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devilfic · 4 years ago

Text

❝small favor❞

I. lights off.

parts: next plot: as spider-man's most trusted source, you are the first to hear from the masked hero on all goings-on in the city. one night, he comes swinging by your apartment, injured, and asks you for a small favor... or two. alternatively titled: "someone please pet peter parker's head.” pairing: tom!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, non-canon compliant (takes place when peter is in his 20′s and mysterio never doxxed him), mutual pining, nursing vigilantes back to health, secret identities, how many close calls before you’re legally obligated to see peter’s face, blood. words: 3.9k. rewritten: 03/12/23.

“Spidey?” Your eyes adjust to the darkness about as quickly as your mind does to your sudden awareness, which is to say not very quickly at all, “What are you doing here? It’s Monday.”

Technically, it was Tuesday. You had been so engrossed in polishing up your latest post for the Web-Blog that you hadn’t noticed the clock tick past midnight, just barely picking up on the distant knock at your living room window until the confusion settled in. You weren’t on the first floor, so if anyone was knocking on a window, it surely wasn’t someone you wanted to cross paths with.

Unless it was your web-slinging client who preferred your fire escape to the front door.

You’d rushed to rip the curtains open, heart temporarily sinking at the outline of a masked figure pressed up against the glass. He never came by unannounced. Of course, you immediately assumed the worst.

By the time you peel the old window open to let him inside, he’s already crawling in and shutting off every light in the vicinity. You knew what that meant. It was the deal, anyway. Shut the curtains, know only his voice, never try to unmask him, and he’d let you bleed him dry for all the intel you wanted.

Suited up, there was never a reason for him to shroud himself in darkness unless you offered him tea (or coffee, for the late patrols and even later-night talks). Even the smallest sliver of skin exposed could prove dangerous in the wrong situation… which is why you were starting to grow nervous.

You map out his shape slinking through your apartment like it’s his own, the only light coming from your abandoned laptop and the NYC nightlife bleeding through your curtains. He moves away from the lamp you’d been curled under to the front door, checking the locks as usual. A habit, a must. “You haven’t seen or heard anything weird lately, right? Like… big men with machine guns for arms?” Calls his boyish voice for the first time tonight, tense.

You stand obediently by the window with your hands clasped behind your back and let yourself run through all the possible things he could be referring to. It was never a boring day in this city, but you couldn’t say you had any clue what he was talking about. “Uh, no. Haven’t heard a peep. Have you?”

Spider-Man affords you a laugh as he finally faces you. You notice, for the first time, that parts of his suit are tattered. If you strain your eyes hard enough, you can make out splinters of peach in between the blue and red. “Funny you should ask. That’s actually why I’m here... and why I kind of have a favor to ask you. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just really don’t want to pass out in an alleyway again.”

You try to ignore the “again” in favor of moving closer, squinting into the dark, “Anything for you, Spidey. What’s the favor?”

“Can I borrow your first-aid kit?”

Twenty minutes later and you can hear soft grunting coming from the bathroom down the hall, giving off some of the only substantial light in your entire apartment. You wait in the kitchen making tea, staying alert just in case he needs assistance patching his wounds, but he insists that he’ll be fine, that he’s done it a million times before, that he was already healing and “You know me! It’ll take a lot more than a few bullets to kill me.”

It’s the first time he’s ever made a house-call like this. Your meetings were scheduled: every Thursday evening, around the end of his patrol, he’d stop by your place to give you the hefty details on any new crimes or villains arising in the city.

You were one of the lucky few news sources that Spider-Man entrusted to tell the truth, always, and for that, you had skyrocketed to fame in the journalism world (especially for Spidey enthusiasts like yourself).

Of course, all of that esteem went to your alias. By day, people like your boss, J. Jonah Jameson, got off on selling lies about him in the press and you were the unfortunate mouthpiece as a crime beat reporter. By night, it was people like you that gave him the justice he deserved.

He had even been so kind as to offer you a one-on-one interview early on in your career, giving you the ol’ Spidey Stamp of Approval. You could still remember the night he’d e-mailed you personally, arranging the albeit strange meeting at a bodega to finally meet you in person.

You’d gone. Of course you’d gone. Alarm bells ringing and all, you’d marched your happy ass down to that bodega with a pocket knife hidden up your sleeve and pencil and paper in hand. To this day, he still hadn’t let you live that down.

As part of a binding agreement between the two of you, you had to promise to never look into his true identity. Your journalism was strictly confined to his work in the city and helping expose shady activity to the masses. Not many people could be trusted with having the Spider-Man in their living room every week like mommy book club for crime-fighting vigilantes. In fact, no one but you could.

It was an honor, but also a great test of faith. You were a journalist after all. You couldn’t help but want to know what lie beneath the mask.

“How bad did you get hit?” You call out to him, allowing yourself the light of the range hood to guide his preferred amount of honey into his mug. It was a cute one you’d been gifted by a friend years back, one that Spidey had taken a liking to for the sole fact that it had a drawing of the Hulk as a kitten on the side.

“On a scale of, like, that one angry lady who kept chucking pottery at me to the blip? Uh, maybe like a peg or two below Vulture.”

Doing the mental math, you wince. “You sure that first-aid kit’s gonna cut it? You might need to go to the hospital… or Wakanda.”

“I’m fine!” He yells back, “besides, it’s gonna get much worse from here on out. Tonight was just child’s play.”

You wince again. Spider-Man talked about his vigilantism so easily, often forgetting that you were a very average civilian. Having men with machine guns for arms being considered child’s play left an awful taste in your mouth, especially when you were forcibly reminded of your favorite hero’s mortality.

After the deaths of Iron Man and Black Widow, it had become glaringly obvious what should have been known all along: the Avengers would not last forever. And while Spidey wasn’t just human, he was mortal. You knew as much when he bled. Whatever had given him the power to climb walls and punch with the force of Thor’s hammer had not made him invincible. Unkillable. He defended most of this city on his own, no Avengers in sight.

Who took care of Spider-Man?

You take the mugs to the living room and set them on the coffee table, then tuck yourself into the couch and wait for Spider-Man to finish up. You hear the light switch off behind you a few moments later, followed by barely-there footsteps. It’s only then that you realize you left the light on in the kitchen.

“Wait,” you tell him, without turning, “I forgot the light-” A sharp thwip! sound flies past your ear and finds its target, the light in the kitchen dissolving into darkness. He never failed to impress you with his pinpoint accuracy.

“You made tea? In the Hulkitty cup? You’re the best!” The couch shifts a few inches when he throws himself over the back of it and into the seat next to you.

You spare a quick glance at his silhouette to see that his mask is still off. You can just barely make out the curve of his nose, the plush of his lips, the tufts on his head suffering from a bad case of mask hair.

You notice, too, that something drapes off the upper half of his body- ah, his suit. He’s probably leaving it off to avoid irritating his wounds any more than he already had by swinging over here, but even in the limited light, it feels like too much. For years, no one in the public eye has caught a glimpse of what’s underneath the suit. It’s what made him so fascinating: the possibility that he could be anyone. That he could be no one.

The details make him real, though. A someone.

You furiously hide your curious thoughts about what lurks nearby and take a sip from your cup, ignoring your peripheral. You were a reporter, sure, but you were also a professional. You’d lasted this long without knowing. If... there ever came a day where he left the lights on, it’d mean something.

You notice the outline of his hand reaching for his cup and he carefully blows on the tea, issuing you another thanks before taking a sip.

You change the subject for your own sake, “So… when you said tonight was just child’s play…”

Spider-Man hums around the mug’s rim, “Yeah, the guys with gun-hands are like half my problems. I think they’re linked to someone bigger. More dangerous. If so, I’m going to have to be prepared.”

“By bigger and more dangerous, do you mean... Kingpin?”

“Ding ding ding,” he sounds proud, way too jovial for the subject matter, “knew you’d catch that. Easily ranks above angry pottery lady.”

“Sounds really dangerous, Spidey.” You mumble, taking your own tea into your hands and staring into the dark abyss of the cup. “You gonna be okay? You should probably have someone help you if that’s the case. Like... an Avenger, or something.”

You can’t help how concerned you sound. Kingpin had been terrorizing your city for years, and if Spider-Man was going to go up against him all alone, it would be nothing short of a bloodbath. That man had his boot on the neck of this city. Spider-Man wouldn’t be going up against just one uber powerful guy or a building of thugs, he’d be going up against… almost half of NYC’s crime network.

He must be able to feel your mounting nerves because his hand touches your arm, the most contact you’d been allowed with the hero since your contract had been forged. The material of his suit is rough, impersonal, but his warmth bleeds through all the same. You kind of forget how to breathe for a minute.

He gives you a small squeeze, “Listen- it’s okay if I touch you?” He asks, suddenly aware that he’d forgotten to, and though you can’t make eye contact with him, you do feel the sincerity in his question as you nod, “Right, cool, okay. Listen... I know what you’re thinking. I’m not going into this blind. Contrary to popular Jameson belief, I actually do have common sense.”

That rouses a laugh out of you, if nothing. “I know you do, it’s just… you do a lot for this city, Spidey. I don’t ever want to see the day where I have to… I have to write your eulogy. You know? You’re a lot of people's only hope. You’re my only hope. I don’t know what I’d do if I woke up to find that something happened to you, rather than hearing it from you myself.”

He heard that. Sat with that. Perhaps he’d been told all of this already. His loved ones who knew his face better than the mask, the people he didn’t need appointments to see. Those were people who knew the other side of him. You didn’t. You didn’t even know his real name. But you still cared. You wanted him to know that.

“Then I promise I won’t die. After all, you’d probably be riding my ass to hell if I did.”

“You’re damn right!” You laugh. He matches you with one of his own, and a little of the tension in your shoulders disappears.

“Oh, by the way… can I ask you for another favor?”

You perk up again, setting your now cold tea down on the coffee table. “‘Course.”

“Could you… um, this is gonna sound really weird, and I promise I’m not some creep who gets off to this kind of thing-”

“Not a great start, gotta admit.”

“-but could you touch my head?”

Wait, what? “Wait, what?”

Perhaps it’s best that it’s so dark, so that he can’t see your eyes beginning to pop out of your skull. “It’s just… I think I might have hit it really bad during the fight but I can’t really see anything back there on my own. It felt fine, I guess, but I just want another opinion. I swear I wouldn’t ask unless I thought it was serious.”

Of course you knew that. No matter the geniality of your relationship, Spider-Man was always very strict about physical contact. The fact that he was even asking this of you told you how serious he was. It was also becoming very hard not to fall back on telling him to go to a doctor again because you both knew that he’d just refuse. But also, you’d never actually touched him like this before.

You’d come close, sure, plenty of times, but it was rare and always through his suit. You had no idea of the texture of his skin, what lay there had yet to be discovered by light or your touch and perhaps for good reason. Any information you could file away about his appearance was dangerous for him. “I don’t mind checking, but you do realize I’d need to turn on a light, right?”

“Would a flashlight work?”

“...probably. But what if I accidentally caught sight of your face-”

You feel something get dropped into your lap and you realize very belatedly that it’s a phone. It’s warm from body heat, and as you run your thumb over the surface of the screen, you feel several ridges where the glass had cracked. You tap the screen and it lights up with some science joke for a wallpaper and a prompt to put in a passcode.

Before you can bother to ask, Spider-Man reaches across the screen and taps the flashlight icon, casting an instant white light over the skin of your knee. Your breath hitches as it bounces off the red of his suit leg. “I’ll turn around.” He shifts away, leaving his back exposed to you.

You almost don’t dare to look at first. It feels sacrilegious, a trick or a test that you’ll fail. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, or maybe you’re becoming delirious because you tap the screen and 2:34 blinks back at you.

Eventually you follow the indirect light that trails up his milky, naked spine littered with bruises all the way to a head of short, chestnut hair. Near his crown, there’s crusted blood in the roots. You shift slowly until you’re kneeling on the couch cushions and watch Spider-Man tense, fists clenched on his knees. As gentle as you can be, you reach up to the problem site and push the hair away until you can see the injured flesh underneath.

There’s more dried blood there but whatever wound that might’ve been seems to have healed by now. It looks unfortunate though, the skin colored by bruising and red, and there was no doubt that he’d be suffering the effects of a concussion if it hadn’t worn off already. “It’s mostly healed,” you whisper, your breath rustling the tendrils that curled around your fingers, “but there’s still blood. I’m going to touch it okay? Let me know if it hurts.”

Spider-Man gives you a soft hum of approval and you gingerly prod the wound, staying tuned into his reaction. He doesn’t really jerk, having prepared himself, but even as he lightly hisses, he doesn’t tell you to stop. You press around the wound and he has even less of a reaction. It didn’t seem like it’d be a huge problem.

You peel back some, making sure to keep the light of his phone trained on the wound, “I can clean it. If you want.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, “please.”

You’re practically running to get away from him, traversing the dark without the flashlight. The entire time you gather the medical supplies he’d neatly tucked back in their place, your heart is pounding like the beat of a bison’s hoof against your ribcage. Besides the overwhelming scent of iron and gunpowder and salt (as expected after a fight as gruesome as the one he’d just escaped), his hair smelled like almonds.

You can see your body in the mirror, can see the outline of your head and clothes and trembling hands. Details.

The longer you stand there, the more those details begin to take shape. Maybe it was because you knew the shape already, but if you lingered to long on Spidey’s, would those details begin to take shape too?

You’re taking too long. You wet a clean cloth and head back into the living room.

You would be lying if you said your eyes didn’t trace the nape of his neck where his hair curled more than once, nor the moles and beauty marks that dotted down his back like constellations. Was it weird to think that it was kind of cute? God, what if he could sense how nervous you were? The pounding of your heart was surely strong enough for him to hear, let alone your shaky breaths and the tremble of your fingers.

Nevertheless, you clean his wound, careful of the noises he makes in response. If he was pretending to be strong, he was doing a marvelous job. No amount of prodding pulled any sizeable reaction from him, and after a couple of minutes, you had removed most of the blood from his scalp and hair, admiring the way the dark tendrils rolled back into themselves with every tug.

Taking advantage of the moment, you let yourself run your fingers through his hair as you finished up, explaining it away to yourself as just picking apart any tangled strands or lasting bloody residue. It was just so soft. Could you really be blamed? He didn’t seem to mind either. He’d stayed dutifully still and quiet under your ministrations the entire time. Almost... too still.

“Alright, you should be good to go. Just take it easy on your way home, okay? Spidey? Spidey, did you hear...” You lightly touch his shoulder, shaking him some, and that’s when you hear it: a snore.

He… had fallen asleep.

It was more comical than it should have been given that he remained sitting straight up the entire time, but there was no doubt that the steady rhythm of his breathing was due to a rather deep and sudden sleep. You’d actually be more worried if he wasn’t lightly snoring every few seconds.

Right before you went to shake him back awake, you paused.

His fight earlier was “child’s play”, but anyone who could fall asleep so suddenly had to be a different kind of tired. On top of that, he was definitely in a lot of pain. Who knew what else plagued him outside of vigilante hours? Work, family, friends? You honestly had to bite your lip to keep from cooing. No doubt the poor thing was exhausted.

You didn’t even want to imagine how painful it would be for him to swing back home like this. Walking the streets this late at night wouldn’t do him any favors either. But also… could he really stay here? You knew deep down that you’d never break the trust he put in you, but did he? If he woke up here, still exposed, he’d never trust you again.

It takes you a few minutes of anxious deliberation before you decide what you’ll do. You didn’t have the heart to disturb him.

You retrieve his mask from the coffee table and slowly, gently slip it over his head, rolling it down past his forehead, eyes, nose, and lips, your fingers brushing against the soft skin on the way to his throat. You can finally breathe when his face is covered again, can even laugh when the next snore is muffled by his mask.

You’ve no clue how to get his suit back on, though. Instead of worrying about that part, you clear the couch and move him to lay down. He doesn’t wake even then.

The blanket thrown over the back of the couch is then pulled down and you tuck it up into his neck, covering his naked shoulders to the best of your ability. You lay his phone on the coffee table beside his Hulkitty mug. Then, when everything looks okay, you make the very nerve-filled trek to your bedroom in an attempt to sleep for the night. Whether or not you’d fall asleep was, unfortunately, entirely up to Spidey.

You sleep through your alarm.

A quick glance at your phone tells you that it’s nearly noon when you finally come to, if not already evidenced by the several unanswered calls from Jameson and your co-workers. You’re about ready to make whatever humiliating call you have to in order for Jameson to forgive you for being late when you notice your bedroom door cracked. Shit, was he still here?

Throwing yourself out of bed with more force than needed, you sprint to the living room in a fit of panic. You’re half-expecting to find a comatose (or dead?) Spider sprawled on your couch, but a wave of relief (and... disappointment?) washes over you when you find the living room emptier than you’d left it. The mugs had been moved to the drying rack in the kitchen, the last few drops of dishwater rolling off the image of Hulkitty telling you that Spidey had done your dishes. You would laugh if your heart wasn’t beating in your ears.

The medical supplies had also been put away, and the blanket you’d draped him in is neatly folded like it had been before. If it wasn’t for the very vivid memories of tucking Spider-Man into bed last night, you might’ve convinced yourself it was all a dream.

If he’d taken the time to clean up after himself, he definitely hadn’t fled your apartment in a rush, which meant that he definitely didn’t suspect you of peeking at his face, which meant... he trusted you.

In your sleep-induced haze, you walk over to the curtains to let in the early noon sunlight, already fabricating an excuse for your readers regarding the missing morning blog update. As you approach one of the windows, you notice that one of them already has its curtains pulled back slightly. Getting closer, you notice too that there’s a plastic bag sitting on the chair beside it. Curious, you get close enough to smell the faint scent of… flour tortillas?

Opening the bag, you find three foil covered items that smell a hell of a lot like the breakfast tacos from the Mexican restaurant down the street. You reach inside and find a napkin neatly folded with some marker ink staining the fabric, written in what you can only discern as Spider-Man’s chicken scratch.

Thanks for last night.

Sorry for ruining the sleepover.

Promise I’ll at least bring movies next time. x

You blink. Next… time?

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagines #spiderman scenarios #tom holland imagines #tom holland scenarios #marvel imagines #marvel scenarios #marvel #mjwrites #pp; small favor

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vintagedolan · 4 years ago

Text

mixtape | track seven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

*contains smut*

When Nicole died, Indiana convinced herself that someone was holding down a fast forward button on her life. Some greater power with a universal remote, carelessly keeping a finger shoved down on the little button with the double arrows, with no regard to the fleeting few days she had left with her most important person.

History seemed to be repeating itself, with the best physical representation being the very quickly evolving tiny homes.

The first thing on Grayson’s agenda when they’d made it back to NYC was to decorate the property for Halloween. It hadn’t seemed like the most sound plan to Indy, considering last time they were out in the field it was just raw building materials, a platform and lots of grass. But when she climbed off the back of the quad, away from Grayson’s warmth and into the chilly air, she was standing in front of a house, or at least the bones of one, with the beginnings of the loft and stairs formed inside. It wasn’t polished yet - in fact, there wasn’t even a front door to hang the spider wreath that he had bought at Home Depot. But there was a house, and it stood as a reminder that time was passing quickly.

Despite how over the top the Dolan’s were about it, Halloween was a blink. Ethan was still in California, spending a few more days with Eden, but they facetimed in their costumes anyways - Indy had been convinced into dressing up at the last minute, which resulted in a witch costume that consisted of black leggings and a black bodysuit, which got covered up by a spare hoodie of Grayson’s early in the evening, brought on by the ever-dropping Jersey temperatures. But they celebrated with Lisa, and with E squared across the miles with a bonfire and too many pieces of candy, and Indy realized at the end of the night that it was the first holiday she’d had with family in years. It filled a vacant room in a back hallway of her heart that she didn’t realize had been abandoned, and as soon as the calendar turned to November, she was determined.

“Thanksgiving. Me, you, Lisa, Ethan, Eden, Cam, Charlie and Devin. Thoughts, opinions?”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow from the other side of the couch, face lit by his laptop screen.

“Vegan thanksgiving?”

She nudged him in the side with her foot, getting the perfect angle from where she was laying to tickle him. “Nah, we’re gonna cook a whole meal that 25% of the participants can’t eat. Sounds like the holiday of dreams.”

He poked her with a toe. “Yeah, that sounds good to me. Might have to find an extra table at Ma’s though.”

“I can plan out a menu, make sure everyone brings something. Charlie can bring plates, for all our sakes.”

“Then Ethan can bring cups, cause god knows he doesn’t know what the fuck to do in a kitchen. And I can do the menu, you’ve got enough on your plate.”

“It’s not that bad this week,” she countered, but before she could say anything else he’d picked up her planner, looking at all the little color coordinated blocks that she’d drawn out. Grayson had never had a planner before, much less an hourly one, and it stressed him out a bit just to see how little time she didn’t have allotted to something. His finger moved over a little block in dark blue, a tiny scribble inside it - time with g :).

“You block out time for us to hang out?”

“I block out time to do just about everything but pee,” she laughed, keeping her eyes on her textbook as he continued to look through her pages.

“You haven’t peed in like… 3 hours. Drink your water.”

She stuck her tongue out but did as he asked, watching the way he found something on the page and frowned, eyebrows creasing across his forehead.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He answered it too quickly, and it was her turn to frown.

“Babe. What is it?”

“It just says, uh, ‘deposit from Kenneth’. Who’s Kenneth?”

Her breathing stopped for a moment. She hadn’t heard that name said aloud in years.

“Oh um. That’s my dad. Kenneth Cross.”

He switched from realization to guilt in an instant, flipping the planner shut. Grayson wasn’t privy to much information about Indiana’s father, but he didn’t need much to know that the relationship wasn’t great.

“Shit, Dee, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

She closed her textbook, sitting it aside with a sigh. Sitting up, she crossed her legs on the couch, a bid to get a little closer to him.

“No, it’s okay. We probably should have talked about it by now anyways. What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.” He offered her his hand, knowing she liked to toy with her fingers when she talked, hoping it would help.

“Well. He wasn’t always a shit head. Actually, he used to be a pretty good dad. When Charlie and I were growing up, he was always there. He coached Charlie’s basketball team, then mine. He helped mom with dinner, we all went on vacation together. I mean, I had a good childhood, I really did. But things changed when mom got sick.”

“How long was she sick?”

“Six months. It took her fast, much faster than usual with her stage and her type. I thought my dad would step up, but he didn’t. He shut down. And I get that, it was hard, but we needed him and he just… wasn’t there. Charlie had to take her to appointments because I couldn’t drive yet. He stayed at home and worked, and drank, and then drank some more and called it work. He never talked about mom, never even admitted to himself she was sick I don’t think. So Charlie and I did our best, and we stayed with her as much as we could, especially towards the end. I’d ride the subway out of the city to get to school cause I slept at the hospital most nights. And I guess Charlie and I didn’t realize, but he was working on selling the house while we were doing all that, before she was even fucking gone. So, when she did go, all of a sudden she was gone, and my house was gone, and Charlie was going to school, so it was just me and him.

“We moved into a smaller house. He didn’t talk to me. He was a shell without my mom. And I thought it would get better but it didn’t. So, I taught myself how to be okay without him, and without my mom… without anyone. I think he realized it too, and some part of him felt bad. But he knew he couldn’t fix it. So, the summer before college, he said he’d pay for wherever I wanted to live for school. I couldn’t swing rent on a Jet’s salary, and I wanted to get out of his house, so I agreed. I moved in here freshman year, and we haven’t seen each other since. Haven’t even talked on the phone really. He deposits rent in my account each month, and as soon as I can get enough money to not have him do that, I’m going to tell him to stop. I don’t want him to think I need him, for anything.”

Indy looked up for the first time since her story started, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of Grayson’s watery eyes. He blinked it away and cleared his throat, but the way he opened his arms up told a different story.

“I don’t like hating him. But I don’t know how to forgive him either.”

“C’mere,” he mumbled, waiting for her to readjust and climb on top of him. His arms wrapped around her tightly, like he wanted to press her into him and make her a part of him.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that with your mom like that, I can’t imagine.”

Indy lifted her head and looked at him with sad eyes.

“Yes you can.”

The knot in his throat grew, and he kissed her head when she relaxed against him again. He let the silence settle for a few minutes, tracing a heart against her back and pressing his lips into her hair over and over.

“I had my mom though. She helped us through the entire thing. And I had Ethan, and Cam. And I know you had Charlie, but thinking about you having to do that without a parent.” He shook his head. “I hate it. Not to mention the rest of the bullshit he’s probably put you through that you’re too nice to tell me about.”

It was her turn to get teary.

“Well, I’m okay now. I made it, and so did you.”

He ran a thumb over her cheek with a soft smile.

“Wish you didn’t have to make it through it at all.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Grayson shifted then, rolled them over to the side so Indy was between him and the back of the couch, coiling his arms around her tightly, shifting her up enough for him to kiss her. He let his hand roam down her back, over her ass, grabbing and moving until her leg slotted above his.

“I love you,” he said, hoping she knew just how much. She moved her hand from his cheek, let her arm wrap around him, trapping him closer to her.

“Love you more.”

He shook his head at her, making her laugh against his skin.

“You don’t have a nap written in your schedule, am I gonna screw it all up?”

“I can shift things. I’m flexible.”

He laughed again, a beautiful sound that bounced off the walls of the apartment and filled the space. Indy kept her leg wrapped around him, holding him close and finding his lips with hers again, breathing him in - her favorite distraction.

“Flexible hm? How flexible?” His voice had dropped slightly, throat gruff.

She knew they weren’t going to sleep, so she gave in, dipping down to kiss along his neck, taking charge a bit more than usual.

“You know, I think we might be the only couple who can switch from parental trauma to horny within 60 seconds,” she mused, smiling at the rumbling laugh it got out of him.

“Maybe we’re just built different.”

“Hate that,” Indy mumbled, moving back up to kiss him again. He wasted no time in coaxing her shirt off, sitting them up with her in his lap so he could do the same to his own, getting her bra off quickly after his own sweatshirt was gone. There was no better feeling than her skin against his, he was sure. Her hand landed on the middle of his chest and she hummed, smiling.

“You didn’t shave your chest hair.”

He pulled back a bit with an incredulous look. He hadn't even thought about it, but she was right. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you. You’re my favorite thing to study,” she smiled, and his heart melted in his chest. The only way he knew to respond was to pull her back to him. In a bed, he would have rolled them over, climbed above her, but the couch limited him and he was at her mercy for the time being.

She didn’t seem to be in much of a rush, and between the slow roll of her hips and the kisses she pressed along a path from his jaw to his collarbone, he was very much wishing she would pick up the pace. His hands slid down to her hips, pressing her down against him in a bid for friction.

“Easy,” Indy laughed his favorite laugh, the breathy one that seemed like an afterthought. “If I’m gonna rearrange my schedule, I get to set the pace.”

“Well then, take it away,” he chuckled, but it faded into more of a groan when she nipped at his shoulder, letting her hands run down his sides. She left goosebumps in the wake of her nails, and he couldn’t help but shudder as she toyed with the waistband of his sweats for a moment, like she was playing a game. Grayson Dolan wasn’t used to being at the whim of anyone, and it was liberating in a way that had his nerves buzzing.

Indiana was perhaps enjoying herself a bit too much. Usually, she was so overwhelmed by him that she didn’t have time to really take him in. So, she soaked up the opportunity of having him displayed out for her, tracing her fingers over every plane of him - the v of his hips, the muscles over his ribs. Down his arms, back up to his shoulders, running her thumbs over his scruff as she cupped his face. When she made it back down to his abs she felt them flex under her hands, his hips bucking up just barely against hers.

“Baby.” His tone was stern, and she played into a bit, looking at him as innocently as she could.

“Hmmm?”

“You’re teasing.”

“I’m admiring.”

“Okay, then you’re cheesy and you’re teasing.”

“Guilty as charged,” she murmured, shrugging a bit.

Bad move.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, ensuring he didn’t lose his grip as he planted a foot on the floor and rose up just enough to roll them, getting her underneath him on the couch. It happened so fast that all she could do was gasp, eyes wide as she stared up at him, the blues bright with shock.

“Now, where were we.”

His cockiness was back in full swing, but he paused at the pout that came over Indy’s face.

“What?”

“I kinda liked being up there,” she said, running her hands along his arms as he held himself up above her.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna switch again?”

“Kinda.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. Pants off, then we switch.”

“Deal.”

He stood up first, taking her hand and pulling her up to her feet. They shimmied out of the pants and underwear quickly, leaving them in a pile on the rug in a rush to get back to each other. The mood shifted yet again when he guided her onto his lap as he sat down, lighthearted and fun as she got herself settled. Grayson had never had lighthearted sex before he met Indiana Cross. It was always scratching an itch, even when it was with people he was in a relationship with. She seemed to unlock another side of him, one that made it so much more fun to have her above him, struggling to keep her hair out of her face and get close enough to him at the same time. He wasn’t sure how she managed to be adorable and sexy at the same time, but when she finally got herself lined up and began to sink down onto him, he didn’t have the brain power left to care.

“Shit Dee,” he groaned, using every bit of self control he had to keep his hips still, letting her set her agonizingly slow pace.

She whimpered with every inch that she moved down, finally taking all of him somehow, arching her back for a moment before she caved, leaning forward onto his chest, burying her face in his neck.

He started as slow as his body would let him, groaning as she started to grind her hips, searching out an angle that kept the pressure building. It took a moment, like it always did when they tried a new position, but when she found it Grayson knew by the way her nails dug into his shoulders. He grabbed her hips to hold her there, memorizing the way their bodies fit together so he could get right back to that same spot over and over again.

“Gray,” she whimpered into his ear, bracing her forearms on his shoulders as he chased her high for her, determined to have her shaking. All she could do was moan and hold on as he thrusted into her faster with a renewed purpose, only stopping when she clenched so hard that he could barely move.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Indy whined, every muscle in her body tightening down in defense of how overwhelmed she suddenly felt, breath catching in her throat as her orgasm ripped through her. His arms coiled around her back as if he was trying to hold her together as she shook, and he chased the last of his high, lifting her off of him at the last possible second before he came, white streaks landing on his torso. He knew it would be a mess and he didn’t care - he pressed her back to him, wrapping her up for a moment in his arms and letting the two of them come down.

“Woah. Good woah,” Indy mumbled, pressing kisses to his neck where she could reach.

“I second your good woah.”

“Good.”

“Do you have time in your flexible schedule for a shower? I got you all sticky.”

She sat up and pretended to ponder it for a moment, making a show of quirking her eyebrow just to make him laugh. “I suppose I could pencil it in. C’mon.”

She climbed off him and took his hand, leading him to her bathroom with a smile. They paused in front of the mirror for a moment, and it was the first time in a long time that Indy felt happy to be looking in one. But still, she turned around and looked up at her boyfriend - he looked better in real life than in his reflection anyways.

“You know, if you play your cards right, you might just win yourself a round two.”

That was all it took for him to pick her up so fast she squealed, carrying her behind the privacy of the shower curtain for a second taste.

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

Bekah’s hands were always cold, but they felt like ice cubes in Indy’s hands. She rubbed along her skin in a bid to warm her up, eyes wandering over to Grayson.

“She’s pale,” he murmured, keeping his distance as he stood at the end of the bed. The sight of her so still in her hospital bed was unsettling. He had expected their first visit back to be filled with smiles, and ‘I miss you’s’, stories of California and her recovery.

Instead, they’d walked into Bekah’s room to find her fast asleep underneath her Halloween blanket, brows furrowed in what he hoped was concern and not pain.

“Her body is probably just trying to get used to the new cells. Not making enough blood, she’s probably up for another transfusion soon.”

“How do you know?”

Indy nodded towards what Grayson had assumed was an IV pole - he supposed it was, but instead of the usual bags of clear or milky liquid, there were just empty hooks.

“An hour.”

Bekah’s voice was dry and horse, and although it was quiet, it made both of them jump.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?” Indy immediately perked up, painting that smile across her face that Grayson had started to associate with everything hospital, from the sounds to the smell of bleach.

“Tired. My next transfusion is in an hour.”

“Did the doctor say anything about your counts?”

Bekah looked at her and rolled her eyes, wincing as she tried to sit up in bed. Indy reached to help her but she held a hand up.

“I have a transfusion in an hour, you tell me what my counts are,” she muttered, sitting up for a moment before she let out a sigh and put her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Beks,” Grayson said.

“No, it’s not. You all came to see me and I’m being an asshole.”

“No one is nice when they don’t feel good,” Gray offered, moving to the other side of the bed and resting a hand on her shoulder. It was a simple gesture, a small attempt at consoling, but it was too much for Bekah. The sniffles turned into broken sobs that shook her entire body so hard it looked like she would come apart.

“I’m just tired of this. I’m tired.”

There wasn’t an adequate response to give, so the room filled with silence apart from her sobs as they did their best to hold her together, wrapping their arms around her, around each other. Indy’s eyes were red by the time Bekah’s cries quieted, and Grayson scrambled to come up with something, anything, to lighten the mood.

“Well, if we have an hour, that means we have time for an episode of something. Didn’t you say you were watching Vampire Diaries while we were gone?”

Bekah nodded, laying back against the pillows.

“Then let’s watch one and just chill. Save your energy.”

He set it up quickly, turning off the lights and pulling his chair over to the side of her bed as it started to play. When he looked over, there was just enough light to see that Bekah had reached for Indy’s hand. And to his surprise, she reached for his too. He took it, trying to ignore the way his throat tightened at the feeling of her squeezing weakly - a silent thank you as the episode began to play.

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

The first two weeks of November passed with unrelenting speed. Indiana buried herself in her school work, carving out what she could for quality time for Grayson, even if it was just going out to Jersey with him for a movie night that ended with her asleep on his lap before the opening scene was done. He didn’t mind - he just liked having her around, watching her get closer with Ethan and his mom, knowing she was safe because she was there with him. It was hard to help someone who was so determined on being independent, but he did what he could and she did the same, spending what little time she had encouraging him and supporting him.

Grayson had his own work to focus on, and it filled the time nicely as they worked to get their brands up and running through the holidays, plus the task of finalizing the plans for the details of the tiny homes. Somehow, it was already the week of Thanksgiving before he stopped to take a breath, which he found in the backyard with his brother the day before the holiday.

“Listen. I can make rolls. I can’t fuck that up.”

“Ethan, you could fuck anything up, including rolls. Just get cups. And things to put in the cups.”

“Fuck you,” Ethan grumbled, tossing the football a bit harder than necessary across the back lot. Grayson wished he’d put on gloves, but

“When is evil coming in?”

“She lands tonight, gotta go pick her up at 10:30. Is Indy staying out here tonight too?”

“No, I’m staying at her place, her sister and her boyfriend fly in tomorrow morning so we gotta pick them up. You’re picking up Cam tonight too right?”

“Yeah. Damn, I feel like dad,” Ethan laughed, a puff of white in the cold air.

Grayson waited for him to elaborate, throwing the ball back.

“He was always the chauffeur. I mean jesus, how many times do you think he picked us up from the airport when we came home?”

“True, he fucking hated that drive too. Complained about it the whole time, every time.”

“Like you don’t hate driving into the city.”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow at him, tossing the ball a bit harder, trying to put a different spin on it.

“Okay, fine, used to hate it. Now you just like it cause you get laid at the end of it.”

“True,” Gray grinned. “That makes me sound like a douchebag though.”

“You are a douchebag.”

“We’re identical twins, so if I’m a douchebag you’re a douchebag by association,” Grayson said.

“True. You aren’t a douchebag when you’re around Indiana, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t put up with that shit.”

“You are a simp though.”

“Says you.”

“I never said I wasn’t.” Ethan shrugged, offering up a smile as he threw. “Eden really likes her by the way. Says they’d be great sister-in-laws in the future. I told her to chill with that shit though.”

Grayson missed the ball, not even bothering to watch it bounce away on the ground.

“Why?”

“Well, you said you were never going to ask her to leave, or move or whatever. And you live in LA, we live in LA, so... I mean, being here this long is just because of the tiny houses. And I know you, you can’t do long distance bro, you’re too physical.”

“Oh fuck you, I can survive without getting my dick wet if it means being with somebody I love.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant, I mean you’re touchy, and you need to be close to the people you love. Like physically close, as in in the same room, in the same house at least. That’s why I haven’t said shit about you being at her place every night of the week. I get it Gray, it’s how you are. But that shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country, and I know you aren’t going to ask her to fly out there to see you after how bad those flights were for her. And I love you, and I’m gonna support you, but you can’t fly home every weekend either. We have businesses, we have shit to do. Work.”

“I know that, I’m not stupid.”

“And it makes me feel like a shit brother but you always tell me that I’m supposed to keep you on track, so if that means being the bad guy then that means being the bad guy.”

“E I know.”

“I’m not saying you have to like break up with her or anything but, I just, I think it’s gonna be hard. Like really really hard.”

“Ethan. I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt, that’s all.”

“Yeah. I get it. But can you just drop it for two fucking seconds? It’s almost Thanksgiving, let’s just focus on that. Besides, you’re the one who said to wait to cross the bridge when we come to it,” Grayson huffed.

“It’s the last week of November almost. Hate to break it to you, but the bridge is right in front of you.”

The thought made his stomach drop.

“Let’s go inside. S’cold.”

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

It felt unnatural to have her sister in the back seat, but that’s where Charlie climbed in after Grayson had helped them load their minimal luggage into the back of the car and made his introductions. They’d borrowed Lisa’s SUV for Devin’s sake, knowing that his long legs would be cramped in the backseat of anything, especially the truck.

“How was your flight?” Indy turned almost fully in her seat, trying to soak in every minute she had with her sister - they had to fly out bright and early the next morning.

“Bumpy,” Charlie laughed, picking at her nails in her lap. Indy frowned when she noticed - it was her nervous tick.

“Devin I have no idea how you fit in coach bro, I barely fit and I’m tiny compared to you,” Grayson chimed in, checking over his shoulder as he pulled out of the pick up lane.

“It’s a struggle my man, it’s a struggle. But I don’t think anyone in their right mind would look at you and call you tiny. You’ve got me beat in every department but leg length.”

“Hey, if you’re actually serious about growing muscle I can throw together a workout for you while you’re here.”

“For real? That would be sick bro, I could really use the help.”

Indy held back her laugh at how they both slipped into bro mode so quickly, and Charlie seemed to be on the same page as she snickered. Eventually conversation gave way to music, Indy proud of herself for finding a perfect 2000’s throwback playlist that had everyone singing and bouncing around in their seats. By the time they made it to the house, they were all a bit breathless and full of nostalgia.

When they climbed out onto the gravel, Charlie stuck close to her sister.

“Lisa is mom. And Ethan is the twin, Eden is the sister, Cameron is the girlfriend?”

“Cameron is sister, Eden is girlfriend,” Indy laughed. “Thank god you asked.”

Charlie gave a bit of a chuckle, and Indy nudged her.

“They’re good people Char. Don’t worry, they’ll love you.”

“I just… haven’t done this in a while.”

She wrapped her arm around her older sister’s shoulders as they approached the house, squeezing her lightly.

“I know sis. I know.”

Inside, Eden was trying to be subtle as she peeked through the blinds on the windows, watching the whole crew approach.

“They’re here! Come to the door, they’re here!”

“Babe, that’s creepy. Just come sit down,” Ethan laughed, waiting for Cameron to make her next move in chess.

“It’s not creepy, it’s friendly,” she countered, but she stood back from the door at the last moment to try to make it less intimidating.

“Hey guys!” Grayson’s voice boomed loud through the house as soon as he opened the door, his excitement obvious. Cam and Ethan abandoned their chess game for a moment, and Lisa came from the kitchen with a warm smile.

Indiana officially met Cameron for the first time, happy that she went in for the hug. Lisa hugged everyone, making everyone laugh when she looked up at Devin and said “my god you’re tall.”

Once everyone had met everyone, Lisa clapped her hands.

“Alright, let’s get to work!”

The Dolan’s did things in stations it seemed, which pleased Indy’s organizational side that usually went a bit crazy around the holidays. Lisa was nice enough to assign each couple a dish to work on, which of course became a competition, like everything seemed to. Indy wasn’t sure how they were going to truly compare E squared’s vegan stuffing to Charlie and Devin’s vegan mac and cheese, but she didn’t care.

Because Grayson was beaming beside her as they worked on peeling potatoes over the trash can, and everywhere she looked she saw smiles. Devin was swaying his hips to the music while Charlie tried to copy him, just a blip behind the beat. Ethan and Eden raced to see who could chop vegetables quicker until Lisa told them to slow down so someone didn’t end up needing stitches.

LIsa was the master of the operation, working on three different things at once, waving off Indy’s offer of help.

“I used to feed all three of them and their dad. Cooking for an army is second nature,” she teased, but that familiar tone was in her voice that tugged at Indy’s heart. Ethan eventually connected to the speakers and shuffled a playlist filled with everything, from Elton John to Cudi. Grayson got vegan butter on his shirt at one point while dancing too hard, and when Indy laughed he swiped it off with a finger and smeared it on her nose. The kitchen got so hot they cracked a window, with the revolving door of the oven trying to handle all the dishes and all the bodies close together.

By 2pm, everyone took turns carrying everything into the dining room to the massive which Cameron had decorated. Everyone took their places at the table, with LIsa at the head, Grayson and Ethan beside her with the girls beside them, and Charlie beside Indy, Devin beside Eden, who had seemed to hit it off with him in their short few hours of knowing each other, and Cam at the other head.

“Before we start, I think we should all go around and share something that we’re thankful for,” Lisa proposed. “I’ll start. I’m very thankful for my health, and for my family. For my wonderful daughter, and my amazing boys, and my husband, who I love and who watches over us every day.”

She could only speak for herself, but it was a safe bet that everyone’s throats tightened. Ethan cleared his before he spoke.

“I’m thankful for my family, for the quality time we get to spend together. For my brother’s ability to deal with my ass and his help in chasing our dreams and making that shit happen. And for Eden, because… well just because.”

Eden laid her head against his shoulder for a moment before she spoke up.

“I’m thankful for my dream job, and getting to do something I love every day. I’m thankful for Ethan, for loving me and keeping me sane. And I’m thankful for all of you, especially you Lisa, for welcoming me into the family.”

“I’m thankful to be here, to meet new people and get to eat some awesome food. Thank you, for inviting us in and sharing your holiday with us,” Devin said, polite as ever.

“I’m thankful for the wine,” Cam grinned, sipping from her glass quickly just to get an eye roll out of her mom. “And for all of you, and good food, and for family. Charlie?”

Charlie threw Indy a nervous glance before she spoke.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and my boyfriend, who always keep me together and on track, and who make me laugh. And I’m thankful for new friends, and good food.”

Indy had been so intent on listening to everyone else that she hadn’t even thought of her own response.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and for all of you guys, who have been so kind to me. I’m thankful for this guy,” she bumped Grayson’s shoulder. “For loving me, and supporting me in everything I do. And, I’m thankful for the years I had with my mom. I wish she could be here today, but I know she’s up there watching, and she’s thankful that I have you guys.”

She ignored the way her eyes stung, turning to Grayson, who squeezed her thigh under the table.

“I’m thankful for my family, and for the way that dad guided us to be who we are today - all of us Dolan’s. And I’m thankful for Indy for showing me what strength and determination looks like. And for everyone here, because we’re all family. I love you guys.”

The weight of his words hung in the air for a moment as everyone soaked them in.

“Alright, dig in!” Lisa broke the silence, reaching for the rolls.

Grayson squeezed Indy’s thigh once, tracing a little heart with his index finger when she leaned over to kiss his cheek before turning back to the table. They all ate until their plates were clear, almost all of them heading back in for seconds. The final verdict was that the vegan mac and cheese was the winner of the side dish competition, much to the pride of Devin. The evening settled into various activities, from Grayson teaching Devin proper pull up form to Charlie letting Eden take test shots on her camera. Indy mostly watched from the sidelines, happy to see all the people she loved all together in one place.

Her family.

“Thank you for this.” Lisa’s voice startled her a bit, but she relaxed when the older woman moved to stand beside her.

“I should be thanking you!”

“No. We didn’t do Thanksgiving last year. Everything was still too… raw, I suppose. Everyone is here because you asked them to be. So, thank you, truly.”

The tears that Indy had been fighting all day finally found their place on her cheeks, and she sniffled through a laugh when Lisa hugged her.

“Well, thanks for sharing your family.”

“It’s not sharing if you’re a part of it my dear.”

She pulled her close for a hug before the two of them folded themselves into the mix, running around in the cold air of the backyard and enjoying each other’s company as the night drew to a close. They opted for pie and vegan ice cream to finish off the night, and Charlie insisted they take some pictures before the food comas took over. She’d thought ahead enough to bring a tripod, and she sat it up in the living room, making sure every couple got a few that they liked, and that they all got one together. Lisa requested one of just her kids where they of course all goofed off enough to annoy her. Charlie would send them all in the next few days, Indy’s favorite being the one of her on Grayson’s back, wrapped around to kiss his cheek while he grinned with his eyes squeezed shut. It became her lock screen as soon as she saved it, and Lisa went on to get the family one framed, as well as the one of all of them together too, both beside each other on the mantel held with equal importance.

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

The Thanksgiving leftovers only lasted two days in Indy’s fridge. With the stress of preparing for four cumulative finals, she didn’t have time to cook anything, and the microwaveable vegan leftovers were a god send. So was Grayson, who stayed by her side each day as she studied, quietly keeping himself busy with work until she needed him. It was a nice co-existence, both of them understanding the need for quiet but enjoying each other’s presence nonetheless. By Wednesday, she was only left with one last final, though it was her hardest, and she couldn’t convince herself that she’d prepared enough despite pulling multiple all nighters. He quizzed her when she asked, even though he butchered half the pronunciations. His commentary was the comedic relief she needed to get through it though, and she was more than grateful that he was there.

“Last set, and then you need to take a break.”

“But-”

“No buts. Unless you’re talking gluteus maximus.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes. “Baby you’ve been going non stop for 4 hours now.”

“Okay fine, hit me with it.”

“Soleus.” She pointed to the side of his calf. “Extensor carpi ulnaris.” The outer side of his forearm. “Zygomaticus major.” His cheek. “Iliopsoas.” The inside of his thigh.

“Dee, you know these. You literally don’t even have to think about it, you know them.”

She shook her head before he even finished his sentence. “I need more practice.”

“The only thing you need more of is sleep,” he countered. “C’mon, we’re both exhausted, let’s just take a nap.”

“Once we finish the set, then we can.”

“Fine. Serratus anterior.”

She tickled his ribs, making him squirm away from her.

“Biceps femoris.” She heaved his leg up from where it was resting on the couch, pointing to a spot in the middle of the back of his thigh.

“Teres major.” It was a reach, but she made it around to the back of his armpit.

“Teres minor.” She poked the same spot, just a bit harder.

“Okay, ouch, don’t abuse my teres. Uh, gastrocnemius.” She was gentler on his calf.

They went through the rest of the stack like that, with Grayson doing his best to say them correctly while Indy poked and prodded.

As soon as he flipped the last card he yawned, sitting the stack aside and leaning forward to grab her, dragging her on top of him and nuzzling his nose into her hair. Indy sighed and relaxed into him, his warmth and the weight of his arms settling her body down. She could remember the days where she’d always wanted something as simple as this, just laying on her couch with someone to hold, and she tried to soak it in.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you more,” Grayson countered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His hands moved under her shirt over her back, finding space.

R-E-L-A-X

“Can’t. My mind won’t stop.”

“Well, I’d offer to sing to you or some shit, but your ears would probably bleed,” he chuckled.

“S’okay. I’ll just dream about muscles or something. Innervations.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Oh yeah, riveting stuff.”

She wiggled around to get comfortable, her cheek squished against his chest as he rubbed her back.

“Sleep, have your little anatomy dreams,” he teased, reaching over the back of the couch for a blanket to drape over the two of them.

It took a little while, but she managed to drift off to the soothing sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his fingers against her skin.

And she dreamed.

Indiana was in a hallway. White, smooth walls with doorways that stood black and brooding on either side. Her stomach turned a bit, unease washing through her veins as she took a few small steps forward, moving to peek past one of the frames.

“Don’t sweetheart.”

Her head shot up. At the end of the hall was Nicole. She looked young, even younger than Indy’s last memories of her. Youthful, and full of life, her blonde hair familiar as it hung down and framed her face.

“Mom.”

“Hi my love.”

Indiana ran. She barreled past the doors, not even giving them a second thought as she finally, finally landed in her mother’s arms. The tears were inevitable, but she didn’t care that she shook as Nicole held her, the way only a mom could. Held her body, but held her soul.

“Where have you been? Where’d you go?”

“I’ve been here the whole time. Right here with you.”

“I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“I know. But I’m here.”

She pulled back, letting her mom brush her hair behind her ear the way she always used to when it fell into her eyes.

“Look at you. You’re all grown up. Look at those beautiful eyes. So blue.”

“Just like yours,” Indy said.

“Just like mine.”

A part of her knew that she was dreaming. She knew her mother was gone, that this wasn’t real. But her heart refused to accept it, because she could feel her mother’s skin, hear her voice, feel her like she hadn’t been able to in so long. So she just stared. Tried to memorize every part of her face, every smile line, every freckle. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but Nicole was the one to break the silence.

“Baby. I need you to be careful.”

Indy frowned. “Careful?”

“With your heart. I need you to be careful with your heart, with my heart.”

“Momma what do you mean?”

Nicole looked to the left. Indy followed her gaze, surprised to see that the light was on in the doorway.

The doorway to Bekah’s room.

“Beks,” she breathed. Her feet automatically moved, taking her into the room until Nicole’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back.

“Indiana,” Nicole cautioned. “No.”

“No, no Mom it’s okay, she’s getting better, see? Look, she’s fine.”

She pushed forward, but Nicole’s grip only tightened.

“No baby. Look.”

Indy listened. And she watched. Watched Bekah try to sit up in her bed. She was probably calling for Jessica, or Emily, or maybe even Indy. Her mouth opened, and no sound came out, her eyes going wide for a moment before she fell back against the pillows, chest rising too fast, too shallow. Indy knew what that meant.

“No. NO! Beks! Bekah!”

“Shhhhh baby, there’s nothing you can do, Indiana stop, there’s nothing you can do.”

“BEKAH!” She cried anyways, fighting her mother’s grip as she watched the monitors light up, heard their mocking monotone calls as they alarmed. Nurses appeared, and Indy watched them do all the right things, give all the right medicine.

She didn’t wake up.

“No, no no no no,” Indy wailed, thrashing in her mother’s arms.

“Indiana. Indiana. Dee!”

She was back in her living room, and Grayson was scared.

“Wha-” she looked around, bewildered. She was sitting up, which disoriented her a bit, though she was with it enough to realize she was still in Grayson’s lap.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe,” Grayson said, eyes still wide. He pushed her hair back out of her face as she looked down, only then realizing that she’d balled up his shirt in her hands. She let go, looking at the disheveled fabric, which was also splotched with dark spots.

“I’m- sorry, I don’t… I uh… I had a nightmare. Sorry.”

“It’s okay baby,” Grayson murmured. “You okay?”

Those two words brought on a whole other wave of tears, and she crumpled into him, shaking her head as she cried.

It took him by surprise for a moment - he knew she didn’t like to cry, and he’d never really seen her so upset. So he took a moment to process, and then he lifted her arms up over his shoulders, coiling his own around her and squeezing her to him as tight as he could without crushing her. He didn’t speak. He just held her, let her get it out of her system, whatever it was.

When her sobs turned to sniffles and his shirt was fully soaked through on the shoulder, he spoke up.

“What do you need? What can I do?”

She pulled back from him, frame seeming even smaller somehow as she sat there.

“Can you go check on Bekah? I know it’s Wednesday, and I know we’re going to tomorrow but… you don’t have to, I just, I know she’s alone up there, but I have so much work to do, and-”

“I can go. I’ll go,” he said. The pieces fell together in his brain, and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” she exhaled, shoulders slumping back down.

“Are you gonna be okay here by yourself while I’m gone?”

“Yeah, I need to study anyways, I’ll keep myself busy. Just need to know she’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure she’s good, might hang out for a bit and watch something if she’s up for it.”

“That sounds amazing. Thank you.”

He didn’t like the idea of leaving her there, but he could tell she wouldn’t have any peace of mind until she knew that Bekah was okay. It reminded him off all the times he’d called his mother in the middle of the night in those last few months before he’d officially come home, just to make sure his dad was still there.

“If you need me, call me okay? I’ll turn back around.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I love you,” she said, kissing him quickly.

“I love you more.”

He shifted her off him onto the couch and got up, putting his shoes and coat on quickly before he could convince himself to stay. It was already dark outside despite it only being 6pm, and he kept his head down on the streets on his way to the hospital, mind racing until he got up to the unit and signed in.

He half expected Bekah to be lying still in her bed, on her back with all her machines on. Or, at least for her to be drained and tired like she had been the last few times they saw her. But when he cleared the doorway she was sitting up in bed on her phone, random Tik Tok audio’s playing. She looked up at him and smiled her brightest smile.

“Earrings! It’s a Wednesday, the fuck are you doing here?!”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You get an extra dose of me this week, deal with it,” he teased, unzipping his coat and laying it over one of the chairs.

“Where’s Indy?”

“Studying for finals. It’s a me you date tonight, you pick. What’re we doing?”

“Well, I restarted Vampire Diaries.”

“Restarted? Bro, you were on season 7 yesterday!”

“Yeah so? The best seasons are the first two, we’ve been over this.”

“Whatever, scootch over.”

She did as he asked, though he had to put the bedrails down to even fit halfway on the mattress.

“Here, get in here so we can send some motivation to Dee,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening snapchat. They moved so just their noses-up were on screen, making Bekah laugh as he sent it off.

She screenshotted it and sent back a heart, which put his mind at ease enough to relax and attempt to enjoy an episode, though he wasn’t really following the plot considering they were almost halfway through the first season.

“So, what’s happening exactly?” He finally asked 20 minutes into the episode.

“Stefan is trying to be all ‘you deserve better than me’, and Damon just doesn’t give a shit. Essentially, Stefan doesn’t want to hurt Elena so he wants her to make the decision to break it off so he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t want to be the bad guy.”

“But if he loves her, then why does he want to break it off at all?”

“Well cause he’s bad for her. She would have to give up so much for him. She’s having to lie to her friends, hide all this stuff for him. Change her whole life really. But she wants to, because she loves him, he just doesn’t think it’s fair to ask that of her. But like… he’s still asking her to do it just by being with her, you know?”

He knew.

“I mean, and he’s a fucking vampire. Yah know, suck suck and all that jazz,” Bekah laughed. “If the rest isn’t a deal breaker, then that definitely is. I mean, yeah, Damon’s a vampire too but at least he just accepts it, and he doesn’t ask her to change or anything.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m Team Damon, if you couldn’t tell,” she tried again.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Grayson tried to shake himself out of his thoughts, but it was proving difficult. Luckily, Bekah just mistook it as him being super invested in the show, which made her happy. Jessica let him stay an extra fifteen minutes, and he took a quick video of Bekah wishing Indy luck on her last final before he left and headed out.

The walk home was worse. It was darker somehow, colder as his mind raced with realization after realization. He did his best to do the math in his head. It was December 3rd, which meant 30 days until he was supposed to go back to LA. All the way to the other side of the country, only coming back to Jersey every few months if he was able to. Ethan’s voice rang in his head as he trudged through the lobby and into the elevator.

That shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country.

He tried to breathe it off, put on a positive face before he opened Indy’s apartment door, smiling when he saw her on the couch, pencil tucked behind her ear as she looked over diagrams.

“Hi! How was it?”

“It was good, she’s good. Looks great actually.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket once, then again, and he pulled it out to check it.

A notification of a payment from the joint bank account, and then a text from E.

Booked the flights for the 2nd. Hope that’s cool.

“Everything okay?” Indy asked.

He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled.

“Yeah. Everything is fine.”

#lmao at me not formatting this right haha #lets try again!#mixtape #grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan fanfiction #let me know what you think in exchange for my eternal love

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elizabethvaughns · 3 years ago

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I listened to if then recently and I'm CONFUSED. I also watched a bootleg wich didn't help since I'm not really good in English and the bootlegs have bad audio quality. Do you have tips how I can understand it? Or can you explain it?

It seems like a cool musical and I wanna understand it so badly!!!

if you want me to explain it, i'd be happy to :)

(when i first watched it, i only understood some of the dialogue but i didn't know about the libretto so i just browsed the tumblr tag and hoped for the best lmao.)

i'd recommend reading the libretto of the musical if you want the exact dialogue, lyrics, and locations.

@ifthenslashers has it linked in their pinned post (thank you for that, by the way💙. your resources are very helpful :))

but the libretto is very long, so i'll try to summarize it best i can(under the cut).

i hope this is helpful!

elizabeth vaughn moves back to new york city after divorcing her husband oren after 12 years. as he's waiting for her, her best friend (and ex-boyfriend this is relevant), lucas talks to this kindergarten teacher, who walked up to him and started talking to him. when elizabeth comes to the park(they're meeting in a park), both lucas and kate(the kindergarten teacher) walk up to her. it turns out that kate is elizabeth's neighbor. kate asks elizabeth to go with her and meet new romantic prospects, have fun. she calls her liz. lucas(a housing activist) asks elizabeth to come with him to meet the other members of the new york citizens for change and to go to his street action in the subway. he calls her beth. this is where the timelines diverge.

liz-verse (liz chooses kate):

so liz goes with kate to get coffee. josh barton, an army doctor who just came back from his second tour, walks up to liz. he awkwardly flirts with her. liz gets a call from a number with the area code (347). she doesn't recognize it so she doesn't pick it up. josh asks for liz's number, liz says it's a new number so she doesn't know it, josh asks her if she believes in fate, she says she doesn't, she walks away. ("what if?")

the next day, liz, kate, and anne (kate's girlfriend) are on the way to brooklyn on the subway. the subway car stops for a bit due to a street action (lucas's group's). the three talk about men, and kate keeps pointing out different men on the subway. josh(also on the subway) walks up to liz. again awkwardly flirts. he's from nebraska(are any falsettos mutual reading this? if so, you know exactly what i'm thinking of lmao). kate conducts an instant public poll about fate and whether liz should take josh's number. liz eventually gives in and takes josh's number. ("it's a sign")

over the course of the next few days? weeks? kate sets liz up on various blind dates. during one of them, liz sees josh in the distance. she runs up to him and hugs him in a last-ditch attempt to end that date. she pretends josh is a very old friend of hers, josh plays along. it's been three times that the two met now. josh asks liz out, she says yes, they go on a date that very evening. they end it at liz's apartment("map of new york"). liz expresses her apprehension with...relationships due to the probabilities. josh basically says "you never know"(bc that's the name of the song) and you can never really tell what's going to happen. ("you never know")

soon, josh and liz go on a date to a baseball game(yes, my dear falsettos mutuals, that is absolutely correct). kate, anne, and lucas tag along. soon enough, josh and liz set lucas up with josh's best friend, david. lucas and david hit it off. ("ain't no man manhattan")

liz and josh hang out in liz's apartment, again. josh reveals that he was on the way to the airport when he was on the subway that day and he didn't go back to nebraska bc of her. they make out, liz runs into the bathroom to get her shit together, they....do the do.("what the fuck?").

the next morning, they wake up. they talk about their relationship. they say "i love you".("here i go")

in a few weeks?(by my best estimation), it's liz's birthday! lucas sees liz pouring her champagne out of her glass and confronts her about it. he and david find out she's pregnant. david asks lucas to move in. he says yes. liz tells josh about the pregnancy. kate proposes to anne. she says yes. josh proposes to liz. she says yes. ("surprise")

a c t t w o

josh and liz get married! ("this day/walking by a wedding")

liz is pregnant(duh). she reads in the newspaper that the idiot mayor's nephew's incompetence with city planning cost the life of a child. josh sings about his excitement for a kid, they have their first son, jake. ("hey kid")

time skip some two years.

liz and josh had a second kid, cooper. lucas and david are babysitting jake. lucas is riding on a skateboard with the stroller. liz is (justifiably) bewildered. david's like he's belted in and has a helmet, he's safe. liz and jake go back home, bc liz is free due to spring break(she teaches urban planning in a uni) and josh is on days.

david talks to lucas about having a kid. lucas is apprehensive because...reasons. they sing "best worst mistake" which is objectively the cutest song in the whole show. they say "i love you" to each other for the first time. ("best worst mistake")

josh gets deployed. liz is mad, she tells him to quit. he says he can't. soon enough, he has to go. after some time, some officers come to liz's door, tell her josh died due to an rpg attack on the medical facility. lucas helps her with the kids, she tells him to go, stay with david. ("i hate you")

(sidenote: i'm on the verge of tears rn bc i'm speedrunning the whole musical in my head. sorry.)

liz is grieving for josh. ("you learn to live without")

the gang(minus anne) goes to josh's funeral. it turns out kate and anne divorced because anne was cheating on kate. kate and lucas ask liz about giving josh an honor guard. she says that he wanted to be cremated and have his remains scattered over the platte river in nebraska(who even knew there was a river in nebraska?). david says that he's imagined his life without josh the past few weeks: josh was his best friend, he introduced him to the man he loves, etc. he asks liz that if she met josh the next day while still knowing that she would lose him, would she avoid taking that chance to avoid the loss, or take the chance anyways? ("what would you do?"). lucas, kate, and david go to get the car. liz has a revelation, of sorts. she promises josh to "start over" with her life every day, and, in a sense, not wallow in the what-might-be's("always starting over").

time skip a few months. liz meets stephen(you'll find out who he is, soon enough) and his wife cathy. he offers her a job in the department of city planning. she takes it. lucas and david are walking in the park with their kid, huck, in the background. lucas walks up to liz, sits down, they talk. lucas reveals he's always been a bit in love with her, liz is surprised. they are the brotp and i love them. ("what if?(reprise)")

the end.

beth-verse(beth chooses lucas):

beth gets a call, area code (347). lucas informs her it's the nyc area code. she picks up. it's stephen, one of beth's old friends from grad school. he offers her a job under him as deputy director of city planning. lucas tells her not to go because he doesn't like stephen and he thinks a job with the city does not make enough of an impact. beth and lucas reminisce about their college days. lucas kisses beth. josh, who is seen walking toward beth in the background, walks away. beth recoils. it's all awkward. beth says she'll still come to the street action. ("what if?")

lucas and beth get bench warrants because of the street action.

beth goes to meet stephen. she's a bit hesitant at first bc she doesn't have experience. but she interviews for the job and she gets it. kate sets beth up on numerous blind dates. on one of them, she discreetly texts lucas to help her out. he comes, she runs up to him and hugs him, the date takes his leave. lucas and beth head to lucas's apartment. beth gets a text from stephen. lucas is still miffed about beth taking a city job. lucas tells her it's a bad idea to get involved with the boss. beth denies that she is in the first place. ("map of new york")

time skip. a couple weeks.

the nycc is protesting the redevelopment of the far west side (bc,,, gentrification). a project that, coincidentally, beth is working on.

beth and stephen go to a baseball game. stephen asks beth to convince lucas to back down from the project. beth does so by promising lucas to introduce him to an editor she knows if he backs down from the project.

time skip, the project is a success. ("ain't no man manhattan")

a few weeks? later, stephen comes to beth's place with some plans. she kisses him. he kisses back. he leaves bc he's married. beth calls lucas, who comes right by.

beth and lucas hook up. ("what the fuck?")

beth tells lucas she's sent in her resignation. he tells her that even though he despises stephen, this cannot be the reason that she quits.

lucas wants to know the status of their relationship, beth claims it was purely a one-time thing. lucas tells her he loves her even if she doesn't love him back and that he will always be there for her. ("you don't need to love me")

beth goes to work. she hires a young grad, elena. kate comes in, tells her that she's her kindergarten class's american hero. stephen comes to beth with the resignation, she rips it up. stephen asks beth to do the speech for the project bc the deputy mayor resigned and he has to step up (which means beth is the new director of city planning! yay!). ("no more wasted time")

it's beth's birthday! beth, kate, anne, elena, and lucas have a small get together. when lucas is off getting the cake, the girls find out that beth is pregnant(because...lucas). beth is confused bc she doesn't know what to do with the pregnancy and the job opportunity. elena tells her to follow what she wants to do. lucas is smashed. he asks beth to move in with him. she refuses. he proposes. again, she refuses. ("surprise")

(it is implied that kate proposes to anne here as well)

a c t. t w o

beth walks by a wedding and contemplates shit about weddings.("this day/walking by a wedding") she aborted the pregnancy.

beth is babysitting elena's kid. elena tells beth that she's moving with her husband to oregon. beth is upset because elena reminds her a lot of herself.

2.5 years after the end of act one, we see lucas in the park. he has published his book. a young woman(paulette) comes up to him, asks for an autograph, implies he's old, you know how it goes. beth walks up to lucas. we learn that lucas has avoided all contact with beth bc he had to grapple with the fact that she aborted the fetus. lucas asks beth if she had, at least, thought about the possibility of the two having a kid together. the two contemplate various alternate universes. beth asks if they can still stay friends. lucas wonders if this was his last chance at love. he walks away. he almost runs into a bicyclist—david. ("some other me")

beth is at an awards ceremony preparing to receive an award. stephen comes to say hi. he asks her to come work with him in albany. beth refuses. we learn that stephen has divorced his wife, cathy. ("map of new york(reprise)")

(ok i'm crying again one sec)

beth learns to cope with being alone(romantically).("you learn to live without")

she goes on a flight to london, which has to make an emergency landing in maine. kate decides to divorce anne because she was flirting with someone else(and kate thinks anne doesn't love her anymore). beth calls lucas, and they mend their friendship.("the moment explodes")

lucas tells beth that kate and anne are getting divorced. beth rushes to the bookstore where the two are dealing with the papers. she convinces them not to get divorced. ("love while you can")

a few weeks later, beth, lucas, kate, and anne meet in the park. kate won the nyc teacher of the year award. beth is planning to run for the city council. josh, who just returned from his third tour overseas, walks up to beth. he says hi, asks her out. she says yes, but her friends are waiting for her. lucas and kate pretend to be engrossed in their own thing. beth agrees to go on a date with josh that very day. ("what if?(reprise)")

the end.

#if/then mutuals feel free to clarify/add on/correct me #ik the timeline switches can make it kinda hard to follow #i hope i summarized it better than wikipedia #long post #anon tag #hmm might rewatch if/then tonight #if/then

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captain-emmajones · 4 years ago

Text

Love, Emma (4/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem <33)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014). Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Killian and Emma will dance around each other, until their heads spin and their legs hurt, and everything becomes blurry and it has to stop – for both of their sake.

Title is from Taylor Swift’s Peace – which clearly inspired the mood of this chapter.

A huge thank you to @profdanglaisstuff who beta’d this and gave me her usual precious advice, and also big thanks to @carpedzem who screamed at me in the best way possible <3

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 6000 words - ao3

Last scene of the last chapter was Killian arriving in NYC after the whole Neal stole watches and Emma impulsively runs away thing. This chapter opens on Killian, Emma, MM and David in MM’s kitchen -- right after Emma and Killian’s hug.

Part 1 - Mirrorball , Part 2 - AUGUST, Part 3 - HOAX, Part 5 - This is me trying, Part 6 - Cardigan, Part 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

PART 4 - PEACE

Would it be enough

If I could never give you peace?

Four years before Emma’s wedding – New York.

As Killian makes small talk with David and Mary Margaret in the kitchenette, Emma is quite thankful she cried this hard. While she really went all in, wept with both her eyes and her nose for a good ten minutes and clearly smeared Killian’s sweater for life in the process, Emma must confess that she does feel better.

Scientists didn’t lie about dopamine. The grey feeling in her chest is twirling in a salt puddle, but Emma knows it won’t be drowned forever. (Not when hazel lingers behind her eyelids, anyway.)

As she sits next to Killian, in front of a plate of scrambled eggs, Emma feels like she might be floating on a cloud. She’s almost tempted to close her eyes, and get some well-deserved rest, but Killian might leave again and her eyes shoot open at the thought.

She did not forget his text. He said he would be busy. Why isn’t he, suddenly?

Her fork slides to the right, and nearly stabs her cheek. Emma sighs, embarrassed, but they don’t notice her, engulfed in their conversation. That’s for the best.

A nasty hope raises her heart. Maybe, just maybe …

But then, no. No. She deserves better than this, better than being left hanging for him to look back at her. Knowing he never does.

“Well, I’m glad to see you two are still the most infuriating couple in town.”

Emma looks up to see a smile on Killian’s face. He is peeling an orange, and its smell fills Emma’s lungs with Christmas memories and Ingrid’s tender smile. She must be worried sick.

Guilt circles Emma’s throat, until she gets distracted by the orange peels dropped next to her. They look like petals.

Emma thinks, as Killian sits next to her, all upright and proper and Navy, that she sees him for the first time in ages. That the strawberry cloud surrounding him has blotted – somewhere between their last goodbye and the moment she realized she was blaming him for her grey, fuzzy feeling. She doesn’t know if she is allowed to blame him. Probably not. But it still itches.

David and Mary Margaret obviously like Killian. She sees it in the way David presses his shoulder when he reaches for butter, and Mary Margaret makes sure his cup of coffee is never empty. She thinks they always did like him more than they liked her. But that’s fair. She also liked Killian better.

“Aha, thank you, mate ,” replies David, and he has a green apron on his right shoulder and he looks very much so adult and Emma frowns, feeling like she missed an important step from teenagerhood to adulthood. “What about you, any lovebird?”

Well, now that was quick.

Mary Margaret’s swiftly elbows David in the ribs, but it’s too late. The eggs are already stuck down Emma’s throat, and it feels like a strong hand is strangling her. She coughs loudly, and a glass of water is pushed in front of her. Killian.

He won’t let her be mad, will he?

“Careful, Swan.” He even dares to smile. She wants to yell at him but Mary Margaret and David would stare, and she would have to explain why she’s yelling, and then she would have to talk about this funny, funny feeling in her belly when she thinks about M, and… She drinks up.

Killian gives a small chuckle then, but Emma barely hears it. She only hears the fickle buzzing of her heart.

“Sorry mate, I’m not the type to kiss and tell.” Killian’s words are sure and calm.

Without a glance, Killian hands Emma an orange slice, as if it were the most natural thing in the world – and sure, for a while it was – and she shoots him a death glare but she takes it all the same.

What does he think he’s doing? Does he think she’s just his to pick whenever he feels like it?

The small slice is very delicate and it leaves tangy, sugary drops on her fingers, but she does not think too much about it and shoves it in her mouth. It explodes in orangey sweetness.

“Can we change the subject?” asks Mary Margaret, and Emma isn’t looking up but she knows she’s staring at her with all of the compassion and the pity in the world and it makes Emma even madder.

Everything is so bitter. She doesn’t know where to look, where to be, for the pain to flatter.

“I need to get out,” Emma exhales suddenly. She doesn’t mean to say it like that, but those are the only words her brain comes up with.

“Oh. Alright. Well, David and I were thinking about going to the Christmas market but—”

“— It’s fine. You guys can go to the Christmas market, I’ll stay with Emma.”

Emma doesn’t offer Killian a glance, instead buries her nails into her palm. How dare he.

“Are you sure, Emma?” asks Mary Margaret, and Emma wants to snap back that she should have thought about it before inviting Killian over, but then she sees the gentle glint in Mary Margaret’s eyes and she can only sigh.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Killian and I need to talk, anyway.”

She hopes Killian’s heart makes a loop in his chest and the tip of his ears turn scarlet, as they always do when he is embarrassed. It’s all he deserves.

“Well, then it’s settled.”

And Emma wishes it didn’t smell like oranges and Christmas in the room, because then it would be easier to hate Killian Jones, for sure.

Bare are the trees of Central Park as Killian and Emma walk in, their boots crushing the fresh snow. Crunch, crunch, it sings. Emma loves that sound.

She is wearing her biggest red coat and a huge beanie but she is still shaking. She buries her hands in her pockets, walking ahead of Killian, and when she looks back he isn’t by her side. Panic rises in her mind, until she gets a glimpse of him a little down the street, queuing next to a coffee shop.

As she walks to meet him, her stomach twists. He’s getting her a hot cocoa. A green and viscous fury creeps from Emma’s toes to her heart. When he hands her the steaming cup, his fingers brush against hers and she blames the cold for the shiver that tingles her skin.

“Thanks,” she hisses, but still will not look at him. Twirls of chocolate steam escape the cup, it smells like heaven.

But Emma is very determined to hate Killian, from now on, and she hides her grin behind her cup.

“Should we sit on the bench?” offers Killian, and she loathes the gentle tone of his voice.

“Yup.”

Down the park, families are strolling and Emma’s heart sighs loudly. Oh, this is very much so unfair. What’s even more unfair, though, is the fact that when Killian presses one hand down her back, she doesn’t want him to stop.

She wants him to linger there. And when his hand quits her back as he sits down on the bench, it leaves frostbite.

She licks her lips, squeezing her thighs together. “Are you alright, Swan?”

She nods and sips the hot chocolate. Clouds of cinnamon tickle her nose. It makes her smile against her will, and then it makes her sad. He knows her by heart. Can you really leave someone you know by heart behind?

“I’m fine. So, we said we would talk,” she quickly mutters, and takes another sip of her warm drink.

Ah, this hot cocoa is definitely soothing her soul.

Killian crosses his legs, and she knows he only does so when he is uncomfortable and she is glad. He better be.

“What do you want to talk about?” Christmas lights twinkle in the trees behind him. They form the shape of a snowflake.

“First, who called you?”

They are green, red and yellow, the lights. Their sight should not tighten her throat like this.

“Ingrid. She was worried about you. She wants you to come back, Emma.”

She nods, a small, quiet cloud of white smoke escaping her lips.

“I thought she’d hate me. I thought she wanted to get rid of me.”

Killian’s furious stare burns the side of her cheek, and Emma blushes but she won’t look back at him.

“Why would she hate you, Emma? Ingrid’s always cared for you.”

She wants to tell him that he cared and he still left, but then she would start to cry, and she does not want that.

“Yeah, right. Well. I’m not used to someone putting me first.”

It’s hard to shake Neal’s smile from the cobweb of her thoughts. She thought he liked her. Hell, she thought he was in love with her and she was the one incapable of moving on from her teenage crush. She thought she was the one throwing away their chance at happiness. She was wrong.

And Killian reaches for her then, breaks their secret and unspoken oath of distance and loneliness and grabs the hand she let linger on the cold, wooden bench, and Emma can’t control the great dive of her eyes into his.

And blue are his eyes, icy blue, and so full of warmth, and she wants to drown in them. She clenches her jaw.

“I’m sorry for what happened, Emma. You deserve so much better than that scumbag.”

Well, does she? Anger burns deep within her. It’s a wicked flame.

She snatches her hand away from him and in that gesture she catches a smell of peeled oranges and everything sucks again.

“You were with her, right?” she attacks then, pushed by this bold fury in her heart, and they have to talk about it or it will kill her.

He opens his mouth then, but no sound comes out, and Emma swallows frozen stones.

“I…I was.” A pause. “How long have you known?”

She shakes her head then, blonde hair dancing over her eyelids. “Since this summer.”

But also, far before that. She thinks she knew the moment he stopped answering her calls at midnight and their texts got more scattered. That was probably the moment she knew.

She buries her hand in her pocket, so that he will not grab it again, and she drinks long mouthfuls of her hot cocoa. She swallows too fast and the vindictive liquid burns her throat. She winces.

“I see. And since we’re talking great revelations, how long has this thing been going on with Neal?”

So much for friendship, she thinks. So much for loyalty and comfort and trust. It nearly hurts as much as the savage burn left by the hot cocoa down her throat. Liar.

“This summer,” she lies.

She wants him to think she never cared, even if she most clearly does, or she wouldn’t be clinging to her hot cocoa this way.

There’s a scoff next to her. “I see.”

And then silence falls, and Emma doesn’t want this battle to end. But when she glances at him, his hands are calmly spread out on his lap, his cup of cocoa long forgotten, and she wants to shake him, to tell him to fight for her, for them, but he is already defeated and he doesn’t care.

“That’s it?” she asks, and her voice is hoarse with tears.

He looks at her then, shrugs. “What do you want me to say, Swan?”

Anything. Anything but his silence and his mature smile and his soft eyes that don’t see her.

“We’ve made mistakes, both of us, in keeping secrets from each other.” A pause. “I made a mistake. I should have talked to you. You’re my best friend, after all.”

“But we didn’t, Killian.” And this is very dangerous, because there is a sob curled up in her throat that is very eager to come out, and she cannot, she cannot let it out.

She needs him to understand.

“Why didn’t we talk about it, Killian? Why didn’t you say anything? Why?”

And he’s staring at her with his big blue eyes, and she feels miles away from him.

He must feel it, he must know how wrong this whole situation is, for them to be with anyone else, he must feel it or she’s been wrong all along.

“Because –” he starts and she’s glad to hear his voice is quivering, too. “— because I care too much about you. I didn’t want it to change anything between us.”

The Christmas lights are so very sad suddenly. “But it has changed everything, Killian.” A snowflake lands on his black, tousled hair. It’s snowing.

“Are you mad at me for leaving?” he asks then, and it’s such a quiet whisper in the snow, she barely hears it.

Anger turns to sadness. It always does.

She peers at him through her eyelashes. “No. Yes. ” A pause, the cold is biting her lips. “I tried to hate you for leaving.” And then he looks sad, and she remembers his own sorrow, and guilt circles her throat. “But I couldn’t.”

Her tiny cold hand leaves the safety of her velvet pocket to grab his palm, and she hopes he hears it. I’ll love you until the end of time.

And in a heartbeat, she presses her lips against his scruffy cheek, discovers his skin cold and damp, and there is a stubborn, stubborn hope in her chest – the hope that he might turn his face at the last moment and drink her breath.

He doesn’t.

When she backs away, her hand lingers on his face as she gazes at him intensely – to remember the gentle shadow dropped by his thick eyelashes on his cheekbones, his cheeks that have turned crimson, and his lips, vibrantly red and tasting of chocolate, his entire face as she allows herself to run after him, one last time.

Her hand leaves his face for the cold wetness of his coat, the bracelet at her wrist ringing, ringing, but she cannot let go, not quite now.

“I’m sorry, Emma.” He whispers, and finally turns his face towards her. It’s unfair. He is twenty seconds too late.

Her heart skips a beat. She thinks it echoes all through the park.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

She nods, and she should find peace in that, but she doesn’t. And it’s fine. She doesn’t need peace, not when this soft flame burns within her. Not while it keeps her alive.

“I know that, Killian.” And she glances down at his lips, stares intensely at them, and she is this close from kissing him, this close, but he backs away, and she smiles – defeated. “Thank you for coming, even though you were busy.”

And she watches him lick his lips, frown. “I’d drop everything for you, Emma. I will always have your back.”

She nods, her heart bursting. Her hand falls down his arm, a pink petal dropped in the snow, and reluctantly settles for holding her cup of hot cocoa. It feels like something is being ripped from her flesh. But that is also fine.

She stares straight ahead, at the Christmas trees and the families, and she exhales: “Let’s go see that Christmas market, huh?”

“Aye.” And he stretches his hand for her to hold, and the tip of his fingers is red and frozen and, before she knows it, his lips are pressed against her cheek, and a flower blooms in Emma’s chest.

And when she looks up, she swears she sees him bend towards her, a liquid flame burning in his gaze, and her breath gets caught in her throat. But then he stops, and snow melts on her lips.

The distance between their bodies, the unfinished course of his lips towards hers, the heartbeat she misses, all of this is fine.

She links their arms as they walk, muffling the voices in her head. They tell her she shouldn’t play with fire, but she has nothing to lose anymore.

Killian throws their now empty cups of hot cocoa in a nearby bin while Emma calls Ingrid. A weird pang lingers in his chest. This crisp winter day carries Christmas smells with it that fill Killian’s lungs with nostalgia and a strange kind of hope.

As he watches Emma pace restlessly in front of him, unaware of her surroundings, he feels proud of her for reaching out to Ingrid first.

Killian watches as Emma clenches onto the phone, throws a strand of hair behind her back and frowns, heels clacking on the pavement, and he notices just how different she looks. Her hair has grown, and she styled it to form golden curls over the red of her coat. She’s wearing lipstick as well, a bright red shade, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her with it.

She’s changing. Evolving without him. It shouldn’t feel like this, in his throat, but it does, and in a blink he looks down at his feet to conceal his feelings.

His thoughts go back to Neal then, Neal who’s hiding somewhere and he desperately wants to find him and smash his pretty, pretty face.

But then he hears the click of Emma’s black boots on the snow coated pavement, and he looks up, forcing a smile on his face. There’s not much else to do but smile.

“Come,” she smiles and grabs his arm, “Everything we need is right in front of us.”

Oddly enough, they spend a good day together, one that brings Killian back to summer nights and long walks along the beach, and her hand in his, and the feeling, the conviction that this would last forever.

As they eat crepes and toasted marshmallows and somehow their laughter echoes between New York’s brick buildings, forever is merely a word and they are fighting against the passing of time.

All of this is ephemeral. But then again, everything is. Perhaps it is the reason why he wraps his arms quite as hard around her when she whines “I’m so cold, so cold” by a street corner, and she is so small in the crook of his neck, and his lips linger on her forehead as a chuckle shakes both of their shoulders.

(They never join Mary Margaret and David.)

And when nighttime falls, and they’ve finally reached Mary Margaret’s building, and it is time to say goodnight and goodbye, always goodbye, he makes a conscious effort in memorizing the features of her face. The pavement shines, glints, glistens under New York’s street lights, wears its prettiest fluorescent feathers.

And Emma’s face is inhabited by that same green, wet light. Her curls have loosened throughout the day and a crown of baby hairs is escaping from her beanie. She only looks more beautiful and touching. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold and her eyes are two green lakes shining with gentle sparkles and her mouth is wet and he desperately wants to kiss her.

It would be easy to cave in, lean forward and drink her breath. Easy to take advantage of her broken heart and mold it with his hands.

And then what? Emma does not like him like he does, Emma is in love with Neal, she always has been it seems, and kissing her wouldn’t lead anywhere but to more heartache.

And he thinks of Milah then, Milah who’s betrayed him but whom he deeply cares for and who is willing to be with him. Milah who loves him, and whom he might love, if only he allowed himself to.

He wants to tell Emma then, join me in my hotel room, I did not come all the way here just to spend a few hours with you, come lie next to me and we’ll – Sweet, sweet fantasy.

Where would that bloody lead them?

“So, this is it. I’m expecting you to call me once you’re safe and home at Ingrid’s,” he finally whispers, and he sees it, this strange glimmer in her eyes.

She’s smiling, nods, seems at peace.

“You never told me her name. What is it?” she suddenly asks.

Frozen, frozen snowflakes fall all around them. The fire burning between their two bodies is still excruciating.

“Milah.”

She nods again. Breathes in and, he’s starting to understand as well, lets go. Very resolute, very brave when she kisses his cheek – for just one instant. And then her lips vanish.

And she smiles again, and Killian finally understands he is losing her forever.

He watches as she carefully cuts the golden string tying her to him, and his hand has a small jolt but he is not quick enough to stop her.

“I’ll see you around, next summer, I guess,” she simply mutters and does not wait for his reply to turn around.

The din of her boots echo on the pavement, until it does not.

And just like that, he’s lost her.

Watching Ingrid’s yellow bug park in front of Mary Margaret’s building, this Sunday morning, really stirs something strange and unfamiliar in Emma’s chest. She doesn’t know quite why but suddenly there is this heavy, heavy weight on her chest and it is hard to breath.

“It was nice to have you here, Emma. Do come back, when you are not in trouble, some day,” smiles Mary Margaret, and then she’s wrapping her arms around Emma’s body.

And Emma breathes into her, and she thinks everything is terribly overwhelming, but maybe it is a good kind of overwhelming for once. She clutches onto her friend.

“Thanks, Mary Margaret. I’ll be more than happy to come back.”

And then David’s pulling her into another hug, and Emma starts to think life doesn’t suck as much as she wants to believe it.

Ingrid gets out of the car, rubbing her hands together. “Well well, they don’t lie about New York weather.”

And Emma cannot tell but her face is definitely splitting into a ridiculous, ugly smile, and her chin starts quivering. An ocean of unfamiliar emotions is swallowing her. But maybe, just maybe, as Ingrid’s green eyes find hers and shine so very softly, maybe she is allowed to feel them.

“Emma.”

“Ingrid.”

And then Emma doesn’t know who reaches first, it’s her, it’s her stretching her hand and grabbing Ingrid’s shoulder and pulling her against her, until the weight on her chest explodes into thousands of strawberry bubbles of happiness.

And it’s really hard to swallow the tears that threaten to come out of her eyes when Ingrid’s hand finds her scalp and gently massages it, and her smell fills her lungs, and she never realized Ingrid had a smell and that it smelled like home.

And then Ingrid’s lips are on her temples and Emma is nowhere to be found, melting into a puddle of glittering happiness.

And when she looks behind her back, Mary Margaret and David have disappeared.

“I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you couldn’t trust me, Emma.”

And then Emma shakes her head, nods, laughs a little. “It’s fine, Ingrid. It’s fine. It was equally my fault.”

Ingrid grins, her hands cupping Emma’s face, and Emma feels safe and loved, and she forgives both of them.

Emma learns during their car trip back to Storybrooke that Ingrid found the jewelry store where the watches were stolen, and she gave them back, and the shopkeeper was so happy he withdrew his complaint.

Neal is nowhere to be found. But Emma thinks that’s quite alright, because this pain will fade away with time as well.

And when Killian sends her a text “Safely landed. Already missing you”, Emma ignores it and shoves her phone down her bag.

This pain will fade away with time as well.

Six months before Emma’s wedding.

Emma’s running. She’s running like she’s never run before. Mind you, as deputy Sheriff of Storybrooke, for two years now since David left for New York, running is part of her job description. But she’s never run with this kind of fervor before.

She’s running as if Killian Jones might close his eyes and never wake up.

“Family?” asks the hospital nurse without a look at her.

Big, big pearls of sweat roll down Emma’s temples as she stares at the nurse with eyes wide open, trying to catch her breath. “Y-yes,” she lies, in the blink of an eye.

And then the nurse glances down at her left hand and Emma knows she sees the ring on her finger and thinks – but she is mistaken and it is fine.

“Alright. His room number is 815.”

And Emma turns around like a devil, like she’s possessed really, and she thinks she is, she is possessed by a fear that’s tearing her heart down and setting it on fire.

“Miss?”

“Mmm?” What again?

“You might want to prepare yourself. He was given a huge amount of morphine, to lessen his pain. He probably won’t be awake when you come in. ”

Emma nods, swallows downs a disinfectant smell that burns her tired lungs. If she could prepare herself she would. But there’s no preparing for that.

As she steps into Killian Jones’s hospital room, Emma feels like her heart is thrown at her feet and the whole world is joyfully trampling on it.

Her entire universe stopped spinning when she received the call. (She’s still his next of kin. That thought alone infuriates her.)

But as she faces him, lying still on this small bed, his skin, so pale, so pale he nearly seems dead, with his eyes resolutely closed and this enormous, horrendous bandage around his wrist, she wonders by which miracle her legs manage to hold her.

“Killian…”

She tries to convince herself she won’t cry then, but her eyes do not care for her pride and are soon filled to the brim with tears as a smile crinkles her face, but it’s not a smile, it’s a terrible, terrible sob that won’t come out.

She drags her boneless legs towards the bed, and then she’s faced with an awful dilemma: where to touch him, where to tether herself, and not to hurt him in the process?

Her eyes twitch, she blinks, and settles for brushing slightly his cheek.

“Hello there,” she whispers then, “Heard you had a very bad fall. I came as soon as I could.”

Flashes of Neal’s anger and disappointment and anger and more disappointment linger behind her eyelids. He was furious.

He couldn’t understand why she would drop everything, why she would drop him on the spot, just to save this childhood friend she hasn’t seen in a year.

“When, Emma, when are you going to choose me over him?”

And he tried to take her engagement ring away, the one she is turning around her finger, swirl, swirl, the golden ring, the golden cage.

A very viscous bile climbs back up her throat.

“I missed you,” she exhales, and clenches onto his bruised knuckles.

She gathers all of her willpower not to stare at the void, the void where his hand is supposed to be, and she licks her lips because she is scared this is one blow will simply be too much to withstand.

Life has a peculiar fondness for punching Killian Jones straight in the face, it seems.

Opening one’s eyes is really the most natural thing to do. Until one’s eyelids seem as heavy as lead, and there isn’t much for one to wake up to.

His life really fell apart, in those last months, huh. Which is why, as this bloody machine closed on his wrist during the ship’s inspection, Killian Jones really wasn’t that surprised. He would have chuckled if not for the pain, taunting Fate with a very sharp “Oh, is that what we’re going for now?”

That’s what he got for being promoted to Lieutenant. Any good Lieutenant made sure the ship’s mechanics were properly checked before sailing away. And he did, bloody hell.

It was the worst ship launching the Navy had seen in years. Killian would be proud if not for the pain, again.

And then he hears her voice. “Hello there,” and for a minute he fears he is dead.

But then her hand is on his face and the sun couldn’t possibly shine in hell, could it?

He wants to reach for her, but the only hand he has left refuses to move, and it is driving him mad. Her smell fills his lungs, fills it with ginger and herself and meaning.

And then she leaves the room and it is darkness and void and silence. And he wants to scream.

David and Mary Margaret stand up as one in the waiting room, as Emma shuts Killian’s door behind her.

Seeing them is such a relief, it makes her forget the pebbles in her belly for one instant.

“Emma, honey,” and Mary Margaret’s arms are around her, and it’s a wave of comfort. “We came as soon as we could.”

Emma drove all night from Storybrooke to Portsmouth and coffee is starting not to be enough to keep her eyes open.

“He still hasn’t woken up?” asks David as he presses his hand on Emma’s shoulder.

She shakes her head. “Nope. He went through surgery last night. He should wake up any time now.” This bitter taste in the back of her throat will not fade and the thousands of coffees she’s had only worsen it.

“How…How did Neal take it? Considering he was opening his pawnbroker’s shop this weekend?” risks Mary Margaret, in a very small voice.

Right. Neal.

Mary Margaret doesn’t mean to hurt Emma any further, but there it is, the weight on her finger, swirl, swirl, swirl.

“Bad. Very bad. But he’ll manage.”

Emma tries to ignore their concerned eyes then, because they know too much and she doesn’t want to prove them right. Although every inch of her being is probably giving her away anyway.

Swirl, swirl, swirl.

But she wants to belong to someone, and Neal knows her, in spite of everything, he knows her and he chose her, and it is enough. Hell, he fought for her, for two years, showing up every day at the sheriff station once he learnt Graham had taken Emma under his wing, he showed up and he showed her he cared.

And she quite literally put him through hell before giving him a second chance after his first betrayal.

“I never meant to let you go, Emma. I swear it to you, but the police were at my back and I couldn’t bring you into all of this. But I never stopped loving you, I never did, and I’ll love you until the end of time – only if you’ll let me.”

And sometimes, all one really wants is to be wanted, after all.

“Do we… Do we know if she’s coming?” asks Mary Margaret in a very quiet tone, as if she doesn’t want to utter the words.

Emma has a big sigh then. “No, she’s not. Killian definitively broke up with her three months ago.”

David and Mary Margaret both stare at her with something terrible in their eyes. Emma pretends she does not see it.

“He found out she’d been cheating. Again,” she lies. It’s easier this way.

Emma doesn’t tell them that Killian didn’t tell her about the breakup, and she just learnt about it from the mouth of Killian’s superior, doesn’t tell them they have hardly spoken since she started dating Neal again, and especially doesn’t tell them that Neal proposed three months ago and she sent Killian a text to which he never replied.

Nope. That’s a cross for her to bear.

He moves. Emma’s eyes shoot open. He moved . It wasn’t really perceptible, but she felt it, the small clench of his fingers around hers.

Emma sits up straight. She thinks he is frowning. This is good. This is good. He is waking up.

“Come on, Killian. You can do this. Push through this.”

And finally, finally , his eyelids flutter, flutter, until blue emerges and his eyes go wide. She smiles, and it’s the most genuine smile she’s had in months.

“Ems’,” he begins, a hoarse whisper. His throat must be dry.

She presses her fingers softly, swiftly, against his dry lips. “Shush, Killian, it’s going to be okay.”

She rushes to the small sink in his bedroom. A plastic cup was left there, and she fills it with water, before tenderly pushing it against Killian’s lips.

He closes his eyes, drinks slowly as her other hand cups the back of his head.

And then the cup is put down with her bravery, and she grabs his fingers. She sees the waves of terror in his eyes, the waves exhaustion cannot quite hide, and it reminds her of their childhood and she desperately wants to mend him, to soothe his soul, but there is so much to heal and he won’t let her.

She presses a very trembling kiss onto his forehead. She sees him close his eyes into her touch, and her entire being is screaming.

“Feared you wouldn’t come,” he manages to whisper. She watches as he swallows down.

She shakes her head. “Of course I’d come.” A pause. “You absolutely do not have permission to ever scare me like this again.”

He manages to smile, somehow. “You don’t have to worry about me, Swan. I’m a survivor.”

Her chin quivers then, and she hates herself because she should be the strong one. But it is exhausting to remain brave when he seems completely, utterly defeated.

“Fancy that red-leather jacket of yours.”

And he makes her chuckle, the bastard, he is the one lying on a hospital bed and he makes her chuckle.

“Thanks, Killian.” And she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and she sees it. The glint of her ring under the yellow ceiling light. And he sees it too.

And he stares at her ring then, that glints, glints, and a lightning bolt shatters the blue of his gaze and she wants to throw it away so that she will never have to stare at this deep, dark blue sea of sadness.

Instead, she smiles. There is not much else to do but smile.

“Neal?”

“Emma, I’m so glad you called. I wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I understand, I really do…”

“Don’t bother apologizing. I just wanted to warn you that I’m going to stay a while with Killian. He needs me.”

“…He needs you? He needs you? What about your job? What about me, Emma?!”

“Graham agreed to this. He owes me so many days off. And I will ask you this once, Neal: quit talking about Killian as if he doesn’t matter, or I swear to god, I will give you back your ring. And there will be no third chance.”

“See? See how you react, Emma? As if I’m the villain in this stupid little story of yours and I am tired of th—”

She hangs up.

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

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shon-ha-lock · 5 years ago

Text

Sweater Weather (harry/niall)

It’s that time of year! I had a blast participating in this year’s 1D Secret Santa. @silveredsound i hope you like my gift!

It was a super cheap flight, in Niall's defense. A real deal. So what if the connection was in a tiny regional airport? In Wisconsin. Three days before Christmas. In the middle of a week of record low temperatures and snowstorms.

Okay. In retrospect, maybe he should have expected something to go wrong.

Niall's plane is the last to touch down in Chippewa Valley before it starts rerouting its incoming flights to airports not currently being blasted by the polar vortex. This is also, of course, when it grounds its outgoing flights “indefinitely”, leaving him and around one hundred other travelers stranded.

The whole airport has just two gates, with one shared, cramped waiting area. A line has snaked itself around that entire space, leading up to the customer service desk, where everyone is waiting for a chance to yell at a single beleaguered United Airlines employee about their flights being cancelled.

Niall contemplates joining the line, but he’s more the type to wait until he can vent his anger by giving the lowest scores possible on a ‘how did we do?’ survey. And besides, just standing near the desk for a few minutes gives him all the information he needs to know, on repeat.

“We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this is causing our loyal customers,” is the current opener every time someone storms up to the little old lady working the desk. Her reedy voice is placating and increasingly nervous as she assures everyone that United is “currently working with Chippewa to arrange accommodations for anyone whose flight has been delayed by the storm.”

This is comforting until Niall realizes that this means they don’t currently have hotel rooms set up for travelers with missed connections the way larger airports do. No shuttles, no vouchers, not a goddamn thing.

They’re only twenty minutes outside of the little city of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, which probably has at least a few hotels with vacancies, but the odds of finding an Uber driver to brave the storm and get him there are slim to none.

Niall’s not really the type to just stand around in a crisis and twiddle his thumbs, but if he’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t a goddamn clue what to do right now. He flies relatively frequently but he’s never actually had to deal with a flight being cancelled because of the weather, and he’s struck by a childish urge to call home and ask his mother for advice about what to do.

At the moment, it’s looking like he might actually need to call her anyway, because she’s expecting to pick him up from Albany International in five hours, and that’s definitely not happening now. God, he hopes he’ll make it back to New York at some point within the next three days. He’s never spent a Christmas away from home in his twenty six years of life, and he doesn’t want to start now.

He’s well on his way to an anxiety spiral when he notices that there’s one other passenger besides him not angrily crowding around the service desk. He looks to be around Niall’s age, and he’s pawing through a backpack with a resigned expression on his face. After a minute, Niall figures that he must be searching for warmer clothes to put on; the man’s short sleeved shirt is well-equipped to show off all the strange tattoos on his arms, but isn’t exactly appropriate for December in Wisconsin.

Niall, by contrast, is dressed and packed for two weeks of winter in upstate New York. He looks down at his own backpack, aware that it’s stuffed with four different Aran sweaters, and makes a decision. It’s the season for doing good deeds, after all. Making a stranger a little less miserable surely counts.

“Hey there,” Niall says as he walks over to the man, who’s given up looking through his luggage and is now sitting forlornly on one of the waiting area’s cheap plastic benches. He looks up, and Niall’s breath -- well, it honest to God catches in his throat. This guy must be some kind of model, because he’s got just about the most gorgeous face Niall’s ever seen. Green eyes, red lips, the works.

“Hi?” the guy ventures after a few seconds of Niall staring down at him like a lunatic.

Niall can feel himself go red as he hurriedly unzips his backpack, feeling around until he grabs a fistful of wool.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a sweater at random and basically throwing it at the guy’s head.

“You looked cold, so.” He shrugs. He watches this ridiculously good-looking stranger hold out the sweater to examine it, smiling widely for a second before his expression shifts to concern.

“Oh, this is hand-knit, isn’t it? I couldn’t possibly take this,” he says, trying to hand it back to Niall, who takes a step backwards and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Really, I insist,” he says. “Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor. My grandma still thinks we live in Ireland and makes one for me every year; I’m drowning in the things.” This seems to make the guy only more determined to hand it back to him, but Niall perseveres.

“I’d feel guilty just getting rid of them, but if I tell her I passed one on to a chilly traveler I’ll be grandson of the year, so.”

Niall narrowly avoids pumping a fist in the air in victory when this makes the guy giggle, bite his lip, and finally, reluctantly pull the sweater on over his t-shirt. It’s a sea green that matches his eyes perfectly, which is great, because what Niall really needed was to be even more distracted by a random person’s good looks.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he says once it’s on, his chin-length hair now attractively rumpled. “I was worried I was going to freeze solid the second I went outside.”

He holds out a hand; Niall takes it. Soft palms, manicured and painted fingernails -- this guy might really be a fashion model.

“I’m Harry,” he says. He smiles wide enough when he says it that his cheeks dimple. Niall’s heart is in some serious trouble now.

“I’m Niall,” he replies, letting go of Harry’s hand a second later than is probably appropriate.

He’s not sure how, but he wants to keep the conversation going somehow, just so he has an excuse to look at Harry’s face for a little longer. Before he can come up with something, an ancient intercom crackles to life and makes them both look around.

“Attention, travelers. In two hours, the storm is expected to dissipate enough to start offering shuttles into Eau Claire. Chippewa will be providing vouchers for the following lodgings.”

The announcer rattles off a list of local hotels before repeating the entire message over again. This announcement seems to renew the stranded travelers’ agitation, and they start swarming the service desks with complaints about the wait. Harry and Niall both stay where they are, clearly on the same page about not bullying the elderly. Harry doesn’t seem any happier than the people yelling, though.

“I didn’t manage to sleep on the plane because I was so nervous about the weather and the turbulence,” he confesses to Niall. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out before that shuttle actually gets here.”

“Where are you coming from?” Niall asks. They’re making small talk! Success!

“Well, I started out in Italy thirteen hours ago,” Harry says ruefully. “Then I had a connecting flight in Boston, and from there, I should have gone all the way out to LA, which is where I’m spending Christmas. But I had to book last minute, and the only flights left had an extra connection. So I took a chance on this one, and of course now I’m stuck here.” He pouts as he says it, and it should make him look immature but instead he just looks like he’s posing artfully for Covergirl or something.

“So we’re heading in opposite directions,” Niall says. “I’m coming from LA, and I’m on my way to New York.”

Harry’s eyes light up at this.

“Oh my god, do you live in NYC? I love spending time there, it’s one of my favorite cities in the world.”

Niall sighs and shakes his head in mock-disappointment.

“Everyone loves NYC so much but they always forget about the actual capital of New York.”

When Harry just stares at him blankly, Niall relents and laughs out, “I’m from Albany. My whole family immigrated there from Ireland when I was six months old."

Niall feels a bit awkward at first, talking about his life with someone he just met, but he quickly learns that Harry is the type of old soul who loves to make conversation with strangers. And by the time the shuttles start actually arriving he can't say that the two of them are strangers anymore.

He learns that Harry's lived in LA his whole life, and so traveling anywhere that's cold knocks him off his feet. Niall's only lived in California since he started attending UCLA (at first as an undergrad and now for post-graduate work) but it turns out he and Harry have several mutual acquaintances, which delights Harry to no end, and he seems more interested in Niall's classes last semester than Niall was, asking questions about what he learned and whether the professors were cool or boring.

He's in the middle of a rant about early morning lectures when the intercom starts announcing that they'll be able to start shuttling people into the city soon. Which of course means that the two of them are going to have to go their separate ways.

Harry starts fussing with his luggage again, seeming almost shy now, and thanks Niall again for the sweater.

Niall scrambles for something else to say to forestall a goodbye.

“How did you know it was hand-knit?” is the only question he comes up with, but it's effective.

"Oh!" Harry exclaims, going all smiley again.

"The pattern was really detailed, and I could see how tight the stitches were. Didn't seem likely that a machine made it," he says.

"Wow, you've got a real eye. Do you work in fashion or something?" Niall asks, wondering if his initial impression was right after all.

"Or something," Harry says, seeming embarrassed for some reason. "I um, do modelling work sometimes. Shoots for Gucci, mainly, but other brands too. It's why I was in Italy, actually."

Holy shit. There’s an actual Gucci model wearing one of his grandma’s sweaters right now. What a thought. His mom is going to flip when he finally gets to New York and tells her all about this.

"That's really cool," Niall tells him, scrambling to think of a segue into asking for his number that doesn't come off like he's just trying to hook up with a model.

As luck would have it, Harry provides one for him - by asking for his grandmother’s phone number.

“Or even just her mailing address,” Harry rushes on when Niall bursts out laughing.

“I’d like to personally thank her for making such a pretty sweater that’s doing such a good job of keeping me warm.”

“Well, I’m going to be seeing her for Christmas in a few days, if the weather calms down. You could call me and I could just hand my phone over to her.”

It’s not particularly subtle, but luckily Harry doesn’t call him out on it. In fact, his face goes a bit sly, and he looks Niall up and down for a moment.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Harry says, and then whips out an honest-to-god gel pen from nowhere to physically write his phone number on Niall’s hand.

“Text me when you get a chance, and we’ll have each other’s numbers that way,” he says cheerily.

A few minutes later, they go their separate ways - Niall with Harry’s phone number written in bright green ink on the back of his hand, and Harry with a signature Grandma Horan sweater to keep him warm.

As he passes the service area, Niall cheerfully plucks a survey card from the desk. Seems like he’s going to give United a glowing review after all.

#hs #narry #my fic #1dficsecretsanta #harry styles #niall horan #fic

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glittercndgcld · 4 years ago

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( 𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑚 𝑥 𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑡𝑡 )

📲 text messages | @xboutlxstnightmuses

scott sorry it is the middle of the night and I am dying here we have said that we can talk to each other I might be a little drunk, but I am up for talling about it sober tomorrow taylor swify wrote "I did something bad" for me and ....i am not that big of fan?????WHY

liam It's a great thing I'm still up then. I'd have been a bit bitter about being woken up :upside_down: But if you're dying, well... maybe I'd let it slide. What's going on? Drunk? Well, damn. Where was the party? If you're dying over it, tell me about it. Something bad?? I, for some reason, can't imagine you doing anything bad.

scott on a bar, pretty close to my apartment? two beers in and I approached one of my college professors....to talk ....casually?

liam That doesn't sound too bad? Or well, what were ya'll talking about? The fact you're dying over it, has got me really wondering :thinking:

scott it doesn't? it just feels wrong getting drunk with your college professor, joking around and calling him by first name and exchanging numbers and walking you home from the bar?

liam OH WELL that definitely wasn't my first thought. It probably felt wrong because students don't get drunk with their college professors. This will probably have you dying even more, but it definitely sounds like you just had a date with your college professor. I'm impressed, Scott. I didn't take you for the type to even drunkenly approach anyone older than you.

scott :scream::scream::scream::scream: he doesn't seem much older than me? and i was completely alone....I had to find someone to socialize? i did not have a date with Peter I don't date professors he might think that i am doing it all for the grades...I DIDN'T his voice is so cool though

liam If he's a professor, he's likely, at least like, 35 or something. Around there. That's a bit older than you. So you found your professor. Really feel like most people would've just left altogether :joy: so drunk Scott has balls. Normally, students don't call their professors by their first name either, and yet. I mean, com'on. He walked you home? That's so... sweet. And a really nice end to a first date. Maybe you could've said that prior to tonight :laughing: but after? Well. I mean, AND ya'll exchanged numbers? Come. On. Did you have fun? Well... maybe. I can't speak for him. From the sounds of it, the fun was pretty mutual though. Maybe he doesn't think that. His voice... is cool?

scott :fearful::fearful::fearful: this wasn't a DATE I did say a lot of stuff that I didn't like. he has given me approval to call him Peter outside of class? yes. We talked a lot and laughed a lot. I didn't know I would have so much fun. And we probably have things in common ? Just a feeling yeah I asked for it because he said he might want to offer me some advice? yeah it is so mesmerizing. I honestly feel like that I can always listen to it. I knew it from my first class with him. But talking to me with that voice :exploding_head:

liam I don't know, Scott. It sounds like it was. It sounds like you two had a really nice time together, so much so that in ya'lls drunken haze, thought talking more would be a great idea. The fact you asked him for his number ... have I said that I'm impressed? But also the fact he gave it to you... hm. And the fact he gave you permission to call him Peter outside of class? Scandalous. Oh, my god. Are you kinda smitten now? Because it sort of sounds like you are :scream:

scott Why do you find that SO impressive? hmm what? hmm what? Does it mean anything? I am not smitten. His voice is just cool. he also doesn't seem like he is 35? I don't know yeah oh my god :scream: so scandalous should I text him.now to apologiZe? also....he thought that he was boring me and I had better places to be like and I was like ....why would he think that so I said...."do you think I have better places to be, professor?" I should apologize mainly FOR that oh my god what would he think of me? I am a mess I told him everything about my family and the reason I came to NYC I haven't even told you what I have told Peter. NOT as much anyway. oh my god is it too early to drop out of his classes?

liam Because, you come off so shy at work - yet here you are, putting yourself out there like that. Granted, you could’ve hit on literally ANYONE other than your professor, but that takes all the more confidence. It’s just interesting that he gave you his number, is all. Like in that setting... drunk, having a good time like professor and students don’t do together, even outside of class. And then he walked you home. That has “date” written all over it. Oh, please. You like his voice? You’re so smitten! Do you like his laugh, too? His face? Bet you do! Yes! But not tonight. You’re drunk and he’s drunk. Text him in the morning! Oh, Scott. I can’t stop laughing!! You probably damn near gave him a heart attack! :laughing: I like drunk Scott!! I need to hang out with drunk Scott! Dont worry so much about it. I think he likes you, too. Wowwww. I’m a little offended? But I’ll let it slide because you’re currently dying and I’m amused.

scott Yah...RIGHT!! I don't even remember hitting on anyone...EVER. In High School things were different. People were closeted. I don't even remember how it is.... OH MY GOD....let's freak about that now-SHALL WE ....but it wasn't a date I'm NOT smitten. Yeah you should really get me drunk sometimes, to see how it is. But, you're actually talking to him now, so I don't know what the difference would be. He does? WAIT...WOAH Why are we talking about liking here? He's my professor Yeah, I don't open up THAT easily. You shouldn't be offended

liam YEAH RIGHT! You approached him. You asked him for his number... sounds like hitting on someone to me. Ah, Scott... it’s college and you’re in New York - one of the most diverse cities in the, maybe, world. What better time to come out of the closet then when you’re out here, on your own, finding yourself? I mean. Okay. Sure. Freak out. BUT this isn’t high school. That’d be a big no-no, obviously - I don’t even have to mention that. But you’re, what, 27? You aren’t a kid. It’s different. Not ideal considering. But different. Are you sure about that though? :thinking: Hanging out with drunk Scott will likely be a lot more fun than just texting him. From the sounds of it, anyways. If what you’re telling me is true, I’d say so, yeah. He probably likes you, too. I mean, he walked you home, Scott! That’s like... super cute. He really didn’t have to do that. we’re talking about liking because you just kinda sorta had a date with your professor :laughing: I was kidding, mostly. I don’t get offended easily. If I did, I’d have left New York a lot time ago.

scott AGAIN...I didn't know anyone there. He was the only person I knew 26 in a couple of weeks actually but yeah I am too drunk to be sure about anything great, then maybe I can have a birthday party in the coffee house and invite Peter over I will get drunk in no time with you like the devil on my shoulder in movies I do need to find someone who represents the angel to balance things out THAT, walking me home...hasn't sunk in yet?? OH SHUT UP it wasn't a date!!!!

liam Mhmmm :rolling_eyes: Still, not that bad. Age is just a number anyways, and maybe next semester, take another english class - another professor. So you two could date :wink: without it feeling so wrong. Because then. He won't be your professor. You're just... a student and he just happens to be a professor :person_shrugging: Yes!! Yes. Do that! That's a great idea! Done deal. I'll even do the party planning for you! The devil on your shoulder? While that might be a fitting title for me, I'm only pushing you to live a little. That's all. Eh, I think you're just fine with me on your shoulder :thinking: It should. Because that's not something someone that isn't interested would do. You're an adult. You didn't need to be walked home. Didn't you say you lived close by, anyways? :zipper_mouth:

scott ....okay mr matchmaker who said I want to date him ? At the moment I just want to finish the semester and I am not as it seems and okay. And mr party planner ....and devil on my shoulder.....too many nicknames after a texting session anyway, do you think our boss would mind? If it’s after our shift? I did tell him but...he seemed to eager to walk me home ?

liam Sooo you don’t want to date him?? Oh shush. Why do you think you aren’t going to finish the semester? I like all of these nicknames. They are all very fitting. I’ll find out for you! Maybe if he’s invited... :laughing: Well... again, probably because he likes you, too.

scott I don't know. I did want company on that event. I didn't think anything else through. maybe if he answers tomorrow, he will probably be invited Is it that easy to figure out that somebody likes you? And what did I do? I just approached him in an event. And we talked. is it that easy to understand that you like someone?

liam That isn't a no :thinking: You better not chicken out. I am dying to know if he texts back. Sometimes, no, but other times, yes. Just judging off of what you've told me now... I'm like, 80% confident in saying that he likes you. I feel like it's pretty safe to assume he even bought you a drink or two - did he? If you don't try to deny it all of the time, yeah.

scott I won't...I still need to ....not fail college. I need to apologize.... for giggling with him. perfect if I didn't approach him, I would never know oh well...hmmm :flushed::flushed::flushed: he bought all of my beers. Which...I don't remember how many they were? 6? Or 5? This makes me think that it was a date too :dizzy_face: I am not denying it!!! It is really difficult to realize I actually approached him in the first place

liam You aren't going to fail college. You are so dramatic. Nope. But you did approach him and now you know. He bought ALL of your beers? Now I'm 90% sure he likes you :laughing: It was. And a good one, too. You're denying it a little. Well. You did.

scott I am drunk. YOU WANTED DRUNK SCOTT, HERE HE IS!!! The thing is that you are the one that is sure and I am not. Wouldn't you deny it even if you did ALL that I did today?

liam I WANT TO PHYSICALLY HANG OUT WITH DRUNK SCOTT - IT'S DIFFERENT I am very sure. I'd bet money on it, even. Your night would've have gone the way that it did if he wasn't at least a little interested, Scott. If my hot professor hit on me at a bar... I don't think that I'd deny it, no. But I'm the devil on your shoulder for a reason :smiling_imp:

scott I am pretty sure you will, at some point OH GOD, FINE! fair enough. OKAY, I'm a little bit attracted to him But it comes against my very strict family values at the moment it feels COMPLETELY wrong But what do I know? I was the one who approached him. Maybe I was too supressed?

liam Fantastic. I'm holding you to that! :laughing: I know you are without even admitting it. I'm dying to see what he looks like! That's understandable. It is a little taboo. But like I said before. You're both adults :man_shrugging: You are the one that approached him! And he's the one that bought your drinks and walked you home. Maybe... Suppression is never a good thing.

scott Well, he looks pretty great OKAY? and the voice makes it even worse in my head too velvety I hate him to be honest at the moment. Because this wouldn't have happened If he wasn't that handsome and didn't have that voice I am going to drink some water and go to sleep before I say anything else that is gonna be teasing-worthy in the future there is a small chance that I MIGHT text you in the morning

liam That sounds like a good idea. Do that. Oh, you've already said plenty :laughing: but yeah, maybe stop while you're ahead? You should! I'm super curious to hear your sober thoughts about all of this tbh lmao.

scott my sober thoughts hmmm let's hope I remember that I even texted you good night Liam:smiling_imp:

#muse : liam lancaster #liam x scott #liam x scott 001 #liam 001

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cycat4077 · 5 years ago

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Changes: A Sonny x Reader fic

(You know I’m in too deep with a fandom when I start writing fics...)

Sonny Carisi is ruining my expectations of men and, much to my dismay, slowly converting me into a “legs” woman. So it’s no wonder I want to write cute fluffy stories about him. Except this one doesn’t start out so fluffy. Like no fluff at all. Actually a lot of mutual loathing. But hey, what’s the opposite of hate? Yep! Love. We’ll get there folks ;)

Title: Changes Ship: Sonny x Reader (OC female character) Chapters: 1/? (should be more to come) Links: AO3, FF.net (or see below the cut), Chapter List

Notes: I love Carisi so much and Peter does such a fantastic job portraying him (and he's absolutely gorgeous to boot). It's hard to see Sonny as anything but a total sweetheart...But I wanted to try something a bit different. What if he and a love interest got off on the wrong foot and she was really annoyed by everything he did? How does that dynamic change when they finally start getting to know each other? Hope you enjoy! It was a quick idea that popped into my head. I do plan on continuing it for a bit, so any feedback would be loved!

Chapter 1: Summer Hire

This is the point in your life where you’d probably hear a record scratch and a voice-over version of yourself would say: “I bet you’re wondering how I ended up here?”

Well, you suppose it’s not the worst thing in the world but it’s not the exact vision you had had for yourself when you moved to New York.

You’re a university graduate. You did a Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in biology upstate and, after finding your calling as a teacher, you completed a Master's in education to top it all off. The affiliations and contacts you made there led you to NYC when a part-time lecturer position opened up in Manhattan. It is in your discipline and you only have to teach one course per semester. It’s your foot in the door, doing something you truly love. But, the part-time position also comes with some drawbacks. The classes you teach aren’t offered in the summer, and with a wage that pays you by the lecture, summer break essentially means your income comes to a halt. New York isn’t exactly a city to offer affordable living either. This means money is tight, leaving you with no other choice but to seek out some temp work.

And low and behold, a position at the NYPD’s special victim’s unit became your new meal ticket. Being a teacher already means that you have the necessary police background checks completed and you have previously dealt with an issue on campus that vouches for your credibility when it comes to confidentiality. You are hired no problem, but the downside is that the job is for a bookkeeper. And bookkeeping is the fancy term the NYPD used for “clean up the paperwork messes we’ve let accumulate”. But a job’s a job and it will cover your summer bills.

So here you are: It’s your first day as SVU’s “bookkeeper” and you were told to find Sgt. Olivia Benson when you arrive. You walk into the squad room and your ears are immediately overwhelmed by ringing phones and the sounds of chatter. There are detectives whizzing by, going about whatever it is they do. You hug your notebook to your chest as you try to seek out the sergeant among the chaos. You see a brunette head into an office and figure that she’s your best bet.

“Hello,” you speak meekly, as you stand at the door.

The woman spins around and greets you with a quizzical smile.

“I’m here for the summer bookkeeper position,” you continue.

“Oh, yes! Welcome to SVU. Let me introduce you to the squad.” Sgt. Benson leads you to the center of the squad room and hollers to get everyone’s attention. “Listen up, everyone! This is our newest member of the team. She’s here to take care of all the filing messes you’ve left around here.”

You hear a chorus of lighthearted groans and chuckles from the rest of the team as Benson gives you a pat on the back.

Just then a tall, lanky man comes lumbering in towards the two of you. “Really, Sarge? A temp?” he scoffs.

“Carisi,” starts Benson, sounding very much like a mom scolding her son, “you know just as much as everyone else here that we have a backlog of case reports that need serious filing”.

He shrugs his shoulders, raising his hands as if to say whatever, you’re in charge! before walking away and plunking himself down at a desk.

Benson shows you to your new work station and the mounds of filing that are in disarray. “Don’t worry,” she reassures you with a warm smile, “it just takes these folks time to warm up to new faces.”

But it’s too late you think as she walks past that Carisi guy. His arrogance has immediately put you off. Him and his smug attitude. You get the same kind of defiance from your teenage students, for crying out loud!

The days go by, albeit slowly, as you trudge through paperwork. You’ve familiarized yourself with their previous filing system and are trying to sort and stack to match it. It’s tedious work but overall, not the worst possible job. The one thing that does annoy you though is Carisi. You watch him around the office from time to time. He’s got a loud, boisterous voice that always lets everyone know when he’s around. He’s got that brow of his which always seems to be knitted in disgust. Even the way he saunters around like he’s some tough guy makes you feel sick. And he always stands there with his hand on his hip like he’s someone important. Not to mention how brash he is with everyone he talks to and how he’s always trying to show off his legal knowledge to anyone who’ll listen…and even to those who won’t.

On top of his general demeanor, he has not exactly been friendly with you either. He clearly hasn’t given you the benefit of the doubt and he definitely doesn’t consider you a squad member. In all fairness, you’re not really a part of their detective team, but you still see these people everyday. Most of them make an effort to be nice to you. You can even sometimes overhear him let out these little quips about the paperwork or he’ll refer to you like you’re not even there. Carisi never ceases to make your eyes roll or your blood boil.

About a month into the job, you decide you need to work late. There’s at least a year’s worth of backlog and you really want to get the ball rolling with the organization. On top of that though, during the day you came across a really big mess. Folders that have cases mixed up and they desperately need proper sorting. So, overtime it is!

Everyone had already left and it’s just you in your messy bun, shuffling through countless papers and files. Well, you thought you were the only one left…

But of course, in comes Carisi with that stomach-churning saunter and that grumpy face of his. You let out an annoyed sigh. How was he going to try to insult you this time?

“You’re still here, newbie?” he chirps when he sees you.

“Backlog of paperwork, remember?” you quip back with just the perfect amount of sass.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget? Very important job and all…” His words absolutely drip with sarcasm but you are adamant that you won’t let him get to you. So, you just roll your eyes and turn back to your work.

When he notices your lack of rebuttal, he adds, “Clockin’ some oh-tee, myself. Mighta missed a lead in somma these files from our latest case.” He rolls up his sleeves as he speaks, exposing his forearms.

You, too, notice how warm the squad room is. Damn summer heat.

“That’s nice.” You fake a smile, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He plops down at his station a row across from your work-space, stretching himself out as his long, lanky legs crowd out his desk space. Carisi glances down as if he’s about to delve into his work, but then looks back up and over to you. You feel his blue eyes boring into you from a distance. “Why the hell you take this stupid job anyway? I assume the pay is total crap.”

Your head snaps up to glare at him. What a bold statement. He knows nothing about you yet he has the audacity to assume that this job is worthless? He probably thinks you’re just some desperate girl who needs to take whatever job she can get. Nothing to her name; nothing of worth.

“For your information,” you punctuate the words, “the college courses I teach aren’t offered in the summer.” You wanted your words to be a knife and to twist them so as to wipe the smug look off his face.

“Yourra teacher?” he says, taken aback.

You’ve got him! Not so smug now! “Yes, biological sciences at one of the colleges here in Manhattan.”

Carisi looks genuinely shocked. His eyebrows are raised and he’s just staring at you. You’ve finally rendered the mouthy detective speechless. You would do a victory dance, but you wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed it that much.

“Wow,” he states with a small smile, “that’s really awesome.”

A compliment. Wow indeed. But then you notice something. His normally knitted, grumpy eyebrows that you detest so much are actually softened and expressive. In fact, his whole demeanor has suddenly changed. He looks…kind.

“What?” You finally break the silence, still trying to put up the hardened front.

“Nothin’. Just neva knew that ‘bout you. Why haven’t you said anything?” he questions.

“You never asked,” you reply simply. And, before you can stop yourself, you add: “Besides, I’m just a temp.” You immediately regret saying it. It was a dirty dig, especially when Carisi was actually trying to be nice.

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, “Sorry ‘bout that...”

His apology hangs heavily in the air for a few long moments before you decide to quietly utter: “It’s alright.”

You both silently return to your work for another few hours. Eventually, however, you can’t see straight. Your eyes hurt and your headache is growing worse. Your glasses had slipped so far down your nose that someone may mistake you for a little old granny. Your hair is sticking out in all directions, seemingly trying to escape its bun-prison. It’s most definitely time for you to head home.

You look up to see Carisi totally overcome with fatigue as well. He has bags under his eyes from a hard day. You know his job isn’t easy and you can admit that he actually does take it very seriously.

You stand up and close the open file in front of you. Your movements release Carisi from his work-induced trance. “Headin’ out?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Can’t take anymore of this tonight.”

“I should call it a night too,” he says, standing up and straightening his tie. “Uh, lemme walk you home. It’s real late and there’s creeps hangin’ ‘round at this hour.”

You catch his eye. He looks genuinely apologetic. 'You' from a couple of weeks ago would have said no way in hell. Heck, 'You' from a couple of hours ago would have shut him down instantly. But something makes you say yes. For some reason your gut is telling you to give him a chance – that maybe you had judged him a little too quickly as well. “Sure,” you nod. “Thanks, detective.”

He flashes you a half smile. “Please, call me Sonny.”

Notes: Unfortunately, society does a lot of labeling and judging based on very little information. Doesn't matter what job you have or what you look like. If you take the chance to get to know someone, you may be pleasantly surprised :)

Chapter 2 here

#sonny carisi #dominick carisi #sonny x reader #law and order svu #my fanfic #Sonnyshine of my life #sonny carisi x reader

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peytonainsworthh · 5 years ago

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{ madelaine petsch ♔ twenty-five ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t peyton ainsworth running around peach hollow. legend has it, they come from oliver avenue and have lived here for eight months. if you’re wondering what they are up to, i hear they’re an event planner for a living. they have been known to be vicious yet loyal. a word of advice to them, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching. { haley ♔ twenty ♔ est ♔ she/her }

hello everyone and welcome to peach hollow!! as an admin i am so excited to get this party started. us admins are five ppl who love to write and have been through way too many failed rps. soooo we put in all of our love in effort into making this one!!

this is my bby peyton she’s def an acquired taste bc well she’s a bitch but you’re gonna love her i promise!! anyways i’m haley and we should plot!

past

peyton hasn’t live in georgia all of her life. in fact she is one of the town’s newer residence. she moved there a little under a year ago with her mom and sister.

peyton was born and raised in san francisco in a neighborhood called pacific heights, commonly known as billionaire’s row.

she was born into wealth, her father owning a chain of five star hotels that had been passed down through the generations for as long as she could remember. she spent a ton of time in the beautiful hotels her father owned, learning her work ethic from him. her father was stoic man who put more value on a dollar than substantial relationships with his family. your typical rich dad.

her mother was a trophy wife, spewing meaningless side projects like perfume lines and eye shadow palettes that enviably made their way into departments stores alike.

peyton’s fondest childhood memories was helping set up for the weddings in the hotels. watching the flowers be arranged, the chairs be strategically placed, the wait staff setting the champagne flutes. this lead to her taking an interest in doodling wedding dresses and small flower arrangements.

she has a small wildflower tattoo going along the curve of her breast that she drew, fun fact.

when she was three, her little sister was born. the two grew up inseparable, running amuck in their house together, pranking the nannies but most importantly: ice skating. there were obviously no ice rinks in california naturally but their nanny would take them to an indoor skating rink for lessons. peyton and audrey were quite good skaters.

in high school, peyton won a ton of awards in art contests and even got scholarship to attend art schools across the country.

her dad insisted there was no money in being artist (even if money was never a problem for them), he urged her to take over and be a hotel tycoon like him. peyton and her father fought a lot towards the end of high school about this but at the end of the day, she was her fathers daughter and was stubborn. peyton knew the key to happiness was chasing you passion instead of the dollar.

she attended rhode island school of art and design, earning a degree in interior design and a minor in illustrator. after graduating, she returned home and expected to have a job in the hotel that could suit her.

as she expected, her father got her a job in his business planning the events and having creative control over how each other ballrooms looked as well as the lobbies. working in close quarters with her father made their relationship grow quite strong. the two did everything together and suddenly their stoic walls were crumbling, only for each other.

it seemed as though everything in peyton’s life was coming together. she was the head event coordinator at the hotel, her father was her boss and allowed her to have free range. her sister was around so they could goof off at work.

this was until one day peyton was bringing her father lunch from their favorite mexican food truck in the city. she then walked in on her father sleeping with his assistant which put a stake in their relationship.

peyton couldn’t keep the secret from her mother. she’d rather her mother walk away with dignity rather than stay with a man who had no respect for her. but her mother did not have the same respect for herself.

peyton made the decision to take her funds and move to georgia to be near her grandparents, that’s how she ended up in peach hollow.

now, in peach hollow:

peyton enjoys living in peach hollow. she likes being close her grandparents and she enjoys being surrounded by wealthy and like minded people, due to being a bit prissy.

the redhead can’t seem to shake her bitterness about her father’s affair and paid people in her father’s company to teach her how to hack.

she started using hacking to see her father’s finances and text messages but has graduated onto hacking other people’s phones, nobody’s really safe.

her father tries to reach out but she doesn’t offer any forgiveness. but she pays him little mind.

her mother often sends her checks and peyton will occasionally cast them in times of desperation but peyton is pretty well off living in a nice home on oliver avenue.

peyton is an event planner and works with some of the richest people in georgia. she works mostly at the caledonia in their grandiose ballroom, throwing gatsby scale events.

the redhead loved the thrill and pride of hosting such events: weddings, birthday parties, company gatherings, new years eve bashes and so on. but most importantly, she loved meeting people in networking the way a true socialite does.

this networking lead her into the lifestyle of being friends with richer families in peach hollow. and more than friends with the men. peyton persued being an escort for a few reasons.

to maintain social status

get a nice paycheck

get back at her father

BEING AN ESCORT IS A SECRET SHE KEEPS FROM EVERYONE IN HER LIFE. THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO KNOW ARE HER CLIENTS WHO WANT THINGS TO BE EQUALLY CONFIDENTIAL.

personality:

perfectionist!! detail oriented!!

CRAZY PSYCHO BITCH

the problem child bc her sister is an angel

big bitch but has a heart sometimes

she will not go get mexican food w u don’t even ask but she really just wants a damn burrito

will literally come over and marie kondo ur entire life

evil genius and luvs revenge

a legit psycho when it comes to loving people like has hacked her exes phones even though she seems calm and collected on surface level

will force u to watch home videos of her skating and u will watch

don’t ask to see her sketch books she will blush and change the subject

wanted connections:

ex bf/gf: peyton met them shortly after moving to nyc. they showed her the ropes to the east coast and they did everything touristy you can think of together. they were super toxic because peyton is CRAZY. we can plot how they broke up and when.

a no homo friendship: a really close female friendship that peyton has a crush on the other and is super flirty towards them but acts like she doesnt have feelings for them bc fear of rejection and like acts she’s joking (but maybe it’s one sided/unrequited or maybe it’s mutual???)

clients: people she’s planned events or is going to plan events for

escorting client: some rich ass secretive people

ride or die: the person that peyton is closest too and has seen her soft side. she is a super bitch so this is a rly big deal. they are an unbreakable bond.

a rival cousin: someone who is in constant competition with peyton because they’re related. they have made beef & are rivals. but at the same time they would kill each other & kill for each other.

friends turn enemies: were friends up until a certain point, but either realized they never really liked each other or one just dropped the other or maybe something happed idk lets plot

friends w. benefits: peyton be a sexual ass hoe so bring her ur guy, gals, and non binary pals

LITERALLY ANYTHING LET’S PLOT

#peaches:intro

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flangstywankers · 5 years ago

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FlangstyWankers Monthly Fic Recs

May 2019

Hey everyone, it’s that time again. This month I found some new forever favorites and also discovered the infamous Drarry Wank List (haaaa). Let me know your thoughts if you’ve read these, too! I seriously loved them. And as always, send me recs for the month of June! My birthday is tomorrow (the 2nd), so I’d love to receive alllll the fic recs from you guys. 🖤

✨Had to Be You by @lettersbyelise | 59k | E

Summary: Draco Malfoy is possibly the last person Harry expects to find at the wheel of a Muggle car, on a beautiful summer day on the road to London. This is the story of how Harry runs into Draco once, twice, three times, and how he doesn’t leave their next meeting to chance. Inspired by When Harry Met Sally.

Comments: I loved everything about this. Car trips across England, great music, enemies to friends to lovers, and a slow slow burn. Although, it’s not slow if you can read it fast enough.

Read on AO3.

✨Yours to Keep by @dracoismytrashson | 135k | E

Summary: Some people think concepts like fate and destiny are romantic, but for Harry Potter, fate has always meant one thing: a swift kick in the arse. Why else would he cross an ocean to New York and enroll in Muggle university only to find Draco Malfoy living two doors down the hall? The universe and its twisted sense of humor can fuck right off. A story in which two broken boys try to repair themselves halfway across the world. Too bad trauma doesn't care how far you run.

Comments: This is the very first fic I’ve ever read as it was posted. I have always purposefully stayed away, because I wasn’t sure I could handle the wait, thought I would fall out of the story. I was so wrong! I finally caved and started this one when half of it was posted and proceeded to comment on every new chapter because it was just that good. I eagerly awaited every Monday and Thursday for new chapters and it was the first thing I would think about when I woke up (seriously). The author writes some of the absolute best OCs, does such a great job describing the places (mainly NYC and Paris) that they end up feeling like characters, and portrays the beauty and necessity of therapy for our precious, broken boys. Also, this version of Draco is one of my all time favorites. I could keep gushing about this one, but you should just read it for yourself.

Read on AO3.

Bonus recs: A Holiday in Provence and Listen, The Snow is Falling

✨It’s the Love of the Chase (That Created the Ride) by @lqtraintracks | 13k | E

Summary: Draco and Harry are new Auror partners. It's a bit dull. Until they finally see some spell action and things get a lot more interesting (in Draco's pants).

Comments: Had to include one from the wank list! I always love LQT’s fics, and this one was no different. 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Read on AO3.

✨The Nightmare Club by Elle Gray @diligent-thunder | 85k | E

Summary: Hermione and Ron are going back to Hogwarts to do N.E.W.T.s, Ginny isn’t. Harry hasn’t decided, until he has, in front of the Wizengamot and now he’s responsible for Malfoy as well. A tale of enemies who learn to get along, get it wrong and get it on. Everything is purple, some things are on fire and no-one is sleeping properly. But don’t worry, there’s tea!

Comments: Who doesn’t love a good 8th year fic? This one is fantastic and includes so many great things: cuddling, accepting and supportive friends (Dean is a peach in this one), miscommunication, mutual pining, and of course, loads of fucking tea.

Read on AO3.

✨Freedom to Be by @quicksilvermaid | 170k | E

Summary: Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived.12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends.Only nothing feels perfect.Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

Comments: Alright, hear me out. Yes, this fic has BDSM. If you’ve seen my other rec lists, you’ll know BDSM is not for me. But I saw in a rec list by @lettersbyelise that she felt the same and gave it a shot anyway since she is friends with the author and she was so glad she did. She wasn’t wrong! I am beyond happy that I gave this one a shot, and it’s actually a new all time fave! Hands down the best BDSM I’ve ever read. It’s just so damn good. Plus, it’s a slow burn because (in the author’s own words) slow burn is life.

Read on AO3.

#drarry #fic recs #drarry fic recs #lettersbyelise #dracoismytrashson #lqtraintracks #ellegray #diligent thunder #quicksilvermaid #flangsty’s monthly fic recs

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trueslove · 5 years ago

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✧･ﾟ: * ( park jiwon , cis female , she / her ) have you seen violet hwang around ? i hear the twenty-one year old is working as an art director . did you know they have 97 love alarm points ? if they ever want to be truly loved someday they should ease up on being temperamental & enigmatic . at least you can say they’re disarming & convivial, too. / love alarm blocked

hello ! im xan and ur watching d*sney channel ... just kidding we do NOT support big corporations who just wanna take ur money 😔 im 22 , from the est timezone ( even though my sleeping schedule ... does not reflect that sjbdwjkbdjdw ) & i go by she / her pronouns ! im gonna be honest this intro is gonna be completely winged so buckle up .... and meet violet 😋

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ quick stats + aesthetics !

full name: violet hwang.

nickname(s): vee, vivi.

zodiac: tba....

sexuality: bisexual.

birthplace: manhattan, new york.

current residence: toronto, canada.

aesthetics: maraschino cherries at the bottom of a glass, driving with the windows down at night, unanswered text messages, black nail polish, the sound of rain hitting the windowpane, kissing and not telling, smiles that don’t quite reach the eyes.

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ backstory !

was born and raised in nyc baby ! she’s a true city girl, grew up in lower manhattan ( the financial district if u wanna get specific ) to a family with lots of $$$$ thanks to her father’s position as a ceo of an investment bank located on wall street

life was pretty smooth until she was 17 and her father got arrested for embezzlement and fraud </3 it was actually a huge scandal for the investment bank he worked for because it was a whole group of higher ups who had been in on these crimes. basically a bunch of already rich men trying to get richer ... disgusting ik /:

her life changed pretty drastically after that ! the hwang name was all over the news, their family was pretty much disgraced by high society in nyc, not a very fun time for anyone but especially not for violet’s mom

after her dad got arrested violet was uhh high key furious with him for ruining their lives with his greed and she wanted nothing to do with him, but her mom couldnt let go. she was still defending him, spending the money they had left on lawyers which included the money the family had set aside for violet’s trust fund that she would have had access to once she was 18 </3

so her plans for college changed pretty drastically JSDBJWBDJW ( goodbye ivy league education ) she actually ended up getting into the university of toronto for visual studies on an academic scholarship

so she made the big move all on her own....moved into a tiny dorm...and vowed to reinvent herself. she didnt wanna be labeled as the daughter of a white collar criminal anymore so she just made it a point not to talk to much abt her past to anyone

her struggles as someone who grew up with $$$$ turning into a broke college student made for some embarrassing but funny moments <3 luckily though everyone else had their own struggles so no one found it suspicious JSBDJWBDJ

when love alarm launched three years ago, violet had just started college so it was really the Big thing anyone and everyone was talking about. since she’d never been a fan of other dating apps, she wasn’t gonna download it but her roommate at the time convinced her ! at first it was fun, just something she didnt take too seriously

fast forward to graduation and she’s snagged a job as an art director for a little local museum, doing freelance art directing on the side to help pay the bills. low and behold one day a photographer hires her to be the art director to a shoot they’re doing for a badge club member who was in a very high profile and public relationship at the time

violet ended up working with that photographer and badge club member a handful of times, enough for her to catch fee-🤢 catch feelin-🤢 i cant even say it .. she’d never rung anyone’s love alarm before, so of course her first time had to be with someone who was already taken </3 safe to say she ... freaked out

she was embarrassed above all else, but also heartbroken bc in her head like ... why would someone who literally is part of an exclusive club based on ppl ringing their love alarm care that she rung theirs ? she didnt think it’d be a big deal to them the way it was to her ( but also didn’t stick around long enough to find out jsxbsjbdjw )

when she was offered the block she didn’t hesitate to use it figuring it’s better if no one knows her romantic feelings ever again like that /: she’d delete the app but a part of her still likes knowing there are ppl out there who DO like her like that so ... Rip truly

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ personality + tidbits !

she comes across as ... kind of a bitch SDJBJWBJWBDW it’s truly not on purpose she just has a pretty serious resting expression most of the time ( so she looks mad or annoyed even when she isn’t ) and she’s pretty difficult to get to know ? not to mention the fact that no one has ever witnessed her ring someone’s love alarm .. so all that combined just makes it easy to assume she’s some sort of ice queen when that’s far from the truth /:

violet really isn’t one to open up too deep to people, but that’s got a lot to do with the past she’s kind of running away from ! so if you’re her friend most of the stuff you know about her is probably surface stuff, but when she’s close to someone she can make that fact hard to realize ? she just has a way with making the people in her life feel important so it’s easy not to be focused on how much you know about her

never bothers to correct the people that misjudge her. if you don’t like her, if you want to make up assumptions and rumors about her, go ahead like violet really won’t stop you which can sometimes make meeting new people difficult </3 if you’ve seen the dating class webdrama chuu was in she’s kinda like oh seyoung’s chara joowon 🤧

if she wants to, though, she’s pretty good at getting people to like her / trust her ! she does this a lot in professional situations, which is why she’s been doing so well as an art director so far despite being so young

she’s also very loyal to her friends ! if you can’t ask for extra sauces at mcdonald’s....if you can’t make a phone call to your credit card company explaining that a $3,000 charge to starbucks wasn’t you.....she’s your girl <3 since she’s relatively not bothered by the way people see her ( unless it has to do with her past ) she’s usually the one speaking up if someone she cares about can’t

after the ... incident ... JSDBWJDBWJ she’s really not a fan of the badge club and everything it stands for ): BUT she continues to do art directing work for a lot of the members when they do photoshoots, or instagram campaigns, or if they have a pop up shop, etc. it’s good money and she needs every penny considering she’s living without support from her family

cannot cook to save her life so she’s always eating out .. this really is why she’s taking those more high profile jobs she can’t budget .. but it’s better, safety wise at least, that she continues wasting her money on takeout aha <3

pretends she’s not a romantic and is all about the ~casual flings~ but really she’s just afraid of serious feelings and the idea of a serious relationship ... it’s the trauma 😔 constantly jokes shes gonna bring the tinder whore era back JWDBWJBDJW she is sick of this true love nonsense ! ( the irony of this url ahaha... )

she’s the most social after a few drinks, since drunk her isn’t burdened by a mind that overthinks literally everything the way she is sober. if you don’t supervise her though she can get pretty carried away and probably get into some kind of trouble so she’s definitely not the person you want to be in charge on a night out !

really wants a dog but doesn’t think she’s cut out to be a pet parent it feels just as scary as the idea of having an actual kid so ... BDWBDJW if you have a pet ? she’s gonna be living vicariously through you <3

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ wanted connections !

the photographer that hired her / introduced her to the badge club member she ended up having feelings for

the badge club remember she had / has feelings for because we love suffering 😈

old roommates from college !! maybe even the one that got her to download love alarm in the first place hehehe

also a current roommate / roommates because your girl can’t afford to live on her own <3

someone she’s confided in about her past ( maybe they judged her for it and had a falling out, or maybe they remain confidants )

an ex bf or gf she dated while she was in school ! she never rang their love alarm ( even though this was pre block ) so maybe that’s why things ended between them. or maybe they never rang each others and it was just a mutual thing where they both didn’t really have feelings for each other and tried to date anyway and it didn’t work. or perhaps they dated and when violet realized she was starting to have those feelings she dipped before she ever got a chance to ring their love alarm bc she didn’t want to be exposed like that and commitment is scary ):

spare best friend ? i’d use a knife emoji to show you how serious i am but i dont wanna scare anyone away aha .. i would just love a best friend plot 🥺

current flings / hookups or past flings / hookups ! i imagine most of them to not be serious but it would be kinda cool if there was someone she’s seeing now that she’s got the love alarm block that she’s actually falling for considering she’s never gonna be able to ring their love alarm hehehehe

people she art directs for !! i imagine she’s got a pretty long list of employers ( from badge club members to regular folk 🤧 ) so it would be cool to have people who hire her for stuff, or who collaborate with her for artistic endeavors since i’ve noticed we have a lot of artsy muses <3

ummm maybe an enemy. but where it’s like .. the hate isn’t even that deep it’s just like oh you dislike me ? well i dislike you FIRST 😠 and they insult each other and try and sabotage each other like five year olds fighting on the playground like it seems super serious to them but to everyone watching it’s like ... can you guys just get over it you dumb babies KSDBSDBWD like they could probably be good friends if they just .. stopped

and you’ve reached the end of this NOVEL of an intro post JDBJWBDJWBDW im literally so sorry i tried not to ramble but ..... its just who i am </3 please come shoot me a message to plot !!! you can use tumblr ims but im way more available / quicker to respond on discord so if u wanna add me there and plot u can find me at junhee mr. soft hands ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ#8172 i also did not check this post for typos so if u find one ... mind ur business 😭😭😭

#╰ ♡ . 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒔𝒔 ── ooc ! ┘#lovealarm.intro #HELPSDBWJD finally i finished.....im so sorry in advance this is . so long #also im going out in like 2 hours to eat so if im slow to respond to messages tonight u know whats going on <33333

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evien-stark · 5 years ago

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✧I Need You✧ Chapter 45

You found yourself arm in arm with Tony at the beginning of October, on the main stage of the Stark Expo. It was a farewell speech. A big finale. A grand goodbye- until the next time, at least. While you thought you were going to promise everyone that come the following year you’d reopen again… no date was set, and no such expectation was given. A lot of wonderful things had come out of the Expo, and it had helped the company’s optics as well. Greatly at that. But as for another one in the near future… well, your future had to decide to allow it, first.

As of that moment on that stage, you just weren’t sure. But sometime again, the both of you promised.

Sleep was easy that night in your now perpetually reserved penthouse suite in the city. Until Stark Tower was up and running (and it had a marvelous personal floor, you’d seen to that), the best you could do was keep a hotel’s top floor for yourselves since you’d been in and out of the city constantly. Some days you even thought about just saying fuck it to everything and flying in every now and again with Tony as Iron Man and Lady, but that, too, was also not smart.

It was roughly around six in the morning when your phone started going off like a bomb had exploded somewhere. Ringing and ringing and ringing with no stopping in between. At first you’d just slept through it, then you’d hoped if you ignored it, whoever it was would get the hint and stop. And then immediately after that you realized it really had been going on for too long, so it must have been dire.

Slamming your hand over the nightstand, you pulled your phone closer. There was only one person it could be, “Pep, Stark Industries better literally be on fire right now.”

“Try again.” Fury’s voice on the other line woke you up fully, immediately. “Be ready in a half hour. Agent Barton is picking you up. I’m calling you in.”

“To do what?” Sitting up suddenly, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“To work. Stark is not invited.” And, completely expected of his character by now, he hung up without another word. Or waiting for anything you had to say.

This had all sorts of implications and every single one of them was bad. But you had just recently agreed to work full time for this Avengers nonsense for them. For him. There was no way you could ignore this. You just had no idea what you were walking into. Safe to say, you thought, if Fury wasn’t inviting Tony it wasn’t something that was under heavy fire. You weren’t the best fighter, that had been proven. And Tony had more tech to deal with anything aggressive.

But then…

“What’s up?” His groggy voice beside you broke your heart, almost as much as him reaching out to take your hand did. Already knowing you were about to leave, most likely, and wanting to prevent it.

“Fury called. He needs me for something. He specifically said you’re not allowed to come.”

“Like I wanna eat breakfast with him anyway.” But already he was waking up more. Preparing himself for what was likely a long day ahead. Because even though only twice now, it was starting to seem like a habit of him having to come clean up as soon as Fury made it clear you were going somewhere and Tony was not.

“LUNA will be on.” Trying to ease him, just a little.

“You’re capable.” Sitting aside you he leaned in, holding you close to press a kiss to your temple.

Your hand came up over the glow of his Arc Reactor, hushing the only light in the still dark room. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” As to who you were trying to convince…?

“Serious, no. Stupid? Most likely.”

You allowed yourself to be swallowed up by mutual knowing smiles, some soft intertwined laughter, a few kisses, and…

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

The air in the car with Agent Barton was incredibly uncomfortable. You’d tried small pleasantries but he wasn’t having any of it. You supposed if the both of you were being called into work there was a reason to not be entirely chipper. And he knew more of this landscape than you did. Maybe you should take notes.

“Do you know what this is about?” But you couldn’t help but ask.

“We don’t make a habit of taking briefs over the phone. Anyone could be listening.” This made sense, too, and even though he said it entirely neutrally, you felt like a stupid child having to have it explained to you like that. When you kept your head down and let silence waft between the two of you, he eventually saw it in himself to take pity on you. “Coulson seems pretty excited for whatever it is.” Giving you a bare scrap of information.

And what a surprise that was. “Coulson? Excited?”

“Not something you see every day.”

The NYC SHIELD compound was alight with activity when you and Barton arrived. He was quick and efficient, leading you through all the buzz and crowded bodies moving to and fro. Knowing exactly where to go. You hadn’t thought much about mapping out the compound back in California, because it seemed like they could just pick up and go whenever they wanted. This one felt much the same, especially considering it wasn’t out of the way.

Putting in an office building in the heart of the city was just as smart as it was stupid. Hiding in plain sight but…

The worst was yet to come when Barton hung back outside the door, nodding for you to go in, and you realized it was just you and Fury in a small room. This already had bad news written all over it. And there, as you sat down, he slid to you one of those manila folders you were so fond of seeing.

Opening it made your stomach drop right into your feet.

Details of one Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. The USA’s first known enhanced individual. Their first grand hero. And one you’d been trying to do research on behind SHIELD’s back. “Why are you showing me this?” But it wasn’t wise to give your own position up. Ever.

“Steve Rogers’ lost jet was found a few hours ago in the Arctic. With him still in it.” It was strange for him to be speaking so plainly, but you guessed you really were working- and if what he was saying was true, there was probably no time to waste. But a dead body? You knew as little as the general public did about Steve Rogers’ death. He was only said to have disappeared. Now you knew why. ...sort of.

“We’re extracting it?” Made sense, really. If anyone else got their hands on that corpse, maybe they could try and reverse engineer what was left of it?

“We have him already. He’s here. Two doors down.”

Good. Cool. Okay. So you were in a SHIELD compound with the dead body of Captain America just hanging out. What a crazy life you lived. “What- why am I here? What do you want me to do about it?”

Fury raised his wrist, taking a for-show look at his watch. “Well, he’ll be up probably in about ten minutes. And we need you to get a read on him while we debrief him.”

Your head snapped slightly down and to the side as if you’d been hit. Blinking was not far behind. Putting on your own show. “I’m sorry. What are you saying to me? You… you… you revived a dead body?”

“He wasn’t dead. Not completely. Funny thing about Super Soldier Serum. Turns you Super.”

His pretend dry wit was not really appreciated right now. “I- ...so- ...Captain America.”

“Mm.”

“Captain America- Steve Rogers- one of America’s greatest war heroes-”

“Yes.”

“-from the 1940s-”

“Mm hmm.”

“Is not only not dead. And not lost. But alive. Right now. Here. In this building.”

“Glad you’re all caught up. This is taking too long.” He’d come to sit on the corner of the desk closer to you, folding his arms.

You were still looking at him with wild, disbelieving eyes. This was utter nonsense. “And- so- Steve Rogers who isn’t dead because he’s a Super Soldier- you’re gonna wake him up and tell him he’s been dead for what like seventy years- and what part do I play in this?”

“You have talents uniquely designed to start doing reports on agents. Like Romanoff did while she was tasked with you and Stark. But you can get a better read.”

“Steve Rogers is not an agent. And I don’t think you should indoctrinate him right after he’s finished being dead.” This felt very off. And it was hard for your slow-chugging morning brain to keep up. Especially with the heightened level of nonsense you were being asked to comprehend.

“I have a feeling he’ll blend right in. All you have to do is stand in the room and take notes. Keep a track on what he’s feeling. Then we’re going to task you with staying with him at a place called The Retreat for a little while. While he’s readjusting.”

Your mouth had fallen slightly open. “You want me to emotionally spy on and lie to Captain America? That’s what you’re saying to me?”

“I’m saying-”

A voice broke out over the loudspeakers. “All Agents Code 13! I repeat! Code 13!”

Fury was quick to move, getting up and going to the door. “Shit. On your feet, let’s go.” While you resented this, you did as you were told because you had no idea what else to do. He grabbed a walkie talkie from a nearby agent running down the hall. “Captain Rogers has broken the perimiter. I want an all traffic stop five blocks all directions- we’re gonna cut him off at the pass.” He threw the radio down. “Keep up, Lady.”

“That’s not my name.” Growling as you ran aside him. “What’s going on?”

“Captain Rogers didn’t like our little presentation and he took off. We’re going to go retrieve him before he makes a scene.” Already the two of you were outside and you climbed into a car with him.

“Presentation?”

“We tried to ease him into things by putting together an old style room for him. He probably figured out it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

“Oh- so you lied to him immediately? I’m sure that’ll make a good impression.” SHIELD was just full of bad decisions.

“How would you have done it?” He took a sharp left turn, sending you banging into the door. Probably on purpose.

You directed a look of ire his way. “Well you didn’t call me in for that so what does it matter? Got any other recently not-dead men we should be planning for?”

Fury allowed himself a grin. “You never know.”

Coming to a halt right in the middle of Times Square, you already felt the panic of not just the people around, but from the man himself. It was true. How? How in the world? Little time to think about how it was possible, or how you’d gotten roped into this mess.

Stepping out of the car you got an eyeful of a long dead man that America’s history books championed as maybe her only superhero. Someone you’d read about and done homework on- standing tall amongst all the other tourists and people just trying to get to work.

“At ease, soldier.” Fury stepped out and you locked step aside him as he move forward.

Steve was blatantly confused and just a touch terrified. Things you were trying to keep mental note of- since that’s apparently what you were here to do. He looked at Fury, then you, then back to Fury, panting. He’d run all the way here in the time it had taken you to drive.

Fury continued, “Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there but we thought it best to break it to you slowly.” You had to really hold an eye roll back here, considering. There had to have been better ways than to just try and fool this man into feeling better after being dead for so long. They needed a more human touch around here.

“Break what?” Steve asked, again looking at you.

You had absolutely no idea what to say to him, way out of your depths here. Thankful when Fury spoke again. “You’ve been asleep Cap. ...for almost 70 years.”

Steve turned away, looking around. Trying to really soak in his surroundings- the truth of what he was being told. You had to imagine things looked much different than he was used to. You had no idea how you would feel, if something like this had happened to you. How would anyone? There was no baseline for being dead for so long and coming back…

A quiet thrum of heartbreak hit the waves and you stepped closer. How to even start? “Are you gonna be alright?”

He looked out, like he was scanning the distance. “Yeah. I just...” Then his gaze fell to you again. “I had a date.”

Threads tangled. The world went dark for just a few seconds. Miles away you felt a connecting ripple. A shared sense of that bittersweet that you’d had in a small room in DC. With… “Will you come with us back to the building, please? We have a lot we need to talk about.” Asking. Not demanding.

You didn’t think there were a lot of people that could demand things out of Steve Rogers. But aside that, that more human touch you were just thinking about appeared. SHIELD may have just toted him away. You wanted to come on his own. It made things a lot easier that way. And a connection needed to be rebuilt after Fury had botched it.

He looked you over again. “Yeah. Yeah I imagine there is.”

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

There was nothing for you to do as you stood there silently in an even smaller room, which would not have been your choice but Fury did not ask, as a poor confused man was told he’d been sort-of-but-not-really dead for a very long time and that the world had gone on without him. As it was apt to do. Lives had moved on. People had gone on. Time had moved forward. Society had advanced.

The war he’d been fighting in had been won, through the help of his efforts. He was remembered as a hero. He’d had a grand funeral at the time, even with his body not having been retrieved. And now he was asked what he wanted to do, and of course he had no answer. How does someone go on after that? What do they even do?

Which was exactly the point, you surmised, as after Steve sat in an uncomfortable deliberating silence, Fury offered to send him to The Retreat to ease into life. Catch up on his own terms. Relax and just slowly move into the process of being alive again in a time that no longer belonged to him.

Steve seemed hesitant, but agreed.

And after you and Fury stepped out, “You’ll see him there. Take one of our cars. And keep an eye on him for at least a week. This is top secret. Stark is not to know about it.”

“You know I have other things to do, right?”

“Nothing more important than this. What’s your read on him?”

You turned away. There wasn’t a lot of time to stay idle in this operation, and if you were going away for a week other personal things needed to happen first. “What do you think?” It didn’t take a genius- or an empath- to know Steve was not feeling well. It made your heart ache a little.

But nothing quite like the hurt you experienced seeing Tony still asleep in bed, stirring as you walked into the hotel room- and then getting up as he knew you were packing.

“Going away somewhere?” You didn’t believe he was putting on a show- the two of you were very tired all things considered, and if he’d wanted to sleep while you were doing who knew what at SHIELD, that was great. A confidence booster, too, knowing he thought you could handle it. But also knowing if something had gone wrong he would have been on his feet in moments.

But it made this that much harder to explain. You wished he’d been listening in, because there was no easy way to break this. “I have to go away for a week.”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the dresser. “Go away?”

This was not the usual way the two of you handled your lives. The way you’d agreed to run your relationship. No more secrets. No hiding things. It was why you stood, after shoving the last bit of clothing into your suitcase, and gave him your full attention. “I have to babysit Captain America.”

His reaction made you feel better about yours- almost the same, except his head reeled back instead of down, brows knitting tight. “I’m sorry. Run that by me again?”

“A search team in the Arctic found his plane. With his body in it. Still alive.” Giving a little pause, a little room to breathe between this sentence and the next. A different sort of ache was forming very suddenly. The disbelieving look Tony was giving you- not just because it was an incredible story to tell but… because he didn’t want to believe it. “SHIELD thawed him out. And… Fury wants me to shadow him while he recovers.”

He took a breath in. Then scoffed it out, waving his hand around. “This is a joke, right? A test? They’re trying to see how much nonsense you’ll believe?”

“I saw him, Tony.” Somber, as you answered, and stopped him in his tracks. “I talked to him. It’s… it’s him.”

Something different appeared between you. Something ugly. And dark. He crossed his arms. “Because you would know, right? How do you know they didn’t get- I don’t know- what’s a level SHIELD would stoop to- a party clown for fifty bucks and ask him to pretend to be Captain America?”

Resentment was coming to a boil just on his surface. And you didn’t know how to deal with it.

Reaching up you pressed the cuff on your ear, “LUNA, project an image of Captain America from archived newspapers- 1944- any headline will do-” And she did just that.

“Stop-” Tony didn’t want this.

“Put it aside a clip from twenty minutes ago, when I was in Times Square.”

So she did. Running that still image of Steve Rogers next to a man on a loop- the same man. Tony put his hands to your arms. “Stop.”

“LUNA stop projections.” When she dropped the holograms you turned fully to him. “It’s him.”

“Why you?” He didn’t want you to go. There was some lingering childhood something or other here that he had probably kept shoved deep down for some time. You knew Howard had had a hand in all this- and… all things considered, it probably had left some sort of mark on Tony. Not the kind he dealt with.

The one you were seeing now. He didn’t want you to go run to Steve’s aid, whether in SHIELD’s stead or not. “They think I’ll get a better read and I… he needs help, Tony. It’s been a long time since he was… alive.”

The two of you looked at each other for a very long time. Until finally he relented, shoulders drooping, but reluctant to let go of you. “Where are you going?”

“Some place called the Retreat. It’s upstate.”

“And then what. When you’re done, what happens to him?”

“I don’t know. SHIELD isn’t that great at making plans, you know that.” Trying on a smile and some sarcasm just to try and lighten his mood.

It didn’t help a lot, but the weak smile you got back was at least something. “Yeah. In that case, no wonder they need you. I’ll start writing up a bill for your services.”

Stepping in closer, you rested your head against his chest and snuggled up, delighting in the feel of his arms closing tight around you. “No less than ten grand.”

“Ten? I was thinking fifty. Don’t sell yourself short.” Another much calmer silence laid around you. And as he rested his head atop yours, quietly, “Bring the Reactor.”

“He’s a war hero, Tony. For our side. I don’t think I have a lot to be worried about.”

“A smart woman told me once that things like this invite trouble. I just don’t want you in a hole upstate you can’t get out of.”

He was connecting dots you hadn’t gotten to yet. It made sense. SHIELD was no doubt looking to add Rogers to their Avengers roster. And you didn’t know how the world at large was going to handle the news that Captain America was alive and well. If they were going to even announce it at all. You couldn’t imagine how one would do that presser. ...and you really hoped they weren’t thinking about making you do it.

But- as usual, Tony was right. It was better to be safe and smart.

Shifting back you leaned up, kissing him carefully. Softly. Palming his cheek in your hand. Just holding him. “I love you.”

There was something in the air. It had been building for a while now. There was almost no way this Avengers stuff wasn’t leading somewhere terrible. Tony was right- that you were right. You were continually inviting the universe to challenge you.

Which was why it was all the more important to make peace with your team. Both old members and very new.

“I love you, too.”

In this instance alone, you’d love to be proven wrong.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Forty Five

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understandingthevoices · 5 years ago

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~ wrote a thing about identifying narcissistic abuse in the brown girl group i’m a part of since so many brown boys are narcs lmao and it was so well-received that I thought i would share here too ~

Recently a few people asked me how I became aware of my ex's personality disorder and how I started my healing process w/o a therapist (though if I had seen someone, perhaps this would have been faster)...

It's a LONG one but hopefully informative!!

So we had been on and off for years since college - with me realizing flaws he had and him making it up to me until the next one hit and so on and so forth (and I thought, yay! change! this can work***) - but then it came to a point where I told him enough was enough and we deserved to find people who made us happy and maybe we could revisit "us" in the future. But he cried and told me he couldn't lose me and wanted to actually try the "love" thing out... So, I allowed myself to believe he was for real -- and (somewhat) let down my emotional guards that I had held for self-preservation. Things seemed to be going okay - we would send each other hearts, talk about our future house, kids, etc and everything was fine and dandy, and I thought I was "happy" or "happy enough" - after all, I had the guy right? What more could I want?

But then, let me take you to a Friday afternoon at Trader Joes's, where I was grabbing my groceries and suddenly noticed something: along with her groceries, every woman was walking out with flowers, which I imagined was because of a scheduled date night. it seems so silly now, but at that moment, I broke down into tears because I realized I wanted that too - and if I continued in my old patterns only because it (he) was familiar and all I had known, I would never get that.

He would tell me about our beautiful future life together but wouldn't even take a 4 hour train to visit me.

Basically, He could talk a big talk, he could weave stories about anything to make me believe in us (and he was a MASTER storyteller and had a vivid imagination), but he couldn't walk the walk. Or rather, he didn't care to walk the walk. And if I brought these things up, he would belittle me or say he was busy, essentially reframing my needs as unimportant and not worthy of consideration. But then he would cover it up by saying our kids would be beautiful and smart, he would leave NYC to be in Boston for me, etc - and it was so easy to get sucked in, so tempting to believe this was only temporary.....

But then I would have insomniac nights, where I was filled with anxiety/sadness because I knew I wasn't happy - and the breakdown in Trader Joe's confirmed that

And he had already conditioned me into understanding that if I talked to him about these feelings, he would invalidate, ignore, and eventually bring them up later as ammunition (a favorite of his was “did you forget, we’re not a couple”, which was so hurtful and confusing af lmao)

Up until that point, I had maintained he was just "emotionally unavailable" or "commitmentphobic" and if he saw I wasn't going to nag him or push him into marriage, etc - he would realize it wasn't so scary and we could finally build a life together! It felt like we were moving in that direction, finally. But then every so often, I would have moments where the reality became a little too clear and there was little I could do to stop myself from breaking down.

And it was at my wit's end during these nights that I googled things like "why is he so emotionally distant" and stumbled upon a trove of gold Quora questions/answers - and once I discovered Quora, I went HAM.

Questions like...

"why does he try to make me jealous"

"why does he get mad when he sees me with other guys"

"why won't he commit"

"why won't he let me meet his friends"

"why does he not let me go" / "why does he keep holding on to me"

"why does he say he cares but not visit"

... And throughout all of this searching, one of the answers inevitably mentioned emotional abuse (and often narcissistic abuse) - and while I didn't initially think my situation was abusive, because it seemed like such a strong term, I was so desperate for answers and it came up so often that I said fcuk it, let's see what this is about.

So I googled "emotional abuse" and "narcissistic abuse" and read the stories of survivors, many of which echoed mine. I was shocked that these people had dated what seemed to be clones of my own ex. Many of them mentioned kids/divorce/etc and how they wish they had realized the signs sooner instead of wasting so many years with an emotional vampire, who would initially seem like your soulmate, ingratiate himself to you, praise you and put you on a pedestal, only to suck the life out of you through devaluing mechanisms and never listening to your needs, and discard you later (or stay until you stop giving them chances) - and then play the same game with the next victim, leaving a trail of broken people. They posted about the fake personalities, the emotional highs and lows, how he would leave and come back months/years later as if nothing had changed, etc - and things finally started making sense.

I had noticed many of these things - but without the awareness of narcissism - didn't know what to make of it. For example, when we were on our off-periods and he was out chasing Muslim girls, he (someone I had known as a frat fcukboy who would crush 20 beers in a night) became the sober, praying virtue-driven man. When he was out chasing someone else, he pretended to love Rupi Kaur poetry - even though we made fun of it together (no offense). I often felt like he seemed so ~different~ during these periods - and would call him out on it, but he would always deny it. But, looking back, I realize it wasn't just in my head as he wanted me to believe.

Luckily for me, he had grown to like one of these girls and we decided to take a break (later, I would realize he was trying to 'triangulate' me with her, but even back then I wouldn't succumb to his dumb games) -- which gave me much needed time to continue my Quora obsessiveness... and I went down the rabbit hole. Quora led me to narcissistic abuse recovery youtube channels and instagram accounts - which further opened my eyes to the lies I had been fed. It was heartbreaking but I began to realize his version of "love" (if you can even call his self-serving love that) was so different from mine - for him, it was latching onto someone who would validate him, give him the emotional supply he needed, and be there at his beck and call -- which I was happy to do if it was reciprocal, but of course it wasn't lol. It was completely one-sided and I let it happen because for me, the love I felt was genuine - not fabricated - and I thought that's what you do when you're in love (and it's what I saw growing up in my parent's relationship). I didn't want to believe it but the answer was clear as day - I had been conned into a fake relationship by someone who didn't have the capacity to love someone, and could only use them.

At this point, I realized ~5 years of on-and-off narcissistic abuse (and more than 2 decades of observing my parents' toxic marriage) would take a long time for me to heal from, but if I wanted to have any chance at a truly happy, healthy relationship (which I so earnestly did), I had to let him go. So I dived headfirst - watched at least 1-2 hours worth of videos every day, cried about the disrespect I had put up with, wrote pages and pages of text, etc - and became entrenched in this mode of self-improvement and inner child-finding. And I put them on my tumblr, so he would see them (I knew he was still checking up on me).

So when he inevitably came back because the girl he was chasing "was not who I thought she was" and wanted to be with me because I was so "perfect, knew him better than he knew himself, and so smart", I had the emotional wherewithal to tell him I didn't want this anymore -- and the little bits of changes he would make to attempt to gratify me - I could see through them and they were no longer enough. I think it was a last ditch attempt on his side - my tumblr posts made it obvious I was leveling up and wanted nothing more to do with him.

He was upset and told me he was talking to this girl on a dating app - but she was boring and a downgrade from me - and I just said, "cool". He then told me if I didn't want to try again, he would have no choice but to date her and see where it goes. And at that point, I just wanted him to leave me alone, as I knew anything with him would be a dead end. And I was TIRED. So to his surprise, I said go for it - and blocked him from everything and everywhere. I felt an immediate sense of relief, as I knew the nightmare was finally over and he was someone else's problem now. Of course, just like anyone else, I have my ups and downs too - but I'm definitely much better off.

Now? I haven't heard from him in over 2 years. I don't think I will - I told our mutual friends all about his deceit, post about it on my twitter, and make sure everyone knows how phony he is - and I think he realizes the ruse is over. I have found him out, and he knows he should stay away unless he wants me to expose him even more. I can hit him where it hurts and he is terrified - exactly where I like boys to be ;)

Anyways, last I heard, he's engaged to that girl he said was a downgrade (which isn't that surprising - since I gave him a narcissistic injury by leaving he knew he had to lock down the next one or she would leave too) - which is quite sad. I pray she sees the light before he takes too much away from her.

Hope it clears up things -- as always, feel free to PM me. More than happy to help anyone, especially if it means saving one of you from a toxic monster <3

***This is one of the subtle points that makes narcissists so difficult to identify: usually, when someone changes for you, it's because they like you and don't want to hurt you - compromise! that's what you do when you're in love, right? However, for a narcissist, it's not "love" - it's him realizing that if he wants to keep you trapped in his web of deceit, he needs to change - and this is true for both the beginning of the relationships and the whole duration. They don't have any integrity so they will change into whoever you want them to be, if it means you'll be attracted to them -- they are so good at reading you, figuring you out, and identifying your deepest desires/wants that they can transform into your idea of a perfect partner -- and they DO, but it's only a set up to manipulate you later. It's addicting to meet who you easily consider your "soulmate"... but in the end, you realize it was too good to be true.

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agent-nelle · 6 years ago

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Only in our dreams (2/?)

Characters: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: In a world where your soulmate, or “the one” is hard to find, we are pushed by divinity to find them and know who they are in our dreams. But what if your soulmate is Sebastian Stan, and you’re unable to discern if he’s the one as he is an actor, you’re just an ordinary girl?

Notes/ Warnings: none I guess?maybe this will be quite longer than chapter 1.thank you for the love and some feedback I received on the first one. It gave me encouragement to continue doing this. :) also more feedback is appreciated for this one :) i'm still afraid to not reach your expectations,

Note:thank you for the anonymous asker. I edited that one out. Again, I did not intend to offend anyone.

disclaimer: haven't been to the US so I'm not really familiar with everything(places and the like) so pls bear with me! (gif not mine!)

*Theme song for this chapter: https://open.spotify.com/track/05b6SX5DjBpvd5rYIxmwOz?si=Jn_UtgEuRVqdgjBz_Jdk8g

Seb had a long day on the shoot and went out for some dinner with friends.

It’s been three months since he dreamt of the girl, and thought, maybe it was really just some dream of a stranger or a person that his subconscious just made up for a peaceful sleep.

“I miss her, and I haven’t even met her, I hope she’s even real,” Sebastian told himself while lying down on his bed, as his consciousness slowly drifts and falls to slumber.

He was walking in the park with his friends when someone caught his eye.

It was her. After three months of trying to shake her off his mind, she suddenly pops out of his dream again, much more beautiful than before.

Excusing himself, he went out of the way to approach her.

“Hi, so we meet again. I’m Sebastian Stan by the way.”

“Yes, long time no talk. I know who you are. I’m Y.N.”

She knew him. Somehow it made him feel relieved and happy. And this woman had a name. He’ll make sure to take note of it soon as he wakes up.

“I missed you. I know this may be just a dream, but can I hold your hand?” Y/N looked at him, trying to do a puppy dog eyes while asking this.

He smiled. So she missed him too. Feelings were mutual and even if it was a dream, an opportunity to hold her hand is something he wouldn’t want to miss.

“Yes, of course, you didn’t have to plead, I’m honored to hold your hand Y/N.”

They strolled through the park and decided to sit in one of the benches.

Y/N moved closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. He felt his heart beat faster. How can this woman, only in his dreams, affect him this much?

Trying to make use of every moment wisely, he put his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

“Even if this is just a dream, I’d like to tell you that I love you. And I am one of your biggest fans.” Y/N told him.

He smiled at that and replied, “I love you too. Even if we only met in our dreams, I feel this connection to you unlike with anyone else.”

Y/n smiled and embraced him, as they watched the sunset.

"Ladies & Gentlemen, we're now approaching New York where the local time is 07:00. At this stage you should be in your seat with your seatbelt firmly, fastened. Please ensure all electronic devices are turned off."

Y/N was awakened by the announcement.

She dreamed about him again. After a few months, and like before, it was a vivid dream and felt real in every moment.

She thought of what Mina told her before they parted ways.

"Maybe you'll bump into him! The odds are higher now since you're there!" Y/N can feel the excitement in Mina's voice and eyes.

"Oh shush, odds are high yes, but it's just a dream. He's a celebrity for God's sake and he has a lot of beautiful women around him too."

"Come on, don't be too much of a killjoy. Just don't forget to message me soon as you get there, okay?" Mina said to her and hugged her tight. "God, I'm gonna miss you Y/N, I don't have anyone to ramble on about stupid things."

"I'm gonna miss you too, Mina. Don't worry, we can do a video call as often as we can. You can still ramble about everything. And just message me anytime too."

Y/N smiled, and prepared her stuff before going out of the plane. She waited for everyone to go out. She didn't want to go along with the crowd.

It was night time now. But her energy is hyped up because of the good sleep and dream she had.

Upon coming out, she saw a sign indicating "Welcome to NYC Y/N!" Being held by a woman who was waving hard at her.

She waved back at the woman.

It was Olivia, and she is to be Y/N's room mate and new colleague for the next six months.

"I'm sorry you had to come pick me up at this hour Olivia."

"Oh, no worries! I just got here actually. I went to eat out with my friends for dinner and went here after. I'm glad you arrived safely. And may I say you look so refreshed for someone who has gone through a long flight!"

Y/N laughed, "Yeah, I got a lot of sleep during the flight, and I had a great dream too."

"Well that's good! If that's the case, if you want, we can have a night out? I want you to have a little fun as it's the weekend anyway. The night is young, and I'd like you to experience New York at night before we face the stressful days to come next week."

Y/N was not particularly into going to clubs as she doesn't really know how to dance, but she is a drinker, and having a little fun may not be such a bad idea.

"Sure! I'm most definitely up for that. But I guess let's leave my things first at the apartment? Then I leave it up to you."

"Sure, let's do that and you can have a change of clothes too! I also bought takeout as you advised me for you to eat on the way."

"Thank you Olivia. I love you already."

A knock on the door woke Sebastian up.

"Hey, it's the weekend man, maybe you'd like to go somewhere tonight? Meet a gal maybe?"

It was Anthony. Sebastian groaned, and as he promised himself, as he got ahold of his phone first, he typed Y/N's name while it was still on his head.

The door opened, and Anthony walked in, Chris followed inside and went straight to where he was.

"Guys, I am having the most beautiful dream and you had to ruin it."

"Oh, did you meet again?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, and I even got her name too."

"Wait, wait. Who did you meet? Am I missing something? I don't remember you telling me you're seeing someone." Anthony was getting confused and curious as he looked at Chris and Sebastian.

"Well, Seb told me he dreamt of a girl and it sounded like a soulmate dream to me. And I advised he should ask the name next time, and now he got it." Chris said in behalf of Seb who went to the bathroom to wash his face.

"Well, that's good news! But, soulmate dream or not, let's celebrate on that! Come on, you both promised me to go out with me to meet someone. We'll go somewhere that's safe for us okay? I know both of you are somehow very sought after." Anthony said.

"What do you mean 'somehow'? Ha! Anyway, Anthony's right Seb, we should go out at least just for tonight. We had a long week."

Seb was not in the mood to go out, but for some reason, he just agreed to it.

"Fine, I'll just be drinking guys, I'm not in the mood to mingle or even dance with someone."

"That's fine! Just going out with us is enough." Anthony said with a big smile on his face.

"So I'd like to welcome you here in New York with a bang, I'm bringing you at place where celebrities have a constant presence." Olivia was saying to Y/N as they were on their way.

Y/N had no party clothes, only formal ones so Olivia lent her a black dress which went well with her black sandals and her make up was taken care of Olivia as well.

"So have you encountered celebrities up close in there?" Y/N asked curiously as they were approaching the club.

"Yes I did! And I actually have some contacts too! I encountered Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie there! We were flirty and all at the dance floor, but we didn't really click, and they didn't particularly reject me so I remained friends with them! It's okay, I don't really like flirting with celebrities anyway so no hard feelings."

Y/N was a little bit surprised. So Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie have been here and she is thinking, if Sebastian went in here too?

Upon entering the club, Olivia greeted a few friends and accompanied Y/N over the counter.

"I'll have to go over there and meet my boyfriend, if you need anything just give me a ring or send me a message. You can have whatever you want Y/N it's on me!" Olivia then winked at the bartender and went on to one of the lounge tables near the dance floor.

Y/N was used to being at clubs but it's the first time she'll experience this at a foreign land.

"So, Olivia said you can get anything you'd like, just tell me and I'll make it for you. I'm Joe by the way." the bartender introduced himself.

"Y/N! I'd like a bottle of beer please! " she shouted as the sound was so loud.

Upon arriving at the club, it's good that there were quite a crowd, and the lights were quite dark, they will not be easily recognized.

"Relax, we're safe here. No one really ate a celebrity alive here." Chris assured him.

Anthony reserved them a lounge chair, and upon seating, the drinks pre-ordered were served as well.

"Okay, I'll get back to you guys, I am to meet someone here." Anthony excused himself and went straight to the dance floor.

Chris shook his head and took a bottle of beer for him and Seb.

Sebastian looked around the club. It's been a while since he stepped in a club.

"Are you okay Seb?" Chris asked him.

"Yeah I'm good, it's just that, it's been a while since I've been here."

"Y/N!" someone shouted on the club, and Sebastian heard the name in spite of the loud music.

He got up his seat and tried to look around but he can't see clearly as there was little light source in the club.

He excused himself and tried to roam around the club. Upon reaching the bar area, a few ladies approached him and asked for a photograph and autograph as well.

He obliged to, even if he only really wanted to look for her. He did not notice that Y/N was a few stools away from where he was standing.

"Hey, let's go home now?" Olivia tapped her on the back.

"Hey Olivia, you look kinda drunk, can you walk until we get home?" Y/N looked concern over her new friend.

"I'm good, I'm good! I can see you're quite the drinker huh, you already had 8 bottles and you still seem normal."

"Hey babe, let me help you and your friend home. I called a cab for us." a guy approached them and helped Olivia to stand up.

"Hey babe, this is Y/N, Y/N, this is Ralph."

Ralph and Y/N nodded at each other. The two went ahead and Y/N stayed a bit to pay up for the bill.

"Thank you so much Seb, I really love you and your works!" the lady who asked for the photograph and who clung up to him the most said to him.

Seb just smiled and excused himself.

When he turned around, he got a glimpse of her. It was dark but he was pretty sure it was her.

He should be getting to her as soon as possible, but he felt like he was suddenly pulled in a dream.

But after a few seconds, he tried to rush as she was going out, but as he approached the club exit, as there were a lot of people going in and out, it took quite a while for him to get through and when he was able to get out, he cannot seem to find her anymore.

Was it just his imagination? Was he desperate to find a woman whom he just saw in his sleep? Or was she real and somehow fate is playing tricks?

His questions are yet to be answered but the feeling that she is real and the idea of finally meeting her face to face is somehow making him feel excited and nervous.

Tags:

@iamriko @petite-revenger @buckysbooo @mizz-kraziii

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan gifs #only in our dreams

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