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alkalinefrog · 3 years

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may I request your top 10 favorie lawlight fics ?? I’m really interested

AIGHT BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP because I’ve got a lot of feelings about these! Also, people have been asking me for fics featuring:

Ryuk shenanigans

yagami sibling hijinks

whammy kids found family

----- from my bingo card I made a while back. Tbh, I put those on the list to try and manifest the energy into the universe hoping people would bring fics to ME about them lmao. I do have a couple that check the boxes though!

Also thank you to everyone who’s been recommending me fics!! You’ve all hit the nail on the head and sing straight to my heart! I’m just slow to make my way through them between work. <3

GOING UNDER THE CUT (rip mobile users)

Aight here we go, in no particular order:

“Change OR the one where L and Light get married” by @translightyagami (I’m so sorry I keep tagging you in these alsfjkalsfdj)

The one I never shut up about and am adapting part of into a comic because it’s just that GOOD. :’’’D Light and L get married in front of Watari and Light’s family back at the Whammy orphanage in England. A melancholy yet painfully sweet tale as Light and L reminisce on their history together while getting ready for the ceremony, and their first night together afterwards. Single-handedly sold me on Kira being intrinsically part of Light to boot.

“the forest holds strange creatures” by @translightyagami (I’m sorryyyyyyy I just love your stuff)

An AU where Light’s a paranormal researcher and L’s a reclusive cryptid living in the forest next to a small town. The writing has a fairytale feel to it, and the romance is so gentle. Light’s bunking at Whammy’s small little house, and Near and Mello are there as little kids pestering Light. It’s ADORABLE. Beyond Birthday also shows up in one of the extra chapters as a creepy cashier at a thrift shop for double the fun!

"Sickness” by BlueberryValentine (more fics on their fanfiction.net account!)

The ultimate hurt/comfort + fluff + angst with a happy ending fic. The first fic I read to get back into lawlight a couple months back! Canon divergence starting during the Yotsuba arc. Light is diagnosed with terminal brain cancer while still under investigation. L has to take care of him, and somewhere along the way they fall in love. It carved out a chunk of my heart but luckily filled it back up with a sweet sort of aching.

“Seeking His Hand” by magic__mind

Historical regency AU! L is a rich nobleman courting Light, a humble farm boy, for his hand in marriage. One of the most romantic pieces of literature that I have ever come across. The prose is pure poetry, and their love so pure! This one also has a special place in my heart for its portrayal of Misa! She’s A)a spy who helps L on his cases, B)totally removed from her co-dependence for Light, C)the bubbly badass she was always meant to be. 100/10 worth the read!

The “Resurrections” Series by Shadow_of_Quill

A modern Orpheus and Euridice story, wherein Light’s spirit leads L back from Hades while he’s still Kira. L is thereby present for the confrontation at the warehouse. Believing that any trace of Light is lost in the man, he executes him right then and there. However, this was a grave mistake, and Light’s soul won’t be as easily revived. (spoilers, they’re both fine in the end) ******* THIS ONE ALSO INCLUDES YAGAMI SIBLING HIJINKS. Sayu plays a HUGE role in bringing Light back!

“Is This The Way It Ends Now?” by Seastar98

The one that checks off ALL the above three boxes!! A “characters watch their own show” fic, wherein the gang receives a mysterious DVD in the middle of the Yotsuba arc. Horrified by what’s to come, Light and L work to make sure their future is brighter than the one they witness. They bring in all three heirs to watch with ‘em, everyone gets character development, and Sayu comes in like black panther in endgame yet again to bring Light back from the darkness! Ryuk pops up in the end and the epilogue and he’s great. The ultimate and most direct fix-it you’re ever gonna get.

“From the Same Star” by Nilahxapiel

This is my only pure “Ryuk Shenanigans” fic, and it’s really really sad :’’’D A short but sweet one-shot wherein Ryuk traverses multiple dimensions, dropping the Death Note at Light’s feet each time. Light and L were always fated to clash, and it’s just as heartbreaking every time.

“Primitive Liars” by Nilahxapiel

This one’s super popular in the fandom for a reason! The only omegaverse fic that I’ve liked! The A/B/O dynamics and their affect on society are super well developed, and the writer manages to keep L and Light very in character while still developing their budding romance in a believable way. This is an AU where somebody else is Kira, and Light’s genuinely helping L and the task force hunt him down. ***** Naomi Misora lives, the heirs come in, and Sayu actually hops aboard the task force!!! DUDE. BRILLIANT. I also just love the exploration of gender and identity that the author weaves in. Lots of LGBTQ rep!

“and indeed there will be time” by lawlietismyfavorite

The ultimate soulmate AU. People grow to be 18, then stop aging until they meet their one. L is the greatest detective of not only this century, but of six centuries. And then there's Light. (taken straight from the description!) The prose is absolutely breathtaking; like walking through a dream. Can not recommend this fic enough! It’s got my head up in the clouds and looking towards the stars!

“K” by Dlvvanzor

AU where Light’s a Whammy with the moniker ‘K.’ He and L grow up together along with kiddos covering the rest of the alphabet. A murder-mystery-thriller on top of the romance featuring Beyond Birthday as a main character! Light’s a pathological liar and L’s super into it. They’re the top students at Whammy’s and are tasked with solving a string of homicides happening RIGHT AT THE ORPHANAGE (guess who dunnit). It had me on the edge of my seat, and I binged the whole thing in two days.

i’mMMMM doing more than 10, this’ll just be my ultimate fic rec post 😂

“Change of Circumstances” by wordbombs

Another AU where Light’s a whammy! It’s just a one-shot though, but one of my all time faves!!! I’ve gone back and reread it so many times and drew some stuff for it a couple weeks back. Much more light-hearted than “K”, Light arrives at the orphanage at age four and meets an eleven year old L, and from there they grow up together and fall in love (the age difference is handled really well, L’s not physically present for a lot of Light’s childhood and they bond on a platonic level first). It’s one of the healthiest relationship dynamics that I’ve seen for these two, which is honestly such a breath of fresh air. Matt, Mello, and Near are there too in the background!

“Dial K for Kira” by @kiranatrix

“Light needs some easy money to finance his Kira plans, and notices there’s a big demand for Kira roleplay phone sex. So he figures, “Why not? Pretty sure I’ll be convincing.”He raises some fast cash and plans to shut the whole thing down and get back to writing names, until he gets a request from somebody who wants to “roleplay” as L....“

Taken straight from the description! It’s very VERY NSFW so be warned. I’m too shy to talk about it more alskfjdasldjf sorry BUT IT’S GREAT.

“Dance with Me” and “Birthday Note” by @dotti55fanfiction

These are both one-shots so I’m putting ‘em together! Absolutely adorable tooth-rotting fluff!! “Dance with Me” has Light and L going to a club, while “Birthday Note” features L trying to think of the best present for Light. The dictionary definition of “warm fuzzies.” (Dotti ilu, I still gotta find time to read your longer works)

“you’re a wasp nest” by raisuki (inthegripofahurricane)

Blind!Light AU! Light and L are both college students who meet when Sayu dares L to break into her house. Yagami sibling hijinksssss! Their quippy dialogue is adorable and it’s just a fun time watching them flirt.

“softly now” by smallestbird (jenwryn)

THANK YOU TO THE ANON WHO SENT ME THIS REC. The softest lawlight one-shot to finish off this list! Light and L share an intimate moment while painting their new apartment. The absolute JOY this fic radiates in a short 700 words!! Read it before bed for the sweetest dreams!

These are just my favourites, but read anything by any of these authors and you will not be disappointed! I might make a separate post later for soulmate AUs because... There’s just too many. :’D

-Alka

#Anonymous #ask #fic rec #lawlight #text #when you meet a work deadline and use the extra time to catch up on asks lol

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boldlyanxious · 4 years

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None the Wiser 10

Masterlist

All fic masterlist

I took a bit of a break from this one after doing so much all at once. Also had to decide what way to go. I didn't plan ahead for her to run out so now I'm winging it a bit.

Marinette had left the Eiffel Tower that night with Cassie's number. At first she thought the girl was trying to make a joke when she suggested telling her parents that she had been running around as a magical hero for 2 years. But Cassie gave a well-reasoned argument for why she should reveal herself. Much of it was the ways that it strained their relationship and caused her to need to lie all the time. But beyond that there was the added burden on being the guardian with not only no additional support but having lost heroes as they had been revealed.

Marinette didn't run home and tell her parents right away. She took a few days to mull it over. She knew that the guardian had wanted secrecy above all but she wasn't sure how prudent that was. He had only become a guardian because he made a major mistake as a child that he couldn't fix. His secrecy had only protected him but didn't solve any problems. When faced with the same problem that had never been fixed his solution was to run and hide again while leaving Paris vulnerable. It had been her and Chat Noir who had fixed his mistake even if she had eventually made a mistake that cost him the guardianship. She has solved the issue even if things were still tough.

Perhaps the additional support of her parents would be a good thing. She should probably discuss it with Chat Noir first. She had been avoiding discussing any of it with him or Damian. She sent them both messages that she did not want them to bring it up until she had time to process. Damian took it pretty well but Adrien seemed to keep trying to catch her eye to get her to talk, but then she had known Adrien longer and he also found out about her secret biological family so the situations were quite a bit different. She pulled out her phone to text him.

---

Marinette brought pastries to the park, including a double cheesy bread for Plagg and macarons for Tikki. The box lid was pushed back down over the kwamis so Marinette and Adrien could talk. He offered her fruit infused water before they wandered away from the photo shoot set that he had just left. He used a wipe to remove the makeup and ran his hands through his hair causing it to be adorably fluffy.

Marinette wasn't sure how to start. She avoided Adrien's soft eyes filled with concern and understanding. She picked the flaky bits off her croissant instead and looked up when he waved at some others across the park. She recognized the girls from school but she didn't really know them. Hopefully they wouldn't talk about seeing her in the park with Adrien. She hadn't told Alya because Lila had been nearby and she didn't want to make a big deal of it because Alya had noticed that they were acting a bit weird around each other.

"Do you know them?" Marinette asked.

"We share some classes. Just found out today that I'm partnered with the one in purple for the big history project. Hopefully that will work out okay "

"I was partnered with Nathaniel. It's nice to have someone I already know is reliable. He might be quiet for presenting but I don't know if I could handle the stress of an unreliable project partner."

"Because of all the other stress from things you couldn't or haven't shared?" he asked quietly.

"Um-yeah. Actually that is mostly what I wanted to talk about today. I'm going to tell my parents about everything."

"Isn't it all supposed to all be a secret?"

"According to Tikki, the level of secrecy has depended on the guardian handing out miraculi."

"So you think we should tell people now that you are guardian?"

"But necessarily. Mostly I think that it's important that people don't know. But we aren't adults who control our own lives and schedules. Sometimes we need extra support out allowances."

"I don't think I could tell my father. Even if he would see me, I think he would find a way to prevent me sneaking out if he knew."

"That is probably true. But my parents are the opposite. Having to lie and sneak around behind their back has been harmful to all of us. They have been a lot more worried recently anytime I'm not where they expected."

"Is this because of what Superboy said about you being Robin's sister?"

"I--"

She faltered and looked down instead of continuing. Adrien reached out and picked up her hand saying her name softly.

"Marinette, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But sometimes it helps to talk even if it's hard to say."

"No, I think it will help you to know. It's just all been so confusing. Do you remember the man from the hotel?"

"Yeah. From Alya's party."

"I met him that night when I went to change during the party. The next day he wanted to have breakfast with me." She bit her lip before spitting out the next words all at once. "Because he is my biological father."

"You said he made your parents nervous. Did he treat your mom badly and that is why they never told you?"

"Actually, they never knew until then."

"How--"

"My parents had help from a fertility clinic. I didn't know until I took a DNA test after we did blood typing in biology class because mine wasn't right." She looked down again. "They aren't worried that he will hurt me. They are worried that he will take me away."

"Cases like that from donors or whatever are really hard to fight though."

Except he is rich. Like really rich. Bruce Wayne rich."

The words just sat there for a moment as Adrien considered them. She could see him working it out and could tell the exact moment he knew when he looked back at her with shock in his eyes.

"Bruce Wayne is your biological father?" He breathed out hard. "The Bruce Wayne."

"That reaction is a lot of why I've not told many people. I didn't even know who he was until the fashion show. I was so worried about everything else that I never considered asking more about him. He was just Bruce."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her close for a moment. Marinette leaned against him less nervous than she felt before but still with the weight of talking to her parents.

"I agree you should tell your parents. It will help them to know. It will probably just give them other things to worry about." He smiled down at her. "Lucky for them that we always save the day, My Lady."

She looked up at him with the use of his hero's affectionate nickname for her. He was definitely looking at her how Chat Noir tended to look at Ladybug. She tensed a bit, not sure how to manage his possible feelings now that he knew she was Ladybug and not just Marinette. But he said nothing more. He leaned over and kissed her head gently and told her goodbye with a final squeeze to her shoulders.

---

Her parents just stared at her after she blurted out her secret identity without preamble. They were stunned into silence and waited for her to crack a smile before they reacted. They looked at each other and then both started talking about their feelings about her revelation. If they didn't calm down Marinette predicted she would have a headache soon. She decided it was best to wait it out rather than try defending herself.

As she expected it was mostly disbelief and shock at the dangers she had faced but there was an underlying message of pride. They kept on for a few minutes while Marinette waited for them to get it out of their system. She could tell it was ending when they both held her close and they ceased the onslaught of incredulous concern. They all went quiet for a minute until Marinette asked their thoughts once they had been able to process for a few minutes.

"Did you guys have any questions?"

"Why did you tell us? Actually why didn't you tell us before?" her dad asked.

"Well things have changed recently and it makes it all so much different."

"Your leader. He was trapped by Hawkmoth and named you guardian. What does that mean?" her mom asked.

"It means I'm but responsible for all of the miraculi in Paris. The previous guardian had moved on and had no memory of any of the miraculous or having met me."

"I don't know whether to be more upset that you kept it secret all this time or that we didn't notice." Sabine said.

"I wanted to tell you. I really hate lying."

"We know you do Sweetheart. That's part of what makes this hard to see. We didn't expect it from you," her dad said.

"I always worried that you would find out I'm missing and think something bad had happened. Especially after Bruce showed up. You were so worried at first."

"We are still worried a little. But so far he seems to just want an opportunity to love you." Sabine said. "We can't fault him for that."

Marinette agreed. Although it was a very strange situation, he genuinely seemed to want to be a part of her life without making himself a nuisance. She even thought he might he holding back a desire to buy her everything she ever wanted. He had left town again and she could only hope Damian would keep his silence, but he would be returning as soon as his schedule allowed.

They continued talking about all the ways these two major revelations had affected their lives while they made dinner and ate. It was all a huge weight off Marinette and she was happy it had been suggested. She really did believe that it was the best thing for her and the best way to protect her parents, even if it meant they would have to watch their reactions. Her dad might have been thinking about that because as she was heading up to her room he stopped her one last time.

"Does this mean you are in love with Chat Noir but he rejected you without knowing you were Ladybug?"

Tags

#maribat #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio dad bruce #boldlyanxious

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shireness-says · 3 years

Text

The Set-Up Scam

Summary: They’ve always been friends first and foremost - Emma and Killian, Killian and Emma - until suddenly, they’re something a little more too. But with a $600 betting pool on the line about when they’ll actually get together - well, maybe there’s incentive to keep the good news a secret. ~5.5k. Rated T for language. Also on Ao3.

~~~~~

A/N: Merry Christmas, @nevertothethird! I was delighted to be your pair for @cssecretsanta2020. It’s been wonderful chatting with you, and I look forward to a full stalking. ;)

You said you liked secret dating, friends to lovers, and characters being forced to work together - so I, like a fool, tried to include all three. I hope you like the result!

Special thanks, as always, to my beta, @snidgetsafan - the greatest treasure under any tree.

Tagging: @ohmightydevviepuu, @welllpthisishappening, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @kmomof4, @scientificapricot, @thejollyroger-writer, @superchocovian, @teamhook, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @searchingwardrobes, @katie-dub, @snowbellewells, @spartanguard, @phiralovesloki, @profdanglaisstuff

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

They’re friends, first and foremost. Best friends, really - Killian and Emma, Emma and Killian. Partners in crime and two peas in a pod and every other cliché there is (and Killian would definitely know all of them). It’s been that way since the very beginning, when Killian let her peek at his attendance quiz answers in that awful intro to astronomy class in college. Their relationship had grown from there: late nights in the library and each others’ dorm rooms, studying or watching movies or chatting, all the way through graduation and eventually grad school. They get each other in a way that usually doesn’t happen for Emma, both coming from rough backgrounds and determined to make the world a better place because of it. Hell, they even work together now at Misthaven County Middle School - Killian as an English teacher, and Emma as a guidance counselor.

And all that time, it’s been strictly platonic.

It’s not like Emma hasn’t looked. He’s an objectively good looking man, and smart and sweet and funny. But he’d been in some “it’s complicated” situation with a grad student when they’d met, and then Emma was in that weird period where she and Graham gave it a shot, and by the time they were both available… well, by that time, they’d been Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. A collective, a pair, absolutely entwined every way but romantically. He’d become her person, and it wasn’t worth risking that. There was no guarantee a romantic relationship would work out, anyways - or that Killian felt the attraction too.

The thing, though, is that they’re Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. Always together, always in each other’s stories, two birds of a feather. People constantly think that they’re together - or should be.

Emma doesn’t really mind, most of the time. She and Killian usually think it’s pretty funny, trading stories back and forth on his or her couch. Where it gets annoying is when each and every one of their friends are determined they should be dating. It’s been years of meaningful looks and hints about “so why aren’t you seeing anyone, Emma?” - but the last straw is the stupid, stupid bet.

“I just don’ unnerstand why you and Killian aren’t a couple!” slurs Mary Margaret, assistant principal and friend, at her yearly end-of-summer bash. “You’re ovviously in loooooooooove.”

“Sure we are, Mary Margaret,” Emma placates.

“But why haven’t you yet?” she demands. “You made me lose the pool!”

That draws Emma up short. “I’m sorry, what?”

The little pixie-haired brunette frowns. “Don’t you know? We’ve had a betting pool going for ages about when you’d get together this year. I thought for sure it’d be the Fourth of July.”

It’s a good guess, actually - Ruby throws a famously boozy bash every year at her grandmother’s diner, conveniently situated right below the inn. It’d make sense for them to get drunk and take things upstairs - except for the fact that none of this is rooted in sense in any way, shape, or form.

“That obviously didn’t happen,” Mary Margaret frowns sorrowfully, staring down into her plastic cup full of god-knows-what. It doesn’t last long, though, as she perks right back up. “But they let me make a new guess! I’ve got my money on the Friday after your birthday.”

“How much money are we talking here?” Emma can’t help but ask. It’s like a compulsion, one she doesn’t like or understand.

“Five hundred and fifty dollars.” At least that’s what she thinks Mary Margaret says; the slurring gets particularly bad on the f-sounds. It’s an astounding sum. Truly stupid.

Kind of tempting.

“And everyone bet that it would happen this year?” she makes sure to clarify.

“Yup!” Mary Margaret pops the p-sound and then giggles to herself about the noise.

“Then I’m putting fifty dollars on it not happening this year. That Killian and I won’t get together.”

———

She means it at the time, too. Because yeah, there’s sometimes that niggling little what if?, but they’ve known each other for eight years. Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. It’s not going to happen - honestly she’s not even sure she would want it to.

Until.

It’s not the Friday after her birthday, when they’re all going to hit the bar, but it’s the night before her birthday - a Tuesday. Killian comes over to grade vocab quizzes and eat greasy pizza, and stays to drink beer and watch stupid baking shows with her on the couch. Honestly, in so many ways, it’s a night like any other: two friends, just enjoying each other’s company.

Until.

Maybe it’s the beers. Maybe something’s been building for longer than she ever thought. Maybe it’s just that they’re both feeling good and, well, it is her birthday. But Killian kisses her - or she kisses Killian - they kiss each other and it’s like something slots into place. Like of course this was going to happen - they were just waiting for the perfect moment. It makes sense, in a way that Emma hasn’t let herself think about; he’s the person she trusts most, the best man she knows, probably the most important person in her life. Her best friend - and, probably, something more.

“That was…” he gasps, some indeterminable amount of time later. Somehow, he’s wound up on top of her on the couch - not that she’s complaining.

“Only the beginning,” Emma completes, smirking in a way she definitely picked up from him.

Now that this has started, she has no intention of stopping.

———

“Ok, don’t kill me - or, like, run away immediately - but I need a favor. A huge one,” Emma says much later, both of them naked and sated beneath her sheets.

Killian laughs beside her, peering up from the pillows with a smile. “After that, darling, I’m predisposed to give you just about anything you want.”

“And I’ll give it to you again,” she quips back, mostly to make him keep laughing. It works. “But seriously. Did you know that everyone’s got a bet going on us?”

That pops his head up. “I’m sorry, a bet? I… What? Who?”

“Seems like pretty much everyone. Ruby, Mary Margaret, David, Robin, Belle… I could go on and on. A six hundred dollar pool on when we get together.”

“Typical,” Killian mutters - though Emma catches a fond note in his tone. “Who’s the lucky winner, then?”

“Ok, this is where the favor comes in.” Hopefully this isn’t a breaking point for him; Emma would hate to have this taste of them, only to have it ripped away from her. “See, Mary Margaret told me about this when she got trashed at the back to school party, and I’d had a few too and was all hopped up on righteous fury or whatever, and I kind of… put fifty dollars in the pot that we wouldn’t get together this year at all.”

Killian stares at her for a moment, and Emma’s frankly scared that he’s going to get out of bed and go - but instead, he bursts into a near-hysterical cackle. “So you want to keep this a secret until the new year, so you can win the pot?”

Emma grins, knowing she must look like the cat that ate the canary (or however that weird-ass saying goes - again, English is Killian’s thing). “Exactly. We could spend it on a weekend getaway or something.”

“I’m in, then. Under the radar.”

“It’s just two months and change,” Emma says. “It’ll speed by. How hard can it be?”

———

Turns out - their friends are determined to make it as hard as possible. Even if they don’t know it.

Things are fine, at first. In fact, nothing really changes: Emma and Killian still show up at each others’ doors most nights, and Killian comes to hang out and grade papers in her office during his free periods most days. It’s just that their evenings are now filled with kisses and touches, and those afternoons in her office with all kinds of promises of things to come. It’s thrilling, in a way, to put on the front of normality for everyone else while only they know the truth. It’s nice, too, to be able to get their feet underneath them in this relationship without so many prying eyes watching them figure it all out.

Just because they don’t know, though, doesn’t mean their friends stop trying. There’s a bet on the line, after all, and their friends have never exactly been ones to step back and let things naturally run their course. Not for those busybodies; not with six hundred dollars and Emma and Killian’s supposed happiness on the line.

(The fact that they’re right - that the two of them really are happiest together - is irrelevant.)

David, of all people, is the first to start meddling.

“Do you guys want to get dinner?” he asks out of the blue one day - calls Emma up on her phone and everything. “You and Killian and me and Mary Margaret, I mean.”

Emma’s antenna raises immediately. “What, like a double date? C’mon, David —”

“No! No,” he says hastily - a little too hastily, Emma thinks. “No, a cousin of mine - Kris, you’ve met him - he’s opening up his own restaurant. Some place with Scandinavian food, I guess?”

“That’s actually a thing?”

“I guess. I don’t know, he studied abroad in Norway in college. Anyways, he could use a little business, support or whatever, so Mary Margaret and I figured we’d bring some extra people along. You know, help him out. And maybe Scandinavian food is good after all.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The line sits silent for a moment, before David breaks. “So… you in?”

And as much as Emma suspects this is all some elaborate set-up - well, it’s supposed to be to help someone else. David’s cousin, who she has in fact met and is really a good guy. And so she reluctantly agrees. “Yeah, I’m in. One of us will have to check with Killian if he’s available —”

“What, he’s not right there with you?”

(He is, his lips kiss-swollen and pulled into a delicious smirk, but that’s not the point and none of David’s business.)

“ — but yeah, I’m down.”

In the week between the call and the dinner, Emma actually finds herself starting to look forward to it. Yeah, it won’t be a real date - not with David and Mary Margaret there - but it’s still a chance to wear a pretty dress that’ll make Killian’s eyes bug a little. She’ll have to pick something he’ll have fun taking off of her later, once they’ve pretended to go back to their own homes.

Emma’s just pulling into the parking lot, however, when her phone rings, David’s name popping up on the screen.

“We’re not going to make it tonight,” he says without preamble, followed by the most fake-ass cough Emma’s ever heard in her life. “We’re sick.”

“Yeah, sick off your own lies,” Emma mutters. “Alright, well, I guess we’ll go another time —”

“Oh no, I insist you guys still have dinner. You and Killian deserve to have a night off!”

“David, c’mon, don’t play dumb —”

He ignores her. “Besides, you’ll be doing me - and Kris - a huge favor. I already told him to charge whatever you guys get to me. Splurge a little, have dessert and a bottle of wine. It’s all on me.”

Killian climbs out of his own car as David pleads his case, cocking his head in confusion at the no doubt frustrated look on Emma’s face. He looks like he wants to kiss it better; Emma wishes he could actually do so.

“Fine,” she caves. “If you’re sure. But I’m running up the bill.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Emma takes particular glee in ending the call. She should have seen this coming. “Looks like David has come down with a possibly fatal cough, so he and Mary Margaret aren’t coming tonight,” she tells Killian, rolling her eyes. No need to resist that particular urge.

He snorts. “Ah, liar-itis. I thought he might be coming down with a case.”

“Complicated by meddler’s cough. Don’t forget that.”

“Of course not.” He dips down to capture her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss - another urge they don’t have to resist with none of their friends around to see it. “You look lovely tonight, Swan.”

She smirks back. “I know.”

“Of course you do,” he laughs. “I’m sure you wore that just to torment me through dinner. Now, shall we?”

“We shall.” Emma slips her hand through his offered arm. “Dinner’s on David, by the way.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

———

“So, how was dinner?” David asks the next day, his cough mysteriously cleared up.

“Good,” Emma replies, knowing exactly what he’s digging for. “Your cousin’s got a good lingonberry cheesecake. Don’t worry, Killian and I totally ran up the bill. Kris has been well supported. You’re welcome.”

“And?” he demands.

Emma makes sure to play up her confusion. “And… what? It was a great dinner, might even go back if I ever have a date, and then I went home. Honestly, what did you expect to happen, David?”

Even through the phone, she can almost hear him audibly deflate. Something like a sigh, or perhaps the sound of his entire plan collapsing in on itself. Personally, Emma thinks it’s hilarious.

(It’s especially funny when she vividly remembers the way Killian had stripped her out of that dress, can still feel the scratch of his beard on her inner thighs.)

(But again - those are things that David doesn’t need to know.)

———

The set-ups multiply like rabbits, and Emma starts to notice her and Killian being forced into more and more situations together, just the two of them. Fuck only knows why they think these clumsy attempts will work; after all, Emma and Killian held out for 8 years of each other’s company before finally getting together (without anyone’s help, she might add). Still,

Trivia night is a weekly tradition for them all, down at the Rabbit Hole. Some weeks, the turnout is good; sometimes, not so much. They usually meet up at someone’s house and carpool from there because there’s not a ton of parking spots outside the bar, and it’s always worked well - two, maybe three cars instead of a half dozen or more. It’s a good time, and Emma always finds herself looking forward to Thursdays.

Tonight, they’ve met at Robin’s, Killian’s former roommate. It’s a good crowd tonight, too - Robin and his fiance Marian, Mary Margaret with David, Belle the librarian, Ruby and Mulan, even Graham and Lance and Tink. The gang’s all here, probably trying to let loose a bit before holiday obligations set in, and they’re raring to go - all twelve of them.

Emma hopes that it’s not planned - that there just happen to be two cars and then some worth of people here - but it’s more likely planned. Robin probably twisted their arms to come, just for this.

“Emma, would you mind checking the door one more time?” he calls as they congregate in the driveway. “I’m sure I locked it, but I’ve just got that niggling little feeling…”

“Sure, no problem.” And it isn’t - it’s checking the damn door. Except it’s actually winding down his stupidly picturesque front garden path to the front door, and then having to maneuver around the always-unlocked outer glass door to make sure that the real door is locked, and then maneuvering and winding and everything back… and by the time Emma makes it back, everyone’s already piled into Mary Margaret’s station wagon and Robin’s little SUV, even the middle seats everyone usually hates, leaving just the conniving man himself and Killian standing on the asphalt.

“Sorry, looks like the two of you will be riding together,” Robin says, not seeming remotely sorry. “This is convenient anyways! I know how much time you two spend together, if you decide that it’s easier to crash together afterwards… it wouldn’t be a problem for the extra car to stay here overnight.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t be,” Emma grumbles. “I don’t suppose you have any underlying motive here, do you Robin? Say, to the tune of six hundred dollars?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he responds cheerily. “I just really, really want you to know that you can keep your options open. And, you know, other euphemistic things if the urge moves you.”

Asshole.

(Emma does not leave her car at Robin’s overnight - but that doesn’t stop Killian from meeting her at her place afterwards.

“This euphemistic enough for you, love?” he teases as Emma pulls at his shirt, trying to tug the cotton tee over his head.

“How’s this for a euphemism: fuck me.”

“That’s not exactly how that word works, Swan.”

“I could not possibly give fewer shits about semantics than I do right now, Killian, unless it somehow relates to you getting your pants off.”

Somehow, even in the midst of their frantic stripping, he manages to laugh. “As you wish.”

She’s always preferred straight talking anyways.)

———

“Thank god I found you both!” Mary Margaret declares, bursting into Emma’s office a little too dramatically for her tastes. Until now, she and Killian had been having a wonderful lunch together, but that’s obviously a thing of the past now.

“That seems a little extreme for a Friday,” Killian comments mildly as he sets his cafeteria burger back down on the styrofoam tray. Personally, Emma thinks the cafeteria food is disgusting, but Killian’s got a real fondness for the cheeseburgers, and especially the french fries. No one’s perfect, she guesses. “What terrible impending tragedy can Emma or I save you from, Mary Margaret?”

“Kathryn’s father is in the hospital, so she and Fred can’t work their assigned booth at the Winter Carnival tomorrow.” Storybrooke County School District’s charity carnival is a tradition every winter - one Mary Margaret takes very seriously. Something that’s clearly about to come back and bite them all in the ass. “Would you two be able to cover tomorrow? You’d be doing me such a huge favor…”

Killian raises a single eyebrow as he turns to meet Emma’s eye - that eyebrow that always seems like a dare. “My schedule’s clear this weekend. Count me in. What do you say, Swan, think you can find room in your schedule to save Mary Margaret from the tragedy of all tragedies?”

Emma rolls her eyes at the way he’s putting it on thick, but truth be told, her only plans had been spending the day with Killian. Might as well. “Sure, what the hell,” she says, reaching for another bite of her microwave pizza. “I don’t have anything else going on.”

In retrospect, Emma realizes that Mary Margaret could have done something terrible with this - assigned them to the kissing booth or something. God, she hopes that there’s not a kissing booth at a middle school carnival, but it feels like just the kind of thing she’d pull. Thankfully, they’re set up at the ring toss game. It’s not strenuous in the least; they don’t even have to take money, just paper tickets. Really, the only questionable thing is that they’re crammed right together in the box formed between the booth walls and the counter and the table of bottles behind them. Maybe that’s something that would have bothered her a few weeks ago, back when they were Emma and Killian but not Emma and Killian. Now, it’s just an excuse to get right up in his space and enjoy all those little touches, right under everyone’s nose.

(Maybe, every time they have to duck under the counter to retrieve poorly-thrown rings, Killian takes the opportunity to steal a quick kiss while no one else can see. And maybe - just maybe - Emma uses those same opportunities to steal her own kisses right back.)

“Soooooo, how’s it going?” Mary Margaret chirps when she pops up out of nowhere mid-afternoon. It’s like she thinks she’ll find them making out in the middle of the carnival or something. Which… fair. The urge is there. But they’re professionals - and Emma wants that money, dammit. She’s not caving here.

“Just fine, Mare,” Emma replies. “Nothing worth reporting.”

“There’s not? You two are looking awfully cozy in there… nothing to report?”

“Well, you’re the one who set up the booths, so…”

“Aye, just making the best of it,” Killian helpfully adds.

Emma almost feels guilty about the way that Mary Margaret visibly deflates.

“You know this was another ridiculous set-up, right, love?” Killian asks once their friend has walked away. “She probably never even needed our help. It was all a ploy.”

“I see it now,” Emma sighs. “I had just weirdly hoped she’d be above all that bullshit.”

Killian quirks that eyebrow yet again. “Mary Margaret? Infamous meddler? Of course not. It’s cute that you thought that though, darling.”

“Oh, shut up.”

(“Mary Margaret told me to take the weekend off, that they’d over-scheduled,” Kathryn tells Emma later when she tries to ask how the other woman’s father is doing. “Was that not the case?”)

(Fucking figures.)

———

Ruby, frankly, is not a surprise. In fact, if there was one person Emma would figure would be pulling this bullshit, it’s Ruby. The girl’s too competitive for her own damn good - not to mention that mile-wide chaotic streak running through her soul.

“Pucker up!” she crows, thrusting what Emma assumes is a sprig of mistletoe over her and Killian’s heads. They’re at Ruby and Mulan’s place for… some party; it’s probably, maybe holiday themed, but Ruby’s never needed an excuse to throw a party. Anything to get them all drunk and laughing and forgetting about the stresses of the week.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emma demands. “Ruby, don’t be stupid. This isn’t college anymore.”

“Oh, like we ever did this in college,” Ruby scoffs with that devious twinkle in her eye. “Besides, college shenanigans are a state of mind. And I’m not giving that up. Now c’mon, no weaseling out of this.”

“It is the rules,” Mulan points out, appearing to slip her arm around Ruby’s waist and drop an affectionate - if slightly tipsy - kiss on her shoulder.

“Yeah, you hear that? Smart half says it’s the rules. So go ahead and pucker up and kiss him. And then go make out for a while and maybe bone each other so I can win the pool.”

Killian blushes a little bit at the phrasing - something that’s surprisingly cute on him, knowing how often he usually tosses around the innuendoes and exactly how dirty a mouth he has when they’re alone. Before Emma knows what he’s doing, he leans in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, and then another, smacking one for good measure. “Who are we to deny the great, determined Ruby Lucas?” he proclaims grandly. “One kiss: delivered.”

Ruby’s face gets a bit mutinous; it’s the only word for that particular storm cloud, really. “No it isn’t! That’s cheating!”

“Eh. Technically, it was a kiss.” God bless Mulan for being the only one willing to go against Ruby when she’s got a plan; perks of being the girlfriend, Emma supposes.

“And more importantly, Rubes, that’s all you’re going to get from us.” And that’s Emma’s last word on the subject.

(“Happy Christmas, darling,” Killian whispers into her neck later once they’re back at her place, dangling his own sprig of mistletoe over their heads. “How about it? C’mon, give us a kiss.”

Emma is more than happy to comply.)

———

Emma wouldn’t say it’s common for her to get calls from the school librarian, Belle, but it’s not unusual either. So when Belle calls her up in mid-December, shortly before Christmas break, Emma doesn’t think twice about it.

“The new Scholastic catalogs are here,” Belle informs her. “I haven’t started sending them to classrooms yet, but if you want to take a look now…”

“I’ll be right there.” Yes, the catalogs are full of books for middle school students, but Emma still loves those things. They’re chock-full of nostalgia.

“I haven’t even taken them out of the box yet,” Belle explains when Emma meets her at the check-out desk. “They’re all still in the back room. Here, I’ll let you in.”

That should have been Emma’s clue here. Why would a box of new catalogs, just arrived in the mail, already be shoved into the storage closet? But Emma’s too excited about the prospect of those newsprint magazines to think about it. By the time Emma realizes there’s nothing in this little closet but printer paper and old yearbooks… Belle’s already closed and locked the door, trapping Emma inside.

So it’s yet another set up, most likely. It’s a good thing she’s not claustrophobic, at least.

Sure enough, not five minutes later, Emma can hear Killian’s voice outside the door.

“How many boxes did you say it was, Belle? I’m happy to help haul, but I’m just wondering if we should get a hand cart to assist.”

“Oh no, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Belle’s voice responds. “Just a few trips for each of us. Right in here…”

And suddenly, Killian’s in the cramped little closet too, and the door is shut and latched behind them. Gee, what a surprise.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Emma comments dryly. Somehow, probably on some kind of ridiculous romantic instinct, Killian’s hands have already found their way to her hips. It’s nice, really, ignoring the circumstances.

His face is adorably confused, looking around the room and back to the door and then to Emma’s own face and all over again. “Did she just lock us in here?”

“Yeah, keep up, Jones,” Emma teases. “I assume another stupid set-up effort.”

That makes the confusion disperse alright, a smirk full of promise creeping across his face instead. “If that’s the case… we’ll just have to make the most of it.”

“Oh no you don’t,” she warns. “There’s a camera in here.”

“So? It’s not like she’s watching the monitors.”

“So, Belle recently started dating Will Scarlet in IT. You want to take the chance she locked us in here, and forgot to have her boyfriend monitor us?”

“Fuck,” Killian swears, dropping his head back in dramatic emphasis. “They’re really going overboard, aren’t they?”

“I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”

Thirty minutes later, when Emma and Killian have done nothing but talk and try to find some little extra space in the crowded closet, Belle finally lets them out, just in time for the end of Killian’s free period.

“I’m sure you have no idea how that happened,” he comments, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“It’s just the weirdest thing,” Belle agrees.

Well, that’s one way of putting it.

(Emma makes it up to him, several times over, at her place that night, with a take-out pizza to boot.)

———

After what feels like an eternity, it’s finally here: New Year’s Eve. As long as they make it to midnight and the new year proper without anyone finding out, this whole ridiculous farce is over, and they can be the couple they’ve technically already been since October. Emma and Killian, Killian and Emma - but more than they had been before.

They’d spent Christmas together - not that that was anything unusual. With everyone else going to visit family, the two of them often spend the day together, eating take-out Chinese and watching holiday movies. Killian’s got a brother back in England that he makes sure to call, and some years Liam will fly over, but Killian usually saves his visits for summer vacation, when he can stay in whatever little English hamlet his brother calls home for weeks at a time. There’s always something nice about spending the holidays together, just the two of them, but it was extra special this year. Who knew Emma was the kind of girl who wanted to trade kisses under the Christmas tree between swapping gifts?

(Killian, apparently - but then again, he’s always claimed to know her better than she knows herself.)

“Just a few more hours,” he murmurs against her neck, twining his arms about her waist from behind as Emma carefully brushes on mascara. “Few more hours, and then it’s all in the open.”

“Thank god for that, too. After all the PDA we’ve gotten from certain people all these years, I’m looking forward to rubbing it in their faces a bit.”

They carpool to Mary Margaret and David’s, just like they do every year. It’s routine, really; Emma always crashes at Killian’s after the annual New Year’s Eve party so that someone is there to help her with the hangover in the morning. Killian makes better hashbrowns than anyone she knows - even Granny - and they always manage to pull her out of the worst of her misery. He’s good about taking care of her, too, with water and Advil and making sure to shut all the shades as tightly as possible. They even share a bed a lot of years; it’s just that tonight, Emma knows there will be a lot fewer clothes involved.

They drink. They eat. They mingle. Sometimes, they’re together, carefully not touching, and sometimes they drift apart. That’s how this party usually works, after all - and Emma is nothing if not committed to seeing this entire thing through, pretending nothing is different this year, that she and Killian definitely aren’t together. Nothing to see here, folks.

God, she’s so fucking lucky he didn’t cut and run once it became obvious just how much of a competitive lunatic Emma is.

Finally, though, it’s the moment - less than a minute left. Killian is already waiting for her by the patio doors, just like he promised. Emma is only too happy to wind her way over there, grinning when she finally finds herself in front of her boyfriend - about to be secret no longer. Behind them, the assembled drunken crowd loudly counts down the last seconds of the year. They keep their hands determinedly to themselves - just as agreed, so no one can try and claim anything happened before the strike of the new year - but Killian still looks at her with that twinkle in his eyes and wiggling eyebrows. It’s anticipation, and excitement, and a good bit of joy - knowing that soon, this will all be out in the open. No more keeping their hands to themselves.

“You ready for this, love?” he says just loud enough for her to hear as the clock hits ten seconds.

“Hell yeah,” she grins back - because she is. She so is. This has been a long time coming - years in the making, really - and you know what? The whole secrecy may have helped her wrap her head around the whole thing, as well as win her the pot, but she’s ready to take it public. Maybe rub it in everyone’s faces just how happy she is and how she did this on her own schedule. Why the hell not?

Cheers erupt all around them, and Emma’s grin stretches to something that almost hurts her face. Killian looks much the same. “Happy New Year, love,” he says, finally pulling her towards him by the hips. “I think it’ll be our best one yet.”

Fireworks are going on outside, lighting up the snow on the ground, but Emma can’t be bothered to pay attention - not when Killian attacks her lips with purpose, grinning happily into the kiss before she insistently deepens it, slipping her tongue into his mouth to play. It’s just another in a series of kisses, they know - but it’s more than that. It’s a display, in the best way, declaring them them.

Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. A pair, a unit, a couple.

“HA!” shrieks someone across the room as their make-out finally gains attention. Emma thinks it might be Ruby - though, at this point, it might be Mary Margaret. Maybe both. It’s definitely Ruby who materializes just as Emma and Killian finally break apart with a laugh. “It’s about fucking time!”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees - something that seems to short-circuit Ruby’s brain for a moment, if that look on her face is anything to go by. “It really was. And you know what else?”

Ruby shakes her head mutely, that twist of her eyebrows demonstrating that she’s still trying to get her bearings about what the fuck is happening here.

“It’s the new year. That pot is mine.”

“That’s my girl,” Killian whispers in her ear.

Best. New Year’s. Ever.

———

On January 1st of the new year, Emma and Killian - Killian and Emma - they, them, a pair, a unit, a couple take their six hundred dollars in winnings and treat themselves to a goddamn massive lunch at Granny’s. Together. In public. Because they deserve it.

Grilled cheese has never tasted so good to Emma - especially the crumbs off the corners of Killian’s lips.

#csss20 #cssecretsanta2020 #cs ff #captain swan #cs fanfiction #my writing #the set-up scam #secret dating #friends to lovers #oh my god and they were ACCOMPLICES #happy holidays everyone!

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

Anybody - N. Horan Imagine

NOTE: I sincerely appreciate everybody’s patience with me getting to requests. Sometimes its just nice to take a lil break and write a niall amnesia fic, ya know? anyways, here’s another requested imagine (i combined two because they were vv similar), enjoy!

“You’re telling us you’re still single?” The girl scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

It made your cheeks flame up incredibly and your stomach turn in guilt. Normally, this conversation would not have you so antsy or defensive if it had not been for Niall’s presence beside you. The idea to share lunch with the cast one day and have Niall tag along was entirely your idea, so there was nobody else to throw blame on. You were happy Niall agreed almost immediately to your proposal, despite knowing the repercussions if either of you somehow clued that you were together in front of your friends and especially in public.

Your lifestyles were definitely a commonality in your relationship. The constant interviews and public appearances were what led to the two of you introducing one another. You both had a disposition for complimenting people greatly, but had a difficult time taking them to heart. Your first meeting could be illustrated with the two of you gawking over each other’s work and red cheeks, with the subtle flirtatious remark thrown in. But it was the impetus for the exchanging of numbers, and a couple of dinners and intimate nights shared in the bedroom.

More importantly, it led you here at a restaurant surrounded by your costars for one of Niall’s favorite television shows and the man himself. He claimed it to be one of his favorites before he even met you, which you still doubt to be the truth, but you never pushed him for validity. The question from your costar, who could also be considered one of your closest friends, left both you and Niall stunned for a moment.

“Oh, come on. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“You’ve got guys crawling over you all the time.” Another chimes in. You could not argue his point; it happened every time you stumbled across a male fan of the show, over twitter direct messages or blatantly in response to something you posted online. Even during interviews some male hosts would flatter you in the objective to get in your pants, in spite of how clear you made your interests to be platonic.

“So, I can’t be independent and say ‘no’?” You raised your eyebrows, feeling inferior to your colleagues. Unlike them, having a public relationship was off of the table.

“You can. But admit it, you could literallu have anybody, Y/N.” Your friend looks around the table, earning many nods of agreement. You wish every day to wake up and just have the world know your secret. But it did not work like that.

Your publicist immediately refuted the idea of publicly dating when you mentioned your affair with the musician. She went ballistic, claiming you were insane to just post a picture of the two of you to your socials with the mindset of “whatever happens, happens”. It would lead to speculation, which will lead to a closer eye on the two of you and your every move, she argues. Her demands made you want to keep your mouth shut about your fear of being mobbed by cameras off of the red carpet before this conversation. She went on to say the longer you were “available” in the eye of the public, the more popular you would grow. Teenage boys would fawn over you, their girlfriends would google you to see what the hype about you was and hate-stalk you, which would result in a larger following.

Having that disappear all because you were off of the market would make your numbers plummet and lose grip of your male demographic. You were nearly tuning her voice out by this point, until she pointed out that Niall was probably in the same boat. Girl’s loved him; guys were fuming over him. Bigger album sales, followers for days, until the announcement that one of the world’s biggest heartthrobs is officially taken.

You informed Niall about the conversation later that day. And as much as he wanted to say it was bullshit, he could not. It was true. He had attempted many times to present the relationship reveal presentation to his manager and publicist, but both shut him down the moment he began to speak. As of now, both of you were bound by contract to keep your lips shut.

Niall’s aura screamed its independence, so there was no speculation circling him lately about a possible affair. You however, were fresh meat. The new, hottest thing one of few top, trending shows. Everybody wanted to know your whereabouts and who you we’re hanging around with everyday, all day. And it never really seemed to stop.

The night your followers on various media platforms doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled in a matter of hours was when you needed to turn off all receiving notifications. Messages, mentions and questions were flooded to your phone at such a rapid rate that your phone froze. If a photo was even published online of you hugging a man, you would be interrogated about it for the next five interviews following that day.

Recently, the man in question has been your co-star in the series, Ryan. It was clear in the show that your and his character had major chemistry, but outside of the set, Ryan acted like more of a brother figure than anything. He would scare you whenever you turned random corners in the studio, ruffle your hair and bicker with you at any opportunity.

Many gossip news sources were asking both you and your co-star if the relationship between your characters was the same on-screen and off-screen. But it seemed the countless amounts of “no’s” you both delivered immediately after the question was asked was not enough. The other day, a video of him handing you a water bottle with a smile gained thousands of views overnight, as well as theories that you two were hiding a relationship from the public. It could not be further from the truth, but you and Ryan knew it was useless to comment otherwise.

In fact, everybody around you was discouraging the idea to cancel the rumors. All except one person, who always seemed to be cheering you on in your worst moments. And by the eighth week and hundredth photo of you and Ryan allegedly “confirming” your relationship, you had enough.

You stormed into Niall’s apartment with hot feet. You passed by him and paced his kitchen, while he sat up from the couch. Turning down the volume on the golf match playing on the television, he ventures after you and into the kitchen, finding you scavenging his fridge.

“Hang on.” You held up a finger, before retrieving a cold bottle of booze from the fridge. Niall eyes you carefully in your haste to grab the bottle opener already accessible off of his kitchen island and pop the bottle cap off the drink and down half of it. While you guzzle down the drink, Niall gulps, licking his lips.

Chugging a beer, as weird as it sounded, was one of the hottest things Niall had witnessed you do to date.

“Okay,” you slammed the near empty bottle down, taking a deep breath of preparation. “Go ahead.”

“What happened?” He already knew the answer, but it could not hurt to ask. He figured if it bothered you too much to speak about it, you would deny answering. But, considering he was the only person who allowed you to rant to him, you were not going to throw away the opportunity to do so.

“More shit about me and—” That’s the farthest you could let Niall peek at your day before a familiar ringing noise sounds in the kitchen. Niall releases a sigh as you collect your phone from your back pocket, seeing who was calling.

“It’s Ry—”

“Take it. It’s okay.” Niall assures, without you even having to ask. You nod, promising to be quick, though he knew it would be at least twenty minutes before your attentions could turn back to him. That is, if another article was not sent to you about the situation.

“Hey…yeah I saw…” you eye Niall strolling out of the kitchen, his bare back and tense muscles prominent from your view. “Uh huh…” you murmur, before you and Ryan are venting about your day to one another. All of the interrogations at interviews, the photos people had snuck while touring the set, and the trailer for the newest episode that was just dropped. The trailer went viral within two hours because your editors and marketing team decided to include the kissing scene your two character’s shared in that episode along with the montage of other points. By the time you had ended the call, you found Niall showered and lying on his bed. The television in the living room was black, a sign that the golf match ended much earlier.

“Hey…sorry about that.” You mumble, crawling into his bed beside him.

“It’s okay…I assume you don’t want to talk about your day?” He inquires, looking down as you wind an arm over his stomach.

“W-what makes you…”

“I mean, I don’t want you to waste your breath or anything. Judging by the earful you gave Ryan it must’ve been juicy.” Niall remarks through his teeth.

“I was just—”

“Because why waste your time talking to me about it, right?”

“Niall! Stop!” You yell, allowing a heavy silence to fall in between you two. You take your arm away from his middle and sit up, brows scrunching. “Why are you acting like this?” You ask, tone quieter.

“I…don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m just…I’ve been in my head a lot lately. Thinkin’ about lots of things.” He huffs, turning his gaze down to his legs.

“Like?”

“Like…us.” He answers, face solid.

“What about us?” You hesitate with a trembling voice.

“Well, more like how there isn’t an us.” Niall mumbles, voice gravelly. “To everyone else, anyway.” He breathes, trying a smile but with no avail. The sight delivers a brutal sting to your heart.

“Niall…”

“I know we can’t tell anybody; I know.” He rushes out before you could remind him. “But shit, can we at least act like they do when you’re here?” Your lips part, but fail to generate the right words. “Because right now it kind of seems like I don’t exist when Ryan calls and—and when I ask about your day first but he interrupts, it seems like I can’t get a sound out of you after about it. And damnit, Y/N, I want to hear about it! All of it! And having to listen through the walls just to know you’re okay…”

“Yeah?” You whisper.

“I see what everybody else does. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.” You nod, biting your lip to hold back tears much like Niall was doing judging by his crackling voice. The only reason you really spilled your guts to Ryan was that he was in the same exact position you were in, so he would understand you the most. But that was not entirely true. Because right in front of you sat Niall, who was hiding just as much as you were for the same exact reasons.

“I’m…I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Yeah,” Niall sniffs, “who could blame ya? Ya never have time to ask.”

“And that’s not right.” You shake your head, bringing your body up to straddle his lap. After swinging a bent leg over both of his, and situating yourself over his thighs, you stare into his eyes with a shameful gaze. “It should never be like that. I should tell you about my day, and ask you about yours and…I’m sorry, Niall. I’m so sorry I haven’t.”

“It’s okay—” He tilts his head down, but your hand grabs a hold of his chin scraggly with hair and lifts it back up.

“No, it’s not.” You decree. “To be honest, the reason I never really talk about it is because…I thought it wouldn’t matter to you?” At your admission, Niall’s eyes bulge. The feeling of his warm hands flying to your hips calms both of you to an extent.

“Why would ya think that, love?”

“Wouldn’t you be annoyed hearing me rant about some guy people think I’m dating?” Niall nods his head, understanding your point.

“I suppose…but I’d be angry with you. I’d be on your side.” Niall guarantees with a firm squeeze to your sides. It makes a giggle bubble up from your throat, and a smile crawl up to his lips at the sound of it resounding against his bedroom walls. After bringing his hands in yours and lacing your fingers together, you say, “I’m sure you would. You’d hold me…pleasure me…sing me to sleep.” You smirk, watching Niall grow flush beneath you at his noticeable methods of affection.

“Ryan can’t do any of that.” You bite your lip.

“Damn right he can’t! You’re mine.” Niall looks you up and down, pulling your chest closer to his.

“And I’ll start taking that into consideration more. Now, how about I pleasure you this time to start?” You raise your eyebrows.

“I like the sound of that.” His hand starts to reach up to comb through your hair, but the boisterous rings of your phone interfere once again. Niall heaves a breath and sits back, all while you roll your eyes and reach out for the phone.

“Hey, Ryan.” Niall looks up at you, expecting in less than a second to be off of his lap. But he is rather surprised at the feeling of your hand reaching up to tug the loose sweats down off his waist. “You mind if we talk tomorrow? My boyfriend and I are kind of in the middle of something.” You answer with a smirk, watching Niall’s eyes grow right before you. Ryan’s screams of puzzlement could be heard by Niall as you dragged the phone away from your ear and ended the call. And soon, your grip made its way back to Niall’s boxers with a devious smirk on your lips.

“Now, where were we?”

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syms-things-5 · 3 years

Text

CLEAR THE AREA - Chapter Twenty

Previous Chapter here

Warnings: language and the usual angst

Summary: I made it! My first story at an end. Thanks for stopping by and sticking by me over the last few months. I'm strangely quite proud of myself for sticking with this even when I had zero idea of how things were going to go. I have plans for a sequel of sorts and I hope you come back for that (when I get my ass in gear to write it!).

Tags: Thanks to @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

Chapter Twenty

The hot shower was a welcome relief when she finally stepped inside. It had been a hell of a long day. Far longer than she could recall and she had battled plenty.

Sarah had been back at work for a week or so and trying her hardest to deflect questions. Audrey had, she realised, kind of figured most things out without having to awkwardly impose the third degree on her pal. She knew everyone in the family knew and while at first she was happy and possibly even a little excited by that knowledge, her enthusiasm soon turned to concern when Sarah informed her that Shanna had been ignoring all of her messages and calls ever since. None of Audrey’s queries beyond that were met with much more than a non-committal shrug. How could Sarah be expected to answer any of Audrey’s questions when she didn’t have any of the answers to her own?

“She’ll come around. She has to.” Audrey said, in her soothing tone that always seemed to work no matter what news she was giving. “She won’t want to lose you. You’ve been friends for years.”

A few people had said variations of the same thing to her lately. That Shanna will come around, that she was just shocked but she’ll eventually understand, and that things will get better. Carly said Shanna had a wicked stubborn streak in her that even she struggled with at times but she also knew she loved Sarah very, very much. It was just a tough time but she’ll learn to understand. It would absolutely be OK, she would bet money on it Sarah wasn’t so sure.

She already knew Shanna was as stubborn as they come - she’d lived with her long enough - so when exactly was she expected to “learn how to understand”? More importantly, why did she even have to? They had been best friends for years but Sarah had betrayed her trust and flat-out lied to her face. Multiple times. “White lies” Scott called them, shrugging them off as though they were a big pile of nothing and just something people do when they need to get out of awkward situations. Sarah wasn’t sure sleeping with her best friend’s brother counted as an “awkward situation” or something that could be casually brushed aside with a sweep of the hand but nevertheless, she appreciated his efforts.

These were the conversations that kept circling around her mind as she stood under the shower head. Normally, she wasn’t one for wasting water but she allowed herself to enjoy it a little more this time. The soapy lather and fragrances of lavender and sandalwood surrounded her senses and was very soothing to her brain.

She barely noticed the fog steaming up the bathroom and focussed on the feel of the hot water cascading over her tired, worn-out body instead. If she died right here, right now, they could say she was probably the most relaxed she had been in months.

“Shall we pick you up from the airport? It’s no trouble.” Jocelyn fussed on the end of the line. There was a loud scraping sound somewhere in the near-background so Sarah figured she was back on the DIY again. That, or she had given the pottery classes another go. Recollections of Shanna laughing herself silly at Jocelyn “doing pot” flooded back into her memory all of a sudden and only served to leave her feeling sad in the pit of her stomach.

“No, Mom, it’s fine. It’ll be late. I’ll just get a cab.” Sarah calmly affirmed, one hand holding the phone to her ear and the other shoving yet more clothes into her suitcase. She’d given up on folding like an adult. “The flight could be delayed so I don’t want you hanging around the airport any longer than necessary.”

“But you’ll have bags, Sarah. Heavy bags and that’s no good. You don’t want to give yourself an injury.”

“Mom, I have one suitcase. Don’t be so over-dramatic.” She eye-rolled.

That was the…fourth lie? Perhaps the fifth since this conversation had started? Who knew. Sarah glanced down at the suitcase on her bed currently lying next to a smaller, overnight suitcase. There was also a backpack and a laptop bag sitting ready by her bedroom door. It was just easier this way. If she had to explain her real intentions, she would never finish packing and her parents would be on the red-eye to Boston.

“OK, well, keep us posted when you leave and when you land and I suppose we can go from there.” Jocelyn sighed. Whatever she had been doing had now stopped and Sarah could imagine the look of concern on her face. She was momentarily consoled by the fact that her Dad would at least see things from her point of view and hopefully Jocelyn would learn to just drop it.

Sarah hung up the phone and went back into the bathroom to finish drying her hair currently wrapped up in a towel. Shanna had shown her a trick with a towel and an old cotton t-shirt some years earlier after she had eventually agreed to stop cutting her hair. “It’s so beautiful and curly but, like, it’s a nice curl? A gentle curl. Honestly, girls would pay so much money every day to have waves like yours.” enthused Shanna at the time. It was a sweet thing to say. Jocelyn had said much the same thing as she was growing up but Sarah always preferred shorter cuts because she couldn’t be bothered to spend time styling it every day. And it would always take time. Too much time.

Her longer hair felt so lifeless and dull by comparison, she thought, except when Audrey would blow-dry it during one of their all-too-rare girls’ afternoons and rub this coconut concoction into her roots so it smelled delicious for days afterwards. Or when Chris would gently comb his fingers through it when he thought she was asleep. She didn’t mind it so much then.

She finished the last brush-through and switched off the dryer, wrapping the cord around the handle ready for it to be packed. A dab of foundation under her eyes and she looked reasonably well-rested now; well enough so as not to draw attention to any stresses or worries. Jocelyn always had a knack for sussing them out and it was frustrating and unwelcome at the best of times. That she was usually right was beside the point.

She mentally ticked off a list of items she made a point of packing; some comfy sweatpants, a couple of books, her particular brand of coffee because her folks now apparently hated the stuff. She located her passport and boarding pass for the tenth time, making sure they were safely zipped in the side pocket of her backpack. She was pretty much done. If it wasn’t for the looming feeling of regret, she would call a cab to take her to the station right that minute.

Looking down at her phone, she decided to call Shanna one last time. It rang a few times before a groggy voice appeared on the end of the line.

“Hey….” Shanna offered, cold but not totally unhappy to hear her, Sarah thought. The last few times she had tried calling Shanna, it would ring for a lot longer. The shortness here was a small step in the right direction.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Sarah asked with some trepidation, trying not to sound overly familiar and casual. She was trying to follow Shanna’s lead with regards to friendly small talk.

“Better. Mom’s been making soup every day. Sick and tired of the stuff to be honest.” Shanna had come down with a small cold and had used it as an opportunity to stay in the relative ease and comfort of her mother’s house. Sarah would much rather have seen her in person before she left but speaking on the phone without one of them, or both of them, ending up in tears was also good.

“Well, at least you’re in the best place. Your Mom always makes me feel better when I’m unwell.” Sarah smiled down the line.

“I’m not unwell, Sarah.” she said, defensively. “It’s just a cold. I’m just tired.”

Sarah feared she’d overstepped the mark. “OK, well, still, it’s good that you’re there. ‘Cos…Lisa would just worry otherwise. Probably.” She was babbling now and she knew it but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Shanna had put up something of a wall between them now and while she was talking to her and not completing freezing her out, it felt different and not altogether pleasant.

“Yeh, that’s true.” Shanna responded after a brief pause. “But you’re a nurse so you would think I would be better in my own home.”

“Nah, I’d just be bringing back all kinds of infectious things.” Sarah joked and was relieved to hear a laugh on the end of the line, a laugh that very quickly turned into a harsh cough. But it had definitely started out as a laugh so she’d take that as a win, too.

“So, have you been really busy?” Shanna asked after she managed to clear her throat.

“Same old. We have a new intern and she’s pretty eager to get stuck in which is great. Audrey is impressed so that should tell you how amazing she is.” Sarah offered. It had in fact been busier than most days but now wasn’t the time to relay the usual information she wouldn’t normally think twice about offering to Shanna when she had asked.

“That’s cool.” Shanna coughed again and cleared her throat. “Have you been working all the time or, um, have you had much of a break?”

“Pretty much all the time, yeh. I did those double shifts I was meant to do last month so I’ve cleared my flexi-time now which is good. I’m back on track.”

“That’s cool.” Shanna said.

“Yeh and I built up some more which is good, too. It’ll come in handy at Christmas perhaps.” Sarah was trying to keep the conversation going as best as she could.

“Cool. Do you just come home and crash, then?”

“Most of the time, yeh.”

“You don’t go out anywhere or anything?”

“Um,” Sarah had a vague idea of what she was getting at. “I don’t really have time to do anything else. I wanted to get my hours back up to a healthy point. You know what O’Brien can be like.”

There was silence on the end of the line. Sarah could hear her shuffle about in what she assumed was her bed. Shanna coughed again, gentler this time, and sighed as she tried to think of what to come back with. She knew she was probably being a little obvious now.

“Well,” Shanna started. “I hope you’re getting through it all OK. Y’know, the work and stuff. I hope you’re doing alright.”

“Thanks. Yeh I’m…I’m alright.” Sarah replied, touched by the slight concern she could hear her speak. “I hope you feel better soon, too. It’s not fun having a cold particularly at this time of the year.”

“I’m sure Mom has been crushing aspirin and vitamins into my food so I’ll be Wonder Woman before you know it.”

Sarah laughed. “Absolutely you will. I’ll, er, let you get back to resting. Are you up to much?”

“No, I’m just watching Netflix.”

“Ah right. That’s cool. Lots of new murder shows from what Audrey tells me.” Sarah nodded. She knew Shanna wasn’t about to launch into a description of what programme she had been binging the last few days so they both vocalised their goodbyes and hung up. It was the first call that had ended on a mutual note and not Shanna making a lame excuse to cut off Sarah’s equally lame attempts at small talk. Again, Sarah took it as a positive.

Sarah looked down at her phone, a photo of them both in their graduation gowns on her home screen. She hadn’t changed it since she’d gotten the upgrade a year earlier and she had no intention of doing so now. It was a nice day, a nice memory. The hangover she suffered for days afterwards was more than worth it.

She was unsure why Shanna had felt the need to ask her what she’d been up to. She had seemed very specific, more so than about anything else they talked about lately. Naturally, Shanna knew Sarah well enough now to know she relied on work whenever she was dealing with something upsetting and difficult so surely it would have been obvious that she had had zero contact with Chris. He probably would have said as much to her in person. Or he would have talked with Scott or Lisa, and Shanna would have eventually found out by default.

The more she thought about it, the more anxious she felt. Knowing how she and Chris had left things, it was almost entirely likely that he hadn’t spoken to Shanna too much. Perhaps he had holed himself up in his apartment like he did following a tiring shoot, trying to sleep and rest and eat whatever carbs he could get his hands on. Maybe the opposite and he’d thrown himself into some training again. Maybe he’d gone back to Los Angeles for work, that he’d finally given in to Matt’s nudges and agreed to accept one of the many lucrative endorsement deals brands would throw his way every so often. Maybe he had been entertaining himself with the boys. Or with someone else. Someone…

No. This had been Sarah’s fault. There was no point trying to find justification for his absence. She had created a rift between a brother and sister where one should not have existed. He should have talked to Shanna but from Shanna’s probing and what little information she could gleam from Scott, evidently that didn’t appear to have taken place. She briefly considered googling his name to see if any news outlets had a scoop before deciding against it. She almost made it to her kitchen before giving in and bringing up a search on her phone. No. Nothing. He’d gone radio-silent as per usual. As she suspected. Normally, it was quite impressive of him to go under the radar with such precision but now it was just inconsiderate. How dare he not make his whereabouts publicly known so Sarah could come up with a half-convenient lie as to why he and Shanna hadn’t seen each other. A comforting lie that could make herself feel better about the mess.

It would have made her feel so much better to know they were getting along again. Selfishly, it would have made it easier for her to leave knowing that they were finding their own way of getting back on track with one another. Sarah could imagine Lisa fretting to Scott and Carly at night, wondering how she could help her two most stubborn children become pals again. Sarah would rather she had been forgotten completely in favour of them piecing their relationship back together, for everyone’s sake. If there was one thing Sarah hated more than drama, it was knowing she was the root cause of the drama. Separating herself from the family now would be preferable than being made increasingly aware of the glaring hole setting up home in their house. A meteoric hole that she had been responsible for. A hole inside a family unit that had gotten through a lot in their forty-plus years together. A wonderful, loving, generous family that had taken Sarah in without question and had accepted her as one of their own just because Shanna had once said she was “pretty cool”.

No, Shanna did not deserve to be frozen out by her brother. Chris didn’t deserve to feel like he couldn’t speak to his baby sister.

Another day passed and Sarah didn’t feel much better. She did, however, feel momentarily relieved by Audrey’s personal admission that she had googled Chris a couple of times as well. Another sip of steaming hot coffee and she further admitted to having set him up on her Google Alerts “just in case”.

“For safety. I’m just looking out for you.” Audrey declared before smirking at her across the table. “I didn’t want you waking up one morning to photos of him draped over some starlet or whoever. And don’t think for one second that I will not come for anyone who dares to speak ill of you online. You are beautiful and kind and funny and sweet and absolutely good enough for him. I swear to God and he can quote me on this. Think of me as your own personal hype-woman.”

“Wow. Thank you. That’s a lot to take in but it’s very kind.” Sarah laughed nervously. “I think.”

“All I ask in return is dibs on designer dresses for the wedding.” Audrey winked at her as she left the staffroom. She didn’t catch neither the eye roll nor the middle finger Sarah proffered in return.

A few moments of quiet passed and Sarah pulled up Scott’s number on her phone.

Sarah 10.45am: Is Shanna feeling any better?

Scott 10.52am: So so. She’s terrible at being an ill person. I don’t know how you manage it xx

Sarah texted a laughing emoji back in response followed by a couple of red hearts. She’d give anything to “manage” an ill Shanna right now.

Scott 11.04am: But how are you??? We miss you Xx

Sarah could feel the tears forming at the back of her eyes. It had been a couple of days since she had last cried but as her departure flight loomed ever closer she was feeling it more and more.

Scott 11.08am: Seriously………

Scott 11.09am: Please come see us soon. Mom is super worried about you and threatening to bring you her tiramisu

Scott 11.11am: don’t worry, I stopped her xx

She bit the inside of her lip a little too hard.

Scott 11.13am: but you owe me one. I had to eat half that thing xx

Chris loved tiramisu, she remembered. Maybe he was responsible for eating the other half.

It was no good. She was going to have to call him soon. Against the promise she’d made to herself about not thinking about him, it only served to keep her worrying about him more and more.

Sarah 11.20am: I know, I’m sorry. Tell her I’ll call her soon, I pormise xx

Sarah 11.21am: *promise

Scott 11.24am: not sure that’ll do much honeybun. You know what she’s like. Love you xx

She texted him a kiss emoji and felt relieved that he didn’t respond again. She pulled up Chris’ number and contemplated sending him a message. How would she even start? A simple “hey” was not going to cut it at this point, nor was a “how are you?”. Time was running out and as Ryan peered his head round the door to check on her, she shoved her phone back in her locker and left to finish off her day.

Sarah 15.58pm: Are you still alive?

She stayed staring at her phone for what felt like an eternity. Just before she resigned in disgust at her pitiful attempt at casual humour, she saw the tell-tale three dots appear at the bottom of her screen. They flickered for some time before stopping then starting again. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was composing some irate response at her pathetic joke or if he was deleting a message in favour of ignoring her altogether. She wasn’t sure which option she would prefer had she had the choice.

No response came through. She pulled a cup from the cupboard and set about making a small pot of coffee for herself. She still had a little time yet before she was due to leave for the airport and she had made plans to clean the place up a little before Shanna returned home, presumably a day or so later when she figured Sarah was safely out of the picture.

She picked up some daffodils and daisies on the way home from the hospital and separated the bunches between the living room, the kitchen and the hallway. She had visited two different grocery stores to find Shanna’s favourite flavour of ice cream and the fridge was stocked with some healthy veggies and yoghurt so she could make her breakfast smoothies in the morning. She also set about steam-mopping the hard floors so the clean, floral smell could spread through the entire apartment. It was a nice welcome home, she thought. She would appreciate it if someone had done the same for her.

Her phone started vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans as she folded the bedding that was fresh out of the dryer. She wasn’t altogether able to name the feeling she experienced at seeing Chris’ name flash on her screen alongside a photo of him smiling like the goof he was. A beautiful, sweet picture taken from Shanna’s birthday party three years previous. There was a time recently when she’d let it ring a little longer than was necessary just to allow herself the chance to stare at it for a few seconds more. But now was not one of those times.

“I genuinely didn’t think you were gonna answer me.” He said, his voice displaying the disbelief he was feeling.

“You would have kept ringing me otherwise.” It wasn’t an accusation as such, and he knew it.

“Yeh, probably. But I would have tried not to.” He said, matter-of-factly. “I’m not great with sussing women out but I figured you didn’t want to talk to me that much.”

She felt sad to hear him say it out loud even though it was true to an extent. He seemed submissive in some way. “Really?” She asked, more beseeching than she had intended.

He paused and she could hear him sigh. “Yeh, I would have. It would have been tough but I’ve thought about it a lot recently and I do have a little pride left, believe it or not.” She heard him straighten up and realised he’d been either lying on his couch or on his bed. “But you messaged me first. I’m kinda surprised to be honest.”

He wouldn’t be as surprised or impressed if she said it was just to check he hadn’t died in his sleep. She decided to keep that little tid-bit to herself.

“You’ve been quiet lately.” She said. “I mean, I thought...I don’t…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t actually know what I meant to be honest. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t haven’t contacted you out of the blue like this.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you did.” Chris was feeling generous and decided to help her put out the fire. He knew she was panicking a little and no matter what else he was thinking right now, hearing her sound apprehensive wasn’t going to make him feel any better.

“I just wondered how you were doing, I suppose. I’ve been talking to Shan a little bit. Not a lot, not like we’re back to normal or anything but I wanted to check you were OK as well.” She tugged at the end of her sweater sleeve currently stretched between her fingers. “I haven’t really asked you that.”

He thought for a second. How was he feeling? He wasn’t sure he could give her an answer. He didn’t really know and he couldn’t make it sound half-positive even if he did. He had thrown himself into his work a lot more, much to the joy of Matt and some producers who had been trying to get his attention. When he wasn’t working out, he was reading scripts and when he wasn’t reading scripts, he was watching his diet. He had been very quiet on social media to an extent that someone in his PR team had taken to posting a couple of things on his behalf. Just two or three charity posts and something NASA-related to let his fans know he hadn’t completely disappeared. The team had notified him earlier that day that a cute dog video they had posted just 24 hours previous had gone viral and he had received more marriage proposals than usual as a result.

By now, he had learned how to fend off his mother and his brother. To be fair, it wasn’t all that hard to do with Scott. Scott had been understanding enough recently and he had the benefit of knowing when to shut up and let Chris go at his own pace. Pushing him was only going to have the opposite effect. More than once, he found himself wondering if Scott had spoken to Sarah. When he tried to hint around the situation to see if that had in fact been true, Scott had shut him down just as quickly. He didn’t mind that all too much. He appreciated Scott’s discretion and no doubt Sarah needed him just as much as he did.

“I’m alright, Bernette.” He said. “You know, fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeh. Just fine. Nothing more.” He said. He didn’t much care about sugar-coating things but maybe that was out of a little tiredness and boredom. They were way past protecting each other from the other person’s feelings at this point.

“Anyway,” he shook his head. “What about you? How’s things with O’Brien?”

“Oh y’know. Yeh, fine, I guess.” She replied. “How did you know there was any issue with O’Brien?”

“You gotta love that Audrey.” He chuckled.

O’Brien had come under fire last week for yelling at a couple of interns and one of them, unbeknown to anyone else, happened to be the niece of a local congressman. Rumours were circling but Sarah and in fact most of her team had no time to pay attention to anything going on above their heads. That’s the thing with medical emergencies, you see: they never stop just because somebody’s job is on the line.

“Right.” She said. “What else has she said?”

“Nothing much.” He said. “She said you were worried about me.” There was a smugness that she decided to gloss over. Why was Sarah so surprised they had been talking about her behind her back? Why was she surprised that they had each other’s phone numbers?

“And you didn’t think to get in touch?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

Sarah chewed her bottom lip. If he could only see her now. He’d get a kick out of it for sure.

“Alright. Fair enough.” She sighed. “You’re OK. Good to know. I’ll let you get on with whatever you’re up to.”

“Is that it? That’s all you wanted to say to me?”

“Apparently Audrey has been filling you in.”

“Oh fucking-” He stopped himself. “You cannot be mad about this, surely. Listen, all she said was that you weren’t sure if I was OK because you thought I hadn’t been in touch with the guys. That’s all. She was doing the very thing you should have done yourself.”

She paused and swallowed. “Right.”

“Come on, Sarah. She thought she was helping. She’s just being a good friend.” He pinched the skin on his forehead between his thumb and forefinger. “And it was like yesterday or whenever. It’s not like we’ve been in touch constantly and talking about you all the time. She hasn’t said anything about how much you’re in love with me or how you can’t sleep for thinking about me.”

“What?!”

“It was a joke.” He deadpanned.

“Oh.” She said.

His heart sank – it wasn’t that much of a joke, he had hoped. He slid his hand down his face in frustration, pinching his nose slightly before leaning back on his sofa and staring up at the ceiling. He held his phone tightly to his ear and waited for her to speak.

“It’s OK.” She finally spoke. “I get it. I shouldn’t have been so distant these past few days. I’m sorry, Chris.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting that apology but he could roll with it. “This isn’t all on you, Sarah. I could have been in touch more, too. With everybody, I guess. I had a couple of meetings I had to prepare for so I think I just took that as an excuse not to be more present.”

“Anything fun?” She asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject.

“Kind of. Nothing massive. It’s an ensemble piece that a director wanted to talk to me about. It actually sounds pretty cool.” He scratched the side of his beard in contemplation. “It’s your cup of tea for sure. You like those murder-mystery-type films, right?”

“Oh yeh! Like Agatha Christie and Poirot? Love them.”

“I thought so. It’s a great script and I get some funny lines for a change. It’s something a little different and Matt keeps telling me that I need to think outside of the Marvel box, so…we’ll see how it goes.” He could feel himself growing a little more enthusiastic at the prospect of doing the movie. He should probably call Matt and tell him the same thing. He sounded like he was having a rough day so a contrite and grateful actor would cheer him up no end.

“Anyway, that’s about it. I’m kinda bored to be honest. Have you eaten yet today?”

She had all but emptied the fridge last night to remove anything that might go off in the next couple of days. Now it was filled with some of Shanna’s favourite things and there wasn’t anything in it that really appealed to her at this moment in time. She hadn’t thought much about food all day to tell the truth. She figured she’d grab a bagel while waiting for her flight.

“Um, no.” She said. “But I’m not that hungry either.”

“You don’t want waffles? With white chocolate? Raspberries?”

She did want that now he mentioned it. “No, I’m good.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It is not a lie.” Even she knew she wasn’t being convincing.

“Everybody wants waffles.” He implored. “It’s God’s way of saying he wants you to be happy. Come on, it’s my treat.”

“I just think…we probably shouldn’t see each other for a while.” She looked down the hall at the packed bags currently leaning against her bedroom door.

“It’s waffles, Sarah. I think I can control myself.”

“Um…”

“That’s good enough for me. See you in twenty.”

He hung up before she could respond. With no opportunity to persuade him otherwise, she stayed put in her kitchen, waiting for waffles.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” She smiled at him openly and saw his shoulders relax. Without prompting, he walked in past her and placed the take-out boxes on the counter. They were the size of pizza boxes and she felt her tummy rumble in anticipation.

“So, I’ve been thinking.” He started as he turned to face her again.

“In the few minutes since we last talked?” She spoke in jest.

“Hush, Bernette.” He eye-rolled. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been thinking very seriously these past few days and I know it’s tough right now but just hear me out, OK? Because I think I know a way to make things a little easier. Maybe if you get some time off from work, get some time away from everything, from Boston perhaps, it could actually make things a little better for the both of us. For everyone. I’ve been trying to think about things in a different way and not in my usual blinkered view or whatever the fuck Scott says I have, and I honestly think I’m seeing things a little clearer now, and…”

He glanced away from her face for only a split second but it was enough for him to visibly shrink a little in his stance before her eyes. Sarah followed his eyeline to the bags currently resting down the hall. The angle of the suitcase was hiding the other bags behind it but if he shifted a mere foot forward, he could possibly get the full picture.

Turning back to look at her, he furrowed his brow in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Sarah visibly swallowed and he knew the answer before she even opened her mouth. He became all too aware of her hands and arms hanging limply at her sides.

“I’m going to see my parents for a few days.”

“A few days? That’s a lot for a few days, Sarah. You normally travel light.”

“I just packed for a little longer ‘cos I wasn’t sure what I was going to-”

Chris didn’t give her time to bend the truth. He turned and walked back into the kitchen. She watched him move to the window before looking down at his feet and shaking his head in frustration. He rubbed a hand solidly over his beard. “You’re leaving.”

“Well, yeh, I’m going to see my parents and the two usually go hand in hand.”

“Oh, fuck off, Sarah.” He spat. “Don’t get smart with me. You’re doing a runner. This looks like a fucking cop-out.”

“No, you’re wrong. It’s not a cop-out and I don’t appreciate that tone either. If I was doing a runner, do you think I would do it in broad daylight and tell everyone what I was doing? I literally just told you where I was going.” She retorted.

She grabbed the last bottle of water from the fridge. She wasn’t particularly thirsty at that moment in time but she knew that he would eventually want it and she didn’t much feel like being accommodating right now especially not to a man who was calling her out in her own home. That he was entirely accurate in his assumptions was, well, irrelevant.

“How long are you really going for?” He asked as he watched her disappear from view and back down the hall to her bedroom.

“I just told you. A few days, maybe a week or so, and then I’ll figure it out from there.”

“Figure what out?”

“Just…” She turned back to face him, waving her hand vaguely in front of her in the vain hope he would suddenly understand everything she was trying to say. Either he did and didn’t want to give her an easy “out” or, most likely, he had zero clue because neither did she. Giving up, her shoulders slumped from their squared-off position just seconds ago when she was trying to give the impression of strength. “It’s just a lot, all of this, and I need some time out.”

He took another couple of small steps towards her before stopping by her bags. Looking down, he could see her intentions as clear as day now but as he looked back into her eyes, he could see her exhaustion ever clearer. They should be on the same side. He shouldn’t be picking on her this way.

“You just said I could do with a break, right?” She shrugged. “So, this is what I’m doing. You should be pleased. You could even say I’m taking your advice if you wanted to.”

“Yeh, but I actually meant taking a break together.” He conceded. “I came here to say I thought we could go to L.A. for a little while. I need to check on a couple of work things and I thought you could come with me. Nothing funny, I promise. Some proper sunshine might be cool, right?”

Sarah was struck by the kind gesture and the glint of hope now showing in his eyes. Despite what they had both said, he clearly hadn’t lost the small possibility that maybe they could try and forge something out of the ruins and, under different circumstances, she might have been tempted.

“Thanks for thinking of me.” She offered, merely giving him a small smile. It didn’t seem like there was much else to say. The bags were packed and now that he could take in his surroundings, it felt a little emptier somehow and like it had all been wiped clean. Except he didn’t feel so clean. He could feel her on him, on his skin and in his head, and he doubted he could remove her as easily as she was clearly hoping she could remove him.

“Do you think you’ll let us know when you come back?” he asked.

She looked passed him and down the hall, focussing on nothing in particular. “Yes, of course I’ll let you guys know. I’m not going forever.”

She tried her best to convince him but she knew it wasn’t going to do much.

“I know that,” he sighed. “but it’ll be weird not seeing you every day. It’ll be sad. I’ll be sad about it.”

He let out a deep breath and shuffled his feet awkwardly as he tried to think of something to say that might drag things out a little more, that might cause her to rethink her plans. It was one of the more frustrating things about her, that she could keep a secret so well. He briefly wondered if he could think of some more frustrating things about her that might help him cope with the current situation but no. Who was he kidding?

“I like this apartment.” He finally offered. “Some good memories.”

“You know that Shanna will still be here, right?” She chuckled.

“But you won’t be.” He said. “And between you and me? You’re kind of my favourite.”

“I won’t tell Scott you just said that.”

“He knows already. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He said. “Hey, do you think I could come and visit you?”

“Um-”

“-Just think about it. You don’t need to answer right now. It’s been ages since I’ve been to Maine and I hear they have amazing seafood.”

Sarah laughed again and regarded him like the small puppy he so obviously was. A small puppy that she realised she had been kicking ever-so-slowly over the past few weeks and it made her feel like shit. As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew she was running away and she knew she was a coward.

“I am sorry, Chris. For everything. I can’t really explain it in a way that means anything right now but I just wanted to say it clearly one more time to you in case I hadn’t really said it before.”

Chris held his hand up to stop her from saying anything more. He didn’t need an apology from her. Hearing her apologise only made him feel worse. Of the multiple times she had been caught under his gaze, nothing was quite like the way he was looking at her now.

“Sarah,” he started. “I need you to know that whatever it is you want from me, I’ll never say no.”

“Chris, I-”

“-Honestly, that’s….that’s the only thing I really wanted to say.” He held his hand up again to stop her if she was thinking of interrupting him again. “I’m gonna go and I hope you have a safe trip, OK? Enjoy your waffle. Maybe send me a text or something, let me know you made it there in one piece. If you want to. Maybe we’ll see each other again sooner rather than later.”

She saw his eyes glance behind her and into her bedroom. He turned and glanced once more into the bathroom like he was taking a mental picture of the place which seemed crazy to her until she remembered that he wasn’t strictly talking to Shanna and it was unlikely he’d be back here anytime soon. God, she hoped they’d fix things. She needed to at least believe her leaving would make things a little better for them. Otherwise, what would be the point?

They didn’t say goodbye in the typical sense or any kind of sense, really. She was almost relieved to watch him walk away quietly without looking back and equally as relieved to have made it to the airport without much more fuss.

Like it was said, she was a coward.

Audrey had called her to wish her a safe journey and then spent fifteen minutes complaining about O’Brien and a patient who had taken to calling her “princess”. Sarah was glad of the distraction as she made her way through the airport towards the waiting lounge. It was pretty busy for the time of evening but she was glad to feel invisible once again as she moved through the heavy criss-crossing crowds of people, each with their own issues to deal with. Something about strength in numbers perhaps. A couple more hours and she’d be home again. A couple more hours and Jocelyn could stop texting her messages that made little sense.

Oh God.

Living with her mother again was going to try her patience. Maybe this was the price she had to bear? It wasn’t too late to change her mind, Audrey had said before pleading in a half-joking, half-serious manner that surely, she wasn’t going to leave her to handle the hospital by herself? It was almost like she was expecting never to see Sarah again. A few weeks. That was all it was going to be. Then she’d figure out what to do from there, with a break and some fresh Maine-air to clear the cobwebs. Chris was right about the seafood and the closer she got to her departure time, the more she started looking forward to it. She was sure she was making the right decision.

Chris 19.46pm: Don’t forget about us xx

She was sure she was making the right decision.

It was 100% the right decision.

Right?

#chris evans #chris evans fic #fanfiction #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris fic #chris evans x original female character #evans fic

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thehollowprince · 4 years

Note

1.Hey just want to let you know that I am the first anon who asked about Jensen Ackles and Tyler Posey - I don't know which teen wolf anon you assumed I was, but that was the first time I send you an ask. I am a TP fan and check your blog for TP stuff and was surprised to see you reblogging jokes about Ackles being homophobic - since I see him facing the same issues that Posey did - a toxic fandom that bullies actors just because they don't subscribe to wanting two hot white men to get together.

2. Same anon. I don't think we should be throwing around words like homophobia lightly or based on rumors about how Ackles made a showrunner change the character based on his preferences etc. Ackles maybe homophobic - we don't know for sure. All I know is that from my experience, the Destiel fandom is as toxic as the Sterek fandom. Sure, Ackles shares part of the blame as he makes hundreds of thousands of dollars off these fans at the various cons - ( contd. in part 3)

3. But that does not mean that actors or their family should be subject to cyber bullying and online hate or that the showrunners should pander to this toxic fanbase. Scott would have been and was sidelined to pander to and queerbait Sterek fans and he was called homophobic when he pointed out how nonsensical the ship was. Destiel is the same and I don't mind Ackles not giving two shits about acting out a badly written scene pushed in to appease a toxic fanbase. Just my two cents.

Okay, first off, I want to say the only anon I've ever gotten that used Tyler Posey and "double-standards" in the same sentence has been the Asshole Anon I tagged. And given the fact that this anon was in my inbox within an hour of posting that ask, it stands to reason that my paranoia is well founded. This would not be the first time they've tried to trick anyone into a "Gotcha!" moment, and I was the next on the rotation of people they harass.

That being said and out of the way, let's get into this.

Starting off, you're right. Claims of homophobia shouldn't be a joke. Homophobia is a very real thing that affects many people around the world. And given the shipping fandoms that habe arisen in the past decade, along with thr use of social media by celebrities, it allows these fans to harass and belittle them from the comfort of their homes, no matter where said celebrity is. I would never make jokes regarding how fans treat the loved ones of their favorite celebrities, because I find it abhorrent. We saw something similar to his happen with the Star Wars fandom, particularly the R*ylos, when they doxxed and harassed Adam Driver's wife in the hopes that he and Daisy Ridley would get together, thus fulfilling the fantasy they have about their ship.

I don't keep up with the actors of Supernatural because I don't watch it anymore, but I imagine that's the case with Jensen's wife. Fans harassing her because she married him and they've based their entire personality and fandom experience around a ship between two fictional characters and the actor's personal life interferes with that fantasy. The fans that are harassing Jensen and his family aren't doing it out of any sense of morality in their efforts to fight homophobia, but because they want to see Dean and Cas together, and can't (or won't) accept that they're fictional characters played by two actors that have their own private lives.

Something similar happened with the Sherlock fandom, when they decided to cancel Martin Freeman and his wife because they asked fans to stop sending them NSFW fanart or J*hnl*ck, especially when they were with their children. I'll admit I'm a little fuzzy on that one, because I've never watched BBC Sherlock, but I did follow a few blogs that did so I remember the discourse. This all just feeds into the idea that shipping fandoms "own" the actors that play their favorite characters and has made for quite a toxic environment on most social media.

If the D*stiel fandom is anything like the St*r*k fandom or the J*hnl*ck fandom , than I applaud Jensen for standing his ground in the face of what I'm sure is countless inappropriate fics and art that are constantly thrown at him.

Now, there are a few differences between how Jensen is being accused of being homophobic and how Tyler was accused of being homophobic. The first major difference is something you said in this ask. They're jokes. Keeping in mind that, yes, I did say we shouldn't joke about homophobia, all the "discourse" around D*stiel has been jokes due to a variety of reasons. From how uncomfortable Jensen looked in that scene (leading some to think they were filmed separately and not told how the other was reacting) to the fact that it was happening during election week before the election was called. The fact that the rumors that Putin was stepping down came out at the same time and the whole situation took on this hysterical, otherworldly quality, like this was a collective fever dream we couldn't wake up from. The jokes came about, breaking the tension that had consumed Tumblr and uniting a large number of people in the absurdity of everything.

There's also the fact that the jokes about Jensen being homophobic were just that - jokes! I'll admit that I haven't gone looking, but I haven't seen anyone calling for Jensen to be cancelled or for his career to be derailed or his life to be ruined because of that scene. No, I've seen countless jokes about how Dean looked constipated or memes of random images found on people's phones used to "recreate" that scene. The fact that Jensen apparently wrote into his contract that his character in The Boys wasn't to have a gay sex scene just added to the satirical nature of everything.

Now let's compare that to Tyler Posey. When asked about a crack ship (that had nothing to do with his character) for the umpteenth time, he said that, if that's what fans were watching for, they're probably watching for the wrong reasons. It never condemned the ship or mocked its fans, he simply said that they were watching for the wrong reasons. And given how this interview took place after filming was done for that season, that could be interpreted as him saving people from wasting their time on something that wasn't going to happen. Personally, I just think he was fed up and frustrated about being asked about a crack ship that had nothing to do with him.

And for that one simple sentence, he was (and still is) deluged with hate. He received death threats and threats against his mother while she was battling cancer, all because he said something that wasn't a glowing appraisal of a ship that the fandom made up. To this day, there are people hell bent on proving how Scott was the true villain of the Teen Wolf series, and how Tyler Posey is just an awful human being.

Did any of those things happen to Jensen? No.

Would those things have probably happened to Jared if he'd said something negative about D*stiel? Probably.

Would the Teen Wolf fandom have acted the way it did if it had been Hoechlin or O'Brien who shot down St*r*k? Definitely not. We know that because they both did say something against St*r*k and the fandom at large likes to pretend that it never happened.

So, as we can see, there is a very clear difference between how Jensen was treated and how Tyler was treated. Could racism play a part in that treatment? Most likely, though, many would never admit to that. But, at the end of the day, its important to look at the differences between these two actors and how they were treated by their respective fandoms for what they said in regards to ships that fans have based their entire fandom experience around.

#anon #fandom homophobia #double-standards #jensen ackles #anti destiel #(just in case)#tyler posey #anti sterek

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years

Text

Hell is a Nine to Five Max Philips x Reader

Summary: Max Philips is your new boss at your hellscape of a job. He can’t help but be drawn to you and when he learns your lineage and last name (Harker) he fears this may put a dwindle on his plans. But it wouldn’t be a bad idea to ask you out though,,,right?

Chapter summary: Max doesn’t show up until next chapter this one is just set up about your place in the office environment. And for those who don’t know her last name is Harker as in Jonathan Harker from dracula. Don’t worry future chapters will be full of that sweet sweet tension and yearning.

@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa this legend has fucking iconic writing and got me to watch bloodsucking bastards and HERE I AM. Please check out their stuff yall holy shit.

“Yo Harker!”

Your eyes flicked away from your computer screen just in time to see your grinning blonde coworker push himself over to you in his cubicle chair with a flourish. “Mike is kicking my ass this round and I know somewhere under all that nerd there is a girl who loves video games, tap in?” He pointed to his own cubicle, his computer screen flashing with some video game that he and 90% other men on the floor were constantly playing. You knew this because no matter how loud your sales call was, you can always hear him scream profanities in agony when he inevitably gets killed by some other dumbass who should also be doing his job instead of playing video games like a fifteen year old with a rattail.

You feigned interest for a moment, before your focus went back to your screen, fingers tapping away on the too-damn-old-and-fucking-sticky-to-properly-work keyboard so you can finish this report that Mike was suppose to have done...Yesterday.

“Hard pass.”

“Oh come on!” Tim pushed his chair closer to you so he could slump his head on your shoulder, but you remained focused on the task at hand. The task being doing your goddamn job which nobody on that floor seemed to do. “I've got to piss like a racehorse but if I drop this round I owe him fifty bucks!”

Okay. That got your attention.

“Where the hell did you get fifty bucks?” You pushed yourself away from your tiny desk for a moment, wheely chair spinning to face him. “I know for a fact that not even ten fucking minutes ago you asked Evan if he could spot you a twenty so you could pay Dave for the NBA pool that you always lose.”

Tim opened his mouth for a moment before closing it with a huff. “You fucking suck, you know that Harker?”

“Love you too Tim.”

That’s how your work days went.

Spend hours on end stuck in a windowless room, hunched over a computer from the fucking 90’s, doing not only your work, but the work of 70% of your coworkers who are too busy playing video games, gossiping, or watching porn to even pretend like they're doing their job. Occasionally Tim would try to pull you away to tag in for him on his video games, rate the new interns, or make fun of Evan during your lunch break.

Speaking of which.

The fluorescent lighting wasn’t any less nauseating in the breakroom, but it offered you a slightly lower volume of the endless ringing of phones, piss poor marketing tactics used by your coworkers to convince people to buy whatever dogshit product you had to push for the week, and the oh-so-obnoxious shouts of Mike, who’s main purpose in life was to bully nine-year-olds who he played video games with.

“That’s right you fucking pussy! I’m the king!”

Keyword: slightly lower volume.

“All I’m saying is that you're one of the smartest people here.” Tim plunked himself down in the plastic chair to your right, while Andrew sat on your left. “You’re always doing work-”

“Because I’m at work.”

“-you can type without looking at your hands-”

“Really not that complicated of a skill but okay.”

“-And you're not easily distracted!”

“Because nothing in this hellhole is worth my attention.” You mumbled into your sandwich, which was then flung out of your grasp and onto the floor as Tim slapped you on the back with what you assumed was supposed to be gusto.

Five second rule maybe?

“Which is exactly why you-oh my bad sorry- but that is why you should team up with me and Andrew to kick Mike’s pimply ass!”

Andrew’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Dude. I agree with you but I could do without the description.”

You stood up to retrieve your fallen turkey on rye. Looks like you're going without lunch today “Yeah, I second that notion.”

“Listen I just think-”

Evan, your lanky acting sales manager walked into the breakroom with purpose, and coincidentally, right onto your lunch.

Yup. Definitely no saving that.

“Hey Tim, have you started on the Phallicite presentation yet?”

Tim froze, stroking his chin in fake thought before letting out a sharp laugh “Yeah no.” Evan threw his head back and groaned. “Sorry buddy.”

“Come on man! Could you please, just this once-”

“I already did it.” You cut in, Evan turning to you, bagged eyes wide.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

He blinked twice, then again before his mouth hung open.“Like..like the WHOLE presentation? All on your own?”

You shrugged, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in front of him as you waited for him to take his foot off your fucking sandwich. “Yeah. stayed overnight yesterday because I knew damn well Tim wasn’t gonna do it-”

“Rude but fair deduction Hark.”

“-so I pieced something together. I emailed it to you ten minutes ago. Now all you have to do is nail the actual presenting part.”

Relief washed over your not-acting-sales-manager-but-still-kind-of-sales-manager’s face. “Oh thank you so much Harker, really. That means a lot. If we land this then-”

Enough was enough.

“You're standing on my sandwich.”

“What?” Evan looked down at his feet and winced at the site of your squashed lunch under his shoe. “Shit. Sorry Harker.”

You gave your food one last wistful glance before shrugging. “It’s fine. My break is almost over anyway.”

“Harker.” Mike snorted. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only goddamn person who adheres to a timed lunch schedule. Just stay over! Who the fuck cares?”

You stuffed your water bottle back into the fridge before standing up straight. “This job may suck ass, but it’s the only one I have and I don’t feel like losing it. So I do what I can to keep it.”

You turned on your heel, their voices dying as you walked back to your desk. As you sat down, the hairs on your neck seemed to stand and a prickle went down your spine, you turned around to see if anything was out of the ordinary.

Coworkers not doing their job? Check.

Interns being taken advantage of? Check.

Broken clocks still broken because it keeps employees from constantly seeing if it’s time to leave? Double check.

You pushed your paranoia away and answered a sales call, though the feeling never truly left you until the work day was over and you were driving out of the parking lot.

Notes: Anywhomst chapter one is just set up of your place in the work place, as well as relationship to the other characters. In future chapters their will be plenty of interaction between you and max, as well as a deeper look into your family line! Please don’t hesitate to send me reuquests and headcanons i need some fuckin interaction lmao

#max philips #max phillips x reader #pedro pascal #x reader #bloodsucking bastards #imagine

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mrsbhandari · 4 years

Text

Shutter - pt 4

a/n: bonjour!! im here officially with pt 4 to this fic so i hope you like it!! <3

warnings: some language and its kinda suggestive in parts but nothing explicit teehee

words: 3.8k (damn)

tags: @lxdy-starfury, @huntress1024, @anotherbeingsworld, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @chaotic-ramsay-queen, @brycemaloliver

Tyril stood alone in his large apartment, eyeing each piece of clothing in his perfectly organized closet with varying levels of hatred. He didn’t want to go too formal and wear a suit, because this was most likely not a fancy date at a fancy restaurant.

Wait.

Is this really a date?

She hadn’t responded to his final text, making him sweat more than he ever had in his life. He stepped over to the other side of his closet and landed a slender finger on a gray turtleneck sweater.

“...Acceptable,” he murmured, breaking the silence of the air in his apartment. Quietly opening a drawer, he picked a pair of simple black slacks, crisp and pristine.

In her own apartment, Naexi called the local pizza joint and placed her order before grabbing a baggy college sweatshirt that slipped off her shoulder and some jeans, keeping her shoes off but her cozy socks on. She definitely considered this a date, but she didn’t want him to know that. After putting on music, she danced a little in her kitchen while checking her phone, eager for any updates from Tyril.

Radio silence.

A knock sounded, barely audible over the music, so she turned it down and walked to open the door.

Tyril could barely handle it. She was standing there, collarbone slightly exposed under her sweatshirt, dark hair in a messy braid that draped over her shoulder, and slivers of her thighs were revealed from the rips in her skinny jeans. She was as alluring as she was in the first moment he saw her.

“C’mon in. I have a coat rack on your left.” There was something interesting about the information, but he couldn’t place his finger on it until he securely hooked his jacket and scarf on the small hooks protruding from the wooden structure. For years, he had been waited on hand and foot in other people’s homes because of his wealth and status, but the simple act of being allowed to take his own shoes off and hang his own coat up was...refreshing. “Do you...like my rack?”

“I beg your pardon?” He whirled on her with wide eyes, well aware of the double entendre.

“You’re like...smiling at it. It was my brother’s, but he broke it and gave it to me.”

“Why would he not throw it out?” Tyril’s elegant features twisted into confusion, and he frowned when she seemed to laugh at the memory, believing the sound to be directed at him.

“He’s awful at fixing things, so he knew that if he gave it to me, I would find a way to fix it.” Still smiling, she ran her eyes down his outfit before stopping on his feet. “Of course you have those fancy socks.”

His eyes found her mismatched socks, her left foot covered with stripes and the right with polka dots. Face returning to its neutral, he raised a single eyebrow and allowed the left corner of his mouth to turn up into a half smile. “I think yours are much better than mine.”

She stuck her tongue out and waved her hand, beckoning him to fully enter her cozy apartment. It was vibrant, with dozens of pictures hung on the wall with no real pattern. The walls were an odd crimson, but a combination of the decor and the numerous candles spread throughout the living room and kitchen made the space feel like home. Small piles of books and knick knacks were scattered on every surface he could find, a distinct contrast to his own museum-like home where everything had a place and stayed in it. Smiling to himself, he noticed the three vases of flowers he sent to her positioned on varying tables and bookshelves spread throughout her home. Upon closer inspection of the pictures, he spotted a few of her and Nia; during a party, in front of a castle in what looked like Germany, in graduation caps and gowns as they held up their degrees for the camera.

She silently watched him from her spot on one of the barstools around the kitchen island, slightly amused at how out of place he looked in the light of her apartment. Everything around her was warm and inviting, but he stood tall and aloof, clothes dreary against the bright backdrop of her prized possessions. He was poised like a man who had never been denied a thing in his life; for some reason, she found herself both wanting to give in to that and to challenge him as much as possible.

“Are all these pictures ones you’ve taken?”

“Yup! There’s a few that aren’t mine, but most I’ve chosen from my own portfolio.”

“They’re beautiful.” Once she didn’t respond for a few moments, he looked up to find her gazing at him, a slight blush on her cheeks and her head cocked. She wore a look similar to the one she had on when they first met, studying and searching for something he had yet to offer. Or maybe he had been offering it the entire time he was here without knowing she had found it. It was both unsettling and pleasant, to be the main focus of her intense and calculating stare. She finally seemed to realize that she hadn’t answered, so she broke her eyes from him and nodded.

“Thanks.”

“I like your apartment, as well.”

“I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

There. Something flashed in her eyes as they met his, ten feet away with something connecting them. He had given her a challenge, but unlike in the bookshop, this wasn’t one born from anger; it was something entirely new. Time seemed to slow around them, making the candles flicker almost supernaturally and their heartbeats decelerate. His mouth was dry and although he held her eye contact, he couldn’t help but notice the rest of her body in front of him, enticingly revealed with taunting slits and stretches of the fabric.

He didn’t know it, but her observant photographer’s eye was watching him as well, taking in the impossibly long stretch of his neck under his turtleneck and how, even in socks, he still carried with him an aura of being the most important person in the room. Here, standing in her apartment, admiring her photos, and staring at her like he wanted to pin her against a wall, Naexi finally realized just how pretty he was. The more she took in the dark hair framing a pale unblemished complexion, complemented by the high arch of his eyebrows and his perfectly positioned nose, the more it hit her that from the moment they met, she had been suppressing the urge to kiss him until she forgot her own name. Full lips parted as if to speak, but he was cut off by a swift knocking on the door. As if broken from a trance, they both seemed to tense and look towards the sound at the same time, but Tyril beat her to answering.

“Wait--!” she called, but the door was already open and Tyril was once again proving just how much space he took up as he bent to avoid hitting his head on the frame.

“Who are you?!” The delivery guy, a short and stout man with a tendency to eat everything in sight as well as be painfully loud about any and everything having to do with everybody else’s business but his own, was staring up at the billionaire with a mix of curiosity and hostility. Tyril seemed taken aback by the shouted question and took a step back, allowing Naexi to push his large form out of the way and offer the man the cash as well as an explanation.

“He’s my date, Threep.” Tyril looked down at her with a smug smile. So this is a date. “Meet Tyril.”

Threep offered the pizza to her before giving him a small wave and a tip of his hat. “Sorry about that. She rarely has dates over, so I wanted to make--”

“Keep the change, bye!” She slammed the door and deadbolted it. “That’s enough of that.”

“So this is a date, then?” An already high eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms, tight sweater showing off the sculpt of his arms as they flexed. If Naexi tried hard enough, she could pretend that she was only drooling over the pizza that was beginning to burn the skin of her palms. She also pretended that the reason she was gripping the pizza box hard enough to whiten her knuckles and bend the cardboard was because she didn’t want to drop it. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had accidentally shoved him to the area next to the door closest to the wall with very little space in an effort to pay, which was the reason she was standing with her shoulder pressed to his chest as his back rested against the wall, slightly jostling one of her pictures. She also had to pretend that the smell of his cologne wasn't so overpowering in the best way that she felt like passing out was the best way to succumb to it.

She was doing a whole lot of pretending, but one glance towards the icy blue eyes boring into her soul told her that she wasn’t very convincing. Straightening up and ignoring the wave of heat that washed over her, she scoffed.

“Don’t give me that look, pretty boy. You knew.” It was his turn to blush as he took in the nickname, but his recovery was much quicker.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Do you prefer Boy Billionaire?”

“That wasn’t my question.” He offered an infuriating smile, showing perfectly white teeth. His left incisor was sharper than his right, giving him the boyish look of a mischievous fairy tale creature, ready to swindle a boy with some fake beans for a cow. Judging by the sliver of vulnerability seeping through the flecks of dark blue in his eyes, he rarely showed this side of himself in public. She coughed, breaking the spell he had over her and finally noticing the rapidly cooling pizza box in her hands.

“I hope you don’t mind pizza. I considered cooking but my landlord likes his buildings not burned to the ground.” She gave a small self-conscious laugh.

“I don’t mind.” His voice was soft and he seemed to be leaning down, face getting closer and closer to hers, lips barely parted and fresh breath brushing against her cheek. His eyes stayed on hers, drawing her in like a shimmering pool with secrets beneath the surface. A million thoughts ran through her head at once, fighting to be heard.

Oh my god, are we gonna kiss right now? Is that what I’m feeling? He’s leaning down, should I try and meet him in the middle? Which way should my head turn? What if it’s not good?! He’s probably kissed hundreds of girls, why the fuck should I be special? He’s so warm. Or is that me? Am I warm? He’s so close, and he’s so beautiful, I can just--

He stopped, his eyes half-lidded and meandering lazily between her lips and her own gaze, wide and worried. The thought of the famous Tyril Starfury doing anything lazily was foreign and suspicious, but she could smell the strawberry of his chapstick on his lips mixing with the smell of his cologne mixing with the smell of his deodorant and it was so mesmerizing that all she could think was kiss me. Then, she realized that he was straightening back up, stealing his head away from her personal space and taking the pizza box in his hands. It was a ruse. A taunt. A tease.

“Excuse me!” Naexi said, hand on her hip as she followed him into the kitchen, fuming at the innocent look he sent over his shoulder before he opened the pizza box.

“Yes?” Grabbing a plate from the counter, he paid her no attention while he helped himself to the drawers and cabinets. Despite his faux obliviousness, it was clear that there was a heavy, palpable tension in the air that could be cut with the knife Tyril seemed to be looking for.

“What are you--”

“Hm, found it.” He held up a blade and pulled out a fork, marveling at her mismatched cutlery.

“Have you never had pizza before?” She grabbed her own two slices with her hands before placing two more on another plate for him. He scoffed, a haughty sound that surprisingly sent a shiver down her spine.

“Of course I have. I just prefer not to make a mess.” He punctuated his statement by tapping the utensils together once before setting to work, cutting up his pizza and placing the cheesy pieces in his mouth. She watched him while she ate her own pizza, grease dripping onto her hands and onto the plate. After finishing her first piece, she looked down at his plate to see that he was only half done with his own.

“I figured that you would have two people on either side of you while you ate, each with napkins to wipe your face if you ever got dirty.” She assumed a butler’s stance and held up her own napkin, delightfully out of season with “Fun in the Sun!” printed on it. She dropped her voice an octave and swiped her napkin over the empty space next to her as she spoke. “Yes, sir, Mr. Starfury. We can’t have you getting applesauce on your Versace!” Despite himself, Tyril let out a loud laugh, one that was nothing like how he sounded in the interview. This one felt whole and full of genuine emotion. It was an infectious sound, and Naexi found herself smiling like a buffoon at drawing it out of him with her stupid joke.

“Why applesauce?” he asked, hand covering his mouth as he continued to chuckle. She reached across the island and pulled his wrist down, laying his hand palm up on the cold granite. Her nails slightly bit into his skin, making him flush.

“It's the first baby food I thought of.”

“Well that’s just rude,” he jabbed, a small smile still dancing on his lips to show no real malice toward her. They continued eating, Naexi replaying his laugh in her head as many times as she could. They polished off most of the pizza, leaving just a few slices that she began to wrap in aluminum foil. He rolled up his sleeves and started the water in the sink. A small black hair tie was pulled off his wrist as he positioned his hair into a messy bun with a few pieces falling out to frame his sharp bone structure. Naexi’s brain nearly short-circuited.

“You don’t--”

“I want to.” He nudged her with his elbow, now revealed along with a long forearm. She nearly had to wipe her mouth at the sight. “Contrary to your obvious belief, I do know how to do work.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” With a firm nod, he focused on the steaming water flowing and scrubbed the plates with a strength showcased in the flexing of his arms. He moved with a natural grace that seemed to seep into every move he made, whether he was simply walking down the street or working hard to clean her plates. She went back to her seat at the island and watched his back while he cleaned. The sound of the music was barely audible over the roar of the water, and the combination of sounds lulled her as her eyes roved from the top of his shoulders down to the perfect curve of his ass, delectably sculpted in his slacks. The gravity of just who he was seemed to finally be hitting her.

She had one of the richest men in America in her kitchen cleaning her dishes. And damn, if he didn’t look good doing it.

Tyril was acutely aware of her eyes on him, and he was extremely happy that the water was hiding the shaking of his hands from his nerves. He tensed up when he felt her walk behind him, her arm brushing over her backside in a barely innocent gesture as she walked to the fridge, grabbing a soda from the door.

“You want anything?” Not trusting his voice, he shut the water off and shook his head, giving her a small smile. She took out a bottle of water for him anyway. Eager to continue any sort of conversation with her and extend the date, Tyril racked his brain for something to say.

“Your brother,” he began, freezing up when her eyes fell on him. “What does he do?”

“He’s a musician. Last I heard...I think he was on tour in France.”

“Wow.” She smiled and grabbed a frame off a nearby table, the picture inside featuring a man with brown hair that fell over his forehead as his fingers strummed a black guitar on a stage backed with green lights.

“His name’s Kade.” Their fingers brushed as she passed him the frame.

“Is your entire family full of artists? Photographer, musician…”

“Oh, I was adopted.” Looking closer at the picture, Tyril admitted to himself that there were no similarities in how the siblings appeared. “Kade’s always been the wilder one, though.” His eyebrows raised.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You’d be surprised at some of the antics Kade has gotten up to throughout the years. You got any siblings?” She took a sip of her soda and Tyril was briefly distracted by the way her lips wrapped around the lip of the can.

“Yes, just one. Adrina.”

“Fancy name.”

“Speak for yourself, Naexi.”

“Touche.” She took another sip and Tyril decided to look away lest the night end far differently than he originally thought it would. Her own heart fluttered at the way his tongue molded her name. “You can sit, if you’d like. Or do you feel the need to tower over everyone else in the room?” Gesturing to the open stool next to her, she laughed at his frown.

“I don’t tower,” he said, but he sat next to her anyway. His long legs bumped against hers, sending shocks to his spine at every contact. Is this how it’s supposed to feel? He studied the way her eyelashes fluttered, the way her lips naturally curved into a smirk, the way her eyes easily communicated an entire array of emotions that she seemed to pick and choose to display from like a catalogue. A strand of black hair fell against her cheekbone and he moved it behind her ear without thinking. They were close, getting closer, both gazes dropping to the lips nearly physically connected, already linked by the soft breaths shared. Time was moving slow, too slow, and Tyril ached for the clock to keep ticking, to keep bringing him closer and closer to feeling Naexi’s lips on his, to feeling the perpetual heat surrounding her to engulf him with it. After what seemed like an eternity, their lips were just a centimeter away from each other. His breath tickled her cheek as he whispered.

“May I kiss you?”

#tyril #tyril starfury #choices tyril #blades au #choices blades #blades #blades of light and shadow

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

Text

“I’ve got my fuzzy socks on and I’m ready for summer”

You arrive in New York at 10 AM. What's the first thing you do? Find a nice, cute cafe to get a coffee and pastry from and chill at for a bit while sorting out my plans for the day. You go by your locker & your bf/gf is cheating on you. What comes to mind? I’m not in school anymore, but hypothetically I’m sure I would feel a lot of emotions--angry, hurt, upset, confused... like wtf?? And damn, right in front of everyone, too? That would be humiliating.

You have to take out the trash & clean your room. Your reaction? I’m 31 years old, you gotta do that kinda stuff when you’re adult. I don’t personally take out the trash because it would be really difficult for me to do in a wheelchair, but I have other stuff I have to do. I don’t particularly enjoy it, it just is what it is.

How many siblings do you have? I have two brothers.

Have you ever made fun of a homeless/ mentally challenged person? No. What a shitty thing to.

Make up a funny word with your first name in it. I don’t know.

Do you like campfires? Yes. I love the smell, it makes me think of fall. And just the coziness of it.

What's your favorite color to write with? Black.

Do you write poetry? No.

When's your 20th birthday? [Day & Month is fine. Year if you want.] I turned 20 back in July 2009.

Do you spit in public? Ew, no. I don’t spit at all except for when rinsing my mouth after brushing my teeth. It makes me gag seeing people spit. I also have to watch out for that when wheeling around outside because I would DIE if it got on my wheels and then me. akjkslfjldsfjkldsfjkl. I’m going to throw up just thinking about it.

Are you in high school/middle school/college? I’m done with school.

How many push ups can you do? Zero.

How would you react if your cat/dog died? I’ve been through that twice before with my doggos, it’s absolutely heartbreaking and devastating. My dogs are my family. It’s no different than losing any loved one; they’re a loved one, too. I had a really hard time when my dog, Brandie, passed. It was so sudden and unexpected.

Are you trustworthy? Yes.

“when I make it shine...”

Do you play video games often? I’ve been playing Animal Crossing just about everyday since earlier this year. Prior to that, I’ve played a few other games in their entirety since having my Nintendo Switch that I got over a year ago.

Do you like life, love, funny or boy quotes the best? I like # relatable quotes.

Have you ever been cheated on? No.

Have you ever had fruit pizza? No.

Would you like to learn karate? No.

Do you think it would have been cool to live in the 80s? Maybe.

Do you think we'll have robots in the future? They’re already a thing, they’re just not like easily, readily available to everyone like a Rosie from The Jetsons or something.

Was the sun out today? Not yet cause it’s 5:54AM and it’s still pitch black, but it will be.

Do you know what 143 stands for? “I love you.”

Does it get up to 100 degrees where you live? Ugh, yes. And higher. D:

When you play video games, do you like the sound on or off? I generally have it low or off.

When's the last time you saw fireworks? Fourth of July.

Do you like Dr. Pepper? Yeah.

Will you be seeing the new Transformer movie? I never saw any of them. Not my thing.

What made this week, one to never forget? Election 2020 will be talked about forever. This year in its entirety will be, but this election was a huge one.

“Tell me why you’re leaving me”

Did you wear shorts today? I don’t wear shorts.

Do you own a fur hat? No.

Do you still use the old time mail? I still receive mail, yes. I pretty much never send anything, though.

Have you ever played flag football? Yeah.

What color is your laptop? It’s silver.

Do you like Paris Hilton? I don’t have anything against her.

Did you smile at all today? Not so far, but it’s only 6AM.

Do you have an Xbox? My brother does and I’ve used it.

When you were little did you have a magic 8 ball? Yeah.

Have you ever ate grass or birdseed? Eww, no. I wasn’t the kid that stuck everything in their mouth or ate weird stuff.

Do you and your friends have secret codes? I don’t have any friends.

Have you ever seen the Lincoln Memorial? Not in person.

What's your profile picture on Facebook of? Me with my It/Pennywise mask on. It’s his mouth.

Do you own a yo-yo? No.

What celebrity is your fashion icon? I don’t have a fashion icon.

“How do you love someone without getting hurt?”

Do you hope you live to be the age 70 or older? I don’t want to think about dying.

Did you go to preschool? Yep.

Do you usually wear your hair up when it's hot out? Yeah. I wear my hair up all the time cause I don’t have the energy or motivation to do anything else with it.

Where were you when 9/11 happened? I was bedridden at home because I had spinal surgery a couple weeks prior.

Which would you rather play: guitar or drums? Guitar.

Have you ever gotten detention? No.

When you were little, did you used to watch Franklin? Yeah. Aww, he’s adorable.

What's the most exciting thing that's happened during your lifetime? 9/11 and this pandemic are definitely the most memorable, but I wouldn’t use the term “exciting” to describe them. A few of our blizzards, perhaps. <<< Yeah, definitely not exciting, but certainly major, life changing, go-down-in-history events.

How high can you count in a foreign language? I could go on and on in Spanish like I could English, but let’s be real I’d stop at 100 haha.

What's the best thing to do on a hot day? Stay indoors with the AC or go to the beach.

Would you like to go to Rome? Sure.

Do you use Febreeze? Sometimes. I prefer my Bath & Body Works room sprays, though.

Have you ever been to a rainforest? No.

How many days of school are left for you? I’m done with school.

How do you usually get tan? That only happens when I go to the beach. Sadly, I didn’t get to go this year.

“Last name ever, first name greatest”

Snickers or Twix? I like both.

Have you ever tried to sleep on an airplane? I tried, but couldn’t.

When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? Yes. Those are classics.

Are you more afraid of snakes or death? Both are scary to me, but death is just a little more serious...

Would you like to go to Australia? Sure.

Do you like Drake? Yeah, I like a lot of his songs.

What color are your headphones? Black.

Do you live in the past? Yes. :/

When it's spring, do you plant flowers? No. I don’t do any gardening.

Have you ever laughed for 10 minutes? I don’t think I ever have for that long.

Do you help your friends every time they need help? I tried to as much as I could.

Ever seen a Koala Bear up close? No.

Would you rather be blind or deaf? I’d obviously rather not be either one...

Once your done, are you done for good? Really depends on what I’m attempting to be done with.

Does it annoy you when girls wear a lot of make up? No? I don’t why I would care.

“Blow the world a kiss”

Do you live by a river? No.

Do you like being outside when it's storming? I like enjoying it from inside.

Ever thought about becoming a cop? No. A cop in a wheelchair... that’d be interesting.

Have you ever tried sushi? Ew, it’s disgusting.

When you were little, did you use to roll down hills? No.

Do you like store bought cakes or homemade ones better? I’d enjoy either one.

Do you think your a good kisser? No. Now I’m really out of practice.

Do you like long or short sleeves better? I like my sleeves to be like halfway from my elbow if that makes sense. Not a quarter sleeve, but a bit above that. Unless it’s cold, then I like long sleeves. I love when the sleeves are long enough to be able to pull down over my hands, but it’s hard to get the perfect fit when you have long arms like I do.

Do you like the name Jacob for a boy? Sure.

Could you live without electricity? Like, for how long? It would be a struggle, no denying that. I’ve never experienced going more than a few hours without it. I know people have to experience long periods without it sometimes or not have it at all, so I’m definitely fortunate.

Have you ever ate/drank something that was blue? Blue Gatorade, Pepsi Blue, the blue Mountain Dew, Kool-Aid, blue candies and cakes.

When is your last day of summer this year? I’m not in school, so no summer break anymore. However, summer is over and it has just recently started to feel like fall, so I’m quite happy about that.

Would you rather hang out with people who are loud or quiet? Quiet.

Have you ever had a pet turtle? No.

Do you want an iPad? Nah.

“You look like you want to party”

Are you double jointed? My thumbs are.

Have you ever done karaoke? Definitely not publicly, but at home.

What's your middle name? I’m not sharing that.

Do you wish on stars? No. I did when I was a kid.

Do you recycle? We recycle plastic bottles and cans.

Do you believe in love at first sight? No.

What's something you'll do when your older, but not now? I don’t know. Are you currently drinking anything? I’m finishing a Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink.

What color is your shirt? Black.

Have you ever played laser tag? Nope.

Does your best friend live within 5 minutes from you? My mom and I live together.

If you got dared to dye your hair purple, would you? No. I dye my hair red and I want to keep it that way. It would be a big, annoying process to do another color and then to go back if I wanted, so nah.

How many contacts do you have in your cell phone? Not many.

Do you own earmuffs? No. It doesn’t get cold enough for them here.

Nothing worse than being sunburnt, don’t you agree? I’ve experienced much worse, but they are awful.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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lala-the-rebel · 5 years

Text

Take Me Back

(a fic completely based on this post)

Summary: Now that Virgil's been away from the dark sides for a while, he does miss them more than he cares to admit. But he's not gonna let them know that. Not until he absolutely has to.

And, unfortunately for him, he does.

Word Count: 2,634 (if I wasn't on mobile there would be a cut)

Ship: pretty much platonic anxceit

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, (mostly) sympathetic Deceit, mentions of Remus/the Duke, mild cursing (any I missed please lemme know!)

Tags: @fandersunite @korsaromantic66 @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @fellinfire @alifeuncolored

---

It had been some time since Virgil left the dark sides. And he had grown to miss them more than he cared to admit.

He kept convincing himself that staying with them was doing more harm than good. That was the whole reason why he left in the first place, right? To make things better? For him? For everyone else?

He kept telling himself that. It worked for a while until the one time it didn't.

Sure, the light sides had treated him as if he was always a part of their family, but it didn't always feel right. Especially when they did family things without you, and you knew about it, and they knew you knew, but they didn't do anything to include you. That was when it hurt.

It reminded him that he really did miss what he used to have. They wouldn't have done that to him. He really was family to them. They would include him in everything they could, even if he did protest it a bit. It annoyed him at the time, but looking back now, he appreciated it. Not being listened to almost felt better than being listened to. Even though he complained, he still wanted to do things. He was glad that the light sides respected his boundaries, but there were times when he almost wished they didn't do it as much as they did.

He didn't want to think about how much he missed the others, but he did. And the more he did, the more depressed he got. He couldn't go back now. They probably looked down on him for leaving without explanation. Even if he had explained it to them, would they have understood?

The thoughts wracked his brain so much that it was hard to get to sleep. He woke up feeling really unrested, so he decided to make himself some coffee to try getting through the day. He was surprisingly the first one up, or at least the first up and out of their room. As he waited for his coffee to brew, he let his mind wander. It wouldn't have hurt to visit the dark side common room, would it? What's the worst thing he could do there? What's the worst thing they could do to him for being there?

He would just be in and out. One short look. Just to see if things had changed. Nothing wrong with that, right?

He kept mentally telling himself that as he sunk out into the other room. When he arrived, he expected the worst. He expected at least one of them to pop out and scare him. He got nothing. They were probably off in their rooms like everyone else was, he figured.

He looked around, taking in the landscape. Nothing really changed. Still trashed as hell, maybe even more than usual. He didn't doubt that it was because Deceit had given up on cleaning it again. He remembered how the same thing happened before he left. He and Remus would band together to wreak as much havoc in the room as they could, and Deceit cleaned it up every time. It became such a hassle at one point that he had given up until the clutter bugged him. That, and neither of the other two were bothered to pick it up themselves.

A bittersweet feeling rushed over him as he remembered that. He wondered if Remus actually continued doing it after he left, or if he stopped because it wasn't the same as before. Virgil wouldn't have known because he never talked to any of them besides the few times in the videos. He could very well have changed that now, but he didn't.

He was supposed to just be in and out. No visiting. Visiting would give him emotions. He didn't want those. He wanted to stop doubting if he made the right choice or not, and if that meant not visiting the other two, then that would be the end of it.

To get his mind off of things, he decided to walk around, as quietly as he could, of course. Get a full glance of everything while he could. He made a lap around the room, ending by the stairs. He saw a familiar sweater piled on the ground next to them. Upon further inspection, he realized it belonged to Deceit.

It wouldn't have hurt to take it, would it?

He snatched the sweater as quick as he could and sunk out. He then rushed to his room, totally unnoticed unlike what he feared. He inspected the sweater in detail. It was black and gray, striped, torn in a few spots, and a bit too big, but Virgil liked it nonetheless. It was definitely something he would own. He threw it in the dirty laundry, figuring it needed at least one wash cycle, and went back to go get his coffee that he unintentionally abandoned. As he drank it, the others finally made their arrivals, getting to their usual business. He watched it all from the sidelines, only interacting when one of the others addressed him. He didn't gather much besides the fact that a video was going to be filmed in the next few days. It didn't really bother him, so he went on with his day as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

That night, he somehow managed to sleep soundly; the visit from earlier cleared things up just a bit. It gave him the reassurance than at least nothing changed there physically. It was a small step of progress, but he took what he could get.

When he woke up the next day, he found the sweater he stole in his clean laundry. He almost forgotten he had taken it until then. Something told him he should have worn it that day, so he did under his usual hoodie. He was complimented on it more than anything, which to him was a sign that they definitely didn't know it wasn't his. If they did, they didn't say anything to him at least. Along with that, it kinda helped relieve some of that homesickness he felt. At least, that's what it felt like to him. He didn't know what to call it. He just knew that wearing it made him feel better than he did the day before, and that's what mattered to him more than anything.

The temptation to go back to the room after that didn't take long to return. He fought it off for as long as he could, but one sleepless night ended that streak. He figured another venture to the room wouldn't hurt. When he got there, Deceit was around, asleep on the couch. Virgil decided to sneak past him up to the rooms so that he wouldn't wake him. He was successful, but he still kept cautious in case Remus would pop out at him. Thankfully, he didn't, so Virgil did some more snooping around. He even stole a few more pieces of clothing just for the hell of it before returning to his room and knocking out.

The cycle kind of continued for a while after that. He didn't get caught, mostly because he was sneaking out at night when no one else should have been awake. And any of the clothes he gathered hardly raised suspicion; the others simply thought the outfits were his own entirely.

Then came the dreaded day of video filming. They had worked for most of the morning, so they were taking a break for at least a couple hours. And during that break was when it all went down.

They all decided to relax while they could. Roman and Patton put on a movie while Logan made himself coffee and caught up on other work. Virgil changed into a different outfit and chilled out by the stairs on his phone, barely listening to anything going on around him. It wasn't until Deceit arrived that he finally did.

"Well, don't you all look very productive," the dark side sneered.

Logan heard him and sighed. "What do you want, Deceit?" At the mention of his name, Patton and Roman jumped up from their spots on the couch while Virgil merely looked up at him with disinterest.

"What are you doing here, Jack the Fibber?" Roman retorted.

"What? Am I not allowed to just simply hang out?"

"That's not part of your usual behavior around us, so that is mostly the reason for their concerns, I'm sure," Logan explained without missing a beat. "Plus, you have your own designated space to hang out, so there is no real need to intrude into ours."

"Yeah, what he said!" Roman agreed.

Deceit glared at Logan before continuing. "Well, maybe I want to change that behavior. You know I can't not be nice to you of all people, Roman."

"Really?"

"That's the biggest batch of bullshit I've ever heard," Virgil piped up. "We all know you get your kicks on teasing Roman because half the time he can't tell if you're lying or not."

"I do not-"

"Yeah, okay. That's not what you've told me, but sure."

Deceit sighed. "Information can easily be outdated, Virgil, so don't be too sure you know everything you think you do."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure on that, considering literally everyone here knows you as a liar. There's no way you can prove what you said was true and you know it."

"I mean, his statement does have some truth to it," Logan interrupted.

"Shut up, Logan! I'm trying to prove my point here!" Virgil barked.

"How pathetic. Blocking out the truth so that you have what you think is a solid argument? Sounds like we have a hypocrite here," Deceit said with a laugh. "Getting on me for the exact same thing you do fits that definition, don't you think? Or, is it a double standard because you're a light side now?"

Virgil had enough. "Just shut your damn mouth up! No one wants to argue with you over stupid shit. If that's all you came here for, then leave. We don't want that here."

Deceit turned to him, rolling his eyes and smirking. "I rest my case- wait." He did a double take. "Is that my sweater you're wearing?" Virgil's eyes went wide as he took in what Deceit said. He felt everyone's eyes staring him down as they awaited his answer. He didn't speak, which prompted Deceit to ask another question. "Is that where they've been going? Have you been stealing them? Have you been stealing my stuff?"

"N-no." He avoided the looks he was getting. "It's...it's mine."

"Seems like someone's taken over the resident liar position," Deceit remarked. He stared Virgil down until he looked him in the eye, and when he did, he gave him a simple eyebrow raise. "But if you insist, then I'll let it go." He continued to stare at Virgil, noticing his teary eyes.

Virgil met his gaze until he couldn't bear to do it anymore. He couldn't bear to be there anymore. "I'm...gonna go to my room," he said solemnly before sinking out. He heard the others telling him to come back, but he ignored them. There was no way he was going to explain this to them if they weren't going to understand.

He didn't sink out to his room. He ended up sinking out to the dark side common room unintentionally. He didn't care as long as he could get away. He curled himself into a ball and slowly let the tears go.

It didn't take long for Deceit to pop up after him. He looked at Virgil, unsure of what to say. Virgil had known he was there, but didn't acknowledge him. Instead, he just curled even more into himself, hoping he would go away.

He didn't. "You know, last time I checked, this isn't your room." Virgil didn't answer. He sighed, then knelt down to Virgil's eye level. He stared him down, despite being ignored. Talking was worth a shot. "I...apologize if what I said has upset you." He got Virgil's attention, but the other side remained silent. Deceit continued. "I didn't mean to call you out in front of...them."

"Yeah, right," Virgil mumbled.

"I'm serious. I'm not that much of an asshole, believe it or not. If I didn't notice it then, I wouldn't have said anything until later. But I did, and I impulsively said something. And, now I know I shouldn't have. I hope you don't hate me too much more for it."

Virgil finally looked him in the eye, unsure of his sincerity. Sure, it was written pretty clearly on his face, but he was a master of deception. Virgil wanted to doubt that what he said was true, but he didn't for now. Something told him not to. "You mean it?"

A nod. "Absolutely. And I assure you, I'm not lying."

Hearing that made him tear up even more. For once, Deceit sounded serious when he said it. No sarcastic edge, no over-the-top line delivery, nothing. Just pure emotion. Something in the way he said it made Virgil believe that he had really still cared for him a bit, even though his actions said otherwise. It was more than likely just an act at that point. Just to save face for the light sides. Both of them being dark sides made them as close to family as they could get, and the bond they had couldn't be easily broken, no matter how long ago Virgil left. They both knew that on some level.

And doing that compelled Virgil to do something he hadn't done in a while. He leaned forward and latched onto Deceit, hugging him. He was surprised at first, but he knew Virgil needed it and returned it. He could feel the other's chest heaving as he sobbed into him, but he didn't care one bit. He could tell Virgil needed it. He helped calm him down before he started talking again.

"I'm not mad at you for taking my stuff, by the way. You could have just asked me for it if you wanted it so bad."

"I know, but...I…I had a reason for it," Virgil mumbled.

"Which was?"

Virgil finally pulled away and looked at him. His eyeshadow was definitely smudged now, but that was easily fixable. He wiped his nose with his hoodie sleeve and got to explaining. "I...I miss you guys."

"You...do?"

Virgil nodded with a sniff. "I miss doing stuff with you and being with you because the others don't do as much stuff with me anymore because I said one time that I didn't want to do anything and they took it literally." He swiped his nose again. "And it made me really...sad, so to feel better, I've been coming down here and sneaking around and stealing your stuff and wearing it so that I have something to remind me of you guys. Of...home, I guess." A sniff. "I left because I thought I was hurting you guys, but it looks like I'm just hurting myself, y'know, figuratively. And I don't wanna come back completely, but...I guess I just wanna visit sometimes if that's okay with you. I just want you...to take me back as family."

Deceit nodded, taking in everything he said. "You hurt us more by leaving and not saying anything. But, now that you have, I do forgive you. And I understand." He was teary-eyed now. "And you're welcome back home any time. You haven't stopped being family, trust me."

Virgil went and hugged him again, and he immediately hugged him back. "Thank you. So much."

"You're definitely welcome. Now, I do want those stolen sweaters back, if you don't mind."

#the logince rebel writes #thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #deceit sanders

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vyraxhaalas · 4 years

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Hello, my old Tumblr blog. Haven’t used you in a while. But Twitter is getting increasingly difficult to look at with the way my mental state’s been lately, and I want to write about something that I definitely would not be able to fit within 280 characters.

I’m quiet and Tired™ almost all the time anyway, so I don’t know how obvious it’s been, but something pretty traumatic happened to me in November. I’m still getting hit with aftershocks and probably will be for a while.

The gist: I was in my first car accident in November, it affected me deeply, and things haven’t yet been sorted out.

I don’t expect anyone to read the ten-thousand-character write-up I spent this morning getting out of my head, but if you want to, here it is:

So.

It's mid-November. Daylight hours are short now, so I've been habitually leaving work as early as possible so I can avoid rush-hour freeway traffic in the dark. But I can't do that today. A bunch of work has gotten piled up—I don't know how; other people were supposed to be handling some of the stuff, but it didn't get handled—and it needs to get done today. So I stay an hour overtime to make sure we meet our deadlines. It's dark when I leave, and it's started to rain. This will be the first night this year, actually, in which I’ve had to drive home in the dark.

My usual route home involves getting on I-405 and then almost immediately getting off it again to get onto WA-520. Soon after my lane joins WA-520, it turns into an HOV lane. I'm a single driver; I need to get out of the lane. And I don't have very long to do it before the HOV lane starts and I could be fined for being in it.

Changing lanes is the worst part of driving. Doing it in the dark, in the rain, during rush hour, and on a freeway is about the worst it gets. I turn on my blinker before I even move to leave my lane, and I leave it on while I check and double-check and triple-check that the lane I'm trying to get into is clear. It looks clear. I start to change lanes. I take half a second to check my blind spot one last time as I make the transition. I look back out in front of me and realize traffic is suddenly at a dead stop. I slam on my brakes. I am not fast enough.

At 5:52 p.m. on November 19, 2019, I lose the ability to say I'm a driver who's never been involved in a car accident as the front of my '05 Celica—my baby, my life-blood—slams into the back of a 2019 Volkswagen Atlas.

It's dark and it's raining and I'm in the middle of a freeway and cars are still moving by on both sides of me. The Atlas makes it to the shoulder. My car won't move. It's dark and it's raining and I'm in the middle of a freeway and cars are still moving by on both sides of me and my car will not move. I stumble through a 911 call, and then I just have to sit there in the middle of a freeway and hope I don't end up causing more accidents behind me, which could potentially involve someone rear-ending me.

Every moment feels like an eternity, so I don't know how long it actually took for the highway truck to show up to assist. All I remember, really, is how I didn't have power steering anymore and how crushing it felt that my car needed to be pushed off the road and how scared I was of how much damage it would take for the engine to be knocked out like it was.

The police report says the officer arrived at 6:10 p.m., less than twenty minutes after the collision. I'm not sure I believe it. The officer arrives, and she's decent enough as she explains that I'm by default at fault in this case and that I'm getting served with a ticket. It's hard to tell if the tiny bit of sympathy was real or just a practiced response to dealing with a woman who's clearly shaken and has obviously been crying, but I appreciate it. I don't appreciate that the law says someone must be ticketed. I'm notorious for bothering family members by leaving “too much” space between me and the vehicle in front of me, so despite the officer's gentle delivery, getting a ticket for “following too close” still feels like a kick in the teeth on top of the evisceration that is the knowledge of the state of my car.

Since I don't have a dashcam to figure out what actually went wrong and I drive a Hot Wheels car that you would look at and guess is never driven below the speed limit, I assume everyone else involved—the officer, the other driver, everyone who had to deal with my dead car blocking a freeway lane for a few minutes—believes that I'm a reckless idiot.

The officer calls a tow truck for me, and soon she and the Atlas are gone. It's just me then, sitting in my dead car on the shoulder of WA-520 while other cars zip by at freeway speeds less then ten feet away. I fill the time by being on the phone with family members who were probably five or ten minutes away half an hour ago, but now I won't be home until sometime around 8:00. The tow-truck guy is really pleasant, though. I appreciate that (and how he tries to give me a discount for, I guess, also being pleasant to deal with; his boss doesn't allow it, but it was still a nice gesture), so I make sure to give him a big tip. He says I bought him dinner, and I hope I did.

I take the next day off work, both because I'm still rattled as hell and because I need to get my car on the path to being drivable again. I send pictures to my insurance, and they estimate at around $3,000, which is fine, because I have collision insurance. My cost will only be my max deductible of $1,000, and then my car will be fixed, and everything will be okay again. I have a phone conversation with a guy from my insurance who gets blindsided by how much of my claim I've already handled, reading off parts of his script that involve things I already did and then laughing and apologizing as he realizes that. He says that he hears about accidents of the sort I described happening all the time and agrees it's unfortunate but unavoidable that I was declared at fault.

I'm feeling a little bit better about things at this point. The view to having my car back seems clear. I just need to find a trustworthy collision-repair shop. I get a recommendation from my mechanic, and we get my car dropped off with the recommended shop. They say they have a backlog and won't be able to start until the end of December, but I'd rather wait than get a bad repair, so that's fine. They also say that they might be able to start taking a look at it earlier if some time opens up before then.

Around 10:00 a.m. on December 17 (which, funnily enough, is the third Tuesday of the month, just like the day of the accident), I pull out my phone while I'm at work. I don't even remember why at this point. I'm distracted away from whatever I was going to do by a notification that I have a missed called from my insurance. I think, “Oh, maybe the shop has been able to get started earlier than expected.” I get up from my desk and get into one of the noise-insulated booths strewn around the office that people can use to make phone calls. As I open up my missed calls, I see that the caller ID is not listed as just the name of my insurance, as it was on the notification. It's listed as “State Farm Total Loss.”

So now my mental state is completely shot. While I'm at work. At 10:00 a.m. I have to play phone tag and try very hard not to cry throughout my work day. At the end of that day, all I know is that State Farm will pay out about $5,000, but the total repair estimate is now “over $10,000.” I don't have any idea by how much, so I spend most of my day being terrified that it'll be not just “over” $10,000 but way over. I'm amazed I didn't go cry in a bathroom for fifteen minutes. (Instead I did that in the driver's seat of the truck I'm borrowing from a family member immediately after parking in the driveway at home.)

I call the repair shop after I manage to stop crying and get out of the truck. The final estimate is around $11,000. I tell them to go ahead with repairs. I think about how lucky I am that I have the ability to drop about $6,000 on car repairs. I think about how guilty I feel about how “privileged” I am to be able to drop $6,000 on car repairs. I remember how I was told soon after the accident by family members and a guy at the repair shop that I probably would have avoided the accident entirely had I reacted half a second faster, and I think about how bitter that tastes.

Things seem settled once again until I open some mail on the last day of my holiday break and discover that when a car is declared totaled by insurance, the state of Washington treats the car as if it's been destroyed, regardless of whether you repair it or not. Not only has my car's registration been canceled but so has its title. I'll have to redo the entire process of titling and registering my car before I can drive it again. It would have been nice if State Farm had warned me this was coming. I'm so tired.

On top of it all, it feels stupid to be so attached to a car, as if by virtue of it being an inanimate object I'm not “allowed” to be as attached to it as people get to a beloved longtime pet. Sometimes I feel like a bad person for wanting to drive a car at all, because of all the bad things associated with the American lifestyle of everyone owning and driving cars. But I'm a thousand-percent serious when I say that I was stuck crying for, like, fifteen minutes this morning, nearly two months after the accident, just because I was looking over the paperwork associated with things I still need to handle in regards to getting my car back.

Having to read the words “total loss” again. Know that my car currently is illegal to drive even if it were repaired. “Please see the enclosed notice of options available to you regarding the Insurance Destroyed Vehicle.” Looking at my car's title and thinking about having to write “TOTALED” along with the “date of loss” across it before I “surrender” it for “destruction.”

I feel stupid even posting this, because I expect people to read it and go “That's all? It's just a car. And you're wasting money fixing it—money you're lucky to have when a lot of people don't.”

But I've had this car nearly half my life. It saw me through the hardest times I've ever had. It is freedom, autonomy, escape mechanism, comfort zone. I've had breakdowns in grocery-store parking lots in this car. It's, like, a third of who am I. I feel like part of my soul has been missing since the evening of November 19, 2019, and I have been constantly two negative thoughts away from crying since then. I’m able to drive the stretch of road the accident occurred on, but rarely without at least feeling the urge to tear up. Hell, I can’t even drive the truck I’m borrowing without the experience being depressing simply because it’s not my car.

I don’t know how to end this off, because there’s no pretty pink bow to wrap it all up in yet. Things seem like they’ll turn out okay in the end, but it’s not the end yet, so who knows. I’ll just have to get through it, whatever happens. So, there you go, I guess. That's what's been going on with me lately.

#personal

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momentofmemory · 5 years

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it’s almost the end of october, which means one of the greatest, most terrifying exploits known to writers is upon us: NaNoWriMo.

there are plenty of super good survival posts out there, but as this’ll be my seventh time participating (six wins, hoping for a seventh), i thought i’d drop my own set of tips into the mix. i’m going to focus mostly on the practical details of how to write; if you want tips on the writing itself either search the writing/reference tags or pester me to do another one later :P with that said, ~on with the post~

Step One: Figure Out Your Goal

i know, i know, obviously it’s to write 50k, but what does that mean to you? are you expecting

polished prose, ready to send off to a publisher?

being able to write every day?

just throwing up a bunch of ideas?

a mix of everything?

all of these are valid, but they’re going to require different approaches. if you want jaw-dropping writing, you’re going to need in the ballpark of five or more hours each day, if not more. if you want consistency, you’ll want to look at your normal schedule and set up a couple times you know you can write at. if just you want words, pretty much all you need to make sure is that you squeeze writing time in whenever.

your goal will probably change as the month progresses, and that’s totally fine. just check in every so often to remember a)what you’re working for and b)if it’s actually plausible. speaking of...

Step Two: Realize Your Limitations

1. Typing.

imma get super practical here: your typing speed dictates how fast you can get done. if you write 40wpm (the average), you cannot write the full 1667 in a half hour any more than you can run a mile in under three minutes. it’s honestly not a bad idea to check out your own speed, if only to help you understand yourself better. in my experience, actual writing then works like this (using my max speed, 89, as an example):

Absolute Max: 89 wpm (baseline)

Warring: 70 (75% of baseline)

In the zone: 45 (50% of baseline)

Taking my time, concentrated: 22 (25% of baseline)

anything lower than your max/4 probably means you’re spending a lot of time either researching or staring at the page, so just be aware of that.

2. Time & Focus

this kinda goes without saying, but best case scenario this is at least 1-2 hours of your life a day, or dedicating full Saturday/Sundays if you’re a weekend warrior kind of person. it’s so, so worth it if you can make time for it, but also don’t feel bad if you can’t! doing a half nano (25k) or whatever you want is also a fully acceptable plan.

that said, if you do have time, figure out your focus too. if you’ve never been the kind of person that can type for six hours straight, you will probably not magically become this person when it hits Nov. 1 (though with practice, you might be by Nov. 30). i like trying to write at least 300 before work and another 300 during lunch. that way there’s only 1k left for the evening, and having words on the page just makes me feel better. experiment with different ways of blocking out your time in the first few days and see what works best for you.

3. Don’t Forget You Live in a Body

writing is hard work, you will need to eat brain food! hunching over wrecks your back, stand up and stretch every so often! you will hate existing if you forgo sleep for days! and for the love of charles dickens, patron saint of getting paid by the word, take care of your mother-effing wrists!!

seriously on that last one. i’ve ignored it in the past and thoroughly screwed up my wrists one year; don’t be me. keep in them in a neutral position, do regular stretches, and if you need to, get wrist wraps (i recommend these).

Step Three: Actually Doing the Thing

the previous steps have had pretty broad advice, but now it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty. these are mostly things i know work for me, and therefore may not for you—adjust to your own needs!

1. Write for 15 Minutes Every Day, Non-Negotiable.

i don’t even mean this is a “write 15 min and then your brain will be tricked into writing more” kinda way, but like, literally. you’re probably not going to be able to do 1667 every day—sometimes you’ll be tired and just won’t have the time. you’re very likely, however, to have 15 minutes, and you’ll want to use them. Doesn’t matter if you write 50 words or 500 in that time, at least you’ll have done something, and that’s usually enough to keep you from feeling like just giving up the next day.

2. You Might Need Physical Spaces

i’m a pretty sensory person when it comes to writing, and having a dedicated writing space is so helpful for me. going back to the idea of being an embodied person, it’s a lot easier to get your brain into a writing mode if your body’s already there. some good options include:

coffee shops (cozy! food!)

a specific room in your home (easily accessed! do what you want!)

libraries (free! quiet!)

a friend’s house (writing buddy! easy access to sounding board!)

all of these places usually have access to wifi, which is a positive.

3. You Definitely Need Digital Spaces

i pretty much always write in the same processor, once again because it helps set the mood. the main options include:

google drive (solid choice, cloud backup, mobile accessible)

dabble writer (cloud backup, links to nano, dark mode, chapter options)

write or die (only for actual writing—a scary but effective motivator; save elsewhere)

word/pages/etc. (ready to go on your computer, formatting options)

scrivener (great plotting tools, detailed interface)

i use dabble writer myself (they’re a nano sponsor, so you can get it free for this month, and as a double bonus you get it half off for the rest of the year if you win). and no, i’m not getting paid to wax poetic about them, but honestly i’ve used it to win the past two years and i adore it.

anyway my biggest tip here is that i SUPER SUPER DON’T RECOMMEND NON-CLOUD OPTIONS. it’s very risky, but if you must, do a proper back up at least once a week. that shiz is not worth it.

4. The Timer is Your New Best Friend

because i’ve heard this argument before: no, it’s not a crutch, and no, it’s not cheating. it’s literally best practices. i’m personally a big fan of this online timer, and i let it run for 15 min every time i write. after each session i check how many words i wrote, then after maybe a quick 1-2 min break, start over.

you can totally set the timer for longer or shorter periods, depending on what works for you. i’m a fan of the 15 min sessions bc it’s just long enough to get a bit of flow going, and just short enough that i can convince my spacy brain that we can get through it without wandering. it’s also a fantastic length for warring, if you’re down for that.

5. Write That Idea Down for Lewis’s Sake

the original idea for the chronicles of narnia came to c.s. lewis when he was at a restaurant, and thank the lord, he wrote it down on a napkin. he wouldn’t write it until some time later, but if he hadn’t written it down, he might’ve forgotten it. why is this important, you ask?

BC YOU WILL FORGET THINGS.

if you have an idea, write it down in your phone or your notebook or the waterproof paper in your shower, because i don’t care how sure you are that you’ll remember it, you super won’t. i’ve forgotten many solutions to plot holes in my time and i still hold vigils over their graves. don’t be me. write it down.

Step Four: Managing that Inner Critic of Yours

all right, pay attention. i’m not going to tell you not to edit, because i would be a massive hypocrite if i did. i totally edit during nano. the important part is letting your editor help you win, not hurt you. and that means gaming your critic’s system.

1. Have a Dedicated Deletion Section

many people hear “don’t delete anything” and baulk, because for some of us it’s distracting and we want to rewrite that section until it matches our vision. so, i’m here to tell you: delete it!! rewrite entire chapters!! just save the original content as part of your word count. this is another reason i love dabble, bc at the start of nano i just make a separate part of the book, label it “delete”, and any time i’m writing and dislike a sentence/paragraph i just dump it into that folder and move on. this way you still get to keep the numbers (and why shouldn’t you? you wrote them!) while also writing words you actually like. plus, sometimes that line you deleted in ch. 1 winds up being supremely pertinent in ch.15, and now you can just copy/paste it instead of having to try to remember what exactly you’d said.

2. Acknowledge Ranting as a Time Honoured Tradition

think there’s no precedent for that 2K diatribe you wrote on the london underground? well fear not, because you can’t possibly do worse than hugo’s entire chapters worth of content on the french sewer system! or melville’s frankly terrifying obsession with the finer features of whale biology!

like, yeah, maybe you’ll decide later you don’t need it, but for now, embrace that soap box. dead white guys have been doing it for centuries and still get places in college syllabi. the least you can do is give it a place in your word count.

Step Five: Have Fun!

i know, i know, it’s cliche, but seriously. if this isn’t fun, or at least rewarding, why are you doing it anyway? so enjoy it! send passages you’re proud of to your friends! daydream about it in the car on the way to work/school! cry over a notebook about the twist you just came up with! nano’s a time of fun and exploration, and you shouldn’t miss out on it because you’re thinking too much.

also, this might be counter productive to put at the end of an essay on nano, but don’t obsess over reading essays on nano :P there comes a time when one must simply do, and nano is pretty much the definition of that.

#nanowrimo #writing tips #writing #reference #writing advice

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katymacsupernatural · 5 years

Text

Legendary Part 3

MOC Dean x Reader

1350 Words

Story Summary: Raised in the Hunter life, Y/N has turned to collecting ancient and unique items. When she gets wind of the First Blade, she knows she will do anything to get her hands on it.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Warnings: None

Any normal person would have melted under the stares both brothers were sending your way while they waited for your answer. But you were used to it. Used to men who used intimidation to get what they wanted. Men who considered you nothing more than a little girl. A woman who is good for nothing more than cooking them dinner and spreading your legs.

You weren’t sure if that’s exactly what they were thinking. But they were both big, alpha type men who were used to getting what they wanted, and letting nothing stand in their way. “I wanted to meet the two of you,” you started to say, choosing your words carefully. “I had always heard about the famous Winchester brothers and the giant Bunker full of items. I wanted to meet you, hoping that maybe we could come up with some sort of arrangement.”

“You want us to let you into the bunker so you can rob us blind,” Dean grumbled, lifting open his jacket to show you his hand was on the handle of his gun.

“Dean lets listen,” Sam tried to say, talking his brother down. You hadn’t heard that Dean was this hot-headed, but if he was holding the First Blade, he very well could have the Mark. And you had no idea what the Mark would make him like.

“I promise, no robbing you blind,” you tried appeasing him, even though you were planning on getting what you wanted. Even if it meant slipping out with it in the dead of night. You liked to live above stealing, but sometimes it was a necessary evil. “I just want us to be associates.”

Dean leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest. “What’s in it for us?”

“I heard you were attempting to kill a Knight of Hell,” you said. “I might have the ingredients of a….,”

“Already done,” Dean grumbled, his jaw clenching. “What else?”

“I have a very vast and varied collection. I’m sure there is something you would need. If not now, then at some point down the road.”

“And what do you want in return?”

You had already thought this out. Of course, they wouldn’t just hand over the First Blade. You had to get them to trust you first, and if you asked for something too big…, you would be screwed. “I believe you might have a book. I’d like to borrow it, that’s all.”

Dean reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and dropping a couple of twenties on the table. “Give us your address, we’ll send you a copy of the pages. Now if you’ll excuse us, Sam and I have a hunt we need to finish.”

He stood up, heading out of the bar while Sam stayed behind, offering you an apologetic smile. “He’s been going through a rough time lately,” Sam apologized for his brother. “But if you give me your phone number, we can certainly work something out.”

After switching phone numbers, you watched as Sam hurried off to join his brother. This hadn’t gone at all as you had hoped for. You would have to figure something out before they finished the hunt and headed back to their fortress.

Sighing, you downed the rest of your drinking before ordering another. You needed time to think, to come up with a plan, and you really didn’t feel like heading back to your hotel room quite yet.

Almost three drinks in, you were finally starting to get a buzz, but you were no further on your plan to retrieve the First Blade. The bar was getting crowded, a group of drunk college students dancing and playing pool towards the back while people that had just gotten off of work were sitting at the bar.

You had stayed in the booth, letting the shadows hide you from the wandering eyes of the men at the bar. The waitress kept a fresh supply of booze and french fries your way, while you contemplated breaking into Dean’s hotel room. But you kept running into problems. First of all, he would probably be carrying the blade with him during the hunt. So, while he was sleeping would be your only other choice, yet that wasn’t looking great either. As a hunter, he had to have amazing reflexes and heightened senses. He would notice you as soon as you slipped into the room, taking away all of your credibility. Which led you right back to square one. Nowhere.

While you had your eyes closed in contemplation, another person entered the bar, immediately stopping when he noticed you exactly where he had left you.

It wasn’t until he plopped down in the seat across from you that you opened your eyes, instinctively reaching for the knife tucked into your jeans. “What the hell are you still doing here?” He grumbled, his hand around a glass of whiskey.

Rolling your eyes, you placed your hands back on top of the table. “What does it look like I’m doing? I needed to unwind a little bit, and their french fries are amazing.”

Without even asking, Dean reached over, taking a handful for himself. “You’re right. These are great,” he mumbled, his mouth full.

You wanted to yell at him, to smack his hand away from the fries. But you also wanted to get closer to him. To finally see the blade that had only been a myth. So you stayed silent, waving your hand at the waitress for another round. “So Sam might have yelled at me for being a prick earlier,” Dean continued, one cheek puffed out with french fries, his words mumbled. “I’ve just been on edge a lot lately, and in our line of work it’s hard to trust new people.”

You understood completely, but you were a little surprised that he was apologizing. He didn’t seem like the type. “I get it. In both of our lines of working trusting someone could mean death. But I hope you realize that I’m not here to double cross you.”

Following the french fries with the rest of his whiskey, he nodded. “Sam said to trust you. That he did research, and you’re exactly as you say. So I guess it’s good luck that you’re still here, huh?”

Smiling his way, you downed the rest of your drink, letting the warmth settle in your belly. “So where does that leave us?”

Raising an eyebrow, he shrugged. “Drinking buddies for now?”

As the empty glasses multiplied on the table in front of you, you wondered where this jovial, fun Dean Winchester had been when you had first met. He had been so cold, so full of aggression and hate. But now, you almost felt as if the two of you could be friends. Or even more, you admitted to yourself. You were attracted to him.

“You’ve been to Hell?” You found yourself asking as he told you his story of going to hell and back. “I’ve heard of a lot of things, but actually coming back?”

“Sam and I? We’ve done a lot of things that aren’t normal for most people,” he told you almost proudly. “And see this?” He asked, rolling the sleeve of his maroon flannel up. “This is the Mark of Cain.”

“No way!” You exclaimed, one piece of the puzzle finally falling into place. If he had the Mark, then he could definitely wield the First Blade with ease. “How did you come by that?”

He leaned over the table, his face only inches away from yours. “I needed to kill a Knight of Hell. I found Cain, he transferred it over.”

“Dean,” you whispered, getting caught up in the plumpness of his lips, the way his eyes sparkled as he told his stories. Almost forgetting what you had come here for. “Do you want to get out of here?”

If you’ve enjoyed this story so far reblog/comment to spread the love!!

I do like coffee ;)

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

Legendary Tags: @maddiepants @anathewierdo

Forever Tags: @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @maui137 @mogaruke @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#legendary #dean winchester x reader #moc dean x reader #katy writes #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x y/n #spn x reader #spn fanfic #dean #dean fic

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Rising from the Ashes (5/?)

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones. As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: You guys go into each chapter of this story with fear and excitement, and I really love that...it’s exactly how I go into writing each chapter!

Double “-/-” around the flashback!

AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag List: @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian

“Morning, Ems,” Neal greets her, yawning the slightest bit as he muddles around the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot she made about thirty minutes ago. She’s surprised there’s any left. She’s had two large cups after not getting any sleep last night. She’s been trying not to get back into drinking a lot of caffeine ever since she found out she was pregnant with Ada, having avoided it altogether for at least eleven months, and she’s trying to keep from getting back into her bad habits, especially when she’s still breastfeeding.

With how little she sleeps lately, the coffee has been calling her name.

Not literally. She hasn’t quite lost her mind yet, surprisingly enough.

“Morning,” she mumbles, taking a sip of her own drink while she finishes off some emails from work. They may have allowed her to take the rest of the semester off, keeping on her replacement from her maternity leave last semester, but she didn’t want to let all of the students she’s been working with for the past two years to not have her help applying to colleges when she’s been the one working with them and helping them every day. It also gives her something to do besides spend her time trying to calm her racing mind down or talking to a five-month-old. There’s only so much Ada can coo back. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay. It’s taking some getting used to, but you know I’ve always had issues trying to get comfortable at night.” “Yeah, you have. We can buy you a mattress topper or a new bedspread or something if it’ll make you more comfortable. That’s not the best bed. It’s Killian’s old one from a million years ago, so if you let me know, I can take you to Target or something.”

Neal hums while he walks toward her and settles down across from her at the kitchen table. “What are you doing?” “Working. Ada’s morning nap is pretty much my only free time during the day, so I like to get a little done. What time is your therapy?”

“One. Why?”

She closes her laptop and looks up at him. He’s been here for two weeks, and it’s still just so damn weird looking at him. He looks so different, but sometimes when he smiles, she gets flashes of the man he once was before he left. “I can drop you off if you want. I know you’ve been taking an Uber, which cool, right? So much better than having to call a cab like we used to have to do. But I figured I could take you on my way to take Ada to the park and then after we can get Henry from school so he doesn’t have to stay late with Marg.”

Neal’s eyes light up, the excitement obvious in them, and she smiles to herself. His first meeting with Henry was a disaster, and she’s still kind of (extremely) pissed over what he said to her and Killian in the heat of the moment, but Neal has been so excited about spending time with Henry that she can’t help but forgive him a little bit. He was obviously just in shock and probably a little angry. She can’t blame him, not really, not with everything he’s been through and what exactly he came home to. It’d be hard for anyone to find out the world you thought you knew wasn’t at all what you thought.

He could have chilled out a bit, but Neal has never been one to control his emotions well.

She’s upset, but she’s not mad. It’s weird, and she’s stopped trying to explain it to herself. She really will go crazy if she keeps trying to make sense of everything.

She hopes Neal’s getting through a lot during his therapy sessions, even if he’s only been to two sessions since leaving the hospital, but hopefully he’ll keep going to all of his appointments and get to at least attempt to come to terms with everything. She doesn’t know how, but she hopes that he will. For him, for Henry, for everyone.

And they’re not exactly talking about anything at home. It’s like there’s a giant elephant in every room of the house, and she, Killian, and Neal are all ignoring it while Henry runs around like she’s just given him free reign at Disney World.

It’s probably unhealthy, but it’s easier for her right now. And honestly, she’s tired. She’s tired of Killian skirting around her and only showing her the minimum amount of affection, and she’s tired of Neal always looking at her with these longing eyes before he goes back to the iPhone he’s trying to learn how to use ever since Killian took him to Verizon last week. Yeah, they have some shit to figure out, but she can’t stop her life anymore to make this her sole focus. Maybe she should be more sympathetic to the both of them, but honestly, to her, she’s not in some kind of tragic love triangle. She’s just not. Even if she was in love with Neal a long time ago, she can’t just fall back in love with him now. Doesn’t mean things aren’t complicated, and while she was freaking out (how could she not be?) at first, she’s not anymore.

Okay, so a part of her is definitely still freaking out. But it’s a lesser part than last week.

Weirdly, while she thought having Neal at home would make things worse, it’s helped. It’s helped her to look at things as a one step at a time kind of deal. It’s made things more real without all of these thoughts and theories running around in her head. It’s actually made her calmer no matter how weird it is to have a man she thought was dead in her home. He’s similar to how he was, but he’s definitely more different than anything.

Thinking about what he must have been through breaks her heart, and sometimes she needs a moment to herself to collect her sob, take a deep breath, and be the person she has to be now. What’s that commercial about parents not being able to take a sick day? It’s for Tylenol or something. She’s not sure, but she understands it now even more than she did when she was alone with a one-month-old baby with no idea what she was doing until Ruth finally came to stay with her for awhile.

Normalcy is all she wants right now. She’s got to get everything back to normal.

Neal didn’t even know how to work a smart phone which makes sense but was still shocking in a way, especially since she remembers him having a Blackberry a million years ago. He’s doing well learning, though. He’s successfully used Uber several times to go to therapy and then out to eat on his own.

And she thinks his focus is all on adjusting back into a normal rhythm and getting to know Henry, so that’s really good. She wants Henry to know him and to be happy with having his dad back in his life as a normal, everyday thing. Neal’s going back to work after Thanksgiving too. She finds that a bit ironic. She took an entire semester off because of everything, and Neal’s diving right back into things.

Good for him. He should get the normalcy if that’s what he wants. She may never get back to the normalcy she’s trying to achieve, but Neal deserves it after everything. He’s doing so well when some of the worst things imaginable have been happening to him for so long. She can’t quite get over any of that.

“Yeah? We could pick up Henry?”

“Sure. I was thinking it’d probably be good for you to get to see his school, and he’s always the most chatty right after a day since he’s been hoarding all of this information all day so he can talk about it at home. And, like, I totally don’t want you to buy his love or anything, but the kid loves ice cream. There’s a shop just around the corner from the school.”

“Ice cream in November?”

She shrugs. “He’s got my sweet tooth.”

“I can see that.”

“So, um, yeah,” she sighs, scooting back in her chair and taking her glasses off of her face and placing them on her laptop, “we’ll do that. I’m going to go get ready and feed Ada when she wakes up. Help yourself to anything, as you know. I’m going to go grocery shopping tomorrow, so if there’s something you want, put it on the list on the fridge, okay?”

“Will do, Ems.”

She nods her head, not having anything else to say, before walking upstairs and heading into her room, closing the door so that she can take a shower. She really should have done that earlier, but this morning was so hectic. She got Henry ready for school on her own because Killian had to be at work at six for the damn monthly conference he has to do once a month, which seems to always fall on the day where Ada decides to have some kind of meltdown. But it’s all fine now. She got Henry in Mary Margaret’s car, and Ada eventually stopped crying once she ate and got another bath despite the one she had last night.

Kids are hard. Really damn hard.

Her shower is soothing though, the water washing away a lot of her stress as she adjusts the shower head and lets the water pound into her back instead of gently washing her off. Even though she doesn’t really have the time, she takes it to deep condition her hair, knowing how dry it’s been lately, and she actually shaves her legs. All of the way up and not just up to her knees or up to where her leggings show her skin when she’s running errands. She’s been in a relationship for a long time, so while shaving doesn’t always get done, it does get done more often than it has been lately.

It’d probably help if she was actually sleeping with Killian. That would get her to shave more often, but they pretty much fall asleep after making sure they’ve talked about their schedules for the next day. And they pretty much always fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. Sometimes they drift together in the middle of the night, and she craves those nights and the warmth of Killian’s body wrapped around hers, but that hasn’t really been happening.

Okay, so yeah, her relationship is having some issues that she should probably think about and talk about some more, but she’s just letting Killian work through whatever it is that’s going through his mind. She tries to talk to him about it sometimes, but for once, he’s not feeling like opening up to her. He’s just not. He feels things so deeply all the time, usually more than any person she’s ever known, and while he has gotten good about sharing with her, sometimes he reverts back to how he used to be and keeps it all to himself.

She hates that.

If anything, she thinks that’s what’s freaking her out the most about Killian lately, not about her life as a whole. Killian has always been there for her, always, and even though he’s right here with her, sometimes he feels so far away. He’s not supposed to feel this far away.

-/-

“Sweetie,” Mary Margaret calls, and David immediately walks over to her from where he was talking to Killian over by the grill, “will you please go check on the boys?”

“The burgers might burn if I leave them.”

“Killian can watch them. So can we. We all know how to cook.”

“Emma doesn’t.”

“Hey,” she protests, shaking her head from side to side while sipping on her lemonade, “I can. I may not be, like a professional chef, but I can cook a decent meal. I have a six-year-old who I feed on a daily basis.”

“I cook a lot of our meals, love.”

“Hush,” she laughs, rolling her eyes at Killian and the stupid smirk he has on his face. “I cook all of the time, and I really feel like you guys shouldn’t be making fun of me when I provided the desserts for today.”

“Didn’t we bring ice cream?”

“Yes, but I paid for it.” “That’s not the same, Swan.”

She turns back to Mary Margaret who’s looking at her with a face full of amusement. “I think he wants to sleep on the couch tonight. I really do, and he hates the couch. Just last night after Henry went to bed we were fooling – ”

“And I’m going upstairs to check to make sure our children have all of their limbs still intact. I don’t need to hear about whatever it is you were just about to say.” “So immature.” “You are my little sister. I don’t need to think about what you do with Killian.”

“I can spell it out for you if I need to. It’s really short. Just three letters. Or four depending on how crude you want to get.” “Going upstairs now,” David says a bit too loudly while his cheeks flush red. He walks away toward the staircase, shaking his head back and forth, and she feels a little rush of pride making him embarrassed, especially since they’ve always had more of a friendly relationship than sibling. He was already out of the house and married when Ruth adopted her, so it’s not like he was around watching her go on dates. He was later, but not when he’s supposed to have been forming all of those protective older brother vibes. “Jones, don’t burn my burgers.”

“I’ll try not to, but I’m awfully distracted by your sister’s buns.”

Laughter rumbles through her stomach while her lips stretch into smile, one that makes her entire face hurt. She both can and can’t believe Killian just said that, and the blush on her cheeks probably matches the blush on David’s. Killian moves his brows across his forehead before winking at her, and it only makes her giggle more.

“I hate the both of you.”

“But I love you, Dave,” Killian calls out, blowing a kiss toward the staircase. “You too, Swan. Just to make that clear. You and your buns are my favorite if I had to pick a member of the family.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “But I’m glad to know you love me and my ass more than you love my brother.” “It’s a good ass.”

“You are such a horrible flirt.” “No, no. I am a wonderful flirt. How else could I make hamburgers and hot dogs dirty and charming?”

“Well, the hot dog jokes are super obvious, just fyi,” she laughs, calming down enough that she can take another sip of her lemonade. “And the buns are too, but I applaud your attempts, babe. Maybe something will come from it later.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. You’ll get to eat – ”

“Okay,” Mary Margaret interrupts them, “you guys can stop with the dirty jokes there. I don’t need to know anymore.”

“I was literally just going to say that he’ll get to eat the food he’s cooking. Where did you – oh my God, Marg, no,” she giggles, reaching up to flip her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not going to say that when you’re standing right there.”

“With the way that you two are, can you blame me for stopping you?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s like you guys are teenagers,” she sighs, shaking her head back and forth. “I’m going to go see what David and the boys are up to. You guys can continue to flirt out here. Just remember that we have neighbors.” “I promise that I’ll give them a show.”

Mary Margaret just sighs again, sliding open the door and walking inside, leaving just she and Killian out there. She’s not about to put on whatever show Killian was talking about, but she won’t pass up an opportunity to flirt with her boyfriend when he’s in such a good mood. He’s usually pretty reserved or more clever with his innuendos because of Henry, but when Henry’s not around, well, that’s another story.

Walking over to him, she wraps her arm around his waist and sticks her hand in the back of his pant’s pocket. It’s July, the sun shining down on them hotter than it has all year, but he refuses to wear shorts. He’s got a lot of quirks, but the short thing is definitely on up there, especially because he’ll walk around the house in this awful pair of plaid boxers that seem to keep popping up no matter how many times she hides them.

Maybe she just needs to throw them out, but honestly, he might break up with her if he finds out about that. He really loves those boxers.

Possibly more than he loves her.

“I was lying earlier when I told Mary Margaret I was simply going to say you could eat hamburgers and hot dogs. I say we let Henry run around in the yard a lot and then you and I get a lot of alone time tonight.” “Aye, I know.”

“What?” She slaps his chest before he starts moving the burgers onto the sheet pan. “How did you know?”

“You flipped your hair behind your shoulders.” “Right, forgot that you’re weird and know my supposed tells.” “It’s not weird, sweetheart,” he says as he gets the rest of the burgers off the grill and turns the gas off. “You can do the same to me. It’s what happens when you spend every day talking to the same person.” “Not sure if that’s a compliment or a complaint.”

Once Killian closes the hood on the grill, he turns toward her and places his hands on her shoulders before brushing his lips over her forehead, her eyes fluttering closed in response. “I think it’s more just being grateful that I get to spend my life with you. I don’t know another woman who would stand out here and let me make innuendos involving food in front of her family.” “This is true,” she admits, smiling up at him and wishing he didn’t have on sunglasses so she can see the blue in his eyes, even if his sunglasses are kind of hot. “I’m pretty much the cream of the crop, and I deserve to be appreciated every day.” “And you’re also humble. Can’t forget to appreciate that.”

“Exactly.”

She presses up on her toes to quickly slide her lips over his, just a few short pecks over and over again until she hears the sliding glass door open.

“Daddy,” Henry calls out, “I’m hungry, and Uncle David told me to ask you when we can eat.”

“Right after you wash your hands. Have you done that?”

“Yes.” “Have you really?”

“No,” Henry admits, hanging his head a little bit.

“Then I suggest that you go wash them, okay?”

“Okay,” Henry nods his head before stepping back inside where she knows he probably will do it simply because Killian told him to. He’s going through a phase where everything Killian tells him is basically gold whereas she’s pretty much useless in getting him to do anything.

“How’d you know he was lying? Does he have a tell too?”

Killian shrugs, moving his hands off of her shoulders and turning to grab the pan of burgers. “He’s a kid, darling. He doesn’t like washing his hands or brushing his teeth. No one needs your superpower to figure that out.”

“My superpower is pretty cool though, right?”

“It’s amazing until I’m trying to surprise you, and I have to pull off a covert mission just to buy you a necklace for our anniversary.”

She reaches up to grab the necklace that’s around her neck, feeling the circular diamond pendant that she wears every day without fail. “I’m glad that you did pull off this particular covert mission.”

“Me too, love. Let’s go eat before your brother thinks that I’m actually burning his burgers.”

“The audacity.”

-/-

She shakes off the thoughts of she and Killian and finishes her shower before turning the water off and drying herself before pulling on her robe and wrapping her hair in the towel. Getting ready quickly has pretty much become something she’s an expert in, so she quickly brushes her teeth again in an attempt to get rid of the taste of coffee that’s lingering before she puts her moisturizer on her face, smoothing it into her skin. She looks down at her jewelry tray, the one that stays on her bathroom vanity, and she picks up her necklace and clasps it around her neck, leaving her wedding ring there.

There’s noise on the baby monitor, the beginnings of a wail, and she knows that Ada’s going to cry before she even gets in there. And even though it still breaks her heart every single time her baby is upset, she lets her wail a little bit while pulling on her leggings and pullover, figuring that she’s just going to walk the path at the park anyways. There’s no need for her to put on jeans or anything nice.

It’s still a little weird for her not to be working and not having to get ready in something that’s school appropriate, but she can’t say she hates not having to wear pants with buttons and zippers. After she’s got her shoes on, she finally heads into Ada’s room, feeding her and changing her, making sure she’s got on clothes warm enough for the chill outside, before grabbing her diaper bag and heading downstairs where Neal is already waiting at the door.

“You ready to go?”

“Yep. Just waiting on you.”

The drive to Neal’s therapist’s office is only fifteen minutes, so they don’t talk much. One of the things she’s noticed is that he’s much quieter than he used to be, at least when he’s at home with everyone. When he’s with just her, things are usually a bit more comfortable. She’s not sure if maybe he’s just pissed at Killian or if he’s simply more comfortable being with her. If anything, she figured he’d be pissed at her for moving on. Realistically, she knows that she did nothing wrong, but guilt is a powerful thing. And Neal feeling like he doesn’t have a family…she’s not going to let that happen. She’s going to figure out how to let him be happy with Henry without all of the lingering hostility she can feel when they’re eating dinner or watching television at night.

“So I’ll pick you up around two thirty, and we’ll go pick Henry up, okay?”

Neal nods his head before getting out of the car, giving her a wave and a smile before she’s driving off.

It’s a beautiful fall day out, and the lake at the park glistens under the sunlight while the fallen leaves scatter the concrete path she’s walking with Ada. Right after Ada was born, Emma joined a walking group with several other mom’s, but after about three sessions and thirty judgmental looks for being unmarried, she quit going to them. As much as she’d like to have friends with kids the same age as hers, sometimes it’s just not worth the effort. Or the judgment. And she doesn’t want to be friends with anyone who’s going to judge her anyways.

You just have to do things that bring you joy.

Marie Kondo it.

She literally hoards onto everything, so Marie Kondo probably isn’t the best example for her. She may be more like Hoarders whereas Killian is Marie.

Her phone rings in her pullover pocket, and she grabs it, sliding her fingers across the screen when Killian’s face pops up.

“Hey, babe,” she greets while maneuvering the stroller away from a dip in the pavement.

“Hey, love. How are you? How was this morning? I’m sorry I had to leave early.” “I mean, I’m fine. This morning was a disaster. I think Ada could sense my fear of doing things alone, so she was a little monster. And Henry was dragging. But we made it. I’m at the park with Ada now so we can get some exercise and fresh air. What about you? You at lunch now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, clicking his tongue while she hears voices in the background. “It’s been pretty hectic around here. We had some stuff I can’t tell you about happen, and it’s pretty much been an entire day in the conference room. I offered to go out and get lunch simply so I could call and check up on you.” “That’s sweet, and I’m sorry. I know you hate working in the conference room instead of your office.” “The blasted chairs alone.”

“Such an old man.” Ada makes a noise, and Emma lifts up the cover to make sure that she’s okay. She is, just playing with her toy, and Emma covers her back up with the shade. “Hey, so I dropped Neal off at his therapy, and I’m going to take him to Henry’s school so he can see a bit more about him. Then I was thinking we’d take him to Freeze Frame down the street. I’m guessing you’re too busy to get off of work and join us?”

“I am, love. I’m sorry.” “It’s fine,” she promises, trying not to feel sullen about how defeated Killian sounds. “I just thought it’d be nice to ask. We’ll have to go with you on another day. I really doubt Henry will object to more ice cream.”

He chuckles into the speaker, and it’s good to hear that. She wants to hear him laugh, see him smile. She understands that he’s going through a lot right now. She is too. But it’s nice for him to sound normal.

Normal. How many times a day does she think the word normal? She should get it embroidered on a pillow or something.

“Very true. Our boy likes ice cream. Maybe this weekend I’ll take him out to do something. I’ve been trying to let him spend time with Neal, but I do miss us getting to do stuff. So maybe I can get him out and about with me.” “You know you don’t have to stop doing things with him, right? He can spend time with you both. It doesn’t have to be either or. Just this morning he was asking if you’d be home early enough for you guys to work on the swing set before everything gets too cold.” Killian mumbles something under his breath that she can’t understand. “Swan, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at home, okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, something heavy settling in her stomach, “I’ll see you at home.”

She and Ada walk a few more laps before it’s time for them to go pick up Neal so that they can get Henry. Neal is waiting outside on the front steps of the office when she pulls up, and he hurriedly gets in the car, sliding into the front seat and buckling his seatbelt before he goes back to thumbing through his phone, casually talking to her and asking her about some of the places they pass along the way. She forgets that he doesn’t know Portland, that he’s never been here before, so she’s happy to show him some places to make him feel more at home.

Instead of pulling through the pick-up lane at school, she parks the car and gets out as Neal does the same. Ada’s asleep, which almost always happens after their walks, so Emma undoes her car seat and carries her inside as they make their way into Henry’s school.

“So this is a good place, huh? Neal asks, his eyes following the murals on the side of the building.

“Yeah, it’s really good. Besides Mary Margaret teaching here, one of the big factors for our move was the school district. I think Killian spent weeks investigating and calling all of the administrators. It was a little ridiculous, but it’s worth it now. Henry’s super happy here, and he’s doing great in school.” “That’s good. I think the schools back in Virginia were pretty good too.” “Yeah, they were great, but we couldn’t stay on base after...you know. And I really like living here. It’s a nice place. You can live in the suburbs and drive into the city. Plus, there are so many nice beaches under two hours away. We usually go to Boothbay in the summers.”

Neal simply hums next to her. “So you don’t plan on moving back to Virginia? That’d be closer to where I want to work. My options here are pretty limited.”

She stops her walking as the bell to indicate the first wave of students are released from school rings. Ada stirs a bit, but she stays asleep. “What are you talking about? Why would we move? We have a life here.”

“Yeah, but we were supposed to have a life there. We had it all planned out, Ems. Don’t you remember? We were going to get the bigger house with the pool? And Henry was going to go to that private school in DC? I remember us making all of those plans when you were decorating the nursery.”

“Neal,” she sighs, tightly closing her eyes to fight back the tears and the flashes of memories, “of course I remember, but we were a lot younger, me especially, and those were just dreams. And our lives have obviously not gone as planned. I understand that you’re probably trying to cling to the past. I would do the same thing, but you can’t. Isn’t that what Dr. Carter kept telling us at the hospital? That we can’t go back, so we have to try to move forward. We’re not those people anymore. We don’t have that life, so you have to adjust your dreams. Hopefully there’s one out there just as good. Maybe even better. I promise that this is a really good school, a really good place.”

He smiles, just a small twitch of his lips that makes his entire face crinkle, but he doesn’t say anything else, walking up the path to where there’s now hundreds of kids leaving the school. A shiver runs down her spine as a gust of wind blows by, but she shakes it off and catches up with Neal so she can show him where Henry’s pick-up line is.

“Momma,” Henry shouts, tugging at Mary Margaret’s cardigan until she looks up and makes eye contact with Emma.

“You can go,” Mary Margaret tells him, and he’s quickly making his way over to she and Neal, wrapping his arms around her waist first.

“Hey, kid,” she sighs, kissing the top of his head. “Why don’t you talk to your dad about your day for a bit while I talk to Mary Margaret?”

“Okay,” he sighs, pulling back from her before he’s turning to Neal and chatting almost as quickly as he can. She’s glad that he’s gotten a lot of his pep back. He was far too quiet when everything happened at first, and that absolutely flooded her with worry. She’s pretty sure he was just reflecting how she and Killian were, and that was not okay with her. She can’t let all of the conflict and confusion get to him.

“Hey, Marg,” she greets when she gets to her, placing Ada’s carrier on the ground and taking her out of it now that she’s woken up. “How are you?”

“Tired,” she complains, checking off two more kids to go home. “The VP observed class today, and he watched mine just after lunch.” “So when they’re the worst?”

“Exactly. I thought I was going to – ”

“Mrs. Nolan, my grandma is here.” “Okay Amanda, you can go. Don’t forget your science project tomorrow.” “I won’t.”

“She will,” Mary Margaret sighs, reaching over and squeezing Ada’s arm. “God, I miss when Leo was this tiny. I mean, I get so much more sleep now, but there’s nothing like those baby stages.”

“For someone who’s exhausted, you’re asking for more exhaustion.” She laughs. “I’m too old to have more kids, but I can admire my precious niece.” Mary Margaret’s eyes dart away from her students and turn toward where Henry and Neal are. “So how’s that going? I need to come over and talk one day because I feel like David and I haven’t helped nearly enough, especially after that first day.”

“The first day was the worst, but it’s gotten better. Things are still hard, obviously, but they’re getting better, I think. Neal’s pretty quiet. Killian is even quieter. I honestly think they’ve got some kind of macho man contest going on, and it’s driving me insane.” “So they’re both feeling territorial?” “I think so, and I get it, but I also don’t get it, you know? Yeah, things are messed up, but I’m my own person and neither of them have rights to me. It’s taken me a minute to understand that, because I’ve always felt some kind of obligation to Neal, but – ”

“Well don’t you?” “Don’t I what?”

“Have an obligation to him? He’s your husband. You made a commitment to him.”

She tries to keep the anger bubbling under her skin to a minimum. She really does. They’re around kids, and this was supposed to be a quick conversation while Mary Margaret is doing drop off, and she’s still got Ada in her arms.

“Marg, I love you. I really do, but you and David are entirely different than any relationship I’ve ever had. Yes, I made a commitment to Neal once upon a time, but that doesn’t mean I owe him anything, even if I’ve felt that way before. I just…I just want him to get to know Henry and to be happy in this second chance at life that he’s getting. That’s all I want.”

She also signed those papers, which she still hasn’t told Neal about. Honestly, she needs to meet with a lawyer at some point and get her shit figured out. And tell Neal they’re not married anymore. That should…she should probably do that.

She really doesn’t want to do that.

“So you don’t – ”

“No. I think I may break his heart, but I’ll always be here for him, you know? To help him get his life back, to make up for the time he’s lost. There’s so much that’s happened, none of it that’s his fault, but I can’t snap back to how things were. I don’t want to. I think I’m just trying to hold everything together and make sure Henry isn’t overwhelmed. He’s still doing okay in school?”

“Yeah, he’s great, hon,” Mary Margaret promises, reaching over and squeezing Emma’s shoulder. “He’s waving to you now. I think it might be time to go.” “Yeah,” she sighs, reaching down and picking up Ada’s carrier while balancing Ada in her arms, “it is. I’ll talk to you later.”

She walks back over to Neal and Henry, plastering a smile on her face and tugging Henry to her side. “Dad says we’re going to get ice cream. Is that true?”

“Yep! We’ve got to show him the magic of Freeze Frame.” “They have sixty flavors,” Henry excitedly begins, walking toward the car, “and you can mix them. Plus they have toppings, but daddy says we can only have three toppings when we go because however much your ice cream weighs is how much it costs.”

“Tell you what, buddy, you can have as many toppings as you want. My treat.”

-/-

“Yeah, and on my fifth birthday, I had a lego cake. It was super cool, and there was a Batman on top.”

“Really? Was he made of legos too?”

“He was made of icing.” Henry takes a large spoonful of his birthday cake ice cream with far more sprinkles than any child should ever have, which is how they got onto the topic of Henry’s birthdays. “It was so cool.”

“I bet,” Neal tells him while he takes a bite of his own ice cream. “I have something else that I bet that you’ll think is cool.”

“Yeah?” Henry’s eyes light up, and she scoops up some of her remaining mango. She always claims they can’t come here much because Henry will lose his mind, but really she’s starting to think that it’s because she’ll eat it all. At least she doesn’t like sprinkles though. They’re pretty but so gross.

“Yeah. It’s super cool. I got a call today asking if I wanted to be on TV, and I told them yes. They’re going to come to our house, and you can be on TV too.”

She chokes on her ice cream, having to force the melted liquid down her throat, which only makes it worse. What the hell? Did he just say that he invited interviewers to the house? And that Henry will be on it too? They already have enough people calling and asking to talk over the phone as well as people waiting outside the house some mornings. This is the absolute last thing they need.

And he didn’t even ask. She thought he’d have the common courtesy to at least talk to she and Killian about this, but Neal has always just done things his own way. He likes to take charge. But he can’t do this. She won’t let him do this. She always let him lead in the past, but if they’re going to do this whole co-parenting thing, he has to learn how to ask. She’s not twenty-one and an unfortunate pushover anymore.

“Really? I’m going to be on TV?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that exciting?”

“Neal,” she says softly, adjusting Ada in her lap so she can’t grab Emma’s cup and dump ice cream everywhere, “we need to talk about this.”

“Oh come on, Ems, it’ll be great. They’re paying me. Said that they wanted to do a profile on how I’m adjusting back into life with my family. I figured you, me, and Henry could do it. I think it’ll be nice.”

God, he looks so excited, but she…she can’t do that. She doesn’t want her life on display, not after how it has been recently. Everywhere she goes she just gets all of these…looks. “If you want to do interviews, you can, but you can’t commit Henry to anything without asking me first. And you can’t commit me to things either.”

“But I want to do it, Mom!” Henry insists, looking over at her with his eyes wide and pleading.

It’s exactly why she and Killian don’t tell Henry anything without talking about things first. And she knows that Neal is learning, that he’s really only been a dad for two weeks, but she kind of feels like this is common sense. Maybe it is or maybe she’s just been a mom for nearly a decade and knows these things.

She’s still pissed though, especially because now she’s either going to have to do the damn interview or tell Henry that he can’t, which she already knows isn’t going to go over well.

Fuck.

“Kid,” she sighs, closing her eyes for a second to give herself some composure, “I’m not saying yes. I have to think about it. We have to talk to Daddy. I know it’s exciting to be on TV, but you have to wait and see.” “But Mom,” he whines, his bottom lip jutting out, “I want to.”

“I know, but this is a grown-up decision. Why don’t you finish your ice cream before it melts?”

“Fine,” Henry grumbles, stuffing his already melting ice cream in his mouth while she stirs hers around, her appetite for the melted mango gone.

She really does not like breaking her kid’s heart, and she knows that this whole adjustment period is going to take some more…adjusting. It’s just going to take time is all. They all simply need time.

Everything will be fine.

#rising from the ashes #captain swan #cs fic #cs ff

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wrldtravler · 6 years

Text

Fictober Prompt #14

I guess, in honor of Arrow returning from it’s hiatus tomorrow, I’ve decided to come out of hiding as well and give you guys a little treat! This fic is for the Fictober prompts, but it is actually set in the same universe as a short, multi-chapter fic I’ve been working on for a while. So, consider it a little teaser ;)

Prompt 14: “Some people call this wisdom.”

“You know, some people call this wisdom – starting your assignments earlier than 7 pm the night before it’s due.” Felicity chided around a mouthful of pizza.

On the curb next to her, Oliver pursed his lips. “We can’t all be you, Miss I-start-my-homework-two-weeks-in-advance.” Came his teasing retort.

Felicity simply glanced sideways at him with an unamused quirk of her brow.

Every Thursday night for the last twelve weeks or so, Oliver religious attended her Comp Sci 101 office hours, needing more than a little help in the beginning on his coding assignments. Nowadays, he needed less and less help, but he still showed up anyways... week after week. This week, though, he showed up with nothing complete, begging for her help to finish the assignment before it’s midnight deadline. Hence, the late-night thank you pizza after barely turning it in on time.

“C’mon Fe-li-ci-ty.” He whined, putting on his best pout. “Other than this week, I’ve been so good about getting the homework done, and this apology pizza is pretty worth it, right?” He grinned hopefully.

“More like a bribery pizza.” She snorted. “There must be something in the rules about this. I swear, if you get me kicked out right before I’m about to graduate, you’re dead Queen.” She threatened, though her words held absolutely no venom to them and her eyes shone with mirth as she reached down to take another slice of pizza from the box positioned between them.

“Mhmm, looks like you’re really complaining about having to eat the best pizza in Boston right now.” He smirked, taking a big, prideful bite out of his own fresh slice. “And, I doubt the rules say TA’s can’t be friends with their students.��

Turning slightly to face him, Felicity leaned back on her left arm and regarded him with a curious smile. “Oh, we’re friends now, are we?”

Finishing off his current slice in two humongous bites, Oliver contemplated the rhetorical question as he licked his fingers clean. “Yeah, I’d like to think so, at least.” He answered eventually, turning to meet her gaze.

Her breath hitched. Gone was the teasing in his demeanor, replaced by something more vulnerable and hopeful in his eyes.

Truth is, somewhere along the way, Felicity had begun to count Oliver as a friend – something she never would have imagined saying about the spoiled, trust fund brat she met at the beginning of the semester. Though, friend wasn’t exactly the right word either. Until recently, they only saw each other during her office hours. During that time, somehow Oliver used his annoying charm to pry information out of her, and eventually they both learned quite a bit about each other. But, a few weeks ago, something shifted between them, after Cooper...

Clearing his throat, Oliver’s eyes dropped to the pizza box as he folded it closed. “Let me take you back. It’s late and I feel bad keeping you awake because of my dumbass.” He offered, standing from the curb, holding the pizza box in one hand and extending the free hand out to her.

With a small ‘humph’ of indignation, Felicity crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t need to be babied, Oliver. I only live two blocks over, I’ll be fine.”

Pursing his lips, Oliver retracted his hand slightly before extending it out at her again, emphasizing his insistence.

Pinching her own lips together, she challenged his look and held her ground.

Tilting his head with a quirk of his brow, Oliver held firm with his hand extended.

Finally, Felicity rolled her eyes. Slipping her hand into his, he hoisted her easily from her perch and slipped his hand out from hers seconds later to shove it into the pocket of his jeans. “Lead the way.”

Taking only a second to throw him a curious look, Felicity mentally shrugged. Gesturing with her head to their left, they started in that direction, spending the first few minutes of the walk in a somewhat awkward silence.

“So, about graduation...” Oliver prompted after a minute. “Any idea what you’re going to do, yet?”

Nibbling on her lower lip, she shrugged. “I have a few ideas, and a few amazing offers, but I don’t know what I really want yet.”

Tipping his head down, Oliver peered at her. “Has QC made an offer?” He tried to ask casually, but the excitement and possibility of seeing her around QC in the future definitely lifted his voice an octave or so.

Felicity couldn’t bite back her own grin. “Maybe.”

“They did, right? Because, if they didn’t, I can call my dad. Or, if they didn’t make a good enough offer, I can put in a good word. Not that you can’t do it on your own, but they would be stupid to not be tripping over themselves to hire you.” He rushed out in a panic, just as Felicity came a halt in front of the door to her apartment building.

Gently, her hand came to rest on his forearm. “Oliver, I was teasing you.” She clarified slowly. “Your dad contacted me personally with an amazing offer. I don’t know how I’m going to say no.”

The hope on Oliver’s face disappeared immediately. “You don’t want to work at QC.”

Panicking, Felicity waved her hands frantically. “No! No! That’s not what I meant. It’s pretty much a dream offer, but there are other amazing ones out there too. So, I have a lot to think about before I make my decision.”

A soft smile curled his lips after her reassurances. “That would be really cool, though. Us meeting because I’m abysmal at computers to eventually working at QC together. You could finally meet Speedy, and I can show you around Starling...” He trailed off, his mind wandering with all the possibilities.

Felicity couldn’t help but smile at the excitement he exuded. “Having a friendly tour guide to show me around would definitely be nice.”

A soft ding came from Oliver’s phone in his pocket, breaking the moment. “Sorry.” He murmured, digging into his pocket to retrieve the phone. Whatever was on the screen pulled a frown to his face. He was about to slide it back into his pocket when he did a double-take. “Shit. It’s almost 2 am. I’m so sorry, Felicity. I didn’t mean to keep you this late.” He apologized profusely, lifting his gaze to meet hers again.

Shrugging, Felicity pulled out her key card and moved to her door. “It’s all right. Plus, that message seemed important, so sounds like you need to go anyways. Thanks for the pizza, the rest is yours.”

Oliver’s jaw flexed a little as he regarded her, struggling to find the right words. “You take it.” He finally said, holding the pizza out to her. “You told me about your cooking skills once, so you need it more than I do.” He teased with a soft laugh at her mildly offended glare as she snatched the pizza from him.

“I won’t forget this insult to my skills, Oliver. Mark my words.” She said as she buzzed herself into the building.

“Hey,” he started softly, urging Felicity to turn back. “Really, thank you for all your help tonight.”

It took a second, but Felicity’s lips eventually curled into a small smile. “It’s technically my job, but your welcome. I was happy to help.” She explained with a shrug. “Good night, Oliver.” She called over her shoulder as she slipped into her building.

“Night, Felicity.” He called after her. “See you next week.”

Tags: @hope-for-olicity @miriam1779 @blondeeoneexox @wherethereissmoak @tdgal1

For now, I’m just tagging my usuals, but let me know if you’re interested in being tagged in the actual fic posts when they come out!

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