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crossbows-and-moonshine · 5 years

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Eat like a damn horse (DarylxReader)

#12 with Daryl? Thank you! I don't mean to spam you all the time, sorry. 💖🧡💖🧡💖🧡💖🧡💖

“You’re a genius with facts, but you’re really stupid with people.”

So this one, I mean I don't even know, it just kind of happened. I have no idea if this is what you wanted, but it happened anyway looool

Also, you’re not spamming me so don't worry, send me all the requests! :D

Warnings; fluff and just playful banter.

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You walked around Alexandria by Daryl’s side, munching eagerly on the bag of peanuts he had found you on a run. They were stale naturally, but like hell you’d pass up that opportunity. It had made you smile that he had thought of you when he saw them, knowing how much of a peanut fiend you were. You’d been with Daryl for a while now. You’d been a part of the group since the quarry and you had become best friends. It was a strange friendship to most people, the surly hunter who seemed to hate everyone took a liking to you right away, taking on an almost role of protector for you and making you ride with him, stick by his side at every opportunity. But it wasn't until after the fall of the prison, when you all reunited (only to almost get munched on by people, living people that is), that you both realised just how deep your connection was to each other. Since then, things had just naturally progressed until you were in an actual relationship. The officialness had always been a bit muddy, you’d not really spoke about it, Daryl wasn't exactly an expert with conversation. But when you got to Alexandria and one of the men started trying to chat you up, Daryl had promptly told him to; “Stop lookin’ at my damn woman or I’ll string ya up by ya damn balls and dangle ya for the walkers.” From then on, it was official, you were his, and he was yours.

“Damn girl, ya gotta eat so loud?” he asked, glancing at you with a smirk, you squinted, popping a few peanuts in your mouth and chewing obnoxiously. He huffed a laugh and shook his head as he casually slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. You smiled to yourself as you relaxed into him. It had taken so long for him to get to the point where he was comfortable with public affection, although you were sure that to him it was more the fact he was staking his claim on you, letting everyone know you belonged to him and they shouldn't even look at you. You didn't care though, you liked his possessiveness and you always relished in the affection he gave you, public or not.

One thing that had surprised you about him was how he was behind closed doors. Daryl Dixon was a cuddler, and the thought almost made you laugh. He was a protector, it was his nature, but sometimes he liked you to take care of him, to lay with his head in your lap as you stroked his hair, and sometimes he would even ask you to sing for him. He loved to just lay in bed with you as he cuddled you, soaking you in. You knew if you ever breathed a word about your manly boyfriend being a cuddle monster, he’d probably rip your head off, so you’d keep that wonderful information to yourself.

“Guess what?” you asked as you looked up at him with bright eyes. You were just aimlessly walking about the town, you always did this, it was nice to enjoy the air and just spend time with him.

“What?” he asked, looking amused, he knew what was coming, it wasn't the first time, but he loved it every time.

“I love you,” you grinned at him, eyes twinkling with mischief. He snorted, shaking his head as he kissed your temple.

“I love ya too, even if ya do eat like a fuckin’ horse,” he teased, actually laughing when you stopped walking and turned to look at him with your mouth agape.

“Fuck you! Have you seen yourself eat? You get most of it on you and not in your mouth,” you huffed, narrowing your eyes as he just grinned at you.

“And that's exactly why we’re made for each other, babe,” he smirked, bumping your shoulder playfully as he walked past you.

You stood there, grumbling under your breath before you caught up to him, giving him a light shove as he laughed. Daryl's laugh was honestly the best thing in the world. Not many people got to hear it, or even see his genuine smile, but you were the lucky girl who got to experience them all of the time and it always made you happy. He had been through so much in his life, even before the world ended, he deserved to be happy, to laugh and smile, and you were always in awe of the fact that you had been the person to help him with that.

You were making your way back to the house when Rosita approached you both, you liked her but you weren't really close or anything.

“Hey guys, have you seen Abe?” she asked, you cringed inwardly, the tension had been awkward since Abe and Sasha became a thing and you felt bad for Rosita.

“Nah, he’s probably bumpin’ uglies with Sasha or somethin’,” Daryl shrugged. You saw Rosita clench her jaw and you mentally facepalmed.

“Great, thanks,” she flashed a fake smile as she walked away. You turned to look at Daryl and shook your head.

“Why did you say that?!” you asked looking mortified. He frowned at you looking confused.

“What? He probably is, it’s all he does these days, walked in and caught an eye full of his ass the other day. Still haven't fuckin’ recovered,” he huffed, grimacing at the image that was forever burned into his brain.

“She's heartbroken Daryl, you don't just say that shit to someone, how can someone so smart be so clueless?” you sighed exasperatedly.

“I ain’t clueless!” he protested, squinting at you petulantly.

“You are when it comes to conversation. You know all this shit about hunting, tracking, surviving. But when you talk to people it's like your brain short circuits. You’re a genius with facts, but you’re really stupid with people,” you stated looking amused.

“Ya can’t just compliment me and then insult me in the same sentence, that shits just rude,” he scoffed, causing you to laugh.

“Oh, it's funny huh? Maybe I should show you just how good with people I am,” he smirked, quirking a brow at you.

“People? What, are we gonna have an orgy?” you snorted, making him pull a face at you.

“Alright, not people. Maybe I am clueless when it comes to people, but its because I don't give a shit. I give a shit about you,” he said seriously, making you purse your lips.

“Don't do that! Don't make me feel bad for insulting you by being sweet!” you whined, he huffed a laugh seemingly pleased with himself.

“I am gonna make ya feel bad. Ya broke my heart. My girl thinks I’m clueless. I might just cry myself to sleep tonight,” he sighed dramatically as he started walking off to the house, turning around and walking backwards a little as he looked at you mischievously.

“Stop it!” you whined again, pouting as you followed him.

“I’m wounded, I don't think I’ll ever recover,” he placed a hand over his heart and you poked his side, causing him to bark out a laugh.

“You’re so full of shit, I insult you all the time. You insult me. It’s how we work,” you snorted as you made your way inside.

“I don't insult you, such a liar girl,” he smirked, flopping on the couch and kicking his muddy boots up on the worn coffee table.

“I’m not the liar you little asshole, you insulted me just before saying I eat like a horse!” you protested with a snort, he just grinned at you devilishly.

“Yeah but that's just facts, and as you said, I’m a genius with facts so obviously I’m right,” he smirked, you scowled at him as you sat next to him.

“You’re insufferable,” you huffed, pouting as you folded your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, but ya love me,” he flashed you a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

“Maybe…” you muttered childishly. He leant over and nuzzled your cheek and you resisted the urge kiss him, trying to still be fake mad at him.

“And ya know I love ya too, eatin’ habits and all,” he grinned cheekily as he kissed the side of your face, his hand coming up and tilting your face to his. His eyes darted to your lips and you found you couldn't even be fake mad at him when he was looking at you like that. A sly smirk spread across his face, seeing you giving in to him, and he captured your lips with his own in a teasing kiss. When he moved away his lips quirked up in a smile.

“You’re mean,” you pouted, your insides felt like mush, they always did when he kissed you like that and you knew damn well he was aware of that.

“Didn't do a thing,” he shrugged, looking all innocent like butter wouldn't melt. You looked at him for a moment before your stomach growled loudly and you blushed brightly as he snorted.

“Hungry again?” he asked with a wry smile.

“Fuck you,” you squinted, your cheeks still flaming.

“No need for that language missy. I’m hungry too, ain't got shit left here since ya ate it all, let’s go raid Ricks,” he grinned mischievously, jumping up from the couch. You rolled your eyes playfully and stood up, following him out and letting him wrap an arm around you as you went to Ricks to eat his food. Maybe you did eat like a horse, but so did he, and like he said, that's why you were made for each other.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon writing #twd #twd imagine #The Walking Dead #the walking dead imagine

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roaminginspiration · 5 years

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A Special Treat

Thank you to @christinecenon for this lovely prompt. :)

Based on Steve’s line “I’d offer to cook you dinner but you seem miserable enough”. Throwback to that time Steve attempted to cook Natasha dinner.

Natasha sighs, lying down in the large couch of the lounge room, as she stares at the moonlight brush across the white ceiling. It is another quiet lonely evening, following yet another quiet lonely day.

The facility resembles an abandoned warehouse since Steve moved out two weeks ago. After the painful two-year anniversary of the Snap, he couldn’t take more of this daily reminder of his powerlessness and their failure. So he left for Liberty Island.

He asked her to come with him of course, but she couldn’t. As sinister as the facility had become, she couldn’t simply leave it — and the memory of the many souls who had walked in it — behind. She knows death better than he does. She has known loss all her life — she can cope living here.

The atmosphere has become heavier since he left, though. Of course, he sends daily texts and drops by for mundane matters from time to time — but never for more than half an hour before he is caught again by the tenacious sorrow which haunts the rooms — and then he is gone again.

She cannot blame him. Things have been hard for all of them. Tony moved on with Pepper to make the most of the second chance he’d been given; Rhodey, being a soldier, couldn’t resist the call of duty…across the globe; and she stayed here to supervise everyone. Because someone had to stay to do it, and it seemed fitting for it to be here. She is the strong one, the one who can shush her grief and swallow it down.

The only hope that keeps her going is to be the first face Clint will get to see when he is finally ready to come back home.

So she works her ass off until this day…well, when there are things that need to be done.

When there isn’t, then she just waits here, barely existing.

She reaches for the tennis ball and throws it up in her, watches it soar into the air and fall back into her open palm. She throws it higher and higher, making sure it stops just a few inches away from the ceiling. If it hits the ceiling, then the ball will jolt away and she will lose control of it.

She can’t lose control of a stupid tennis ball.

It is the last thing she can boast of having under control.

The ball soars higher and higher, and hits the bones of her hand harder every time it falls back down. Her palm is growing sore but it does not matter. Feeling this insignificant pain makes her alive, feeling so lonely is fine; it makes her luckier than half of the Universe.

She swallows hard as her eyes begin to fill up with water. She’s lost count of the night she cried herself to sleep.

It amazes her she still has a stock of tears after the countless she has shed. Who would have thought a Russian assassin could cry so much? She didn’t, until the past two years. Until the past two weeks.

God, she wants to scream but she’s never been taught to express her anger. Not with her voice at least.

The tennis ball almost grazes the ceiling and begins its descent. A thick arm suddenly appears in her line of sight and the hand strongly catches the ball above her head.

“Am I interrupting?” his familiar voice echoes across the silent room.

Natasha looks higher up. Steve bends over and puts his hands down his pockets.

She presses her fingers over her eyes to brush the tears away. But he saw them already — he is just too courteous to make any comment on it.

“Well,” she says, sniffing softly. “Well, after this, I was going to go read a book. So yeah please call and book an appointment next time.”

She jumps out of the couch.

“Steinbeck?” he asks. He knows she liked his books.

She smirks. “Orwell,” she answers.

He nods. “Sounds quite fitting,” he answers.

She walks over to the TV to switch it off. She keeps it mute most of the time, but the sight of fleeting images soothes her, maintains some bleak illusion of normalcy.

“What are you doing here so late?” she asks.

“I had some business to do in town and thought I would make a stop.”

“Missing the warm coziness of hearth?” she jokes humorlessly.

His shoulders move slightly. “Missing the company of an old friend.”

They both pause as she looks at him. His hands are still deep in his pocket. He is wearing dark blue jeans with a casual long-sleeved black shirt and a camel leather jacket. He looks okay, putting aside the visible dark circles under his eyes. She suspects hers look just the same.

The corner of her mouth goes up a little and she snorts. Well, he should have thought about that before moving out.

She won’t tell him, though. She knows he already blames himself for leaving her behind.

“Your old friend is fine,” she says as she goes to slap the cushions into shape to tidy up the couch. “We’ve been tracking some small terrorist group in South Africa. Rhodey is taking care of it.”

“Good,” he comments coolly. “But that’s not what I came here for.”

Right, he retired. It became unbearable for him to pretend what they were doing still meant something. Not after losing to Thanos, the one mission they could not afford to fail.

Natasha feebly leans over to readjust the cushions, and she feels his hand softly hold her arm.

“You’ve been eating well?” he asks with a concerned look. She glances above his shoulder and sees her reflection in the mirror on the back wall. She looks pale.

“I’ve been busy,” she lies. After he left, she realized there was no point in cooking for just a person. Her diet has consisted of snacks at random times of the day, if at all.

“You’ve had dinner yet?” he asks.

She turns to look at him. Her stoic expression stands as an answer. Steve frowns.

He takes off his leather jacket and drops it on the edge of the couch.

“I’m cooking you dinner,” he says decisively.

“I’m not really angry,” she begins.

“Nat. That is not open for discussion.”

He heads over to the kitchen and she follows him reluctantly. Steve walks around the island and opens the bottoms shelves. She goes to sit on one of the high stools by the island, right across from him.

She watches him take a cooking pot out and pick up utensils.

She puts her elbow on the marble surface and props her chin against her knuckles. The sight of him diligently gathering all the ingredients is amusing — and yeah, perhaps a little sexy.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she says.

He rolls up his sleeves and turns on the faucet to wash his hands.

“Well, I used to be a single man living in an apartment in D.C. when I worked for SHIELD,” he turns around and smiles. “I had to feed.”

She bends forward on the island and reaches across.

“Aren’t you going to wear this?” she teases with a smirk, showing him the bright red apron hanging in her hand.

“I’ll pass,” he answers.

He starts peeling carrots and slicing them up.

She grabs the glass of wine he poured her a few minutes before. She sips the red wine, feeling the warm trail the liquid leaves onto her tongue and down her throat.

“Do you need a hand?” she asks.

Steve looks sternly focused on his slicing. She finds it amusing. It reminds her of all those evenings watching MasterChef because it was the only channel working in the lousy motel they stayed in for a week during their first year in the run.

“No. No. I got this,” he answers confidently.

She can see he is trying hard to give her a treat. It is quite cute to watch.

“So, peanuts are the only thing I should avoid, right?” he muses aloud.

“Uh?” she lowers her glass of wine.

Steve takes his eyes off the cutting board. “You know, your allergy to peanuts.”

She leans on both elbows.

“Oh, I only meant allergic figuratively. I don’t like peanuts in any shape or form. The day you see me eat peanut butter will mean I am in the gutter.”

“Noted.” He answers then carries on to slice up the tomatoes.

Forty minutes later, the preparation has been heating up in the oven for half of that time. Steve is washing up the dishes with a towel on his shoulder.

Funnily, she has never seen him so domestic. They’ve eaten a thousand times before but most of the time, it was swallowing down a sandwich over a map or while discussing work. Then after killing Thanos, eating just became a formality; he’d often walk into the kitchen right when she had finished, or vice versa.

It’s funny they would have to have waited for him to have moved out for them to have their first proper meal in eight years. Steve knows she likes though: she noticed he had made sure to only include ingredients she liked. He had even added spices because she liked her food spicy — he didn’t.

Steve is now leaning on the other edge of the island, pouring himself a glass of wine.

The room has grown pleasantly warm because of the oven, and it feels homey.

“No, you didn’t,” she exclaims with half a smile.

Steve smirks. “It’s the truth. A few seconds earlier and he would have walked in on me coming out of the shower.”

They hadn’t talked about Sam in a while. But it somewhat feels right to bring him up tonight. Talking about some of the boisterous moments of their past runaway life sounds anecdotic in the current context.

“And you were naked?” she asks.

“That’s how I tend to take my showers, yeah.”

She tilts her head and rolls her eyes. She doesn’t notice but he is staring intently at her — he finds it cute when she does that thing with her head.

“And he was naked, too?”

“Almost. I shouted just when his pants were coming off.”

“So you saw….little Sam?” she asks. Her face lights up excitedly — perhaps it’s the wine.

Steve nods with a pout.

She puts his hand on his bare forearm. “Why did you never tell me before?” He glances down at it.

“Sam swore me to secrecy.”

She raises her thumb to her mouth and bites it. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”

He rolls his eyes and looks away. Is he blushing? He blames it on the wine.

A strange smell slowly rises into the kitchen. Both their heads spin towards the oven: a dark smoke is slipping through the crack.

“Oh, no,” Steve calls. He puts his glass down and rushes to open the oven. It frees a black cloud of smoke.

He can’t remember where he put the glove but he has to save Natasha’s dinner. He kneels down and reaches for the mold.

“Damn it,” he shouts as he puts it down on the marble surface then jerks his hand away.

Natasha rushes up to him.

“Did you burn yourself?” she asks.

“I’m ok, I’m ok.”

She looks at his hand and sees the swollen redness on his palm. She holds it gently, turns on the faucet and puts his hand under the running water.

“Looks like you earned yourself a brand new band-aid, Steve.”

He sighs heavily as he realizes he has just ruined everything.

A couple of minutes later, he is sitting on the stool next to her, his forearm is lying down on the kitchen island, while she is gently rubbing cream on his burn. She begins to wrap a bandage around his hand.

He can barely hide his frustration. She is chuckling.

“I feel ridiculous,” he eventually voices out loud.

“Oh please, you’re certainly not the first man to burn himself while cooking,” she comments soothingly although with an apparent smile, meticulously wrapping up his hand.

“You were not supposed to look after me, tonight. It was my turn…for once,” he says softly. “I wanted to cheer you up.”

“Well, you did. I hadn’t laughed in a while,” she confesses.

He smiles. “Well, at least I did this right.”

Next, he brings their two plates. Her belly is kind of growling in anticipation. The sight of a hot, ok-looking meal, arouses her long-lost appetite.

He watches expectantly as she takes the fork and pricks a piece. She slightly wets her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue before opening her mouth.

It tastes…terrible. Steve’s eyes are fixed on her.

“It’s…interesting,” she says considerately.

He grabs his fork and tries the food too.

“It’s disgusting and I apologize,” he chimes in far more realistically.

“It’s not,” she assures. “I’ve had worse.”

She covers her mouth with the back of her hand and looks at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it this way.”

She bursts into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. He rolls his eyes then her gaiety affects him, too. He starts laughing as well. Their hearty laughter rings out in the facility, a sound those rooms have not heard in a while.

Or maybe it is nervous. Maybe it is the sound of despair when it has hit rock bottom without any way up. Maybe they’re laughing because it has been a while since they allowed themselves to. Or maybe it’s the wine.

“I thought you were cooking in your apartment in DC.”

“Well, I mostly ordered pizza or Chinese.”

He promises himself he’ll never cook her anything again. That is for her own good.

They both put the fork down and talk till the meal turns cold. They could feed it to the birds but they’re not sure birds deserve such a punishment.

“How’s your hand?” she asks. He looks at his bandaged hand and closes his fist a little.

She brushes her fingertips over the immaculate fabric.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” she says. “I could use the company of an old friend.”

He looks intently into her eyes. Those eyes he has found a liking into staring into the past years.

She knows that. He’s told her how he felt before but she answered she couldn’t. She could not commit to whatever he wanted to start between them.

Perhaps it’s why he left. He needed to start over but she turned down his offer.

She moves to the edge of her stool to get closer to him. It feels good.

Her face is getting dangerously close to his.

“What do you want Steve?” she asks.

“You know what I want,” he answers.

She nods softly. “I once asked you who you wanted me to be and you said you wanted a friend.”

He closes his eyes. He remembers that conversation. A conversation that he cherishes but has grown to abhor over the years.

“I know. But I want more, now.”

Her lips, reddened with the wine, brush against his like a soft caress.

“I can’t give you more than that,” she answers. It would be wrong to start over when so many others lost that chance two years ago.

“It’s not enough,” he answers. “I want all of you.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“You mean my body?” she challenges him with a cocky smirk.

But he is looking at her deeply. “Body and soul.”

Her body slightly jerks away in reaction. “I lost my soul lives ago,” she says. “There is nothing left from it.”

He lifts his bandaged hand up to her face. “I bed to disagree. I see it every time I look into your eyes.”

She shakes her up slightly. “That remains to be proven.”

“Nat, I respect your decision.”

“But you won’t take me to bed tonight and pretend nothing happened tomorrow.”

“No,” he says chastely. “But I want to keep kissing you.”

She looks up at him.

“And tomorrow will be back to normal.”

He purses his lips together. It is not what he wants but it still something he is willing to take. He is ready to pay that price if it means spending a special moment with her tonight — as small a compensation as it is.

He nods, taking her deal. He’ll just have to disappear for a few weeks, to mourn this ‘almost’.

Nat leans in again and he kisses her on tenderly, taking the treat she is giving him.

#romanogers #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #Black Widow #Captain America #writing #A special treat #fanfic #inneedofinspiration #stevenat #capwidow #captasha #steve x natasha

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 5 years

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Chapter 4

Title: Falling for the Holidays

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 4461

Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children. However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: Crack, Language, flirting, and A LOT of FLUFF!

A/N: Oh Gosh! Forgive me for taking so long to get Ch. 4 out. I was ideally trying get this out on Thanksgiving, but things just got so crazy and I entered a block in writing. But here it is, and I’m actually quite fond of it, hope you guys are too! Dedicating this chapter to @dolphincliffs and @claitynroberts who are always, without fail, leaving something nice to say in my inbox about this story. Thank you ladies for the constant support. I appreciate you guys so much!! xx

Series Masterlist

“Oh shit!” He sputtered, before dashing out of his truck to help you. “Shit, Y/N, I am so sorry!” He apologized with earnest.

“Dean, what the fuck, dude?!” You snapped, punching him in the stomach, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to catch him off guard. He grunted, crouching over a little.

“I said I was sorry. I didn’t think you were going to freak out like that,” he mumbled, holding his hand out for you. You allowed Dean to help you up, taking his lending hand. As he got you on your feet, you hissed in pain, wincing as your foot hit the ground. “Y/N, are you okay?” Dean asked with concern.

“N-no. I think I sprained my ankle,” you whimpered, flashing him your sad puppy eyes.

“Fuck. Y/N, I’m so sorry.” You could see the guilt in Dean’s face. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled, raking his hands down over his face, before pushing back up into his hair, messing it up a bit.

“Dean, Dean. Hey, it’s okay,” you told him. When he made eye contact with you, his face quickly shifted into a look of confusion. “I was just kidding.”

“You little shit,” Dean barked with relief, thankful that you were okay. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do, accident or not.

“Now grab my stuff and let’s get this show on the road,” you shouted, already settling yourself in the passenger seat of his Ford truck.

With a wide smile, Dean hopped into the truck and headed onto the road. Thirty minutes into the drive, you started to complain that you were hungry. “Seriously?” Dean deadpanned. “We just left. How about we get some miles in before we stop. It’s a seven-hour drive.

“S-Seven hours!” You sputtered, not realizing how far it actually was. “Dude, we should have just flown there!”

“No. No! We are not getting on those flying death traps!”

“F-flying death traps? What the – don’t tell me you’re afraid of flying?” You smirked.

“Have you ever seen Twilight Zone?” Dean exclaimed. You definitely knew the movie, but that was all it was. There sure as hell wouldn’t be an actual gremlin monster on the wing trying to kill everyone.

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled. “Now, hurry up and drive so we can eat!”

Three hours of nonsense chatter and off key singing, your stomach started to grumble, making you realize that you had yet to eat. Dean gave you a weird look before chuckling. “Sorry, let’s stop at the next Gas-n-Sip and grab something to eat. I need to refill on gas anyways. Sound good?”

“Perfect!”

When Dean pulled into the Gas-n-Sip, you headed into the shop while Dean pumped the gas. “Hey, don’t forget the pie,” Dean reminded over the hood of his pick up.

“Do I ever forget the pie?” You rolled your eyes.

“Actually…” Dean started, but was cut off.

“I was drunk! You can’t expect a drunk to have the greatest memory!” You defended.

“You went in for a drink and my pie, and came out with all this crap, except my pie!” Dean stated in a matter of fact voice.

Rolling your eyes, you promised him that you would not dare forget his precious pie, but he gave you a wary look, as if he didn’t believe you. Entering the small store, you immediately picked up a cherry pie first, so that you wouldn’t forget it later. You then got a couple of drinks, and a sandwich for each for you.

When you returned, Dean was finishing up, and the two of you were back on the road. Dean cheered as he pulled out his favorite food. “Whoa there, big guy. Sandwich first, pie later.”

“What? Why?” Dean pouted.

“Because I said so.”

“Bossy much,” Dean grumbled, taking the turkey sandwich you had picked out for him, while you ate a peanut butter and jelly one.

“Only because I care,” you muffled back with food in your mouth.

After a little sustenance in your bellies, you and Dean continued the drive singing off key to whatever was playing on the radio, and talking about random topics, most revolving around memories of college with your friends.

“Hey, remember that one time we dared Cass to go skinny dipping?” Dean started.

“Oh, god! And he ran out because it was infested with leeches!” You wheezed at the mental image of a very naked Cass running out of the water and flailing about, trying to get the leeches off.

“They were everywhere! I lost it when Jo had to pull off the leech in between his ass cheeks!” Dean snorted.

“Omg, that was the best part! Oh, Cass. I miss his face,” you giggled.

“I don’t. I’d rather stare at a pretty girl,” Dean winked at you, making you roll your eyes. It was such a bad habit to break when it came to Dean. He was the only person that you could completely be yourself with, no filter what so ever.

“Flirt,” you chided.

Before you knew it, you were passing the sign that said, “Welcome to Lawrence,” and you found yourself in a modest town, filled with pretty nice homes. All the nerves that had been pushed to the back of your mind came flooding back like a tsunami and you swore you thought you were going to be sick.

“Hey, remember, just be yourself.” Dean took hold of your hand in reassurance, letting you know that he was right there with you. As grateful as you were, it did little to calm you down.

When he began to slow down, nearing towards one of the houses, you held your breath unknowingly. Dean pulled into the driveway, where there were three other vehicles parked, but what caught your eye was the sleek black classis car. Dean talked about the Impala frequently, saying how one day it would be his.

“Oh, shit balls. I am so nervous,” you blurted as Dean shifted his truck into park, turning it off.

Your best friend didn’t respond, merely jumping out of the truck and grabbing the bags. You followed his lead, getting out of the car and standing next to him. “Y/N, I can feel your anxiety from here, could you just chill out and relax?!”

Annoyed by his request, you shoved him lightly from behind. “Don’t tell me to relax!” You hated when people told you to relax, and Dean knew it. Dean stumbled at the sudden action, causing him to lose balance a little. As he stumbled forwards, you tried to catch him in case the worst happened, but thankfully, his reflexes were better than yours.

“Sorry,” you giggled as Dean looked back at you with feigned annoyance, snickering as he did.

“You dick,” he chuckled out.

“I said I was sorry,” you managed to say.

Sam just so happened to pass the kitchen window when he saw his big brother grabbing the bags from the back seat of his pick up. He noticed you right after, opening the door and stepping out. He could see you and Dean talking, when you suddenly pushed him. Sam’s eyes widened a little, in fear that he was about to witness his brother eat shit, but when it never came and he saw the two of you laughing, Sam sniggered out loud, gaining the attention of his mother and girlfriend.

“What’s so funny?” Mary asked.

“Dean and Y/N’s here,” Sam announced.

In a flash, Mary and Jess were pressed up against the window, shoving Sam out of the way. The two women were over excited to know what you looked like in person. Jess had seen you before when Sam would FaceTime Dean, however, she hadn’t seen you up close and personal.

“She’s so cute,” Jess squealed, running over to the door. Dean was about to knock when the door was flung open and a mop of curls sprung passed him and latched themselves onto you. “Y/N! It’s so finally nice to meet you in person!” She mumbled against your hair.

“J-Jess! Wow!” You replied, laughing as you hugged her back. She was taller and slightly bigger built, but she was beautiful. Pictures and virtual chats did her no justice.

When Jess pulled away, you noticed Sam and an older woman standing at the doorway, a wide smile spreading across her face. “So this is the long awaited, Y/N! Sam and Jess told me all about you! I’m so glad you’re here!” She gushed, making her way over to you and bringing you into a tight, yet warm, hug. “And here’s my handsome boy,” she let go of you to embrace her son.

“Hi mom, it feels good to be back.” The smile he gave his mother was one you had never seen before. It was kind and soft, and it made your stomach flutter. Dean was certainly a mama’s boy.

“What’s all the ruckus?” A deep voice rumbled. At the door stood a tall and hefty man with peppering grey hair. He was strong built and incredibly handsome for an old guy, but finally being able to see the parents of Dean and Sam, it was no wonder why they were so attractive. Dean pulled more of his mother while Sam had a little bit of both.

“DadI Hey,” Dean smiled, walking up to his dad and giving him a hug. “This is Y/N, my b—uh, my girlfriend.”

“Of course! Good to know the Winchester men got good taste in women,” he chuckled. “It’s really great to finally meet you. Mary couldn’t stop babbling to everyone about how Dean finally got a girl.” Your face heated up, unsure if it was the attention you were getting or if it was the guilt eating away at you for agreeing to play charades to deceive them.

You should be happy that they seem to be taken with you, but at the same time, you hate the fact that you were hiding under the façade of Dean’s girlfriend. Your thoughts were interrupted by Dean slinging his arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his chest. “I got you,” he whispered, knowing that you were uneasy.

Entering the house, a wave of aroma came crashing to your senses. “Wow,” you blurted.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Mary asked, while everyone stopped to look at you.

“Oh. It smells amazing in here,” you told the truth, which felt really good.

“Mom’s a great cook!” Dean beamed, obviously proud of his mother’s talent.

“I know of another great cook,” you muttered, poking Dean on his side, the both of you chuckling together like you were keeping a secret.

Mary slipped her hand into John’s, intertwining their fingers as she smiled at you and her baby. In her eyes, the two of you were in love, smitten with each other in the most innocent of ways. In a moment like that, a couple would usually share a peck or two, but when her son pressed his forehead against yours, she knew this was something special. A love slowly in the making. A love that took time and would be everlasting.

“Mom, are you okay?” Sam asked, drawing the attention to her. Mary was near tears.

“I’m fine. I’m just so happy that my boys are here and that their happy. I’m just proud at my little men.”

“Mom!” Dean and Sam groaned in unison, Dean burying his head in the crook of your neck. You couldn’t help but laugh. It was rare to see a shy Dean, and you were going to revel in it and use it against him when the time needed for it.

Once the thrill of meeting everyone simmered down, Mary insisted that John, Dean, and Sam go to the living area while the ladies finished the preparations for thanksgiving dinner. Jess was setting the table while you took out the pies from the oven.

“This smells amazing! You would think, ever since I’ve met Dean, I’d be sick of pie, but every slice shared, is like a pull to the dark side of pie obsession.”

“Slice shared?” Mary questioned, as she paused from peeling the potatoes.

“Yeah, usually, after we finished eating, Dean and I would share a slice of pie.” Mary’s eyes widened. “Why? Is that not normal?”

“Well…” Mary huffed a humorous breath, “Ever since Dean was a kid, he never shared his pie. Not even with me, John, or Sam. Not anyone.”

“R-Really?” You were legitimately surprised. The first time you met Dean, he shared a slice of apple pie with you. “Funny story: when Dean and I first met, he shared a slice of pie with me, only because it happened to be the last slice of the night.”

“Ooh! First meeting story! This I have to hear,” Jess came skipping over, and you laughed at her excitement.

“It was just after my first semester at UT Dallas, and I was a mess. Finals had just ended and I was just stressing about if I passed my classes. On the verge of tears, Dean approached me, asking if I was okay. I explained to him why I needed to pass and stay in school, which is a little odd considering I didn’t even know him, but he offered to buy me a slice of pie to cheer me up. Coincidentally, they only had one left, and Dean bought it, so he offered to share his slice. That was pretty much the beginning of us, or our friendship at least.”

“Wow, who knew pie could bring people together,” Jess joked, you and Mary laughing along.

“The pie was delicious, and I’m pretty sure that was the moment I started to really like pie. Before that, I didn’t care too much for it.”

“You know,” Dean interrupted, popping out of nowhere, “we actually met before then.”

“We did?”

“You did?” Mary and Jess gasped the same time as you spoke.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled.

“When?” You and the other women asked in unison. The three of you giggled, looking at each other before bringing your attentions back to the man who was trying to tell the story.

“Sorry. Go!” Your chirped.

“Okay, well… obviously, by the sound of your story, you don’t remember, but I do. It just started raining cats and dogs and I was soaked head to toe. I ran into Ms. Tea and Coffee Shoppe and you were working. You didn’t even bother to look up from the paperwork you were doing – told me that you guys were closed. When I didn’t leave, that’s when you finally looked at me. I remember how your eyes almost fell out of your eye sockets. You asked if I was okay and made me a cup of coffee… on the house. Then when the rain stopped, I left. But before I did, you gave me a blueberry scone and told me to be safe.”

“Ah, I remember that,” Sam chimed in, suddenly standing beside you, “the cute girl at the coffee shop. Didn’t you say you started going there a lot but she never remembered you or paid you any attention?” Sam teased.

“Shut up, Sammy!” Dean barked.

“Oh! It’s all coming back to me!” You quipped. “Yeah, you were soaked. You came in wearing a hoodie over your head. I thought you were some homeless guy seeking shelter from the rain. I was scared out of my mind when I looked up and saw you. I didn’t want to get robbed so I tried to be extra nice,” you confessed, everyone in the room snickering while Dean stared at you in shock.

“Really? A homeless guy?!” He pouted, his mossy orbs twisting into one of his hurt puppy eyes.

“Oops?” You shrugged apologetically.

“Great. Your first impression of me was that I looked like a homeless guy.”

“Technically, I didn't know it was you. My real first impression was that day at the diner, when you shared that slice of pie with me. I’m not going to lie; it was probably the best pie I’ve ever had.”

Dean smiled down at you before pulling you into a hug. “My girl,” he beamed, while everyone watched, his father included, who was standing by the entrance the whole time. Mary was in awe at how in love her son was. Her eyes shifted to Sam and Jess, taking note of the smile they were sharing. Her boys were happy and that made her happy.

“How’s dinner looking?” John made his presence known.

“Oh! The gravy!” Mary pipped, going back to the stove.

“I still need to finish peeling the potatoes!” You gasped.

“Let me help,” Dean offered.

“Sam and I will start bringing the food to the table,” Jess volunteered.

“And if you guys need a taste tester, I’ll gladly step up to the plate,” John joked.

“No. You always do that and you always spoil your appetite. This is why you’re not allowed in the kitchen, now shoo.” Mary waved the spatula in his direction, making her husband chuckle and raise his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright. I get it,” he mentioned before heading back to the living room.

When everything was set, John said grace and everyone dug in. Mary and John sat at each end of the table, while you sat next to Dean, and Sam and Jess sat across from the two of you.

The food was amazing and the company was… you didn’t even know where to begin to describe how they made you feel. Your heart was warm and you wanted to cry. If this was what a family felt like, then you never wanted to leave. You wanted to always come back here. To this house. To see these people. At that moment, you had so much to be thankful for.

In the midst of all the chattering, you lifted your glass of champagne. “Happy Thanksgiving,” you smiled.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Everyone chorused, picking up their drinks and clinking their glasses to one another’s before taking a sip.

The rest of the night was filled with stories of youth, laughing until you cried, and a lot of champagne. By the time everything was cleaned up and taking turns using the shower, you found yourself finishing up the dishes alone, insisting that everyone relax since they had been preparing everything all day. Dean was in the shower, and you should have everything done by the time it was your turn.

Drying the last plate, strong arms wrapped themselves around you, Dean’s scent wafting through your nose, filling you with comfort. “Hey,” he whispered, placing his chin on your shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You questioned his lack of personal space.

“Mom’s watching,” he mumbled. Scoffing, you placed the last plate in the cupboard before drying your hands and twisting in Dean’s arms so that you were face to face. He smiled dopily, willing his eyes to stay open as long as possible until it was time for bed. “I brought our bags into my old room, the last door on the right. Looks like we’re sharing the bed.”

“Nothing we haven’t done before,” you placed your arms on his shoulders, taking a peek behind his back, and sure enough, there was his mother. “You weren’t kidding. Your mom really is watching,” you giggled.

“Well you better go hit the shower, you stink,” Dean teased.

“Ugh!” You unwrapped your arms from around his neck and rested your hands on your hips. “Oh, ho, ho, Dean Winchester, you are asking for a beating.”

“Is that a promise?” He smirked, wiggling his brows.

“You are such a flirt; you know that? The biggest flirt I know,” you laughed.

“Wait until you get to know my dad a little more. This charm of mine had to start somewhere.”

“Oh god!” You exclaimed, you and Dean falling into mutual laughter.

“No seriously, go and take a shower. You smell like pie, and if you don’t shower now, I’m going to eat you,” he stated, releasing you from his hold.

“Is that a promise?” You winked at him the same way he had done to you, except, you walked away leaving Dean’s jaw to drop on the floor.

“She’s going to be the death of me,” Dean muttered to himself, smiling like an idiot.

As you passed Mary, the two of you shared a smile before you hopped upstairs, heading into Dean’s old room. You smiled when you opened the door. Younger Dean was very much into music and horror movies. There were posters everywhere, a guitar in the far corner of the room, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the tiny hints of cowboys littered around the semi-large space.

Pulling out your bag, you searched for your sleeping clothes only to realize that you forgot to pack some. You were so nervous about the trip to Lawrence and the fact that you had to play Dean’s girlfriend, that it slipped your mind. Cursing to yourself, out of instinct, you checked behind you to see if anyone was there. When you saw no one, you stole a shirt and a pair of boxers out from Dean’s bag, picking up the towel you assumed he had left out for you.

After a refreshing shower and getting dressed, you brushed your teeth. There was a tingling feeling inside you as you appreciated the way Dean had set things up. Your toothbrush and his were laying together side by side. Once you were completely done getting ready for bed, you hung the towel in Dean’s room and headed back downstairs, however, the only person there was Dean.

“Hey, where’d everyone go?” You asked.

“Black Friday shopping,” Dean announced, eyes glued to the Christmas movie he was watching.

“But why?” You groaned. You never liked black Friday shopping. You preferred staying away from the crowds and just buying everything you needed online.

“Tell me about it. Told them that it wasn’t our thing and to go without us.”

“Awesome,” you plopped yourself down next to Dean, his eyes finally finding you.

Dean did a quick double take when he realized what you were wearing. “Are-- are those my clothes?”

“Sorry, I was so nervous about coming here that I forgot,” you sighed.

“Hey, it’s cool. I just wasn’t expecting to see you in my clothes. Looks good.” There it was, the smug grin playing on his face again.

“Why do you do that?” You asked, glowering over the fact he always looked so frustratingly handsome when he did that.

“Do what?”

“That stupid smirk of yours!” Your pointed. “It makes me want to hit you and… you know what? You’re just so annoying.”

“I’m annoying? You wanna know what’s annoying? When you touch me with your ice cube toes!”

“Oh you mean like this?” Your taunted, bringing your feet up and pressing the against his arm.

“Holy fuck! Get those icicles away from me!”

Dean tried to get away, but there was no where he could have gone, so instead, he tackled you onto the couch, tickling your sides until you couldn’t breathe and tears were falling from your eyes.

“Stop!” You managed to get out between your hysterics. “I surrender! Uncle, uncle!” you begged.

Dean stopped, but your laughter took a while to subside, and when they did… you had never realized just how many different shades of green speckled in Dean’s eyes. You never noticed all the lightly dusted freckles scattered amongst the darker ones. You never notice just how beautiful he was up close.

In turn, Dean couldn’t help but be hypnotized by you. Your smile, your deep eyes, soft lips, just all those little details he never really noticed, was up at the forefront and he was trapped.

“Hey,” he whispered, his eyes never once leaving yours.

“Hi,” you giggled.

There was a moment of silence as the two of you stared into each other’s eyes, until Dean broke it, by licking his lips. Your eyes caught the motion, watching as his tongue smoothed over his inviting pink lips. Lost in a trance, you felt hot breath on your lips, which sprung you back into reality.

Dean felt your body tense up against his and he suddenly pulled away. “Uh…” he chuckled, “why don’t we head up to bed?” He suggested.

“Sounds good. Honestly, I’m exhausted. Playing pretend is hard,” you kidded.

“Oh please, you barely had to play pretend. We’re best friends, that’s all we have to pretend to be. And we’ll just throw in a few “couplely” things here and there.”

“You’re right. We might actually pull this off.”

“Alright, c’mon,” Dean lifted himself off of you, standing up and offering his hands.

Taking his hands, he hoisted you to your feet, but he didn’t let go. He kept one hand holding yours as he leads the way to his old bedroom. The act should have been uncomfortable considering, most friends, best friends included, didn’t usually partake in such intimate pleasure such as hand holding in private, but something about it felt so natural. It didn’t feel weird, nor did it shake you in any negative way.

“Dean,” you called out his name, eyes transfixed on your hand in his.

“Yeah,” he asked, stopping in his tracks to look at you.

“Nothing,” you laughed softly.

“Tell me. What’s on your mind?” He pressed, turning his body completely to prove that you had his full attention.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just glad I’m here, even if I’m pretending to be your girlfriend. Your family is so nice, and it beats being back in Dallas alone, so thanks for this.”

Dean couldn’t stop smiling, pulling you close into his chest. “I’m glad you’re here too, Sweetheart.” That nickname. Usually, you hated when he called you that, but this time… the butterflies came to life. “How about you come back for Christmas? I’m sure my mom and Jess would love for you to come back. I know I’d feel a lot better with you by my side.”

“But… this lie…”

“Then don’t lie. Best friends, girlfriends, it’s almost the same thing right?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Almost the same. Just… no touchy,” you booped him on the nose.

“Maybe a little touching,” he teased, poking your sides and making you jolt.

“Dean! Don’t you dare start that again,” you chide, a smile threatening your lips.

“I won’t. Now, let’s go to bed."

Say Something Nice Here!

Falling for the Holidays Tags: @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @winchesterprincessbride @amanda-teaches @dancingalone21 @a-winchester-fairytale @dolphincliffs @oneshoeshort @brewsthespirit-blog @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @atc74 @natasha-baggins @heavymetalhauswife @linki-locks11 @spnwoman @veevm @chameleah86 @kdcollinsauthor @claitynroberts @roonyxx @rainflowermoon @ladylaylo @closetspngirl @mirandaaustin93 @salt-n-burn-em-all @flamencodiva @fangirlanotherjust @tabbyjane

#dean winchester x reader AU #dean x reader #dean winchester #reader insert #dean winchester series #spn #supernatural #Falling for the Holidays #squirrel-moose-winchester

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hotelsweet · 7 years

Note

Hey, I had a random idea that could work as a prompt: AU meet-cute (because I'm a sucker for these) - Jake and Amy are seated next to each other on a flight and Amy is super uncomfortable/ close to freaking out (maybe because of her claustrophobia?) and Jake helps her calm down and they spend the rest of the flight talking? I dunno; random idea is random ^^;

I’MHYPERVENTILATIGN This prompt didn’t just… kill me it leapt off my screen andpunched me in the face!! In the best way possible ofcalso I’m lowkey in the mood for thisbc I’m travelling so much over thenext couple weeks!! I loooovvvveeeee it ok I won’t wastetime let’s just jump into it:

It’s ataround 7:18pm, sat in the airport lounge waiting for her flight, that AmySantiago figures out that she is most likely receiving a death glare from thewoman sat opposite because she hasn’tstopped tapping her fingernails against her passport for the last ten minutes.

As soon as this realisation hits her she snaps out of it,immediately feeling the odd hollowness created by the absence of her nervoustick.

It’s nother fault. Flying is and always has been one of her worst fears- thoughnowadays, she’s mostly been able to subduethe anxiety for the sake of adult life, childhood nightmares of falling fromthe sky long behind her, sometimes it simply gets the better of her.

This, by all accounts, would be one of those times.

Her fingers itch to keep tapping. A light sheen of sweatglistens uncomfortably over her forehead. Her stomach churns, nausea pulsatingunder every centimetre of her skin at the thought what’s essentially a large tin can propelling itself throughthe air until she’s back home in New York.

Focused on the huge plane outside the window, she can’t help the feeling of completehelplessness that fills her.

“Will passengers for the American Airlines flight 481 to JFK pleasebegin boarding…”

A cool, calm female voice echoes through the atrium, andeveryone around Amy begins to move, standing up and organising their thingsbefore rushing over to the gate.

Perhaps she stands up too quickly, but a wave of dizzinessslams into her like she’s beenhit by a car.

Despite the collected, sweet voice that instructs her andeveryone around her, she can’t helpthe bitter irritation that brews within her at the thought of this flight. Whenit’s bad, it’s really bad;claustrophobia, social anxiety, the works. A complete tapestry of anxiety.

With a sigh, she picks up her bag and heads towards theboarding gate, waiting patiently in line with everyone else.

Inwardly, as she pats away the sweat on her forehead, sheprays she’s not sitting next to a totalasshole.

***

As luck would have it, she is, in fact, sat next to a totalasshole.

“Hey, Angie?! Could I get,like, a whole bunch more of these nuts? I’m supersnacky.”

Sat up on his seat like a little kid, the man sat next toher, in the window seat, beams toothily at the flight attendant- who, to Amy’s disgust, giggles softly at him witha nod, before heading towards the back of the cabin. He’s tall, dressed in a leather jacket with a hoodieunderneath- like he can’tdecide whether he wants to be an adult or a teenager, she thinks. Annoyancestirs within her at the entire image of him, and only partially because she hasa select and precise loathing for men who speak to female employees as if they’re friends.

Since he’sarrived, squeezing past her into his seat, he’sfiddled loudly with his little TV screen, chatted to the cabin crew like they’re his college buds, and hummed theentirety of what she’sfairly certain was a Coldplay song. She’s neverseen someone so unapologetically cheerful and friendly.

He must catch the side-eye she’sgiving him, because after he’s sathimself back down, his attention keeps coming back to her, looking at heroddly, a combination of interest and confusion in his expression.

She tries to ignore it, the way he’s unabashedly observing her in public, watching her gothrough each of her electronic devices and turn them off. His gaze burns intoher, completely unashamed, until she actually finds herself becomingfrustrated. He must be used to this, being able to look at and speak to whoeverhe wants- he’s pretty good-looking, andclearly a confident guy. Somehow, this only makes her want to scold him more.

“Can I help you?” She asks him sweetly.

“Y’know, you don’t actually need to do that,” he says matter-of-factly, noddingdown at her lap, in which sits her laptop, her phone, and her iPod, all now shutoff or on airplane mode.

“What? Yes, you do,” she says, “otherwise why would they ask you to?”

“Because it’s not actually dangerous, it justmakes an annoying noise over the radar when they’retrying to fly.”

“Well, then,” she says, smiling coolly, “I guess I just have a shred of commoncourtesy.”

He doesn’t replyto this, instead raising his eyebrows indignantly and sitting back in his seat.She glances over at him, just once, to see if he’sreacted- but all that remains on his face is a slight expression of amusement.It’s just on the brink of irritating, asthough her speaking back to him is funny somehow.

Quietly, she opens her bag in her lap, and begins to dig forher Ambien and a bottle of water. Her fingers find the bottle, pulling it outof the bag- but, to her horror, the pills are nowhere in sight.

“No, c’mon…” shemutters to herself as she begins to dig through her bag more urgently.

Annoyance and another dollop of anxiety smacks her gutharshly as she realises she’s aboutto sit here, for six hours, next to this dude,without anything to calm her down. She could always soothe the nerves with somewine, but right now she’drather do anything than bring that flight attendant back to her.

A soft dingsignifies the seatbelt sign coming on for the first time- Amy’s stomach twinges with nerves, eventhough this fits the order of things, the bustle and hubbub of people settlinginto their seats having died down. The little screen in front of her lights upand begins to play a safety video, and several flight attendants file into theaisles to begin their demonstration.

“I’m Jake,” theman next to her says quietly as she watches the hostess in front of them.

She smiles politely at him then looks back towards thehostess. It’s not that he seems genuinelyawful, or anything- even if he has been mildly irritating in the half an houror so they’ve spent together- but shejust could not be in less of a mindset to make a friend; even chatting feels alittle too much of an effort to push her head into right now. Judging by theway he was talking to that attendant, there’s alsothe chance that he’s about to start flirtingwith her, which she really can’t deal with right now. So, as far asshe’s concerned, the best option issilence.

“Okay, I’m sorry for picking on you when youput all of your electronics into airplane mode. I have a reflex where I can’t help but pick on dorky littlethings like that.”

“Are you sure that was anapology?” She narrows her eyes andturns to him. He looks at her candidly, like he’sgenuinely undecided. It’s atthis exact moment that she realises he’sharmless, going from one goofy expression to the next like a teenager.

“I guess I’m a little out of practice,” he admits, a small chuckle risingfrom his throat.

“Right.”

Though she’slooking forward at the air hostess, she allows herself a small smile now, as itbecomes clearer and clearer that, immature as he could be, his main issue as aperson seems to be being overfriendly.

“I’m Amy,” sheoffers.

“Amy,” he repeats, smiling. “Nice tomeet you.” He offers his hand, whichshe shakes firmly. “Good shake,” he comments.

“I’m well-practiced,” shesays proudly. Momentarily, she spots confusion dart over his face, but sheignores it- she doesn’t owehim the wild stories of her handshake seminars, not yet.

“So what’s bringing you to New York?” He asks quietly, after a moment.

“Sorry, I just-” she cuts in over him awkwardly, “I want to listen to this,” she says, looking between him andthe safety demonstration.

“Right,” he says, and she turns back to watch. Only a couple ofseconds pass before he’stalking again. “I can only assume this isyour first ever flight, because there’sliterally no other reason to be that invested in an airline’s safety guidelines.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” shereplies, “but do you ever stop talking?”

“I guess not,” he says, throwing a peanut in theair and catching it in his mouth. “Nut?”

“I’m good.”

“Your loss.” He throws another in the air.

“Oh! You’re not wearing your seatbelt,” she realises out loud, the concernin her tone immediately making her a little self-conscious.

“Oh, right,” he mutters, clicking it into place. “Forgot.”

Forgot? Shewatches him fiddle with it, then go into his hand luggage, pulling out a bottleof Gatorade, from which he takes a hefty swig. She can’t help but feel a little sick at this- it’s 8:30 in the morning, and thethought of any beverage other than coffee is too much for her.

He’sunlike anyone she’s ever met before- adecent-looking man, likely around her age, with the habits and chatter of afive-year-old.

Distracted by him, she almost jumps when the plane’s engines begin to rumble, graspingfirmly onto the arm rests of her seat as they do.

“Woah,” Jake murmurs, and Amy’s notsure whether it’s a genuine reaction or beingsaid in a bid to reassure her somehow. Either way, she doesn’t care. “Y’okay?”

“Yeah, just took me bysurprise a little,” she admits.

“Sir,” that flight hostess’s voicereturns again, directed towards Jake, “if Icould request that you close your tray table.”

“Sure, smort,” he replies hastily, smiling up ather.

“Smort? Very smooth,” Amyjibes as soon as the hostess is out of earshot. He narrows his eyes. “Y’knowshe’s essentially paid to flirt with you, right?”

“For the record, I find itvery hurtful and presumptuous that you’reassuming I’m trying to flirt with her.”

“Please, it’s all you’ve done since you stepped onto this plane.”

“How d’you know that?”

“I don’t, obviously, I just mean… y’know, you’re-” Shestammers, irritated by the small smile this evokes from him.

The plane jumps as something kickstarts in the engine, and,startled, Amy’s grip on the arm reststightens- she looks out of the window, and notices that they’re at the start of the runway. Atonce, both fear and gratitude seeps into her system- fear, in response to thefact that she’s about to be launched 35,000feet into the air, and gratitude in response to the fact that, by some miracle,Jake has kept her distracted from it all for the last ten minutes or so.

“Cabin crew, please take yourseats for takeoff…” A low voice comes throughthe ceiling, raspy as though playing through a radio. Panic strikes into Amy’s chest.

“Talk to me,” she hears herself saying to Jake,before she’s even thought about it. “Please.”

She’sexpecting a joke, a look of confusion, or at least a smartass reply back- butinstead, his nonchalant expression changes immediately into one of concern.

“Sure, sure,” he starts, “Uh. You never said why you’regoing to New York.”

“I’m going home,” shesays quickly, as the plane starts to move. “I livein Brooklyn.”

“Nice,” he replies, “I livein Williamsburg.”

“Hipster-ville,” she says, without hesitation. To hersurprise, he laughs.

“I was about to argue back,but someone opened a cronut store opposite my apartment the other week.”

“A cronut store? As in, just cronuts?”

“Yeah. They’re not even that great. And I’d know- I once ate nothing but pastryfor three days”

There’s apause, and Amy’s eyes find the window, wherethe plane is now picking up speed along the runway. Jake must notice this too,because he tries to pick up conversation again rather hurriedly-

“Roommates?”

“What?”

“D’you have ‘em?” He smiles, in what must be at leastpartial disbelief, at the sudden, high-paced conversation they’re having.

“Yeah, three!”

“Three?!”

“Yeah,” she laughs nervously, “I’m kind of low on cash. I’m training at the Academy right now-I want to be a cop, so I’mcommuting, and training, and working, and… what?” She stops at the only slightly gorgeous grin he’s giving her right now.

“You’re at the Academy?”

“Yeah,” she says slowly.

“No way. I’m a cop! I finished my training acouple years back.”

“Are you kidding?” She asks seriously, completelyunable to picture this man-child in uniform.

He starts to answer, but the plane leaves the ground, andshe can’t help the small gasp thatescapes her.

“It’s okay, don’tworry.” His voice is calm, natural,quiet- just for her. By some miracle, it works, even if only by a little, herbody settling into an out-of-place calmness. “We’re good.”

“Keep talking,” she pleads, only slightlyembarrassed now by her evident vulnerability with this man, a total stranger. Nevertheless,she smiles over at him, thankful for his reassurance.

“Oh, right- so, yeah, I’m working at the 90.”

“Beat cop?”

“Yeah. Hopefully a detectivein a few years.”

“That’s exciting,” shesays, but she’s got her eyes closed, tryingto quell the dizziness caused by the rapid ascent of the plane. He chucklessoftly- she presumes at her attempt to hold a conversation with her eyesclosed- and though normally she’d feela little put out by this, she can’t helpbut laugh along with him.

Of all the things she thought she’d be doing on her flight, feeling her lungs fill withlaughter as she took off was not on the list.

The plane lifts, and lifts, and lifts- and then it doesn’t, gliding through the cloudsseamlessly.

A small dingalerts her to the seatbelt sign, which has just turned off.

“So, you’re not big on flying, huh.”

The remark comes a little while after they’re in the air. She’s breathing slowly- the conversationwith Jake died down a few minutes ago, after the plane became more stable inthe air.

She glances over at him, feeling sarcasm brim in her throat-but his expression is soft, of genuine concern.

“No,” she half-laughs. “I’m not.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s just so…annoying. I know, logically, that I’m fine,but it just creeps up on me, I guess.”

“It happens. Sometimes youjust need a distraction.”

He looks over at her, smiling.

“Right,” she says, meeting his gaze.

A pause lingers between them for just a moment.

“So,” he begins, eventually, cutting the tension. “How’s theAcademy?”

“Intense,” she offers quickly, “but I like it.”

“Some of those old drillsstill haunt me,” he shudders. She laughs,relaxing a little. “What do you want to do?”

“Ideally? Captain of my ownprecinct.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah,” she replies proudly, smiling lowly.

“For the record, youdefinitely seem like a Captain.”

“Really?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“You’ve known me for like, half an hour.”

He smiles, but just as his lips part and he begins to speak again,the plane jolts harshly, the first knock of turbulence.

Amy’s handsshoot straight back to the armrests on either side of her chair, one firmlygrabbing Jake’s arm. She lets go quickly,looking over at him apologetically. He looks as though he’s about to start talking again,reassure her- but he gives up, and only smiles.

Nerves spill into her system like electricity.

This time, it’s notthe plane.

***

“Such a good movie,” Jake murmurs as Die Hard’scredits begin to roll in front of them.

His voice is almost too close- after a couple hours ofconversation, spanning from everything from her seven brothers to his absentpilot father to the best cop movies of all time, they’d decided to watch DieHard, Jake’s favourite and bid for thenumber one spot. However, this had meant picking whose screen to use. She’d suggested hers for two reasons: sothat she’d not have to lean againsthim, and so that she’d nothave to lean any closer to the window, and risk seeing that stomach-churningheight outside. So now, as he speaks, he’spractically in her ear.

“Are you… crying?”

“No, duh,” he replies, sitting back, buthis voice has cracked slightly, exposing him. She can’t help but chuckle. “It’s a deeply personal film to me.”

“I can see that,” she says, unable to keep her smileoff her face.

“Hey, you don’t get to tease me about gettingemotional.”

“What? Why?”

“Earlier? When I mentioned theorange soda thing? You freaked out.”

“Putting it in your cereal isobjectively disgusting!”

“Oh god, I shouldn’t have brought this up again.”

“You should not be as fit as you are.”

“I’m fit?” Hegrins.

“Not… I didn’t mean…”

“Kidding.”

She nudges his shoulder and sits back in her seat. Heatrises in her cheeks- she can feel him looking at her even though she’s turned away, and suddenly she’s wishing she’d worn literally anymakeup, or perhaps something more form-flattering than a giant sweater and apair of leggings.

“How’re you feeling?” Heasks after a moment.

“Better,” she says slowly, and she means it-she’s tired, certainly, from the stressof the morning, but otherwise, she’sfeeling pretty good. Plus, she’s madea friend. “How long left?”

“Uh…” He flicks on his screen. “Woah.An hour and a half.”

“Seriously?!” She looks over in amazement. “That’sincredible. Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“For keeping me distracted.”

“Oh, right. Don’t worry about it. For the record, it’s been pretty enjoyable.”

She smiles gently. He’s notbad. Not at all.

“Excuse me,” an older voice comes from the seatin front of them. An elderly woman, easily in her seventies or eighties, hasher head poking through the gap between her seat and the one next to her. “Excuse me.”

“Hi,” Amy says slowly, in some disbelief, sharing a brief lookof confusion with Jake. “Can wehelp?”

“It’s just, I’ve beenlistening to the two of you, for the last couple hours,” she admits easily, prompting another shared look betweenJake and Amy. “And I was wondering if Icould ask you something.”

There’s abrief pause as they wait for her to ask- at which point it becomes clear thatshe’s genuinely asking for permission.

“Go ahead,” Jake says, after a second.

“When in the hell are yougoing to ask her out?”

***

As the plane plummets to the ground, swooping so fast Amy’s ears pop, her hand is claspedfirmly over the warm arm of one Jake Peralta, a man she has known for sixhours.

Her eyes are closed, and every thought in her head centres onthe feeling of where she holds him. For the first time in her life, she’s finding her flight’s landing remarkably tolerable.

Eventually, a bump tells her they’re on the ground- then, gradually, bit by bit, they slowdown.

With a deep breath, she begins to completely calm down,opening her eyes and turning to the kind, friendly, attractive man sat next toher- for a moment, she wonders how, today, she got so lucky.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to New York. The current local time is5:30pm…”

“Okay, so I guess this is it.”

“I guess so,” she agrees.

They watch each other quietly for a second- then,simultaneously, break out into huge grins, mirroring each other giddily.

“So…”

“See you at eight?”

“Sounds good.”

#lol I loved this prompt thank you #took me ages for some reason???#I've got like 20 prompts in my inbox and I've not done any of em #even tho I really want to #I'm a numb-nut #thank you <3 #asks #prompts #my writing #jake x amy #b99 #b99 fic #theartofdreaming1

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littlebitofeverythingphff · 7 years

Text

Chapter 15

A/N: I am happy to provide you guys with another chapter! I had a blast writing this and hope you guys enjoy just as much as I did! Without further wait... here ya go!

Her feet carried her faster through the dispersed trees, feeling the sun beaming through the branches she ran harder. The soles of her feet carried her farther, closer to her unknown destination. Following the beaten path through the trees she saw an opening.

A smile spread across her face as she saw the broken down structure sitting lifeless amongst the trees. Her feet gently slowed to a walk stepping carefully around a set of rocks towards the tree house. She stood still taking in the view. Standing on her tippy toes she reached her hand up, running along the smooth wood that help kept the structure in perfect memory.

Flashback*

“Reid I cannot climb it!” Adalyn jumped up and down attempting to get a grip of the boards but she was just not big enough yet. “Reid!” She yelled one more time. Reid looked out the window down at his little sister. “Come on Addy, do it yourself!” he mocked her from up above. Lila appeared through the window and joined in with Reid’s laughter.

Adalyn was not only the youngest, but also the smallest of her siblings, but she was determined that whatever they could do, she could as well. She bent her knees and jumped as high as she could reaching up into the sky only to miss the first rung of the ladder to the tree house. Determined to make it she kept jumping stretching her arms out nearly grasping the wooden rung.

Her father and grandfather had just built the structure for the children to play with that summer. Her father brought his children to his parent’s farm for the summer, needing an escape from their home in London.

Her siblings started to laugh and point at her making her feel smaller than she already was. Adalyn huffed and crossed her arms turning around from their teasing glares and pointy fingers that dug deep into her. Why wouldn’t they just help her? She saw the pond and went running for it full tilt until the edge of the water threatened to soak the points of her shoes.

Sitting down at the edge of the pond she crossed her arms bringing her knees close to her body. The tears started to fall as her tiny body shook. All she wanted was to play in the tree house like her older siblings.

Moments passed as she continued to let the streams of hurt tears roll down, staining her cheeks. The ground shook a little as someone sat down beside her. She lifted her buried head turning to her side. “Alexander?” she asked brushing the tears away clearing her blurry vision.

Her eldest brother had found her sitting by the pond and came to join her. Having had a huge age difference he was quite older than she, but the two of them always got along well. “Addy, why are you crying?” he placed his arm around her and pulled her body close to him in a protective stance.

Adalyn told him through sobbing breaths. “I am just tooo little Alexander. I cannot climb. I cannot make it up the tree!” She talked with her hands mimicking her height. Alex stood up and offered his hand to his little sister. Taking it he pulled her to her feet.

“Come with me Addy.” He turned and walked towards the tree house with his hand holding hers tightly. Alex glanced up into the tree house and saw Lila and Reid playing inside. “Reid! Lila!” he yelled in an angry tone catching their attention hastily.

Their heads shot out of the window immediately looking fearful as they locked eyes with their older brother standing beside Adalyn. “Why didn’t you help Addy get up there so she could play?” He asked fearlessly, tapping his foot impatiently waiting for their reply.

“If she cannot climb up its her problem not mine!” Reid fought back staring down his older brother. Alex dropped Addy’s hand and found a piece of wood lying around. Grabbing the tools that his father had left out he made a step for Adalyn to climb up and reach the wooden pegs that hung off the tree.

“There you go Addy. Now climb up there and play!” He beamed with pride smiling down at his little sister seeing her green eyes light up at his gesture. Adalyn ran forward and wrapped her arms around his legs hugging them with a profound grip.

“Why did you help me Alexander?” She peeked up at her brother and smiled happily. Alex’s hand rubbed her back in a circular motion feeling proud of how he changed his little sisters frown into a smile. “Because Adalyn, we are family and family never gives up on one another.” He beamed down to her.

End Flashback*

That was the summer that had changed everything for the Mackenzie family. One day her father had packed up his children and sped off to the countryside west of London without any warning. Adalyn was too young to understand why, but what she could remember was that her mother did not join them.

Standing up from the dampened grass she continued to walk through her grandparent’s property. Addy had come here to get away from the London life for a mini break. Needing some time to herself she escaped to her safe place.

She breathed in a breath of fresh air feeling the rising sun starting to warm up her skin. Closing her eyes gently she felt that calming effect of the nature she surrounded herself in. This was where she came when she needed to clear her mind, nature had funny way of doing that.

The past few days Addy felt an overwhelming stress from all angles of her life. She had not heard from Harry over two weeks time and had no way of knowing if he was surely ok. Addy had even reached out to Luther who had become uncharacteristically quiet on his part making her fears grow.

Chance. There was no end to him. Each step they took with them only brought them 3 steps backwards. After a follow up appointment with Dr. Connors it was revealed that the damage had accelerated and they needed to find a prosthesis leg quick as the other option was too unbearable for Adalyn to even comprehend.

Chance had stolen a big piece of her heart. He comforted her in the cold nights alone, feeling his furry warm body snuggle tightly next to her. No matter how hard her day was he was waiting there at the door for her with sloppy puppy kisses and unending love.

Hearing the crunch of broken branches beneath her feet she continued on through the trees walking aimlessly around, her destination unknown. Her feet brought her to the pond that had grown through the years, expanding in all directions. Slowly lowering herself down onto the grass beneath an over hanging willow tree Addy settled down comfortably.

Resting her back against the hard uneven bark she closed her eyes listening to the still of the water crash gently against the break in the ground. The birds sang a peaceful song chirping to each other. Her head slowly laid back allowing her a better depth of breath.

Flashback*

Addy pushed her chair into the table hearing the screech of the chair on the wood flooring of her grandmothers dining room floor. “Are you finished my dear?” Her grandmother Florence asked with concern noticing a single bite taken from her peanut butter toast.

Nodding quietly she rubbed her tired eyes. “Yes nana.” Addy walked around the table through the kitchen finding her father sitting quietly with his head resting in his hands. Her grandfather was leaning in towards her father speaking in a whispered tone to him.

“Daddy?” her sweet voice caused her father to lift his head staring at his youngest child. Taking a few cautious steps towards him she watched his hands wipe away at his face, brushing the tears that had fallen from his eyes.

“Come here Addy.” Her father spoke in a defeated tone. He grabbed her hips lifting her up to set her down on his knee. Looking up at her father she saw a small tear escape at the corner of his eye trickling down slowly onto his cheek. Reaching up with her tiny hand she patted his cheek dry. Smiling at her simple loving gesture she eyed him carefully.

“Don’t cry daddy. Why are you sad daddy?”

Her body leaned up against his protective frame waiting for his reply. Carlson sat there in silence not knowing what to tell his clever daughter. She was too observant for her own good. He looked across to his father pleading him to say something to distract his daughter.

“Addy, daddy needs some quiet time. Why don’t we go check on the horses?” Addy turned her body to look back at her grandpa. Shaking her head no she didn’t want to see them tonight. She wanted her daddy.

“Addy just go with him!” Carlson snapped at her refusal causing her to jump in his arms. Her eyes grew wide with curiosity knowing that her father rarely yelled at her.

“I want to go to sleep daddy….” She quietly spoke sliding down off his knee. Adalyn grabbed his fingers with her hand wanting him to come tuck her in. Squeezing it gently he complied easily regretting his sudden outburst.

“Go get on your jammies and I will come read to you.”

Adalyn took off with a smile running down the hall towards her room she shared with her sister Lila as she nearly ran into her grandmother coming out of the washroom.

“Easy my little bean!” Addy ran around her floral skirt dodging her hug being too excited for a bedtime story from her father.

Carlson sat on the edge of Addy’s bed pulling the covers up over her small frame snuggly wrapping the blanket around her. She grabbed her one eyed white bear, a stuffy she could never sleep without. Her soft smile tore into him knowing that in time that would fade once she learned the truth of her mother.

“Daddy is mommy coming to kiss me goodnight this time? She hasn’t in forevvvver!” Addy giggled lightly at her father trying to make him smile. Those words broke his already shattered heart. How was he to explain to this splitting image of his wife that her mother was not coming home anymore to her?

That Addy would never get that goodnight kissed she asked for every night this week. That when the morning came she wouldn’t get to see her mother waving bye at the start of a school day for her. How was he to break a six year olds heart by a few simple words?

Anger had replaced his love for Vivian at what she was selfishly doing to her own flesh and blood, to her four children that loved her unconditionally. His hands began to shake at the mere thought of the woman who too had broken his heart. Not knowing what to do anymore he packed up the kids and fled to the only place he knew they would be safe.

Taking a deep calming breath he looked into the depths of his daughters green eyes as she clutched her stuffed bear tightly. “Addy…” he started, the words catching in his throat not wanting to tell her what was coming.

“Mommy is not going to be here anymore.” The words rolled off his tongue gently trying to soften the blow on her. Watching carefully he saw the confusion starting to form on her innocent face. Sitting up in the bed she crossed her legs hugging her bear tightly. Looking up again at her father with the same eyes that her mother had she questioned him.

“Where did she go daddy? She always kisses me goodnight.” Shards from his broken heart cut through his chest at her innocent words. Adalyn loved her mother more than anything in this world and now he was the one to tell her that her mother did not feel the same.

“Addy. Mommy left us all. She is not coming back to kiss you goodnight for a really long long time….” Carlson let the words sink in not wanting to believe them himself as if speaking them made it more a reality than it already was.

“But daddy…” Carlson could see tears forming in her eyes, her expression still confused as if her mind was unable to comprehend the thought of her mother leaving her. Seeing his six year olds heart break right in front of him ripped through his chest vowing to do his absolute best to never ever cause this harm to her again.

He hated Vivian for what she had done to his family. Leaving him behind to care for them on his own. His four kids motherless, not by the fact on an unspeakable tragedy, or a life taken too soon, but purely for her own selfish reasons leaving a wake behind her that would cause a ripple in their life for years to come.

A family destroyed by the one whom they all had loved.

End Flashback*

Adalyn flashed open her eyes wiping away a stray tear that had fallen at the memory of that night. From this day, Addy had not seen her mother again. There were rumours that she had moved to the states a few years back, but no desire within her probed the thought of finding her. Her mother did not deserve to be in their life after what she had done.

The calm inside her she was seeking dissipated, the wind carrying it away from her. Tousling her brunette locks in every direction she stood up in search of some shelter from the cool morning breeze. Wrapping herself in her sweater her teeth chattered feeling the wind chilling her to her bones.

Having woken up at the crack of dawn Addy was unable to fall asleep. Her mind plagued with thoughts that threatened her sleep day after day. Deciding to try and get some clarity she went for a run hoping that her mind would stop thinking for a moment.

Adalyn wished desperately that she could go back to the days of innocence. When she had no care of the world and her only problem was not being able to tie her shoes properly. When did her life start taking this undue course allowing people in her life, the ones who loved her and knew her best hurt her the worst. How did she allow this to happen to her time and time again?

Why did her mother, why did Jake think that it was alright to hurt her the way they did. Breaking her confidence in people time after time, not knowing how to trust anymore. How did she allow these people to toy with her emotions like she was a puppet on a string dancing to the beat of their drum and not hers?

No matter how hard Adalyn tried to forgive them she simply could not find it within in her heart to do so. The pain at the memories of them burned a mark on her heart, not being able to forget the hurt they had caused her. Deep within she knew that in time she would have to, as they would continue to hold her prisoner until she did.

Her past continued to haunt her everyday life no matter how hard she tried to bury it. The fragments of her memories were easily brought to her mind in a place like this that held so much meaning to her, to her younger self.

Flashback*

Adalyn glanced around at the numerous soldiers saying their goodbyes to their families, wondering which ones would be saying it for the last time. When her brother, Alexander, had told his family that he had enlisted to serve in the British Armed Forces it was a shock to their system. She could not truly believe that he would ever join the war against terrorism in the sand filled place of Iraq.

Her arms were crossed defensively; her head lowered as she listened to the goodbyes her family gave Alex. Standing there silently, sixteen-year-old Addy, as stubborn as she was had refused to have any part of it. If she did not have to say goodbye then it really was not happening. To her, Alex was leaving her family needlessly for a war that had nothing to do with him. Why was he needing to go and risk his life, what did he owe to them.

Alexander had been watching his sister with a careful eye knowing that this was not the simplest thing for her to do. Her stiff body was planted frozen in the hangars cement flooring, her eyes refusing to see one of her fears come to light once again. A family member leaving needlessly or what she thought was needless.

Releasing Lila from a warmth filled hug Alex stepped towards her knowing how best to handle this situation with Addy. Alexander had become quite like a parent figure to her, having six years separating them, despite that they were closer than the rest of their siblings. Her fathers absence in her younger life made her rely on Alex, none of which his father had ever wanted him to carry the burden of.

When his mother first left he picked up the pieces with his siblings becoming a ‘parent’ at the young age of twelve, but he would never blame his father for that. He provided for his family and did the best he could in raising them.

Alexander had enlisted in the army in his own right. He wanted something that was his, something that he himself had worked hard for. It was difficult to explain the way the military made him feel, the camaraderie of the ones he served with felt like a second family to him.

“Addy?” He voiced hoping she would lift her head from the spot in the ground she had fixed her eyes on. “Pistol. Come on…” he coaxed her again calling Addy by the nickname he gave her as a child. Her feistiness and sharp wit ceased to amaze him, hence the nickname.

Her green eyes tenderly lifted as he held them hostage with his. He could see the tears bubbling at the surface, threatening to over pour. Alex knew how internally hard she was battling to keep them at bay.

Setting his military issued bag down on the ground beside them he turned to his father with a knowing look. Reaching out he grabbed Adalyn’s hand and led her to a quiet place outside the hanger where the two could say their goodbye in private.

His heart broke hearing the words fall out of her lips pleading with him.

“Don’t go Alex.” Her voice laced with worry for him as she looked up at her tall brother that towered over her in height.

Alexander sighed deeply getting down to kneel on one knee. Silence fell between them as he searched for the right words to tell his sister not knowing how to explain that he needed to do this for him. How was he supposed to tell Addy that he needed to go for his own selfish reasons, something which was linear in projection of what his mother had done, but in a way was a different outcome

“Listen Pistol.” His eyes locked with hers that eagerly waited his reply. “I need you to take care of them for me alright? I need you to keep doing well in school and stay out of trouble. That means no kissing boys until I come home got it?”

A light giggle escaped her lips at his last comment. He had caught Adalyn making out with a guy from school in their basement to which of course his protective older brother instincts came a light. Addy smiled up at him giving her older brother what he needed in that moment. She didn’t want him to see her cry and be upset that he was leaving, the only thing she wanted was for him to come home and this not be their last goodbye.

“I will if you promise me this isn’t goodbye….” She trailed off staring into the depths of his eyes searching for an unspeakable answer knowing that he could not fully guarantee that promise.

“I promise Addy. I will be safe and this is not goodbye. You know what!” He placed his hand on his knee standing himself up. “Let’s not say goodbye, let’s just say see you later like we always do!” His smiled widened at the thought knowing that it would make things easier for her.

A small smile tugged hard at the corner of her lips that eventually pulled into a cheerful grin. “I like that idea!”

“Now give me a hug Pistol.” He enveloped her into a warm tight embrace feeling her arms wrap around his body. This was Addy saying her goodbye, the only way she could handle how to. He felt her squeezing him as hard as she could trying to make this moment last, committing it to memory.

Leaning down he kissed her forehead gently “I love you Addy. You know that. I am expecting you to write to me all the time and send me those paintings you are working on.” Knowing that he would barely have enough time to talk he had promised her that they would write letters to each other and keep in touch.

Breaking apart he grabbed her hand and led her back to the rest of their awaiting family. Carlson caught their sights giving Alexander a worried expression wondering how his youngest daughter was handling Alex’s impending departure. Giving his father a simple nod and smile he communicated that it had been handled.

Adalyn waved proudly watching her big brother climb the steps to the massive plane that carried the soldiers to and from the war. Alexander made it to the top to the stairs and paused, allowing Addy one last wave and glance before he disappeared in the confines of the plane.

Her family amongst many, waited until they took off, sending their love and thoughts with them waiting for the day of their return.

End Flashback*

Adalyn climbed the wooden steps of her grandparent’s front porch. She had wandered well into the early morning and eventually made it back to the house. Not wanting to wake her grandparents she sat down on their porch swing bringing her legs up beside her she made herself comfy.

The screen door flew open startling her at the sudden intrusion of her thoughts. Her grandfather walked through holding a warm cup of coffee just the way she had liked it. Handing it to her she thanked him taking the ceramic cup in her hand, instantly feeling the warmth spread into her hands.

“Have a good walk Addy?” Her grandfather looked to her knowingly. He had known what she was up to this morning having seen her leave through his bedroom window.

Scoffing a laugh she nodded before taking a sip of her coffee. “It was a good walk indeed.” She smiled at him shaking her head lightly. There was nothing that she could get nothing passed him.

The creaking of his old wooden rocking chair was the only sound that entered her mind as silence crept in the space between them. Sitting there peacefully she had felt better with her decision to come here for a quick break needing some time to get away from her life for a few days.

But there was one thing no matter how hard she tried he was always on her mind. That was Harry.

The memory of saying goodbye to Alexander only caused a stir of emotions to release inside of her. Knowing that he had little over a month left of his deployment she knew that they would be seeing each other again soon.

The memory of his deep blue eyes was always the first thing her mind thought of as she closed her eyes at night. In the morning she would wake silently praying that when she reached out in the empty spaces of her bed that he would be lying there waiting for her to wake up.

There was no denying how greatly she missed Harry. Everything she did he seemed to creep up into her mind day after day, but each day brought him closer to coming home. Closer to feeling his arms wrap around her, his intoxicating lips devouring hers, his laugh she would never get bored of hearing.

As hard as it was for Harry to leave at what seemed was the start of their relationship it also had made her stronger, given her time to sort herself out before diving in the deep end again with someone. Their time apart allowed her to find out who she was becoming after her tragic breakup with Jake.

Addy was thankful for the space she was given despite missing Harry. She needed it to really think about their relationship and all that not only Harry but brought into the picture of things but she did as well. His life was quite public, every outing threatened to be front-page news and every women he even smiled at was in a relationship with him.

Harry had asked her to take her time and really consider what it meant to be with him. Now that he had been gone, she was given that time to consider what it was like with Harry. Despite them being thousand of miles apart she still felt that their relationship had grown. They got to know each other on a different level that they had missed due to their overwhelming feelings for each other that made them skip that part.

Sighing she realized that the only thing that would make this moment more perfect, this place more perfect was Harry. She wanted him to know her past, the memories she thought of today, but that meant she needed to trust him and open up her vulnerabilities to him.

Addy was willing and ready to place her trust in someone else again. Despite what could potentially come out of it she knew that Harry would be worth it.

#prince harry #prince harry fanfic #royalfanficcentral #phff #prince harry fanfiction #chapter 15 #littlebitofeverythingphff #harryandadalyn #chapters

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laurabelle2930 · 7 years

Text

Every Life has a Moment ~Olicity Fic 5/5

Well first of all I can’t thank my amazing Tumblr family enough for the heaps of endless support. I’m truly in awe of this talented fandom. I’m also completely honored that so many of you think I’m one of you talented souls. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!

Read it here or on AO3

You’re My Moment

Chapter 5

Present day...

The rain pelted against the stained glass of the foyer angrily, the sky shook with thunderous rage before it became lit from the endless streaks of lightning. She slowly began her silent count....the room around her grew dark, the clock behind her ticked, the fingers along its face moved steadily, the clouds outside grew steadily darker...

Her mouth curved, her bottom up formed a small U while her upper lip mirrored the other. She felt the vibration of the storm racing through her veins. The rain was her blood, the thunder her heart and the lightning her soul. Felicity breathed deeply just as the sky roared...

“You still do that?” came a quiet voice from the doorway behind her still form.

Her smile was small but earnest in nature, “Yeah, why don’t you do things to ease your nerves? she asked just when the sky grew bright. ‘

The voice behind her grew closer; the tenor grew soft and, the inflection hopeful. “I do, but generally I don’t have to wait for a massive thunder storm to decompress.”

Felicity’s laugh was one of honest amusement, “Peanut you like your brother have a way with words.”

“He’s also your husband...” she teased lightly then added softly, “Even if mom and dad don’t yet know it...”

Felicity’s shoulders fell just as Thea’s words washed away the peace of the approaching storm. “Are you and Ollie really going to pretend you didn’t get married almost a year ago?”

She shook her bent head and raised her hands into the air above her bent head, “I knew he couldn’t lie to you...” she merely noted with amused knowledge. “I knew he’d crack the moment he saw your sweet smile,” she laughed mostly to herself.

“Please you would have cracked even faster,” she scolded with the grace of her mother.

Felicity sighed and slowly began to turn. Thea’s shoes tapped along the hardwood floors, her jean covered legs were held in the staunch position of authority. Felicity’s eyes grew wider when she noted how her fingers tapped along her bent elbows, her lips were pursed and her eyes curious. “Okay Peanut out with it...” Felicity gently coaxed. “Why are you really asking about the wedding?”

Thea’s wide, brown eyes grew dim, her skin paled and her shoulders slumped. “Well...” she croaked nervously.

Felicity took a small step forward then crossed her arms to mirror Thea’s stance. The younger Queen eyed her carefully before she gently pointed her chin to the banner just beyond her slim shoulder. Felicity followed the gesture and smiled knowingly. The small makeshift banner from the welcome home party was still clinging to the arch over the door with failing pins. She recognized Syd’s small hand prints next to her’s and Oliver’s. Her nose crinkled in delight at the smaller smudges next to Thea’s.

“It makes me wonder if perhaps the three of us were the only one’s not in attendance?” Thea whispered when Felicity chose to gaze back towards the younger woman’s fallen brow.

Felicity smiled at the memory, “If you wanted to know you could have just asked,” she suggested sweetly.

“Yeah but I didn’t want to pry,” she eeked quietly. “I mean you two chose to keep that moment for you...” she remarked a bit sadly.

Felicity tilted her head in agreement, “We did Peanut but, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“How so?” she asked earnestly.

Felicity saw the way she ran her hands up and down her small frame as her words slowly tumbled out. Felicity gauged her voice, her movements and her eyes before she made her final observations. “Well you know how we became an us I assume?” she started hesitantly.

Thea’s head shook woefully, “Nope I was always too young...”

Felicity gulped then slowly began to unfold her arms. She felt her younger brown eyes rolling down to the floor. Felicity called out cautiously, “Peanut maybe I could tell you our story?”

Her brown eyes brightened, “Just you and me? No mom, or Ollie?” she sounded the same as she did the first time Felicity suggested they try and bond.

“Yeah Peanut, Oliver has Syd and Eden so I think we could use some sister bonding time how about you?”

Thankfully Felicity already had her arms out because seconds later her precious little peanut was wrapped snugly within her warm embrace. Thea’s nose tickled her cheek when she whispered, “I missed you Lissy.”

Felicity replied in kind, “I missed you too Peanut.”

Roughly 1 year before...

Moving always sucked. She wished for a more eloquent phrase but, sadly none ever came. She searched for countless hours, the phrase always remained on the tip of tongue as her mind became a virtual thesaurus. She tried aggravating or even tumultuous but in the end sucked was the word that fit. She pushed aside a stack of boxes that rose to about her slender shoulders. Her fingers flipped easily over the cardboard flaps while she hummed gently. The words were a mystery but the tune was always the same...

“I can’t believe we’re sleeping in my old bedroom...” she heard him mutter from the door’s open threshold.

Felicity jostled the box when she placed her fingers beneath the folded edges. The sweaters and other items slipped from side to side as she gently lowered it to the floor. “I can’t believe mom and dad left three days early,” she grumbled back.

His footfalls sounded wet and heavy, his breathes sounded tight and, his voice sounded strained, “They said the merger became complicated Felicity, they didn’t mean to have us reschedule the wedding...”

She rolled her crystal, blue eyes and, crouched down so the opened edges of the box rested along her knees. “Yeah well the ceremony is still set for tomorrow and, if you succeeded in your task I’ll be showing soon,” she gently reminded him with amusement.

She heard the springs of their bed beneath his solid, if not very nicely chiseled form. He breathed in frustration, “We can’t do it Felicity...we can’t get married without them here!”

She folded the empty box and, pushed the sturdy cardboard aside. She brushed over her bent knees then slowly began to stand. “Oliver I’ve agreed to marry you, I’m most likely pregnant with our second child and, I’m a known flight risk,” she argued with raised brows. “Don’t you think it makes sense to simply do the deed?”

The second the words passed her lips she felt her skin turning bright red. Oliver’s hooded eyes made her skin flush even further, “Hmmm do the deed?” he probed with calculated humor.

Felicity’s palms fell to her waist, her eyes fell to the floor and, her words came out in a mumbled mess, “We’ve clearly done that...and well dammit I’m ready to be your wife.”

Oliver’s voice squeaked, “Ready?”

Felicity carefully raised her eyes. Oliver’s own gaze was between shocked and simmering. “We’re not having sex Oliver,” she croaked, “I’m still sore and secondly I’d like it if our second child was born to her married parents.”

She saw his palm fly to the nape of his neck; she in turn timidly bit at her lower lip. His pause made her heart flutter and her knees shake. She gulped, “Ummm honey this is when you say something reassuring.”

Oliver softly smiled, “Honey you’re already my wife,” he replied as ordered.

She released her bottom lip, “Yeah but not legally,” she commented nervously.

His chest rumbled with contained laughter when he picked at her second statement, “We’re having another girl are we?”

She glared, “Avoiding and, well yes I think if I’m pregnant again it’s going to be with a girl,” she both answered and obliged with calculated ease.

Oliver’s eyes darkened, she raised her finger and shook it slowly, “Don’t even buster,” she warned while his eyes fell quiet. She nodded with grim approval, “See you can listen...”

“I try,” he mumbled before he fell in surrender to his back. The bed creaked as his weight tumbled over the worn springs. Felicity couldn’t contain her laughter when the images of their childhood started rushing through her mind. Oliver glanced up with his palms over his stomach and asked, “Ummm babe what’s so funny?”

Her head fell back as her fingers became knotted in her hair. Her almost husband stared at her with beguiled eyes while she attempted to bring her mindless giggles under control. Her stomach ached when she finally spat out, “The mattress creaked...”

She didn’t see him staring at her quizzically when he mumbled, “And this is somehow funny?”

She hollered, “Yes! Don’t you remember how it got that way?” she giggled uncontrollably as she slowly began falling to the floor. She clutched her stomach and leaned forward as her knees touched the hard ground.

Oliver mumbled again, “I’m married to a crazy person...”

She argued instantly, “Not crazy and not legally,” before her stomach pained her again.

He muttered, “How is...” then fell quiet when she finally managed to say...

“I was nine and you were eleven...”

With tears in her bright eyes she glanced up and smiled happily, “Don’t you remember we were trying to break the box springs?”

Her question puzzled him but, only for a split second...His eyes lit up like Christmas day when he realized, “I had a twin bed...”

Felicity nodded slowly in delight, “Yup and we had the bright idea of breaking the box springs so she’d buy you a queen mattress set. Don’t you remember? I hated ending up on the floor so we schemed to get the bigger bed.”

His head fell back before his strong, deep, resounding laughter filled the large room, “My god we jumped on that thing for hours!”

“Yeah don’t you remember she made us sleep on that broken down piece of crap for a week as punishment?” Felicity giggled.

Oliver chimed in shortly after, “I swore I’d never jump on anything again...”

Felicity chirped, “I’d say you broke that promise...”

He would have glared had he not been so amused, “Jumping on you doesn’t count....You usually ask for it,” he chided with affection.

She grumbled, “Yeah I usually do...”

Oliver’s voice sounded content when he abruptly changed the subject, “So you really wanna marry me tomorrow?”

Felicity still clutching her stomach immediately sobered, “Really? You’re agreeing that we can go ahead as planned” she stammered happily while their previous conversation became a distant memory.

Her eyes met his, it was blue against blue, fire against fire, and affection mixed with utter longing, “I think those two kids would be disappointed if we followed mom’s wishes...” he whispered softly while he remained still along the bed.

She kept her arms anchored to her stomach, her knees were along the floor and her smile was almost to her earlobes, “You’ve made me so incredibly happy Oliver Queen,” she whispered back with tears once again forming in her eyes.

His eyes twinkled and his lips curved, “Ditto Felicity Smoak, Ditto...” he breathed while the late afternoon sun lit the wall behind her.

Felicity pushed the stray hair behind the shell of her ear and, let her eyes trail down the length of her back. The sunlight poured through the upper semi-circle windows, the glass left shadows of red and orange along the crisp, white material. She brushed at the small dust particles in the sunbeams scope while she carefully began to turn. Her antique shoes peaked out from beneath the floor skirting dress, the white lace paneling of the shoes was hidden but her discomfort was not.

She felt the blisters beginning to form along the back of her ankles; the skin she knew was already puckered and raw. She heard Sydney cooing softly from the bedside bassinet; her chubby little fingers were flying through the air while she giggled with delight. Felicity smiled with genuine affection then murmured, “How does mommy look baby?”

Her daughter squealed then fell quiet as Felicity finished her small turn. With her eyes once more pouring over her reflection she lightly grinned. The dress was simple, classic and some might even say timeless. She brushed her fingers over her exposed upper chest; the lines of her fingers fell over the soft, supple lace trim of the folded edge. Her eyes ran down the tight, lace covered bodice before her gaze landed over the edge of the fading design. The dress didn’t conform to her waist like she’d thought; it instead created a smooth line over her rounded hips. She twisted her waist and chuckled when the satin like material flowed around her slim legs.

She cocked her head and lifted her fingers to a few more fallen strands. The small, loose curls that she’d managed to pull into a very elegant fishtail braid were beginning to fall from the intricate design. She reached around and patted the messy bun at the base of her neck. The bobby pins were secured but, still she worried that one wrong brush of his hand and her hair would fall apart. She pursued her pale, pink lips and looked over her lightly applied make up. She wanted an ethereal look so she’d opted for whites, pinks and even some light glitter over the arc of her eye bone.

Sydney coo’d from the center of the room, Felicity’s eyes flashed to her babies reflection while she sweetly mumbled, “Hey there baby girl...”

Sydney’s fingers bubbled along the foam stars of her mobile. Felicity grinned and finished checking her appearance. Her cheeks were rosy, her heart was full and in about ten minutes she’d be carrying her own angel downstairs for her wedding day. She mumbled once more, “Okay baby girl are you ready to be my witness, flower girl and maid of honor?”

Sydney’s coo’s echoed through not only the empty room but her heart as well. Felicity took one last steely breath and did what she’d been trying to do for the past hour. She fought to remain composed and, for once thanked her lucky stars that Oliver was willing to let her get dressed alone. She glanced at the mirror and smiled lamely, her mother’s picture was tapped to the left corner, her father with Moira and Robert were in the photo directly below it. She laughed quietly, “My God both of you would kill me for crying right now...”

The tree right outside her window scraped along the window panes as the wind suddenly began to blow. She shot the window a tender look and swallowed a delighted sigh, “See...I knew you’d have something to say.”

Just then Sydney giggled. Felicity’s eyes shot up to the ceiling. She mumbled, “Hi Daddy...” before her sparking eyes fell upon her own slightly marred face. The glitter that was once only on her eyes had begun to drift down to her upper cheek bones; she’d yet to shed a tear but, she knew waterproof mascara was an amazing choice. She gulped back a, “This is so stupid,” before straightening her back and pushing her shoulders backwards. Her palms fell along her waist, her chest expanded, and her lips quivered.

“Well mom I heard you...” she started roughly with an ache forming in her chest. “I tried to ignore the signs,” she nearly wept as her chin fell to her chest. “I’m so in love with him Mom, I’m so utterly, and completely, and helplessly in love with him.”

The branches bounced against the window again, she took a shaky breath and laughed slightly, “He fought for me Mom, he actually fought for me,” she continued. “He pushed past all my defenses; he broke my heart only to then help it heal.” She found the strength to face her own reflection once more. The glass seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light when she whispered, “He’s the best gift you could have given me, he’s how I found my heart.”

She blinked away a few small tears and sniffed back a small, “I wish you both could see how much he loves me...”

The mirror continued to shimmer, her eyes continued to water as her lips curved into a small smile. “We know Felicity...we know sweetheart,” she heard as the wind howled through the many trees along the property line.

She murmured, “I miss you...” as the shimmering glass began to fall flat. The wind fell silent, as the room began to darken. She nodded in silent acceptance before turning on her nearly 3 inch pumps. Sydney was busy pushing her thumbs along the stars above her, Felicity’s heart pulsed within her with peace as she lightly coo’d to her giggling daughter, “Come on baby let’s go get mommy hitched.”

Sydney was outfitted in a white almost sailor looking dress with the matching shoes. Her blonde hair was curled and, her chubby little legs were kicking along her soon to be expanding stomach. She pressed her fingers along her daughter’s hip and whispered along her forehead, “Hey let’s not damage your sister’s developing head with those ninja feet!”

“Sister huh?” Oliver quipped from the foot of the stairs.

Felicity nearly froze. The hand she was using to hold up her dress fell open then flew back to her daughter’s waving arm. She gulped, “God you’re perfect...” as he stood there with his arms outstretched in a crisp, black tuxedo.

His white, dazzling smile made her body shudder uncontrollably, her arms shook slightly when he professed openly without a trace of hesitancy, “You’re beyond any perfection I’ve experienced up until now...”

Her eyes ran over his chiseled jaw. He’d cleaned up his normal scruff, his blue eyes looked almost gem like, his smile was breathtaking and, that was just his face. The tux fit exquisitely over his sculpted frame. She could almost count the ridges of his abdominal muscles through the crisp, white shirt. Felicity took a tender step forward, the toe of her shoe slipped down to the next step easily while Oliver reached for her waist.

Sydney giggled and, they both laughed in reply. “I’d say she’s happy about being in her parent’s wedding,” Oliver teased.

Felicity shrugged her shoulders and dropped her forehead to her daughter’s crown, “Yes but our family is going to be very upset...” she mumbled as Oliver’s palm slid along her waist.

She felt his soft mumbled reply along her skin when he pressed his lips to their daughter’s waving fingers, “Yeah but if you’re pregnant we’ll be instantly forgiven...”

Felicity grumbled, “How very true...”

He chuckled and asked their daughter, “Okay baby girl are you ready to hear mommy and daddy’s mushy vows?”

Sydney giggled and cooed as she always did. Felicity quipped almost involuntarily, “You know when she starts talking we’re going to be screwed...”

“If she inherits your mouth then yes that’s true,” he quipped back with his fingers dancing along her slim waist.

Felicity sighed, “I wish he could just marry us here...”

She felt his gaze growing stronger over her flushing skin. His confused words tumbled freely once his eye brows were to his hairline, “Ummm why?”

“It’s where we became friends or don’t you remember that?” she explained coyly.

She felt him rubbing his palm along Sydney’s back as he muttered, “We made a deal...we agreed with a spit shake to be best friends after...”

“Tommy pelted me with a rather large snowball,” she provided before his lips could form the words.

His eyes sparkled, “Yeah you had some ice in your eye,” he mentioned softly as the memory rolled through both their bodies.

She pressed her lips to Sydney’s temple, “You agreed that he’d been mean so to make amends you suggested we learn to become friends,” she recalled with muted tones.

Oliver’s fingers rubbed along the fabric of her dress softly, “You really wanna do this right here?” he asked as he inched past Sydney’s smiling face and towards her exposed cheek.

She felt her body tremble with relief when his lips brushed along her upper cheek bone, “You made the world good again,” she started with tears clinging to her lower eyelashes.

His lips quivered, “You saved me after Tommy’s death...”

“You saved me after my parent’s death as well,” she admitted before the minister’s soft voice broke through the tender exchange.

“Seeing as you’re both not moving I’m sensing you’ll be married on the stairs,” he stated warmly with fatherly regard. His voice made her soul sing when he said, “We are gathered here to join these two souls. One is strong, stubborn, and a quite a handful.”

Felicity giggled, “Thank you Minister Joe...”

“You’re welcome but that was Oliver...” he replied as Oliver placed his forehead to her temple. “You Felicity are also strong, but willful, and determined to live by your own rules.”

Oliver groaned, “Yeah let’s not rehash that trait.”

The older, balding man at the foot of the stairs pushed past the comment. His warm, velvet like voice wrapped them both in a warm blanket of endless love. “They’ve chosen to express their love in their own words so I’ll let our bride go first since her groom seems eager for verbal reassurances.”

Felicity hugged her daughter to her side and savored the feeling of her small family being within her physical orbit. Oliver’s lips ghosted over her skin while his fingers continued to trudge along the fabric at her waist. She felt her lungs burn as the oxygen began to seep through her quivering lips, “I thought loving you would kill you.”

He whispered, “No not doing so would have done that...”

She felt a small smile tugging at her lips. She quivered happily when her heart finally made its truth known. “You’re my everything; you’re my entire world next to Sydney. I fell for you first when we were seven and I was five. You welcomed me into your home, you welcomed me into your heart and, before long you made me do the same. I fell for a second time when I was eighteen, my heart was broken, my soul was a mess and, there you were. You never abandoned me, you never gave up on me and, you never stopped believing we’d be more. It was your love that gave us a future Oliver and, for that alone my heart is forever yours.”

Minister Joe spoke softly, “Now Oliver what do you have to say?”

Felicity felt his lips trailing over her skin, Sydney’s small hand was still clasped in her own, Oliver’s was suddenly still along her waist. Her heart raced while the moments ticked away around them. She suddenly was aware of how warm the sun felt over her back while her mind conjured up various images of what his words might be. She breathed shortly, “Ummm baby again now is a good time to speak.”

His soft lips brushed her cheek when he dared to speak, “I prepared about a thousand different versions...each one felt incomplete once I’d scribbled out my incoherent thoughts...” He sounded nervous, she pondered quietly as he continued to softly babble. “I remembered that night back in college when we both admitted our feelings ran deeper than friendship.” His fingers tickled her waist when his errant thoughts moved them towards the next year, “I then thought that was too depressing so I tried to use our first time as the benchmark.”

Again she heard the raw nerves of doubt ringing through his tired voice. She shifted her face until his lips were hovering over hers. She asked raggedly, “What was wrong with that moment?”

Their lips nearly touched when he uttered, “You still were ready to run.”

“Yeah,” she gulped while their foreheads touched, “Yeah I was but that’s not the moment you would have chosen anyways.”

His laughter tickled her lips, “Yeah I finally figured that out when I recalled how it felt when you told me about Sydney...”

Felicity lightly pushed, “Then take your own advice and speak from your heart instead of your head...”

His bright smile made her lips tingle, “I love you,” he whispered before he finally took her for once fairly good advice. “You were always the runner which is strange considering how diligently I fought not to love you.”

Felicity mumbled, “Clearly you lost that battle...”

His bright grin turned somber, “You’re my world, that’s been true since I was twenty years old. You came in brokenhearted, crying and ready to give up on ever finding love. I was contemplating joining my other best friend on his world saving crusade until I heard your small, timid, knuckles rapping against my door. I had the vest on, the gun was at my side, my badge was around my neck and, all it took was hearing your destroyed voice to still my moving body.”

Felicity felt her body chill, her blood froze and her lips trembled when his words once again pierced her once cold heart, “I knew in that moment before Tommy told me to stay that I’d die for you...”

“Yeah and because of our feelings he did...” she whimpered more to herself than to anyone else.

Oliver’s fingers fell around her waist, he muttered, “Joe I’m going to kiss her,” as their lips tenderly touched.

Felicity heard Joe’s gruff, “Fine I assume you take each other?”

Oliver’s lips tangled with her own as they both gave a sloppy, “Yes...”

She heard him groan, “Fine continue kissing the bride because you’re now man and wife....” before he whispered, “It’s about damn time...”

She ignored his parting phrase and, continued to enjoy the pressure of her husband’s lips along her own. Sydney was still balanced on her hip; his body was still hovering dangerously close to her own while she balanced her shaking body over the stair’s fourth step. He mumbled between two very long kisses, “He didn’t die because of us honey; you’re the one that proved that...”

“Yeah but, it doesn’t erase my guilt over feeling relived that you stayed with me,” she grumbled before his tongue slowly traced over the tip of her own.

Her lungs burned when he pushed his tongue further between her parted lips, “He died as a police officer Felicity, he died a hero...” he managed to groan before his words were lost to their tangled lips.

She moaned inwardly while subconsciously realizing that their daughter was still between them, “Baby we have company...” she finally managed to exhale when he let them part for air.

He leaned his forehead along her own, their noses bumped, their lips touched, and their smiles could be felt over the other’s skin, “Staying with you saved my life Felicity, our love literally saved me...” he declared almost passionately.

She managed to babble, “Oliver we still have a very small person between us...”

His lips teased her own, his words tested her heart, and his touch pushed her body into an all out frenzy, “You’re everything to me Felicity, you always were...”

She bounced Sydney over her hip then kissed her husband chastely, “I think every life has a moment...” she began to whisper along his smiling lips.

“And I believe that we have to brave enough to seize it...” he recited as they both recounted her graduation speech.

“You were my moment Oliver, you were my chance and I’m so grateful you pushed me to seize it,” she murmured before their lips timidly touched.

His smile along her mouth made her heart glow when he murmured back, “I love you Felicity...I completely and utterly adore you...”

Sydney cooed almost in approval when she whispered back along their ghosting lips, “I love you Oliver, I truly do...”

Present day…5 hours later...

The rain was still falling steadily, the windows were fogged and the drafty house held the chill of the looming fall weather. Felicity’s fingers ran through her hair, she stroked the strands lightly while she watched Thea’s ever changing face. Her small lips formed another shocked oh when she mumbled, “Okay so...”

Felicity swallowed a small laugh, “You’ve said that about five times now kiddo.”

Her counterpart nodded slowly, “Sorry but I mean seriously you guys are like a friggin love story out of a fairy tale!”

Felicity rubbed along her ankle with her free hand before she slowly began to uncurl her blood deprived legs. Her eyes fell at the feeling of small pin pricks as the sleeping limbs slowly woke up. Her head fell to the edge of the antique couch cushion and her laughter slowly began to fill the room, “Don’t ever tell Oliver that!”

Thea pulled her sleeping feet into her lap, “Why not? He literally healed you with love, I mean Felicity seriously that’s not everyday love that’s of the epic variety.”

Her elated statement made Felicity stammer as the younger woman began to shift beneath her feet. “I wouldn’t say he “healed” me...it was, well....dammit,” she swore once Thea had her folded hands over her ankles.

“Epic...” Thea whispered, “You’re love is friggin epic...” she giggled while Felicity glared.

Her forehead was in her palm when she admitted, “He healed me didn’t he?”

She didn’t see Thea’s nodding head, she did however feel it, “Yeah and you saved him after Tommy’s death.”

Felicity’s stomach rolled at the mere mention of their fallen friend. “Yeah he almost followed him that night,” she gulped with tears collecting along her blinking eyes. “He was going to follow him and, because of my stupid prom disaster he didn’t...” she whispered somberly. “He chose to stay and because of that once choice...”

“The drug dealers didn’t kill him too...” Thea stated. “His love for you saved his life when dealer’s saw the flicker of his badge.”

Felicity rubbed her forehead against her skin, “Don’t worry Thea we worked through that one year’s ago,” she finally muttered when the younger girl began to slowly clear her throat.

“So Ollie never blamed himself for Tommy?”

Felicity lifted her head slowly, her saddened face would have broken Oliver’s heart but her words would have made him slowly smile, “No Peanut he tried trust me but, by then I was so in love with him that I would have followed him to the ends of the Earth if it meant he’d forgive himself.”

“He didn’t join the academy because of you...” she murmured almost in realization.

Felicity’s blue eyes fell as her tears trailed down her face, “No he instead chose to follow me all the way to college for what he called a fresh start.” She felt Thea’s body shuddering when she sighed hopefully, “He followed me out of love Peanut but, I’d already decided I’d follow him anywhere...”

Thea was about to ask another question when the door to the dimly lit pallor creaked. Four eyes flew to the sound but, only one set softened and muttered, “Hey baby...”

Thea made a low gagging sound then promptly pushed Felicity’s calves down to the floor. Felicity chuckled brightly as the younger Queen croaked in fake illness, “And now I’ll just be in the bathroom heaving...”

Oliver brushed his palm over her short, brown hair briskly when she walked past. His tired eyes mimicked her own as he slowly crossed the room. Felicity pulled her legs back up to the vacated cushions and laid her temple over the couch’s edge. “So are my daughter’s asleep?” she questioned sweetly.

He leaned over her upturned face and brushed her lips softly with his. His whiskered skin burned along her chin when he whispered, “Our daughter’s and yes mom’s watching them as we speak.”

Felicity placed her hand along his waist and sighed, “So did you miss me today?”

He pecked her lips once more briefly then growled, “Wanna see how much?’

She grinned as he began to lower himself over her chest. She slowly slid further into the couch so their bodies would be aligned, “You know we have housemates again...”

He nipped at her jaw while she busied her hands with the belt of his pants, “Yet it’s you who’s undressing me...” he countered while his own hands began reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Before we start fucking how did they take it?” she mumbled along his earlobe.

He gazed his teeth over her skin before his tongue danced over the same path, “Fine, they weren’t thrilled but when I explained the situation they understood.”

“Eden was your scapegoat wasn’t she?” she quipped while she began pushing his shirt up and over his broad shoulders.

His fingers danced along the edge of her bra’s underwire, “Yes and are you sure we should be fucking in a fairly public area?” His question made her inner walls hiccup in hunger.

Felicity giggled then grazed her teeth over the stubble of his cheek, “I guess I like the added element of danger.”

Oliver kissed her roughly after murmuring against her soft smile, “You always fucking did...”

The sharp roll of thunder caused them both to stir. Oliver mumbled against her hair, “You think Eden’s good?”

Felicity kissed his bare chest innocently for once, “Yeah she’s like her mama she likes storms...”

Oliver’s arms wound around her bare waist, his thumbs danced along her hips while his lips remained focused on her brow, “You told Thea about our story?”

His question wasn’t a question but more a confirmation of fact. Felicity nuzzled his chest with her cheek and ran her fingers over the small scars along his toned stomach, “Yeah but I edited some aspects of our rather intense sexual history...”

His laughter made the thunder seem small as the sound rattled her chest. Felicity continued to graze over the small fingernail marks while he rasped intensely, “I don’t regret that night Felicity....”

She asked in amusement, “Which night?”

She felt his brow rise as he pondered the question. “That’s a good question honey; considering that my small scars were received after multiple sexual encounters...”

Felicity giggled, “Yeah we really had fun trying for Eden didn’t we?”

“Except those healed long ago these are from last week...”

Felicity gulped, “I guess I got a bit too carried away again?”

Oliver pulled her closer, their legs instantly twined as the thunder rolled through the darkened skies, “Not when consider how bruised your neck and inner thighs were...”

His admission made her wonder aloud, “Do you ever wonder why I fought us for so long?”

He pressed his lips to her temple once more, her cheek burned when her chest vibrated beneath his skin, “No. I knew we’d be more I just didn’t know how long it would take.”

Felicity pressed her chin along his right pectoral, “How?”

“Tommy,” he answered quickly.

Her nose wrinkled, “It’s still strange to me considering he never really approved of our rather unique relationship. Hell he thought it was gross if I recall correctly.”

Oliver mumbled lightly in reply, “You know that he told me to stay behind Felicity, he saw you running up the driveway before you even knocked on my door.” Oliver’s voice fell as the memory finally came into the light. “He told me to choose the person I loved over a job I hated. He went to the bust while I stayed behind and kissed you. He chose the job and as always I ran after you. I was always going to run after you...” he finished with tears clogging his throat.

She reached around his torso and hugged him tightly, “So being a detective for the SPCD?” she asked quickly.

“Was his dream Felicity, my dream was always a life with you as you well know,” he replied hoarsely. “My dreams all began and ended with you...” he whispered into yet another soft kiss along the base of her brow.

Felicity’s lips fell to his chest, her fingers clung to the skin of his waist while her body teemed for more, “Have a told you I love you today?” she whimpered as she slowly began moving to cover his chest.

His hands fell to her waist, her thighs parted as his erection grew, his eyes flew shut when she slid down his aroused skin, his lips quivered when he rasped, “Yes, you tell me everyday...”

She began to move above him slowly. His body adjusted to meet her; she pulled his hands from her waist and guided his large palms to her heaving breasts. He flicked his thumbs over her pebbled nipples as her body arced. “You’re my dream too by the way,” she immediately mumbled before the moment carried them away.

The wind howled and, carried on as they slowly become one. Thea slept soundly in her room down the hall in the next wing. Moira and Robert cradled their sleeping grandchild in the downstairs kitchen. The world was quiet and, their family was whole. Felicity felt her body beginning to weaken as lightning lit the darkened sky. Her blood raced, her body shuddered and her heart grew as the thunder whispered lowly through her healed soul...

“Love saves us, love heals us, love gives us life. Don’t be afraid of falling in love. Be afraid of missing the moment when you do...”

She felt her body beginning to shatter, she wanted the moment to spread through her entire soul so she began to lean forward. Her forehead fell over his, their lips connected briefly, their shared whispers melted into kiss after kiss. She felt the sweat rolling along her spine while his fingers traced over her dampened skin. She breathed gratefully against his plundered mouth, “I’m so glad I didn’t miss you...”

His growled reply came slowly as they once again became one, “As am I...”

Tagging: @emmaamelia95 @pleasantfanandstudent @coal000 @memcjo @lesanchea @mrsbubblelee @olicitylovemaking @miriam1779 @love2luvyyou @almondblossomme @diggo26 @rivaroma @cjjingram @vaelisamaza @befitandchase @pimsiepim @andjustforthismoment @anonymiss118 @thelockpickingvictorian @yet-i-remain-quiet @lexi9515 @kathrynelizabeth89 @marniforolicity @marytagus @myhauntedblacksoul @myuntetheredsoul @blondiegrl00 @independent-fics @felicity-said--yes @relativelyobsessedfangirl @i-m-a-fan-world @mel-loves-all @somewhatinvisible @danski15 @stygian-omada-fan @malafle @emilyp05 @oliverfel4 @alemap74 @vicky-vale @charlinert @hope-for-olicity @missafairy @arrows-4ever @jaspertown @sweetzcupcake @captainolicitysbedroom @nalla-madness @smoakingarrow19 @bwangangelic @ccdimples88 @lalawo1 @yespleasehawkeye @ireland1733 @quiveringbunny @scu11y22 @detbensonsvu1 @tdgal1 @cinfos @xxliveyourlife @onceuponarrow @supersillyanddorky06

#arrow #arrow fic #olicity #olicity fic #au #college best friends #lifelong best friends #oliver and felicity #cure to writer's block #last chapter

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photojag · 6 years

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Frame the Feels!

I often work with couples and families that have never met me, and while this is exciting and a little scary, it can provide some challenges. I've been told that my appearance is somewhat intimidating to those who don't know me on a personal level. The funny thing about this is despite my outward appearance, I am very easy to get along with. I am also very comfortable taking charge of the session when the need arises. Some of these points I'm sure I've made in the past, but I'm also a very determined person, so let's move on. What I want to speak about today is something that is a little uncomfortable for me at times. Ready to hear what that is? What makes me take a deep breath before speaking? Ok, so what could possibly make a grown man, who is heavily tattooed and weathered by life uncomfortable? A specific conversation is what. Doesn't make sense? Well now you will know how I feel starting this talk every time. Let me paint a different picture quickly before diving in with both feet. Take a moment, think of anyone in your life, either past or present that has influenced you in a monumental way. Got it? Come on, we don't have all day here......... Ok, times up. Now picture this person that you’re thinking of. I'll use my grandfather for my example here. I only knew one of my grandfathers in this life, and he was enough on his own. He was funny, aggravating, a hard worker and loved me and all of us grandchildren immensely. I was the first grandson, and he was a father of 5 girls ( my mom and aunts in case you’re not paying attention ) so I was also the first boy period for my grandfather. This is a title, I hold very dear but often know I wasn't the grandson he always wanted. I didn't want to hunt, work the farm, stomp out the cow shit patties, or watch Nascar on Sundays. I was an athlete early on and that was my jam, heck still is. #crossfit

This didn't mean he didn't love me and spoil me rotten. We still had our truck rides, which is something I love to do now with my boys. We had 8 track tapes, Ray Stevens, and Jerry Clower joking along the way. I did go hunting with him on a few occasions and those usually ended badly, with me stomping through the woods, falling in the creeks and never shooting anything but the breeze, but I was glad to be there because he was there. I am honestly pretty emotional even thinking back on these details, as I haven't thought of them for many years. I told my story to say this- When he passed away, he allowed me to choose one of his rifles to keep as my own. Being the first and oldest boy, I chose first. I didn't choose the 30/30 or other high caliber options, I went with the nicest looking one, the .22 bolt action. So anytime to this day I hear or see anything related to a .22 caliber, I think of his gift to me and the time we had. I don't think about how sick he was in the end, but just how excited he was to scare me every Halloween, the candy he snuck me anytime I was sick that he called medicine, and how he would act so mad as I pressed his knee down as hard as I could to make the truck go faster. He was the best.

Ok, so you have your person in mind, yes? Ok, what do you think of when you think of them? Is it a material possession, a special place, a moment, or one of their favorite things? ( my papaw ate circus peanuts, orange foam, gross candies ) Ok -so if you were having a photoshoot with me, or anyone else and somehow we can incorporate those memories into your story, how much more are you connected to the process and the final product? Would you not want a photo of that on your wall to remember in every passing? Maybe you’re engaged and you have a special thing that only you share with one another. My wife will squeeze my hand 3 times to non-verbally say she loves me. So if I see a photo of our hands, or hands in general, I think of her. It may seem silly, but having that conversation often times makes my couples feel bad. They feel bad if they don't have something like this and those aren't my intentions. I am your biggest fan, especially when my camera is on you, so the last thing I want to do is sow doubt or make anyone feel bad. So when you're planning your session with me, (because come on, you didn't read all of this to choose to hang out with anyone else) think about it, take this into consideration. Consider how you can make the session even more memorable for your special person. Maybe they are a sports fan and you can sneak their favorite hat away to incorporate. Maybe its butterfly kisses, or Eskimo kisses. Maybe it's simply a tee shirt you picked out together for the first camping trip you took together ( we had those too right Sweetpea? #hotspringsNC ) or the first concert you went to. Maybe it's only a reference to a specific time that we can work in together. Basically, you are required to participate to produce the best possible outcome. Can I direct you? Yes, until I am blue in the face if needed. Can the images be stunning with none of the above ever happening? Every single time yes! Guess what- an image isn't special because its technically perfect, or sharp as a tact. It gains its power over us and our emotions for HOW IT MAKES US FEEL. Let's make something that means more than a glimpse in time on your facebook wall. Go on back to my homepage, scroll to the bottom and contact me today to start planning something unique.

#photoadvice #tips #helpmehelpyou #easttn #photographer #weddingphotographer #pappaw #allthefeels #knoxvillephotographer #ashevillephotographer #thinkaboutit #participate #familyphotography #jeremy_gouge

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trendingnewsb · 6 years

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Can You Keep Up A Conversation With Your Dad?

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We’ve all thought about it at one time or another: Should I have a conversation with my dad? There are many cases for and against, and in the end, it is a deeply personal decision that we each must make for ourselves.

Sometimes, we talk to him because we need something. Other times, we talk to him because we feel guilty that we haven’t talked to him in a while. Or maybe it’s a third thing.

So, are you ready to have a conversation with your dad?

Yes. Absolutely.

Practice on your little sister, Liza, first.

Okay, you are definitely ready to have a conversation with your dad. But first, you have to find him.

Check the basement.

Check the kitchen.

Check the patio.

Check the den.

Go to his office and check there.

Hmm. Nope, not here.

Check the kitchen.

Check the den.

Check the patio.

Check his office.

You are shocked not to find your dad in the kitchen, a place he can often be found.

Check the basement.

Check the patio.

Check the den.

Check his office.

No dads here on the patio.

Check the basement.

Check the kitchen.

Check the den.

Check his office.

You walk into your dad’s office building.

“Oh, you must be Dad’s kid,” says your dad’s boss, Mrs. Clakswaby. “He’s not here right now.”

Oh. Well, thank you for the information.

Can I work here?

There he is! Of course your dad is in the den.

Sneak up on him.

Throw a rock on the other side of the couch to make him look in the opposite direction.

Shout, “Daddy, let’s converse” in your loudest voice.

Here he is! Your dad! Time to see if you can keep up a conversation with him. He’s even taking a break from his beloved iPad to talk to you.

What do you want to talk about?

How work is going.

The weather.

Matchstick Men (2003).

The American Civil War.

Advice.

Your little sister, Liza.

How your dad looks like the neighbor from Home Alone.

Your dad blinks a few times. Looks like he’s getting a little steamed. Better hurry up and figure out what you want to say about the weather!

What do you think about this weather we’ve having?

I yearn for rain.

I really like mountains.

“Sure,” your dad says.

Whoa! Kind of a curveball there.

That didn’t really answer my question.

I yearn for rain.

“Why, I think that’s a marvelous idea,” says Mrs. Clakswaby. “You can start right away! Have these flowers in congratulations.”

You may have never spoken with your dad, but you did land a plum job with a six-figure salary and health benefits, which is better!

Start Over

“The American Civil War?” your dad grunts. “That is one of my favorite civil wars.”

Whoa! Looks like maybe you’ve found some common ground here, so what you say next is crucial.

How many troops were engaged in the Battle of Fredericksburg?

Have you ever written historical fiction about the American Civil War?

For my money, the American Civil War should be called the War Of Dead Young Men.

“186,500,” your dad says immediately.

Hmmm. That didn’t seem to really spark a conversation.

For my money, the Civil War should be called the War Of Dead Young Men.

Let’s talk about something else.

Begin succumbing to boredom.

“I think it’s best if you changed the subject,” your dad says.

Okay, let’s talk about something else.

“You want advice?” your dad says. “Or do you want to talk about the concept of advice?”

Advice.

The concept of advice.

“Oh, okay,” your dad says. “Advice is a social contract in which a person, or group of people, offer their analysis and insights in an attempt to solve or mitigate a problem of a second party. The second party can ask for, or request, these insights, or the first person or group can offer them unsolicited. Both of these outcomes would be considered to fall in the category of ’advice.’ Shall I continue?”

No, Dad, I think I’m good.

Yes, please continue.

“Very well,” your dad says. “The concept of advice is perhaps best illuminated by an example. Let me bring up a helpful illustration I’ve made on my iPad.

“In a common advice-seeking scenario, Person A approaches Person B and Person C, who are typically older and have more life experience than Person A. Person A lays out a conflict he or she is currently experiencing and then asks Persons B and C what they would do if they were presented with an identical conflict. Person B says that he would do one thing, while Person C says she would do a different thing. Both of these suggestions, while opposite in nature, are considered ’advice.’ The fact that one word describes both of them is an inherent foible of language. Shall I continue?”

Yes, please continue.

No thanks, I’m good, Dad.

“Very well. The concept of advice relies heavily on the theory of linear time, or that time passes sequentially. Linear time theory is what enables events to occur, and therefore what allows events to have occured. It is these events that have already taken place that allow older, wiser people to give advice, because they draw on these past experiences, guaranteed by the theory of linear time. Shall I continue?”

You notice that your head feels a little funny and that blood has begun to pool in your eyes.

Yes, please.

No, let’s talk about something else.

“Want to talk about Matchstick Men (2003)?” you ask your dad.

“Never heard of it,” he says.

Uh-oh. That didn’t go so hot. What do you want to do now?

Talk about the weather.

Press on talking about Matchstick Men (2003).

“It stars Sam Rockwell,” you say.

“Never heard of him,” your Dad says.

Yikes. You are really blowing this.

Talk about the weather.

Soldier on with Matchstick Men (2003).

“It’s a movie,” you say to your dad.

“Never heard of it,” your dad says.

This is turning out to be a notably bad conversation with your dad.

Talk about the weather.

Try to pull this conversation of Matchstick Men (2003) out of the fire.

“It’s a series of still images that are strung together in rapid succession to achieve the illusion of motion, typically for 90 minutes to two hours.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” says your dad.

Talk about the weather.

Try one last time to make this Matchstick Men (2003) conversation work.

“It’s basically—” but your dad cuts you off.

“Look at these seeds in my hand,” he says.

Look at the seeds.

You look up.

“You’re not my dad,” you say.

“No, I’m not,” the man says. “We switched places while you were looking at the seeds.”

Looks like you blew it!

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

Continue to look at the seeds.

Look up.

“If you do find your dad, make sure to tell him that I understand, and that I’m sorry,” Mrs. Clakswaby says.

Where do you want to look now?

Check the kitchen.

Check the den.

Check the basement.

Check the patio.

“Okay,” your dad says. “But just be warned that I hate giving and taking advice.”

What should I do with my life?

Okay, we can talk about something else then.

“Wish I could say the same,” your dad says as he walks away. The den is empty.

You did a bad job keeping up a conversation with your dad!

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

“Okay,” your dad says, admiring his iPad. “What do you want to talk about now?”

How his work is going.

The weather.

The American Civil War.

Matchstick Men (2003).

Advice.

Your little sister, Liza.

How he looks like the neighbor from Home Alone.

“That’s an odd way to put that,” your dad says.

It looks like he could leave this conversation at any moment. Better step up your game!

Let’s talk about something else.

Offer your dad a peanut.

“Oh,” your dad says. “Yes, that sounds good. Thank you.”

He takes a peanut from your hand and eats it happily.

Would you like another one?

Now that your protein levels are up, let’s talk about something else.

“Yes,” your dad practically shouts. “Please give me another peanut.”

Only if you talk to me about the weather.

Okay, here you go.

Your dad’s eyes light up with greed in a way you’ve never seen them look before. He grabs the peanuts from your hand and knocks your bag of peanuts to the floor. Finding his hunger uncontrollable, he drops to the floor to scoop up the peanuts, shells and all, into his selfish mouth. He makes animal noises and slobbers all over the rug in the den.

By offering him peanuts while asking for nothing in return, you taught your dad that boundaries do not exist, nor must they be respected. Now, you have no hope of holding a conversation with your dad.

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

“I’ve always thought that too,” your dad says. “You know, it’s really easy to talk to you.”

Whoa! Things are going great! Can you keep this up?

I’m glad those young men died too, because otherwise there would be too many people in this country.

Suddenly and irrationally veer the conversation into talking about maracas.

Talk about something else.

“Took the words from my mouth,” your dad says. “If you ever want to borrow my iPad, you feel free.”

Your dad loves tablet computing, so that’s a big deal! You’re quite the dad conversation hotshot! Can you bring it home?

Can you tell me about your American Civil War historical fiction hobby?

Let’s talk about something else.

“Okay,” your dad says. “Just don’t come crawling to me if you want the concept of advice explained again.”

Let’s talk about something else.

Good talking to you, Dad.

“Maracas?” your dad says. “Now we’re talking!”

A lengthy and interesting conversation about maracas ensues.

Okay, so you technically kept up a conversation with your dad, but you used the tried-and-true shortcut of abruptly bringing up maracas, which is essentially akin to cheating.

Try again, and do it with dignity this time.

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

You lie down on your belly and begin to sneak toward your dad. Without turning around, he begins talking to you.

“You can’t sneak up on me,” he says. “In Vietnam, I was in charge of shooting at people.”

Stand up sheepishly and bask in the glory of your father.

You throw a rock to create a diversion for some reason. Your dad, without turning around, sticks out his hand and snags the rock out of midair. He crushes it in his fist.

Bask in the glory of your father.

“Pipe down,” your dad says, standing up. “I’m right here.”

Bask in the glory of your father.

“It’s good,” your dad says. “More of the same.”

Uh, cool.

Okay, good to hear.

What did you do at work today?

“Yeah,” your dad says. He coughs errantly. “What’s new with you?”

You know. Same old, same old.

Not too much. Oh, I just upgraded my cable, so now I get HBO.

Would like to get to the gym a little more, but otherwise I’m doing pretty good.

“Ah, good. Now you can stop using our HBO password. Haha.”

There is a short silence. Your dad scratches his nose a bit.

Scratch the back of your neck.

Push your bangs off your forehead.

Put your hands in your pockets and gently rock forward and backward.

Are your parents still dead?

Your dad continues to not say anything.

Continue the silence.

Did you watch the Packers game?

Are your parents still dead?

“Yeah,” your dad says. “They didn’t look great, but a win is a win, I guess. You watch it?”

Oh, man. This is brutal.

Yes. They could have been better, but it took guts to eke out that win.

I saw some. The O-line has to step up if we’re going to go deep into the playoffs.

Are your parents still dead?

“That’s a good point,” says your dad. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

Are your parents still dead?

Do you want to talk about something else?

Well, good talking to you, Dad.

“Dear God, why would you say that?” your dad says, recoiling in horror. “You know very well that they are dead and that they meant quite a lot to me. You are a horrible person.”

Your dad galumphs away.

Wow. Why would you do that to your own father? Looks like you blew it pretty bad.

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

“Very well. An issue with linear time is that it can only guarantee the present. Therefore, Person B can remember past events (which he or she can draw on to give advice), but the memories exist only in the present. The events themselves are not accessible, and cannot be 100 percent guaranteed to have existed; only the recalling of the event can be said to exist, merely because it is happening in the present. Shall I continue?”

You notice that your headache has intensified and that blood is still pooling in your eyes, clouding your vision. These are classic aneurysm symptoms, just FYI.

Yes, please continue.

No, let’s talk about something else.

“Very well. This phenomena can potentially lead to a false memory, or a memory that the advice-giver thinks is genuine but is actually untrue. This means that the advice may actually be bad, even if the intention is good. In this scenario, Person A will have to choose whether to accept or deny advice given to him or her by Persons B and C that is potentially based on flawed conclusions arrived at through inaccurate recollections. Shall I continue?”

There is now an intense yet somehow distant throbbing in your head. Your vision is nearly clouded entirely with the significant amount of blood that has rushed into your corneas.

Yes.