. He was silent throughout dinner, despite your vain attempts to make conversation and ended up clearing your place far before you were even finished with your own plate—that’s how fed up you were with the tension. The leftovers were put into a container as you began cleaning your plate and retrieved DK’s soon after.

“Finished?” you asked, even though you knew he wasn’t. If he was going to act this way then two could play at this game, considering you had already asked him multiple times what was causing the distress with no good reply to come from it. If he wanted to be petty, you could be petty, too. Usually, he didn’t want to play that game because you could easily out stubborn his soft-heartedness. Perhaps not this time.

“Actually, no,” he replied snippily. You took his plate anyway, scraping his leftovers into the same container as your own, ignoring his answer to the question you weren’t really expecting an answer for, since it wasn’t a question that wanted an answer.

With pursed lips, you washed his plate and put everything away. Usually DK did the dishes if you cooked—that was the agreement you had—but you just didn’t have the patience to sit at that table with him and have him stonewall you the entirety of dinner. Conversation was already scarce at the table as it was, only becoming more so the longer time went on.

“What is with your attitude?” he asked.

You had to scoff and almost dropped the plate in your hand into the scalding water in the sink.

“My attitude?” you asked, as if he had just said something totally mind boggling—and it was. The only one with attitude around there for the longest time was him before you were done putting up with it, and today had been the last straw.

“Yeah, that’s what I said, your attitude.”

“Is this the hill you want to die on, Dokyeom?” you asked him and gently set the plate in the sink before turning in his direction with a hand on your hip.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked you from the kitchen table.

“You’re the first to jump on me about an attitude without checking your own. You think I would have an attitude with you if you didn’t have one first? I’ve done nothing but ask you what’s wrong for I can’t remember how long now and you typically meet me with silence and you want to know what’s with my attitude?”

He gave you the rudest look, one you were convinced his face couldn’t even make.

“And why would I have an attitude with you, I wonder,” he replied as if you were supposed to know the answer to that rhetorical question.

“I don’t know, because you don’t love me anymore? If you felt that way, then we should have talked about it like adults, like the man I know you are!” you yelled, finally having enough of his petulant attitude.

This time, he scoffed and looked away from you. He shook his head, as if in disbelief, as he soaked in your words. “It’s funny that you even say that,” he replied with a laugh but you knew it wasn’t because it was funny, it was because he was pissed as all hell, “because all this time, you’re the one who has fallen out of love with me.”

“That’s absurd!” you defended yourself, “I have done nothing but try to work this out while you’ve just sat around and sneered at my very existence for what feels like months!”

“You have betrayed me in every deep way possible! How could I even consider that you still love me after you’d hurt me like that!”

You weren’t really sure what he was even going off about; but it must have been something really bad for him to even say that.

“You won’t even tell me what I did to hurt you like this!” you yelled back, the frustration growing just as your tears were, stinging your eyes as you wouldn’t dare let them fall.

“I really shouldn’t have to tell you. You know what you did, what you’re doing!”

You rolled your eyes. Not because you were fed up with what he was saying, but because you couldn’t possible fathom what you had even done that was so offensive. He looked heartbroken, sitting in that chair in front of you refusing to even look in your direction.

“I’m honestly surprised you haven’t left yet,” he replied calmly, but you could feel the grit of his teeth in his words, the strain in his throat as he did his best not to cry, despite the tears cropping up against his waterline. You could see on his profile as he continued to look away from you, his arms now crossed over his chest. It was very unlike him to cry, but instead of worrying about that, all you could do was stand there, astounded.

“I’m sorry, if you wanted me to leave, that’s all you had to say. I’ll go pack my bags,” you said, drying your hands off on a dish towel that you soon angrily discarded onto the kitchen counter and booked it passed him to the bedroom to haul a large suitcase from the closet. You’d only be able to get about half of your things in that suitcase, but it would give you enough to stay with someone else while you figured out what you were going to do.

You could distinctly heart the screech of his chair against the dining room floor, but it didn’t matter too much as you tried to push the tears back, your heart beginning to shatter in your chest. How could he cast you aside so easily, so nonchalantly? After all the two of you had been through, after everything you’d grown through together, after DK had displayed to you on multiple occasions that the two of you could work through anything together and he basically just told you to get out.

He leaned against the door frame, the wood creaking under his weight as he watched you. You did your best to ignore him, to continue to pack as if he wasn’t destroying you just standing there, not saying anything. When you finally had bustled around the room enough to collect the essentials, you zipped your bag and dropped it to the floor with a grunt—it perhaps weighed at least half of you—before you finally looked at him.

Tears were streaking down his once immaculate cheeks, his eyes were puffy, his lips pursed in a hard line and his jaw tense.

“I’ll be by with a moving truck in the coming week, if you’d kindly hold my stuff until then.” Your voice was rough, cutting DK like a knife and he let out perhaps the most desperate gasp any man could followed by a harsh sob.

You couldn’t stand to see him cry, so you did your best to look away from him as you reached up to push the tears that had escaped off your cheek and proceeded to push passed him with the suitcase. He followed you out to the front door.

“That’s it? You’re going to walk out that door without so much as an explanation!”

With fists clenched, about to lose your entire shit, you turned to him. “Explain what DK? I don’t even know what I did, and despite my best efforts to ask you thousands of times and try to work this out with you, you’ve stonewalled me! Clearly, you want me to leave. Clearly, I have totally broken you! And you don’t deserve that. Whatever I have done, I truly am sorry.”

“You’re really going to stand there and deny the fact that you’ve been seeing someone else?”

If your head could have popped off your shoulders, it would have. If you weren’t lost before, you sure were now. “You’re going to stand there and blatantly deny sending affectionate text messages to another man, sending hearts and shit to him—you’re going to try and leave here without saying shit about that to me?”

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

“I can’t even believe you!” he screamed—never had he raised his voice like that at you, and it honestly made you quiver; your knees buckled a bit as you shrunk under his intense gaze. You couldn’t think to do anything else except whip your phone out of your pocket and tentatively try to give it to him.

“Show me,” you requested gently.

He all but snatched your phone from your hands, unlocking it with your anniversary as your passcode, which he was surprised it still was. Dokyeom looked furious, tears trickling down his cheeks, off his chin, off his nose, tears he was furiously trying to push away as he perused your phone to the messaging app and quickly pulled up the thread to shove it back in your face after reading the most recent messages.

“You’re even going to meet with him this weekend! And you have the audacity to stand here and lie to my face!”

You took the phone back from him to look at the thread. Simultaneously relieved and furious, you blinked hard, keeping your eyes closed for a good few moments before opening them again to look at the love of your life who you really wanted to punch in the face.

The situation was hard to take. On the one hand, it was a misunderstanding. But on the other hand, it displayed the fragility of your relationship. Not that you would ever accuse him of snooping through your phone, because you trusted him, but he should have trusted you enough that you could allow him to snoop through your phone. To be honest, he probably saw a message that prompted the snooping—either way, maybe he didn’t love you the way he claimed. The deeper you thought about it, the more problematic the situation became.

“Dokyeom,” you spoke calmly, “if you would have just asked…” you trailed off, too frustrated to even begin explaining.

“I didn’t want to ask! I had hoped that you would have come clean with me! I thought you loved me…”

“Dokyeom, I love you with my entire heart,” you replied with a crack in your voice, a different type of tears stinging your eyes and felt like lava down your cheeks. “Dummy is my brother, you idiot,” you added, referring to the contact name you had him under. “He just moved to the city, I told you that months ago. I have every right to text my brother whatever I want; I have every right to meet my brother whenever I want.”

His jaw just about unhinged. Maybe he had realized that this uncovered the fragility of your relationship, too.

“If you would have just… asked me, Dokyeom…”

All you could feel was hurt. Your heart ached for a different reason. He actually believed that you were immoral enough of a person to cheat on him and try to keep the gig up. Many things were becoming difficult because of this tiny misunderstanding.

“Duchess, I—”

“Don’t duchess me, Dokyeom,” you replied, spitting fire. In all honesty, you kind of wanted to leave at this point.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, almost inaudibly as you stood there thinking about what to do. “You have every right to talk to him any way you want, I just—”

“You just didn’t ask, didn’t trust me, and pinned me as an immoral witch,” you interrupted.

He muttered your name, but wouldn’t dare reach for you. He could see that you were almost shaking, and desperately wanted to take that all away, but the things that you just told him ripped his heart right out of his chest and stomped on it.

“The thought that I would ever cheat on you means you don’t trust me. Maybe it would be better for both of us—”

“Please, don’t leave!” he cried, a broken screech that echoed through your apartment and followed by muffled sobs as he covered his mouth. It hurt more than anything, watching him cry so harshly. He was shaking, your rock. You never saw him this way, he felt desperate, especially when he dropped to his knees unable to stand anymore.

He was shaking like crazy, frantic, holding himself tightly since he knew you wouldn’t. His sobs were silent, but the tears were relentless on his face. All you could really do was look down at him and wait for him to say something, anything, because even though you wanted nothing more than to hold him, than to make it all go away, your feet felt bolted to the floor.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry! I was so scared; I saw one message and my whole life fell apart. I should have asked you, I should have! I couldn’t think, I could barely breathe through the heartache. Eventually I just started believing it, and stopped doubting because it seemed easier to swallow in the long run. I didn’t want to be a fool, but I ended up suffering twice and while I deserve it, please don’t leave,” he explained to the best of his ability despite his quivering breaths and his weak state.

“Dokyeom… You should have just asked…” you replied, trying to stall until your anger subsided.

“I know! I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot! But you are my life, and the thought of that crumbling so easily hurt more than I can explain!” he hollered through tears, doubling over to the ground at your feet. He looked pathetic, but if everything he was saying was true—and you were inclined to believe him—you didn’t blame him. As much as his whole life was falling apart, his heart crumbling in his chest, so was yours. Life without him had become obsolete.

“You were supposed to be my forever,” you replied, the tears finally silently escaping unrestricted down your cheeks and off your chin onto the tiled floor in front of you.

“I still want to be,” he squeaked. “This whole thing was a misunderstanding and I still am so in love with you, even if all of it was true. I want you to be my forever.” He peered up at you, gaining enough control to push himself back up to his knees.

“This is going to put a strain on this relationship we will have to work on overdrive to fix; you know that, right? This has caused a lot of damage—the implications of your assumptions…”

To him, it sounded like you were negotiating why it would be better to just leave. He shook his head and dared to crawl up to your feet.

“If I have to prove my love a thousand lifetimes over, I would do it with a smile. There is nothing I wouldn’t do. If it means we have to pull each other through it, I will lead as much as you need me to. If the damage was irreparable, I would still try my best,” he explained. The sincerity in his eyes was beyond enough. “Please… please…” he begged, and he never begged, “I love you, and I will only love you for the rest of my life.”

You couldn’t stand to see him cry anymore, and you were tired of him seeing you cry, so you reached out to take the back of his head, threading your fingers through his soft hair to tug his head into your torso to cradle it against you. His hands, although tentative, rose to grab a hold of your hips as he turned his face into your body. Soft fingers stroked through his hair in such a calming manner, the type of calmness only you could grant him. Somehow, he could feel some semblance of forgiveness in that motion alone.

“Shall we continue the tradition?” you asked. He looked up at you, chin pressed into your torso as he blinked his tears back, but it didn’t stop you from taking his cheeks in both of your hands to brush his tears away with your thumbs. “That is, if you can stand.”

Dokyeom rose to his feet to stand over you. You weren’t the kiss and make-up type when you fought; you had a different tradition that still displayed the affection but in perhaps a more appropriate manner. He took both of your hands to place them up on his shoulders and, after pushing your suitcase off to the side and took a few steps back, captured your waist with his arms.

His forehead was warm against yours, despite both of your faces being a thousand degrees from the welling of emotions. Naturally, your eyes fluttered closed and relished his closeness, his touch, his breath across your face and the emotion in his grasp.

Tears finally faded being replaced with calm and calculated breaths. DK stepped gently with you from side to side, slowly leading you around the living room despite the lack of music. DK always said that the only music you needed was in your heart and that everything would come naturally. The two of you relaxed into each other, letting the tension of the fight flow out to bring new, better energy back in. There was no more correct place for you than being in his arms, it felt.

He danced with you until he was sure the water in the sink was cold and you had finally remembered. When you began to say something about the dishes, he hushed you, promised he would do them as long as you gave him a little more time and sunk his face into the crook of your neck until you were nagging him the way you always did. The saving grace for your OCD about the dishes as that they were at least soaking, instead of drying and getting crusty.

After a bit, he conceded and took you into the kitchen with him. He did the dishes on the sole condition that you were snuggled into his back while he did so. You agreed and stood there with your arms lightly wrapped around his middle, head resting against his shoulder as he cleaned the dishes.

“I love you,” he reminded you, cleaning the last bits of silverware and glasses.

“I love you more than you may ever know,” you replied, pressing deeper into his back.

He helped you unpack your suitcase and stowed it back in the closer, doing everything you could together and even broke into tears a couple more times—it was going to be a process. The night was quiet, putting on a movie just to pass the time, really, as you cuddled on the couch, trying your best to mend the situation the best you could before facing a new day.

“I am so sorry,” he reminded you, brushing his nose against yours.

“We’ll get through it,” you responded and pressed your head into his shoulder.

“May I call you duchess?” he asked, stroking your cheek as he tried to look down at you.

“You know I love it when you do.”

You went to bed with him that night, a slight change from previous times when one of you opted to sleep on the couch to give the other some space when things did get heated even though they seldom did. It was different; there was an innate desire to stay with each other to help the healing process. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, somehow pretzel-ing his limbs with yours to wrap you up tight. Your hands carded through his hair, soothing yourself almost as much as it did him.

“We’ll get through it?” he grumbled.

“We’ll make it, baby.”

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 7 years

Text

Playing House

Summary: Neal tries to test your feelings for him during an undercover operation in which you pretend to be a newlywed couple. Your shared determination to bring down the bad guy results in a plot which raises the stakes.

Words: 6,943

You and Neal were no strangers to undercover operations. You’d even done some of them together before – but here, there was a big difference: this was going to last longer than a few hours.

The team had tried everything you could think of to get evidence of extortion, but despite the anonymous claim from a tenant brave enough to come forward, the owner of the apartment complex was clean enough to avoid having charges levied against him. The only reason Hughes took it seriously was because the tipster had said that if payment was denied, then violence was threatened. The FBI had a responsibility to make sure that citizens were safe, and a terrorizing landlord did not qualify as safety. With no other options, you hatched a plan to put two agents in undercover as new renters. The idea was that you and Neal would pretend to be newlyweds looking to start fresh, and hopefully, the landlord would decide that the pair of you – with Neal’s thousand-dollar suits – would be good targets.

It wasn’t too challenging to sink into your role. It was just going to be harder to resist the urge to come out of it. Y/N Rydell (borrowed from one of Neal’s un-burned aliases) wasn’t too different from Y/N Y/L/N, but having a husband was definitely new.

Speak of the devil. Strong arms wrapped around your front and Neal leaned against you, pressing his chest to your back. “What’s going on, darling?” He asked, mumbling against your throat. His lips were warm and damp and sent a tingle up your back.

You smiled and reached down, setting your hands over his on your stomach. “I’m just finishing the dishes.” You tilted your head further to the side so Neal could kiss on your neck affectionately. The sparks shooting through you at the feeling weren’t purely part of your act.

He set his chin on your shoulder so his hair tickled the side of your face. “Can I help?”

Playfully, you reached up to his head. He made an indignant noise at the soapy water getting in his hair, to which you responded by kissing his cheek. “You can go start the popcorn,” you laughed. “I’ll be done here by the time it’s cooked.”

Neal grabbed a clean dish towel and rubbed the soap out of his hair, pointedly watching you while he did so. You couldn’t keep the grin off of your face. Eventually, your pride made him laugh, too, a low and pleasant sound, and he took a pack of salted popcorn to the microwave. You kept stealing fond glances towards him while he got out a bowl and leaned on the counter, listening for the popping to stop. He’d always been handsome and elegant, but there was something special about the intimacy of domesticity.

Finally, you dried your hands and started the dishwasher. You led the way into the small, hardwood-floored living room and turned on the relatively large television while your ‘husband’ sat down in the corner of the couch, popcorn bowl on his legs. You made a grab for the remote and then joined him, sinking down at his side. Neal’s arm was around your shoulders almost immediately, and you practically melted into his hug.

House of Cards started to play while Neal shifted to get comfortable and absentmindedly gave you a romantic kiss on your forehead, drawing his fingertips against your upper arm distractedly. It was hard not to just reach for his jaw, turn his head to you, and kiss him; the knowledge that you could do so if you wanted was heady, but at the same time, you had to keep in mind that this wasn’t a real relationship, and you wanted to be respectful of that.

At first, things had been awkward. Newlyweds touched a lot, and kissed, and called each other pet names, and slept in the same bed. You and Neal were good friends, but you weren’t that close. The last thing you’d cuddled on the couch with was the Burkes’ dog. After a couple of days, and with a lot of help from Neal taking the lead, you’d found an easier rhythm. Now, two weeks into your game, it was a little mind-boggling that you’d ever been nervous to be within his personal space.

Simultaneously, playing pretend made you a little bit sad. This fake life didn’t give you everything you wanted. You got a lot out of your career and your friends that you weren’t allowed to have while you were undercover. Even though you didn’t have things you wanted, you also had a lot of things you liked, but hadn’t known you’d wanted. And the easy simplicity of your false life helped you to understand why some people liked calm, predictable routines. Neal worked as a chef at The Greatest Cake, and the other employees had been briefed by Peter that they weren’t allowed to say anything about Neal being the owner. Peter had pulled a few strings to get you a quiet job in a large Brooklyn library, where you spent most of your time managing the catalogue and sorting books back onto their shelves.

The only times you broke character were when you were in bed together. “You’re meeting with Jones tomorrow, aren’t you?” You asked, suppressing a yawn. You had to be able to communicate at some time, and there wasn’t a more secure place than in your cozy bedroom. Besides, when you were laying on his chest, one of your legs hooked between his, you didn’t have to speak loudly to be heard.

You felt him nod. A moment later, there was a hand cupping the back of your head, fingers playing with your hair. “Central Park on my lunch break.” He murmured back.

There were some questions you had which you didn’t think you wanted to know the answers to. There were others that you didn’t want to ask, just because you respected Neal too much to exploit your bureau-mandated closeness. Before you asked anything serious, you always asked yourself whether or not you’d ask if you weren’t acting like lovers. If the answer was no, then you kept your mouth shut.

“Is this strange to you?” You asked curiously. “The nine-to-five, the normalcy.” You always wondered about how he adjusted from world-class thief to inmate to consultant. Neal preferred glamor and excitement. This was the sort of operation that you would’ve thought would drive him insane. Every day was the same routine; every day was pretending to be in love, which – knowing how in love Neal was with the idea of love – you would’ve expected to offend him.

Neal shrugged halfheartedly. It was a little odd to feel the movement of his muscles, but it wasn’t a bad odd. He wasn’t even bothered enough to stop threading your hair between his fingers. “I don’t think I could ever stay like this.” He answered after a moment, proving you at least half correct. “I think there’s something to be said for being able to come home to a family every night.”

Your lips quirked. “Even when it’s literally in your wife’s job description?” You teased.

He chuckled. You could feel the vibrations against your cheek, and they ran through your left hand, which was pressed over his chest beside your face. “Wife or not, you’re familiar company. I haven’t always had that.”

A serious note was hit faster than you’d intended and you didn’t know what to say. Maybe traveling the world as a conman was fun and bright and exciting, but he must’ve been lonely without friends he could trust or return to. Mozzie didn’t really count, because he was just as involved in the cons.

You tapped out a reminder to yourself on your phone before setting it down at the foot of the recently-made bed. Your ear stung as you pushed an earring through a piercing, then you picked up your bangles and slipped them onto your wrist. They weren’t your favorite, but the very point of being undercover was to not be yourselves.

Although you weren’t sure how deliberate Neal had been as you forged your routines, you’d settled into one yourself that adapted to his. It let you maintain an outward pretense of intimacy without violating privacies too much. You shared space and accessorized together, but you were out of each other’s way when you needed to bathe and dress.

“Y/N,” Neal called, sounding quizzical. You made a loud hum that carried to the bathroom with the slightly-open door. “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

A little concerned, you turned around to look, adjusting your necklace so the pendant hung evenly over your chest. Neal came out of the bathroom with a hand on his tie, which had somehow become less like a necktie and more like a ligature. You choked back a graceless snort, covering your mouth.

His cheeks blushed faintly. “Would you just help?” He asked, biting the inside of his cheek and looking away from you.

Giggling, you went to him immediately and pulled up his collar. Neal held his chin up so you could work. You weren’t entirely sure where he had managed to go wrong – or how someone with years of tie-tying experience could go so terribly wrong – but you threaded it backwards through gaps until it was loose enough to pull from one side and undo entirely.

“Did you fall asleep while getting dressed?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from teasing.

Neal rolled his eyes and sighed, keeping his hands down. You straightened the tie around the back of his neck, pulled both ends until it looked like they were at the right lengths, and started to retie it for him (though you were tempted to make him do it, just to see if you could watch a repeat of the never-before-seen incident). He didn’t dignify you with a response, but that didn’t keep you from grinning. Finally, you pulled his tie straight, pushed the knot up so it was closer to his throat, folded down his collar, and smoothed his shirt down his chest.

“Thank you,” he said, looking into your eyes and reaching up to feel. He did a perfunctory smoothing and fixed his tie pin in place between buttons on his shirt. “Is there anything you need before I leave?”

“Nah,” you answered, biting your lip on a silly smile. “Be safe.”

“You, too, darling.” Neal answered, a softer smile playing on his lips. He leaned forward quickly to press a kiss on your cheek before picking up his phone and wallet. You willed the heat out of your face.

The FBI would never admit it, but the agents that worked with Neal learned a lot from him. He could see a marked improvement in Jones and his camouflage abilities between the pre-Caffrey era (as Neal called it) and the current date. Instead of dressing like a fed, or dressing like a fed trying not to dress like a fed, Jones just pulled out civilian clothes and came to the meeting place. Instead of trying to covertly make signals across a courtyard, they just went to a fountain and started talking while eating crepes.

“We haven’t been approached yet,” Neal told Jones right off the bat, glancing at the agent.

Jones frowned slightly and bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s been more than two weeks.” Jones stated wearily, sounding reluctant to continue. “Hughes is considering pulling you both.”

“What?” Neal objected wholeheartedly to the notion. If the landlord wasn’t halted, then he might be able to make good on his promises of danger.

“No one’s been hurt yet.” Jones shrugged. “I agree, it’s not the best… just like it’s not the best that we can’t intervene in stalking until something’s happened. But that’s not the only problem.” He sent a meaningful look down to Neal’s feet. Neal sighed and intentionally moved his left ankle behind his right.

The anklet had been clipped so that he wasn’t obviously linked to law enforcement, and in its place was the watch with the recorder and the tracking aspect. Neal much preferred the timepiece, but he could grudgingly see why it might make Hughes and the people he answered to nervous. It was much easier to take off a watch than it was to take off the anklet.

“So we check in more regularly,” Neal suggested, figuratively crossing his fingers. He wasn’t ready for the operation to end so soon. “The bureau can keep track of me that way. No one follows me when I leave the apartment.”

“You’re supposed to be working for us to pay off the taxpayers. Instead, we’re paying for you to take a vacation and bake.” Neal balked – this was not a vacation – but before he could object, Jones held up a hand. “I know, you don’t have to tell me. This is what it looks like on paper.”

Truthfully, the case was only part of the thief’s motivation to stay where he was. He enjoyed having an excuse to be so close to you. You’d been one of his favorite agents from the very beginning, but only recently had he gotten a reason to spend so much time at your side. With the opportunity for conversation and bonding, he’d very quickly realized that, not only were you his favorite, but you could very easily be his type. The problem was that any gentle flirting was completely rendered completely pointless by the context. Things he would normally do to tell someone he was interested were things he was supposed to do for his job, and you were perfectly aware of that.

Not only were you clueless, but even worse, so was he. You flirted and played and kissed him in the mornings and afternoons, and cuddled with him at the apartment… yet he couldn’t tell if it was because it was expectation or because you actually wanted to. You were a great actress, and he didn’t know how to just ask without revealing his own hand.

So Neal’s brilliant plan was to get your attention – but he’d have to really get it, not just snag it in passing with a kiss on your neck. Hence, the tie mishap. It was no mistake. Anyone who could mess up a tie that badly had no business actually wearing them. He’d just wanted to give you an excuse to fix it and see if you would take it, and you had… yet that didn’t promise anything. Yes, it had occurred to him that the easiest option would be to wait until the case was over and then continue displaying interest… but that just wasn’t the same. He wanted to actively show that he liked being your significant other, even while you were just playing house for a while.

“Three more days.” Neal bargained with Jones, making sure he sounded adequately confident. “Give us just three days, and if we haven’t gotten the evidence we need by then, we’ll pull the plug ourselves.”

“You know I’m not the one making the choice,” his coworker reminded, a single eyebrow raised.

Neal lifted one shoulder haplessly. “Yes, but they’ll listen to you,” he persuaded. “Not to me.”

The ex-marine considered it while they continued lunching on their crepes. Neal had had better, but he didn’t think there was a higher quality within New York, so he wasn’t complaining much.

Finally, the FBI agent agreed. “Okay,” he sighed, shooting Neal a warning look. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Me? Neal asked with his eyes, pretending to be affronted at the thought that he would. Internally, he mused over what, exactly, counted as something stupid, how it could be covered by the legality of the situation, and how impressive it would seem to you if he managed to not just entice, but bait your target into action…

Neal relayed the deal to you that night in bed, an arm around your back and a hand resting on your hip modestly. A lot could be done in three days, but you had your doubts that closing this case was on that list of possibilities. In your experience, pushing too hard was actually harmful to your cause, and of course, the last thing you wanted was for anyone to get hurt because a temperamental criminal felt pressured.

That wasn’t to say that you weren’t on board with somehow creating a plan. You were in full agreement with Neal that whether or not someone had been hurt shouldn’t matter. There was a promise of injury, and it was just plain dumb to wait until someone had already been harmed to intervene.

“We need to be better marks,” you strategized, thoughtlessly rubbing your thumb in slow circles over his bicep (which you totally weren’t paying attention to at all…). “Apparently, looking well-off isn’t doing enough.”

“We’re not a sure target,” Neal mused, head back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully as you schemed. “We apparently have money, that’s clear – but who’s to say we can’t afford to fight back?”

Ah. “Oh,” you said aloud, brightening excitedly. “We need to up the stakes on ourselves.”

“Right.” Neal agreed, laying another fond kiss on your forehead. His lips felt soft and feather-light, and you were beginning to swear that you’d never stop feeling that warm buzz in your chest.

The only reason tenants were being exploited was for money, so you couldn’t become legally weak by losing yours or you lost your appeal as victims. That meant you needed to have another reason why you couldn’t take the time or the energy to counter a threat.

“You could be pregnant!” He offered without preamble.

You started to giggle, then realized he was serious and stopped, having mixed emotions about it. You brushed them aside, reminding yourself it was a totally fake situation. “If we had a baby on the way, we wouldn’t want to get caught up in a legal settlement or a shelter issue. Especially if I’m already a few months along.”

Neal hummed slowly. “How far could you pass as?” He asked skeptically.

You pursed your lips. “Three months?” You suggested. “That’s about how long it takes for most new mothers to start showing, and if we’re out of here in a few days anyway, they won’t have the opportunity to see any differently.”

“Okay.” His arm relaxed around you and the hand on your hip moved up to your waist. “We could make it obvious – run into them while carrying baby supplies.”

“Do we know his schedule?”

“He always goes up to the roof at seven, exactly.” You questioned how Neal knew it, but his certainty made you trust him. “His own non-smoking policy means he has to go to the roof for privacy to smoke. We could be in the elevator at the time.”

“Perfect.” You pushed yourself up, grinning to him proudly. “So, sweetheart, I should probably tell you to start painting the nursery.”

Neal laughed and pulled you back down to his chest to go to sleep.

To be in the elevator on time, you both had to get up early on the first of your allotted three days and go to a store. Neal sincerely hoped Peter didn’t check his watch data and question why you’d gone to a baby shop, because he could only imagine the mocking jests Diana would greet him with. You and Neal looked around a bit, laughing at some of the more ridiculous baby outfits, questioning the logistics of a few strange toys, and finally choosing a varied selection of baby needs and a nice crib.

If he was being honest with himself, the idea had merit, but he had presented it because he’d thought it would startle you. At the minute he’d thought of it, it had seemed silly and a little bit ludicrous, which was why he’d gone with it – anything to get your attention, get you to think, even for a minute, of what it might be like to have a future with him. Then you’d taken it seriously and pointed out why it was actually a legitimate option, and his spontaneous idea had not had the desired result.

With careful timing, Neal negotiated you both into the elevator just moments before the landlord was meant to get on, Neal hefting a box half his height in his arms while you carried the bags. He put down the crib once the elevator started moving, and as it started to slow before reaching your floor, you knew that you were about to pick up your next passenger.

Neal draped his arm around you, feeling his heart speed up slightly as you giggled and leaned into him, holding a hand over your abdomen. You pressed your lips to his sweetly right as the doors slid open, and the landlord stepped in, already holding a small lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

“What’s all this?” Edward Lopata was short, gruff, and a little surly. You hadn’t liked him from the beginning, and Neal didn’t blame you. He tightened his arm around you and looked down at your hair proudly, even as the landlord kept as far from the boxed crib as he could get within the confines of the elevator, which started to move again.

You beamed. Neal wasn’t too sure what kind of ‘glow’ pregnant women were supposed to have, but you looked radiant with delight and beauty. Then again, he also wasn’t sure he was qualified to make that assessment, given that he always thought you looked gorgeous. “We’re expecting!” You squealed, eager to share. He chuckled and nodded confirmation, grinning and kissing the crown of your head.

Lopata’s knee-jerk response was a grimace. Neal snidely (and silently) gathered his general opinion on children.

“Congrats,” the man grunted as the elevator slowed again.

Neal bent down, lifting up the crib again and shifting it until he held the box more securely. You’d planted the seed, and now you just had to wait and see if it would grow roots.

At the beginning of the second day, you made extra sure that you and Neal were both wearing something that recorded an audio feed before you even left the bedroom, and because you had Sundays off from the library, you stayed home while Neal went to the bakery for work. He gave you a customary ‘I love you, darling’ and its accompanying peck on the lips at the door. As soon as he was gone, you took out your phone, made sure 911 was pulled up on your dial pad (just in case), and started occupying yourself.

Being Neal Caffrey’s wife, you were sure, would be a whirlwind. Being Neal Rydell’s wife was comfortable, but less adventurous. Every time you thought of your so-called husband, you smiled. Several times, you caught yourself playing with the simple silver ring on your left hand. Yours had a small but pretty diamond, while Neal’s was thicker and, though no less refined, definitely less feminine.

Knocking on your door about halfway through the day interrupted your laundry chores. You looked through the peephole nervously to see who it was and recognized the landlord, as well as someone younger, bigger, and more stoic who you didn’t know. That immediately put you on edge.

You crossed back to the other side of the room so your voice wasn’t coming from right next to the door. “Just a minute,” you called pleasantly, buying yourself time to take out your phone and send a quick text message to Neal. You told him that it looked like the plan was working, but that Lopata had a muscleman behind him, and instructed Neal in no uncertain terms that if you didn’t update him on the situation in ten minutes or less, then he should immediately have someone – either FBI or NYPD – sent to the address.

Right after hitting send, you pushed your phone into your back pocket, ran your fingers through your hair, and gave the side of your shirt a tug to make it hang off of one shoulder a little. Pasting a friendly and open smile on your face, you hurried to the door to open it.

“Good afternoon!” You beamed, looking between the two men and pretending not to be unnerved. You knew how to defend yourself, but Quantico’s hand-to-hand training didn’t prepare someone for a two-against-one, possibly armed, fight. “What can I do for you today?”

The landlord gestured behind you. You had to make an effort not to tense. “Can we come in, Mrs. Rydell?” He asked with a smarmy voice. You could tell right away that the phrasing was irrelevant – he was not asking permission.

To make things easier and safer for everyone, you nodded enthusiastically, holding the door open wider and stepping aside. “Come in, come in! Sorry it’s a little messy,” you laughed off the books on the coffee table, the baby bags by the wall, and the still-boxed crib in the doorway of an office that you planned to call your new nursery. “We’re moving things around so we have room.”

By no means were you a pathetic or cowardly person on any given day, but you saw no reason not to grab a potential shield and hold it in front of you. Indicatively, you raised a hand to your tummy and rubbed fondly so that the strongman who followed in after your rude landlord would know you were supposed to be pregnant. If it would make him hesitant to hurt you, you’d take the possible advantage.

Lopata looked around. “I suppose if there were more space, you might want to do a little renovating,” he said dryly.

“Oh, no,” you assured, waving the statement away, still with your wide, charming smile. “We love the place how it is! Besides, my husband’s a baker – he doesn’t need an office. The kitchen is his office!” You laughed at your own joke.

Lopata peered past you at the kitchen. It was almost immaculately clean, but well-stocked. Neal had been making good use of it in the free time he wasn’t used to having, but he liked to keep things orderly and neat when he was done. You wiped down the counters and swept every night before bed so you had something to do.

“Me, I was thinking of renovating.” He leaned against a wall near the door. His friend didn’t move, just stood in the middle between the nursery and the door-slash-escape route. The landlord crossed his arms. “But that costs money. Money you must have, going by the state of those gems.”

Appropriately startled, you lifted a hand to your throat and covered part of your necklace. They weren’t real, but Neal had chosen them for you to wear, knowing that someone without the right background could be fooled into thinking they were. Once your bureau-forged tax forms and Neal’s wardrobe were taken into account, it was no surprise that your greedy landlord assumed they were real.

“I’m sorry?” You stammered a little, blushing unsurely and looking between the men.

The short one sighed. You had to wonder if he had intentionally come when Neal would be at work. “I gave you a generous price on the rent.” He glanced meaningfully at the crib with a sneer. “But your little one adds liabilities. Some kid drawing on my walls decreases property value. Price just went up, sweetheart.”

Your skin crawled. Neal called you ‘sweetheart’ – it was one of his favored endearments – but when this man did it, it was creepy.

“But – But I don’t understand. We signed a contract.” Playing up the confusion, you urged him to say something a little more damning for your nice, hidden little bug to pick up on.

The landlord snidely replied, “And you’re knocked up. Is now the time to debate contracts?” Defensively, you frowned and laid a hand over your nonexistent baby again. “Tell your husband to add a hundred fifty percent to the monthly charge.”

“That’s ridiculous!” You claimed indignantly. “We signed a contract. You can’t force us to pay you more than we agreed on!”

Lopata just chuckled. Even knowing that you’d been trying to get a rise out of him, you wished you’d stopped and asked him to go. It was alarming to hear his laughter, and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He made a one-handed gesture at his company, and both started for the door again.

“Be careful, Mrs. Rydell,” he warned you with a smirk. “You have a baby to think about now.”

He left, and as soon as the door was shut, you ran to it to twist both of the locks, crossed your arms, and backed up. Now you definitely understood why only one person had been brave enough to come forward. No matter how disgusting he was, he could be scary, especially with someone who could be a professional wrestler intimidatingly standing close by.

Remembering your orders to Neal, you took out your phone and sent him another text, promising that they’d left and you were okay. The rest of the day was spent anxiously looking back at the door, awaiting a return you expected at any given moment.

Neal was furious with the threat you’d been given, but when he listened to the audio himself, he reluctantly agreed with you that there was room for improvement. There wasn’t an explicit threat, and without one, it would be hard to convince an entire jury that there wasn’t reasonable doubt.

He felt responsible for the fear you must’ve felt. Although you answered differently, he was excellent at noticing reactions and behavior. You slept snuggled a little closer, and when you were half-asleep, he’d made the mistake of shifting. In the process, he’d moved his arm to hold the back of your head to keep you comfortable, but the sudden touch made you jump violently. You’d been threatened because of his idea.

Now he definitely knew it was a stupid idea, albeit not for the reason he’d initially intended. He wanted your attention, but not like this.

Neal had planned on doing something exaggeratedly romantic to try to get his point across more clearly, but when he heard that you were being hit, and hit hard, by Lopata’s plans, he opted out with a sigh. Your safety was more important than his want for your genuine attention, even when those wants included elaborate cake designs that would have your favorite colors of glitter. Now that was a stupid idea sure to get a real reaction.

The third day was tense from the beginning. You woke up first, but unlike most days, hadn’t gotten up to take the first shower. Instead, you were still laying on his arm, a hand on his abs and your eyes on the clock. You were too controlled to be asleep. There was no reason for you to remain undercover any longer except to try to get something more promising for a conviction. If you went with it and the case failed using the recording you already had, then he couldn’t be tried on the same charges again. It was your last day before you were pulled out, but a lot could go wrong in a day where you voluntarily stayed in a hostile place, and Neal felt very protective. He called the bakery to say he wouldn’t be in, and he didn’t worry much about how it would look. Anyone involved in the extortion would assume he was just afraid for his wife.

Neal wanted to help you, he really did, but all he seemed able to do was get in your way. After you finished small chores that hadn’t needed to be done again so soon, you sat down with a book and tried immersing yourself in a fictional world. The conman had sat down beside you, and although you thoughtlessly leaned into his offered embrace, he could tell that you were mentally elsewhere. Staying still wasn’t doing him any favors, either, so seeing that you were okay and that there was a firearm hidden in a safe under the bed, he took a walk.

Not wanting to go far, he started to make a path through the building, walking down the halls and taking the stairwells. On his way, he contemplated how the operation had gone from relaxing to sour. He still enjoyed waking up with your warm body nestled next to his, but it wasn’t as pleasant when you were both worried that you might be attacked. This would be the last day he had as your husband, and it wouldn’t be a relaxing one. The domesticity was practically over.

It was difficult to be honest with himself sometimes, but he knew he’d miss some of the little things: the noise of someone else, welcome and wanted, in his home. The scattered belongings of someone else mixed in with his. The way he felt a little less lonesome with you so willing to lay your head on his arm. The silver lining was that, starting tomorrow, he’d be free to express his interest with charm and grace without having you dismiss it as an act. No more embarrassing tie malfunctions were necessary, and thankfully, he wouldn’t have to go through with that horrific glitter-cake idea.

A door down the hall slammed and Neal jumped, his neck snapping up to look. He scolded himself for letting his mind drift so far from his surroundings as he stopped in his tracks, watching warily. The door to an apartment opened and a black-haired woman was yanked out by a tall bodybuilder type. Neal assumed he was the backup Lopata had invited into your shared apartment the day previous. The girl was being pulled by her ponytail, was shouting in pain, and had a bruise like a fist on her face. In seconds, Neal dove into another hall, pressed his back flat against the wall by the corner to avoid being seen, and was sending you a text.

“You were given a chance,” the now too-familiar voice snarled, exiting the apartment a long minute later and closing the door behind him with a click. “I told you very specifically what I’d do to you if I didn’t get my money. Now I’m going to be a bullet shorter and four thousand a month poorer. You could’ve just cooperated.” He slapped a narrow wallet stolen from his tenant’s purse against his hand. Neal guessed that finding it was what caused the delay, and he was appropriately thankful for the bought time.

“It’s not your money to take!” The tenant snapped back, her eyes on fire with rage. She kicked behind her at her handler’s legs and although her heel made contact with a shin, she wasn’t released.

“Then it won’t be yours, either,” was the responding sneer. “The bank sure as hell won’t cash a check to a corpse.”

You’d have to move two floors and several apartments down to get to him, not to mention retrieve your gun from the safe. Neal estimated that it would take you less than three minutes in total, so if he could just stall for a little bit…

“Hey!” Neal found his voice, turned the corner, and strode up as his heart leapt into his throat. “Let her go!” He felt the watch on his wrist like it had suddenly gained five pounds. The death threat was definitely clear enough to submit to court, and it was now recorded with federal property.

The landlord turned and saw Neal. His rat-like eyes narrowed into pieces of flint. “Go back to the missus,” he spat rudely. “This ain’t your business.”

“Actually, I think it is,” Neal replied heatedly. He appreciated that he was at least a foot taller than the killer, though was definitely less than thrilled about the fact that he was facing down someone who’d taken lives without remorse. The younger woman’s eyes were still teary and red, but she had calmed for the moment as Neal intervened. “Especially since you all but stated your intent to commit first-degree murder within range of a live recording device!”

The landlord looked back to his accomplice and made a motion across his throat with his hand. The forger kept counting seconds silently in his head. The accomplice released the woman’s hair and she stumbled, lunging for the wall and turning her back to the plaster.

“Go inside,” Neal advised her, his eyes darting between the two. “Help will be here in just a minute.” He hardened his voice to the skeevy landlord. “You don’t have time to run.”

Smirking, the man held up the stolen wallet. “You think this is bad? Wait until you find out what’s gonna happen to your family.”

The sound of a gun cocking from behind Neal made him tense and start to raise his hands, but your voice came quickly after, stony and cold. He moved out of the way, sure that he was safe. You were barefoot in your lounge pants and loose camisole, and your ponytail was messy with strands falling down to your neck. You had a gun in your hands and steely nerve in your eyes and you had never looked more beautiful.

“Think again, Lopata. FBI, Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N. You’re under arrest for extortion, assault, battery, attempted first-degree murder, and first-degree murder.”

Neal bit his lip and watched, heart calming. He knew you could handle yourself. He admired your composure and felt for the dozenth time that he was incredibly lucky to have you watching out for him. Even when you were living your real lives, you always had his back.

“You did a great job, Y/N.” Peter praised you, giving you a firm handshake. Jones escorted the landlord into a vehicle for transport and you watched them go happily. “I’m sure you did something to speed up the process, what with the time crunch…” He gave you and Neal both stern looks before sighing. “This could’ve gone another way that wouldn’t have ended so well. Next time, run your plots by me.”

You still had a proud flush in your cheeks and a lingering bounce in your step. When you’d gotten Neal’s text, adrenaline had made you forget about anything other than protecting him. You were so glad he’d not been hurt.

“Yes, Peter,” you apologized in synchrony with Neal, both of you sharing a secretive smile and pretending to look contrite.

Peter rolled his eyes at both of you, knowing full well that you weren’t taking it as seriously as he’d have liked, and gave Neal a firm pat on the shoulder before leaving to make sure that the would-be victim was aware she would have her statement taken for the court case.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to just let the rush flow through you. A hard case cracked and a mean person in handcuffs was a great end to your nerve-wracking week – not to mention that no one had gotten badly hurt in the process. You’d had takedowns that went far worse.

Then, once the glow had started to fade, you turned to your partner and gave him a hard shove.

“Ow!” Neal gaped at you in betrayal and looked down to his chest, rubbing woundedly. “What did I do?”

“Don’t you ever do that again!” You scolded. You’d nearly had a heart attack knowing he was in the same vicinity as a violent criminal. Arriving at the unfolding scene and finding that he was challenging two very dangerous people on his own, without weapons or a backup plan, had just about given you an aneurysm. Some days, you were baffled Neal had even managed to survive so long on his own, what with the reckless decisions he was prone to making. “Do you realize how lucky you are they didn’t have their guns on them?! They could’ve killed you!”

“They also could’ve killed her.” Neal’s expression had gone soft and affectionate as he looked down at you. He nodded down the hall towards the woman in her early twenties, wrapped up in an orange shock blanket and talking with Peter, skipping her weight from foot to foot flightily. “I made a choice.”

“It was a stupid choice,” you muttered, looking down. The biggest reason you’d been able to work with Neal and overlook his rap sheet was that he had gone out of his way not to hurt people, and was quick to put himself in danger to protect innocents. You’d seen it before, but it never ceased to scare you. And scare you it did, more and more, as he took up a bigger and bigger place in your heart.

Neal nodded his agreement. “I had to do something stupid to get your attention. Convenient that it was something I’d have done anyway.”

You stared at your crossed arms, breath catching in your throat. Your operation was over and there was no reason to flirt anymore… but you felt his smoldering gaze on you nonetheless, and you could clearly remember how soft and perfect his lips felt when they were against yours.

“What am I supposed to do if you get shot?” You asked, looking up to him again unhappily.

Neal had a slight smile. It felt sincere and meaningful, and he reached out to cup your elbow in his hand. “Kiss it better,” he answered simply. “And… then call an ambulance.” He winced and glanced down towards his leg, remembering the last time he’d been shot at.

You snickered quietly. “You would definitely have my attention,” you noted thoughtfully.

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booksbroadwaybbc · 6 years

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Lets Transform Ourselves Day 25 "Arrival" (Pics on /r/dailyprogression) via /r/selfimprovement

Lets Transform Ourselves Day 25 "Arrival" (Pics on /r/dailyprogression)

Background information:

I'm a 20 year old Middle-eastern guy who's very figgity, impulsive and really only thinks about the short term benefits of everything. I used to be addicted to Gaming, but ever since i became 18 years old i decided to leave that part of me behind. I live in a lower-class home, we live off of welfare and I've had the fortune of being born with an above average-IQ which has led to me being able to go to university with a loan.

Last year 2017 December 17th I quit university, broke up with my girlfriend (whom i lived with for 4 months), ditched all my junky friends and moved back to my hometown.

So this is what I'll be doing every single day.

Waking up in the morning at 7:30 AM

Meditate for 10 minutes

Practise a skill/craft in my case Programming for 2 hours (not currently bec of holiday)

Walk for 2 hours per day

Do 60 Pushups + 240 Situps And Plank for 1 minute straight

Read a book (Currently : 4-Hour work week) for 2 Hours

Go cycling for 1 hour (not currently bec of holiday)

Be hygienic

Eat clean and track the calories that i'm taking

Log of 29th of August 2018 - Current time 01:27AM :

I’m back, well not right now but I will be back in my home country ! (which is Holland). At the moment I’m flying over france on a height where a human could’ve never been able to sit at before the invention of flight, which in itself is quite a feat for humanity. I’m very stoked for weeks that are coming, since I’ll be attending university and studying computer science. Now lets get into business and let me tell you about how my day went until now.

I wanted to sleep all the way to around 12 pm, but that wasn’t possible because I’ve gotten used to a rhythm of sleeping till 9 AM and then waking up for breakfast and so. And this is exactly what happens, or at least similarly. I woke up at 09:30 AM and I didn’t feel like I got a good night of rest mainly because of the AC just freezing my whole body and waking me up a couple of times. My mom was already awake and had done everything she needed to do before leaving the hotel. She urged us upstairs to the swimming pool on the roof where this time frankly we had some delicious breakfast. After that I did the usual cleaning my body in the shower and brushing the teeth.

Now it’s the last day of our journey in Albania so we weren’t going to do anything crazy, in fact I stayed at the hotel from 12:00 till 15:30 PM, because my mom went to the dentist there to bleach her teeth, it’s way cheaper to do it in eastern Europe (about x4 cheaper). And meanwhile I was taking care of business on my E-commerce project and trying to workout some issues while also looking after all of our bags since we checked out of the hotel at 12:00 PM. Which also meant that I couldn’t go back to the room to do my push-ups or read my book peacefully, sort of a drawback.

Once My mother and sister came back from the dentist, we went out to have an early lunch/diner before going to the airport. I took another traditional dish called “souflaqe” which is basically a Dürum Döner with greek yoghurt smeared all over the bread(inside). Now we were ready to go to the airport, my little brother had packed my luggage last night in exchange for some time on my laptop, he’s super kind :). I really wanted to do my push-ups or read my book but I couldn’t do this because we were in the hotel lobby, the most viable thing I could do was meditate and that’s what I did. I meditated at around 6 PM after diner and managed to get some headspace in there. My head was all cloudy before the meditation session and I didn’t feel comfortable and I felt anxious. After the session I also kind of fell asleep so that’s that.

I woke up and my mother told me the taxi driver arrived to the hotel to bring us to the airport and I had to help him lift our luggage into the taxi. I didn’t need to do this at all because the driver was very assertive in doing it himself. Once we entered the taxi I fell asleep again until we got to the airport. At the airport I noticed how tiny it was in comparison to Schiphol airport which is one of the biggest airports in the world(Netherlands). We waited for around 3 hours and got into the plane as one of the first people and I decided to read my book “4-hour work week” as it is an excellent place to be reading. No distractions, no internet, only a crying baby in the background here and then and the air sound. What I learnt today was that being rich doesn’t mean having millions of your bank account and continuously saving up to the end years of your life to then have some fun with the money you’ve slaved. Living rich means living the life that would fulfill your dreams and satisfaction as much as possible. By convincing your boss that you could work at home instead of at the office you’d have way more time for other things like family or hobby’s and that way you’re not in risk of having your soul crushed by slaving your life away at the office. Furthermore the extra time could give you opportunity’s you’d never have if you didn’t take the risk of working at home, like creating a business plan for passive income. I managed to read 60 pages of the book aand I’m at page 300 right now, which is quite a feat and I didn’t know I could read this many pages in just one hour time.(mind boggling)

As I’m writing this now I’m really excited about my future, I’m confident that things are going to get way better than how they were the past years. I know that my habits will take me to heights I’ve never reached before in my life. And I am really grateful that I’m able to go onto this journey of finding out myself and just living happily the way I’ve been doing the past months. I’ve seen some tragedy’s in Albania which made me think twice about judging the quality of my own life. The things that I have are actually really amazing and I and everyone else in western Europe should be grateful of having clean water, electricity and all the luxury’s we got over here.

When I’m home in about 1 hour i’ll be doing my push-ups and sit-ups and edit the reddit post and add that bit to the list of completion. Now guys I hope you appreciate the amount of time I take into writing these logs and I’ll be doing this consistently even if I’m sick or heartbroken it doesn’t matter. We’re all going to freakin’ make it brah’s. Peace.

Pics per usual on : r/dailyprogression

Submitted August 30, 2018 at 03:23AM by AttackPrince via reddit https://ift.tt/2ombq3T

#IFTTT #reddit

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missylou22 · 7 years

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Oops I did it again…

Yup, another giant adventure. New Orleans was making me melt, so it was time to venture back up north towards the family.

But in all honesty, one of my teammates vacated his North Carolina position and I jumped at the opportunity to be a quick 6 hours from home instead of 17. No more missed birthdays, buying flights for holidays or trying to figure out appropriate vacation time.

So after a few back and forths for details, I was offered the same position I’m currently holding, just for North & South Carolina! It was a busy, hectic, and stressful few weeks trying to finish up regular work while also needing to fly up to find a suitable new apartment, pack my tiny 1 bedroom in New Orleans, move it all up to Charlotte, NC

I took a few days back in March to do the apartment searching. And because work has conditioned me so well, I plugged the few places I had in mind into mapquest route planner and scheduled out 6 visits in about 4 hours :)

Luckily my teammate and I are good friends and I was able to arrange a private tour of my new city with him and his wife and indulge in some North Carolina BBQ for dinner. Because I came in on a weekend, I was able to knock out about 3 more locations on Sunday and had one last one to see Monday before a flight back to NOLA on Tuesday afternoon. I figured 4 days would be decent since that’s what dad and I took to find my NOLA apartment but found it on day 1. I have another friend (former Redskins coworker) in the area too so it was nice to be able to have someone with me for a few of the places.

It came down to 2 locations on Monday – a third floor 1 bedroom 1 bathroom with sunroom (for my office), but no elevators or washer & dryer in unit, or a 4th floor, 2 bedroom, 2 bathrooom with everything but a little more than what I was already paying. Guess which one I chose…

Yup, welcome to the 2 bedroom life!! It was really going to suck having to lug suitcases up and down 3 flights of stairs… I pay for convenience. Now I have a dedicated office AND a guest bedroom!! All I had left to do was pack up my New Orleans apartment, find movers, and get on the road…. crap.

How the hell am I going to pack all this junk into appropriate boxes and where the hell am I going to put it when I get there?

Packing your entire life in 672 sq feet while also trying to keep life normal is very difficult. I took my mother’s advice and packed a few boxes every night for a week or two until I didn’t have any more space to put boxes, suitcases, etc. in my living room.

While trying to keep up with that “normal” life idea I tried to keep work as fluid as possible while also saying see ya later to the friends I made in the Big Easy. Luckily those friends are lifelong ones and made sure to give me the proper sendoff with all-you-can-eat Crawfish, booze, baseball and Beauty & the Beast on my final weekend.

I also got some help from our Junior in Atlanta who drove all the way down to clean out my storage unit. Since the process of hiring my replacement is ongoing we wanted that BDM to be able to start fresh with a new storage unit – meaning it was up to us to completely clean it out and ship back whatever wasn’t taken/recycled. We loaded & unloaded the car 3 times, returned my corporate vehicle, and FedEx’d stuff to corporate all in one day. It was only fair that I introduce him to Crawfish and Bourbon Street. We celebrated hard on Bourbon Street – go big or go home right?!

Go big we did. I’m pretty sure I was still inebriated when I woke up before the movers arrived… It was a rough morning trying to pack the rest of my crap. I had to be careful not to stand up too quickly and rehydrate. By the time the movers got there and started taking the pre-packed boxes, I was just shoving the rest of it in garbage bags going “I’ll figure out what’s in what when I get there”. It took them about 3/3.5 hours to load everything and off they went. By the way, Abba Movers, a local business in New Orleans was AMAZING. I liked the idea of not having my stuff thrown in a storage unit somewhere to await another 18wheeler loaded with random people’s belongings and then maybe being delivered the next 7-10 days…. These guys assured me they would load everything securely, drive to Charlotte, and unload all within 3 days. Yes please!

Once the big stuff was out, it was just the little stuff and cleaning left before I closed the door on my NOLA life. Sir Quilliam Thatcher was the last thing in the car before heading out to return my Cox router for the 5.5 hour drive to Auburn.

We were loaded down and ready for the next road trip adventure! I arrived to Auburn around 10:30 that evening, threw myself in the shower and flopped into bed. I don’t have a large travel home for Quilliam yet, so I set him up in the spacious jacuzzi tub of the hotel.

Because hedgehogs are nocturnal, he decided that 4am was a good time to throw all the plastic pieces/toys around which got him locked back in hedgie jail.

Thursday we loaded back into the car and continued through Atlanta to our new home and upon arrival, I had already forgotten how big the new space was. I spent that evening locating an air mattress for myself to sleep on and sitting on the floor in the middle of the giant living room just appreciating the quiet.

The movers weren’t due to arrive till 10am on Friday but I got a call asking if they could move it up to 9am… ummm ABSOLUTELY. And at 8:45am they arrived ready to unload and while I worked my way through e-mails and created a newsletter, they unloaded everything into my new 1,187 sq foot space, not one thing missing or broken! That’s a LOT more space than I realized and all my furniture looked too small… Good thing Mom & Dad were on their way down to help me organize, decorate and check out some new furniture!

The super clutch piece to the whole weekend was the flatbed cart the apartment complex had available to help me move everything in and out. The only casualty of the entire move was a small hair I found wrapped around poor Quilliam’s tiny foot, luckily my bff is a vet with vet friends all over the place and she was able to find me a local team that see’s exotics.

Once the parental support arrived we unpacked the essentials, picked up an aggrivated Quilly, and shopped around until my hangriness got out of hand and we had to check out the restaurant downstairs.

Saturday morning we’d hit the ground running for some big girl furniture. I initially saw this fantastic looking white buffet piece to put my TV on at the Value City Furniture store. I found it in my original apartment search trip, went back to look at it when I arrived Thursday and this was my 3rd trip to the store to confirm I liked it. While I did like it, I was annoyed I couldn’t take it home with me immediately. So after declining to wait for it to be delivered, because I am impatient (and the Kitchen table we were looking at was sold right underneath our noses) I did some googling to find top rated furniture stores in Charlotte.

Welcome to Nadeau! Furniture with my soul captured as soon as I crossed the front door threshold. I was entranced. It was almost an antique setup store with furniture piled on top of each other and on my treasure hunt I went. We were overwhelmed by the amount of quality looking pieces in there, I wanted everything. And after much deliberation between pieces, what I wanted my apartment to look like, the ideas that had been stored in my brain for years and checking prices, I left with 3 items purchased.

We were able to load the small table and the bench into mom’s new car at once, but the buffet would be trip #2. As we excitedly got the pieces into the space I could see it all coming together. I was still bummed about missing out on the other table and was deciding which style I wanted for my very first kitchen table. Circle?! Square?! Rectangle!? If I get a circle farm style table I’d want to move this light a foot over, can maintenance do that? But what if I get a rectangle table? I could slide this bench over and not have to buy chairs? WHY IS ADULTING SO HARD?!

Once I decided on the colors of the first 3 pieces, I knew the style I was looking for but still hadn’t decided on shape. We went back to pick up the buffett and took another look around at the tables and there it was. A beautiful Mango wood rectangular table. I’ve never been more in love with a piece of wood… I’m hoping it lasts me a while. And my jaw about hit the floor when the sales kid told me it was only $289…. I just looked at dad with the most surprised expression while dollar signs flashed in my eyes. Yup. Mine.

We stopped at Home Depot after loading the last 2 pieces and then dad got to work attaching the legs… funny, I’m pretty sure I have the same photo of him putting together my desk 2.5 years ago :) (except this time we didn’t have to load & unload it all ourselves!! WIN!)

Now that I had some new furnishings, it was time to really make this apartment home. On to the decorating we went!

My mind is still boggled by how much space I have. I’m used to living on top of all my posessions. Here, everything is put away. It’s clean, it doesn’t look cluttered, it’s so zen!

Because I have 2 giant walk-in closets, I no longer needed my homemade garment rack, Mom and I decided to turn it into a display/headboard piece for the spare room/office. Yes the air mattress is currently in there until I find a new sectional sofa and move this tiny/semi-broken one in there.

The spare room now is not only my office, but also a reminder of all the fun things I’ve done so far. Mardi Gras items, signed sports stuff, my favorite books, etc.

The last piece of the puzzle was my master bedroom suite. I’m pretty excited to have my bathroom right in my bedroom actually. Again, because of all the space my bedroom is quite empty now that I’ve put everything away. There’s no longer a bike or grill next to my bed, clothes out in the open or crafting flowers laying around.

I legitimately don’t know what to do with myself…. Maybe I’ll add a really cool & fun chair somewhere. I also needed a little extra storage space in my bathroom so I found a cabinet unit at WalMart and put it together after Mom & Dad hit the road.

My first dinner at my very own kitchen table was a turkey sandwich, as was my first lunch. I’ll get to cooking eventually :)

I spent my office day for work on our normal conference call which was very odd because I’m used to waking up and having to get right on the call since I was an hour behind the rest of the team. It’ll take some getting used to having a whole hour before the call now. I actually had time to make coffee!! I set up my office space as well, and started planning out some sales calls for my first few days after I pick up the company car and check out the storage unit.

I’ll make the first 6 hour drive home this weekend for Nugget’s 3rd birthday and Easter. I’m super excited to be back within driving distance from the family. Can’t wait to see what this new adventure brings!

That’s enough adulting for now. I’m tired.

Queen City Oops I did it again...

#Abba Movers #Bourbon Street #Charlotte #Crawfish #Furniture #Hedgehog #Moving #Nadeau #New Orleans #North Carolina #Salvo&039;s Seafood #Tulane Baseball #Value City Furniture

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