#he said nyc is the only city where you look and the skyline keeps going

[silasea]

[waywardodysseys]

Unconditionally - Chapter Two

Warnings: fluff, cussing, slow burn/foreplay, SMUT

Word count: 4.4k

Author’s note: because everyone deserves to be loved unconditionally; part 2 of ?; sorry not sorry for this; enjoy!!!

Unconditionally: Chapter 1

The maître d’ at The River Café in Brooklyn guides you and Pedro to your table, which is nestled in a corner in front of the expansive window with its magnificent view of the NYC skyline and the Brooklyn Bridge. The city at night is before you across the East River. You had never seen the city like this before from this angle. It was a beautiful sight to behold – like the man who was mere inches away from you.

The ambiance of the restaurant is romantic, serene. Piano music plays softly throughout the dining room. You had sneaked some peaks at other people, wondering if they knew who was sitting beside you. If they did, they kept to themselves. Everyone was focused on their food, the view, or the person sitting across from them.

Once you began glancing over the menu, a waiter approaches the table in a formal uniform of a white dress top, black tie and black pants. “Good evening. May I start you two out with something to drink?”

You wanted no alcohol. “Just water please. With lemon.”

“Same,” Pedro states.

After the waiter is gone you glance sideways at Pedro who is sitting next to you, not across. “If you wanted a cocktail it doesn’t bother me.”

“I want to look at you with clear eyes.”

Where is that fucking water?, you think as you smile at Pedro. A wave of heat courses through your body. You are not prepared for this, for him. Oh, god.

“You and Kendrick met with Netflix?”

You clear your throat, “yes.”

Pedro smiles. “How was it?��

“Good.” You say as the waiter sets down the glass of water. You reach for it and take a big gulp. “They want to start shooting in March. Kendrick is setting up meetings with directors, casting agents. We have four episodes already penned. I just need to finish the last two.”

“What’s the show about?”

“Families. Drama. Death. Love. You know, basically everything that defines a dysfunctional family.” You take a sip of water.

“Do you plan on being around for majority of the filming?” Pedro asks.

“Some of it. I’ve been hired to work on the last couple of episodes for Dearly Beloved.”

“You started there, didn’t you?”

“Yes. They reached out to me even before they announced the final season. They feel I can give everyone a good send off.”

The waiter reappears. “Ready to order?”

“Amish Chicken.” You say lightly.

“I’ll have the Niman Ranch Strip Steak,” Pedro says.

The waiter smiles and nods, grabs your menus and walks away.

Pedro reaches into your lap and grabs your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. Your eyes are focused on the sweat from the water glass as he leans over and presses his head against yours.

You want to shriek back; you were never one for PDA. Your free hand fidgets with the silverware on the table because your nerves had been on overdrive. But his touch keeps you calm. Your nerves had stopped dancing once he held your hand in his.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers.

You swallow and breathe. His voice is kind, you hear the light hint of his accent more clearly. He could say your name over and over, and you would never tire of hearing it. You know if you speak your voice will squeak. The heat pulsating through your body makes you feel overly warm in the dress you are wearing. How could this man be so allured by you?

The piano music stops for a moment. The next melody it begins to play is the same one you and Pedro had danced to at the night of the Christmas party.

Once the notes become familiar to you, you glance at Pedro. “Please don’t ask me to dance.”

With his free hand, Pedro grabs your chin, strokes your jawline with his thumb. His touch is sending additional waves of electricity through your veins as your heart bumps rapidly inside of your chest. “Your heart is pounding Y/N.”

“I, uh,” you pause. “No man has ever been so…intrigued by me before. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Never. “No.”

“Have you been hurt in the past?”

“We are all broken Pedro. In one way or another.” You whisper.

“How badly?”

“He believed someone else over me. And we were together for six years. We were engaged too.”

“When did this all happen? The breakup?”

“Last March.” You look down. “Kendrick cancelled everything for a week to be by my side. My roommate was there for me too. Those two are the closest people to me besides my family. I don’t think I would’ve survived, moved on if it weren’t for them.”

“If I am going too fast, please let me know. I don’t want to rush into this unless you know you are ready.” Pedro says as he presses his forehead to yours. “I want you to know if you fall, I will catch you.”

You appreciate Pedro’s honesty. You feel in your gut his words are sincere, you also feel he doesn’t want to hurt you because he’s enamored with you. You know you are ready. It’s been ten months and you were ready to dive back into dating. “I told you I was ready to dive in,” you reach out and cup his cheek.

Pedro grins, “well hopefully not into the East River because it would be freezing!”

You laugh and smile as he places a chaste kiss against your lips. He pulls away from you slowly, but you reach out and pull him back in, not caring what the other patrons of the restaurant are thinking.

Someone clearing their throat breaks you two apart. The waiter smiles down at you two while he places dishes in front of you. “Enjoy.”

You blush as you turn and face the plate of food in front of you. Pedro swipes his thumb over the back of your hand. A gesture, you were beginning to feel, only meant for you.

-------

The waiter clears both of your plates after finishing dinner. The Amish Chicken was the best thing you had ever tasted, except for the man sitting to your left. You wonder how the other parts of his body would taste and at the thought of this, you drink some water.

Your mind thinks back to last March. The moment you had opened the door and seen Will’s face. His look was of pure anger as he stormed in.

“You’re having an affair?!” He had shouted.

“What? No.” You had said with a calm voice. “Will, what are you talking about?”

He had paced before turning to you saying, “Chris came by and told me – him and you have been sleeping together!”

“I am not sleeping with Chris Evans! I don’t like him that way!” You had shouted back as you walked up to Will and took his face into your hands. “I love you!”

“He says you two love each other! It’s been going on for a while.”

Tears had begun flowing from your eyes. “I’ve never slept with him, or anyone else while we have been together.”

“He showed me pictures Y/N!”

“What the fuck are you talking about!?” You had retorted.

“It doesn’t matter! It’s over!” Will had calmed slightly. “It’s over.”

You had tried to stop him but he stormed out of the apartment like he had when he first entered. You had closed the door behind him and sank to the floor. After that night you had stopped working with Evans who eventually admitted to you, months later, “he wasn’t good enough for you. I was, I am.”

“You ruined my life,” you had whispered to Chris. “I despise you Evans.”

After the dreadful night of Will lashing out at you, you stopped working with Evans on his script. Didn’t even accept his calls or answer his texts.

Will had asked for the ring back. Kendrick took it to him and stopped talking to him. The two had worked together on Blue Bloods. Will and Kendrick were more acquaintances than friends.

“He hurt you sweetie.” Kendrick had told you. “He doesn’t matter to me. You do.”

Your mind returns to the present as you watch Pedro sign the check. You wonder what would happen to Kendrick if this relationship doesn’t work. Kendrick’s your best friend, but also a friend of Pedro’s. They had worked on Equalizer 2 together, even Graceland. Kendrick had told you Pedro was in NYC for his birthday party and that’s why he had invited him. Kendrick had told Pedro who was going to be there, your name came up.

“He said he had heard of you.” Kendrick had said.

“So you figured it best to set us up?” You had laughed. Both of you were having dinner in Los Angeles, on the same night you had bought your dress.

Kendrick had shrugged. “He seemed interested. Figured invite him and go from there.” Kendrick had glared at you. “But you walked away from him before you two could have an actual conversation.”

“Uh, you do know me right? Quiet, reserved.” You had retorted. “Besides he’s now a hot commodity because of The Mandalorian.”

“Please tell me that’s not going to stop you!?” Kendrick had hissed.

You had shrugged. “I don’t know. Will was low key, and now Pedro…,” you had paused. “Pedro’s going to be known more and I’m just not into the whole major celebrity thing.”

“You’re beautiful Y/N. You may be bookish, quiet, a fabulous writer who prefers to be behind the scenes, but you are beautiful. Inside and out.” Kendrick had squeezed your hand in a reassuring gesture. “You shouldn’t care what the world thinks as long as Pedro is by your side.” Kendrick had grinned. “And me too, of course.”

You smile, knowing you love Kendrick and cherish him as your best friend.          

“What’s going on in your mind?” Pedro’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Nothing.” You squeak out. Did your voice just really sound like that?

“Tell me.” Pedro says.

You smile at him. “Not telling you.”

Pedro shrugs and stands, “let’s go.” He isn’t too taken back by you not telling him. He’ll eventually get it out of you soon enough.

You nod as you stand then follow him towards the front of the restaurant where he grabs both of your coats. He helps you into yours before putting his own on. The two of you walk out into the gentle winter wind where you walk down the pier and towards the street where Pedro hails a cab.

“Where to?” The driver asks, as you two settle into the backseat.

Pedro and you look at one another. Neither of you had discussed where this night would go, where you two would end up. Pedro was about to open his mouth, but you blurt out your address before he could make a sound.

You smile sheepishly at him as he pulls you against him.

“Do you want me to say goodnight at your door?” Pedro whispers.

Part of you did, part of you didn’t. You had told yourself you weren’t going to put out. But this man beside you, he’s a game changer. Was he worth the risk? You have a sly smile on your face as you let out a breath saying, “walk me to my door and we’ll go from there.”

He cups your cheek as he says, “what were you thinking about?”

“You.” It was sort of the truth.

Pedro raises an eyebrow. “Tell me.”

You swallow. “No. I will never tell you.”

“Tell me on our fifth date.”

“Think we’ll last that long?”

“Even longer.” He smirks. “At least I know it was me.”

You pull him towards you and capture his mouth with his. You feel his arms wrap around you, deepening the kiss, holding onto you. You wanted no one else but him.

-------

Around 20 minutes later the taxi stops outside of your building. Pedro escorts you to your floor, then boxes you, with you facing the door, in between him and the door. You fidget for your key inside the wristlet as Pedro runs a hand up and down your side.

You squirm as you say, “stop.”

“I can’t.” Pedro whispers.

“You’re making this extremely difficult to say goodnight to you once I open the door.”

He brushes aside some of your hair. “You shouldn’t have ran your hand up and down my chest in the taxi.” His voice teasingly adds, “among other things.”

If he would’ve been looking at you, he would’ve seen your cheeks turn bright red. You couldn’t resist it, resist him. You were making out with him in the back of a taxi. You had never down that sort of thing with Will, or any other man before. You had also, absentmindedly, might have undone a button or two on his shirt.

You turn and face him. See the top two buttons undone on his shirt. Yeah, you definitely unbuttoned those. How long has it been?, you think. Pedro presses his lips against yours as you recall it’s been months.

“Y/N,” Pedro growls against your lips. One hand is still on the door, while the other is on your lower back.

This is your apartment, you remind yourself. You make the rules. If he says no then he’s toast.

“Promise me one thing if I let you in and we go through with…”

“Ask away.”

You caress his cheek as you press your forehead to his. “Promise me you’ll be here in the morning.”

He pulls you into his arm and kisses you. “I promise.”

Without waiting you pull away and open the door. You pull him into your apartment by his hand. You close the door behind you and fuse your mouth to his again as you place the wristlet on the entry table. You unbutton your coat as Pedro keeps his lips on yours and his hands travel under your coat. You throw the coat off to the side, not minding where it lands. Your roommate is gone for work down in Jersey, she’ll be there all weekend.

Your hands grab for Pedro’s jacket, helping him shrug it off. He tosses it to the floor as your hands travel up his white button-down top. Your fingers scrambling to unbutton the rest of them.

Pedro unzips your dress and reaches in to touch your skin. It’s feels as delicate as the inside of a flower pedal against his warm hands. He hears a soft, mouth gasping moan you let out at his touch. “Hermosa,” Pedro whispers against your mouth, “beautiful.”

You reach up and trace Pedro’s jawline, feeling some of the light fuzz along his cheeks. You sigh contently as you look at him saying, “I’ve never done sex on the first date thing Pedro. I,” you pause, “you—you are worth the risk I am taking. Hoping you stick around for more than just a one—“

Pedro crushes his mouth to yours. He pulls away slowly as he looks into your Y/E/C eyes, brushes some of your Y/H/C hair out of your face and behind your ear. “I don’t intend making you a one-night stand Y/N. I intend on making you the one I need and want for the rest of my nights, for the rest of my life.”

Pedro’s blunt admission surprises you, overwhelms you. You two know each other but don’t know each other well enough to stake a deep valid claim on one another; yet Pedro had done just that.

“Pedro,” you whisper. You weren’t sure if you were ready to dive as deep as the deepest point in the ocean. Yet here was Pedro revealing his honesty, revealing his intentions, and clearing revealing his heart to you in this vulnerable moment. You had just told him he was worth the risk. You didn’t want to break his heart; you don’t ever want to break his heart. You know, you feel you want no one else, just him. Just Pedro. No one else will ever do after him.

Your reach out and run your fingers through his hair as you kiss his lips. You then kiss along one side of his jawline then down his long neck. You reach down with one hand and run it slowly up his chest as you pull faintly away and look up at his coffee colored eyes. You see the kindness, sincerity in them. You’re at a loss for words. For the first time in your life you are speechless. You’re looking into his eyes with the same kindness and sincerity, with a sprinkle of gentleness.

Pedro knows you want him. He knows he laid out his intentions, almost bared his entire heart to you – something he hasn’t done in years. Not with any woman who has caught his eye and held his attention for the handful of short-term relationships he has had in the past after he had his heart broken by the woman, he thought was the one for him. You look at him as though he is being seen for the first time. You look at him and he feels his heart yearning to heal since his heart was broken all those years ago. Pedro looks into your eyes and knows you are willing to dive deep like he is.

He cups the back of your neck and brings his mouth crashing down onto yours. He feels your hands loop around his neck, feels you returning the kiss just as feverishly as he is. Senses you moving your legs, you walking him back towards your room without you lifting your soft mouth from his.

Once inside your bedroom, you pull away from his mouth and look into his eyes before you travel your gaze down. You place on your hands on his soft stomach, your fingers moving lightly over his skin. You then proceed to move your fingers up his chest slowly. Your hands traveling under the shirt as you move your hands over his broad shoulders. You push the shirt down and off him.

You swallow before he pulls you up against him. He travels his hands slowly up and down your back before grabs the fabric of your dress, slowly pulling it away from your body. His fingers glide over your shoulders, tracing the outline of the V neckline. You moan as his fingers touch the spot between your breasts. Pedro pushes the dress down off your shoulders, revealing your black strapless bra. He pushes it further down and lets it pool at your feet, revealing the black lace panties you’re wearing.

Pedro cups the back of your neck, bringing you to him. He crushes his mouth against yours as you reach down to his pants and begin unbuckling his belt. You remove it quickly, then your fingers are scrambling at unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

You reach in and find his cock hard. Pedro moans loudly at the feeling of your hand around him. He bites your lip teasingly as he walks you back towards the bed. You continue stroking his cock lightly and slowly, your thumb swirling around the tip as he leans down and nuzzles your neck. The sensation of his mustache is sending more pleasure waves throughout your body. You wonder how that mustache would feel on your breasts, your stomach, your inner thighs.

Pedro reaches around and unhooks your bra as your legs touch the bedframe. He slowly bends a knee on the mattress as he envelops you in his arms, both of you fall back on the mattress as Pedro dips his head into the curve of your neck, he groans lightly as you remove your hand from his hard cock. He reaches down with a hand and palms your core. He feels how hot and wet you are.

“Pedro,” you whisper as you feel his hand against your pussy. Then you feel his hand snake under the panties. His fingers opening your folds, and he begins rubbing your clit with his thumb. You moan loudly at his thumb on your clit. Fuck, is all you can think.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers as he begins kissing down your chest, down the valley between your breasts. He kisses you down your stomach, he stops once he reaches your underwear.

The prickliness of his mustache is sending your body into overdrive. The sensation of his mustache and light fuzz scrapping across your skin excites you. You arch your back as you feel him kiss your stomach, his mustache tickling you as he travels his mouth further south. You feel him hook his fingers under your panties, you feel him move them down over your hips and your legs, and finally off your body.

Pedro kisses his way back up your stomach, over your breasts. He licks a spot at the curve at your neck. A spot where you make a soft, gasping moan, a sound he only wants you to make for him. He is enjoying all of you, drinking you all in. He’s ready, and he knows you’re ready too. He kisses your swollen mouth. “Please tell me you have a condom.”

You blush in the darkness and smile, “yes. In my wristlet…but that’s back—”

He kisses you soundly, “don’t. Move.”

Pedro runs quickly from the room and is back seconds later. He’s unwrapping the condom and placing it over his cock. Before he kneels on the mattress, he takes in your naked body. It’s all his. Mine, he possessively growls in his head. He had never felt an instant connection with no one until he laid his eyes on you and shook your hand. He thought you weren’t interested when you had politely excused yourself only minutes into the short conversation you two had been having, but days later Kendrick had told him you were a reserved person, someone who enjoyed their solitude more than anything, and he wanted to know you even more. He had to see you again. And he was forever thankful to Kendrick when the Christmas party had arisen. Pedro had waited to hear your name from Kendrick, but he avoided your name all together until Pedro finally mustered the damn courage and pointblank asked him if you were going to be there. When Kendrick said you were, Pedro had begun counting the days until he laid his eyes on you. And now here you were, naked and ready for him. How quick, and slow, a month could be, he thinks.

Pedro kneels on the bed between your legs. He sees you watching him with your Y/E/C eyes. He keeps his eyes locked on you as you sit up and pull his mouth down and fuses your mouth his. He wanted to taste you elsewhere, but he didn’t want to go too far this go around.

You kiss Pedro and pull him down on top of you. “I’m ready,” you whisper as you place your hand on his cheek.

He nods as he widens your legs, strokes his cock along your folds and enters your wet pussy slowly.

“Pe—Pedro,” you moan as your pussy opens for his cock and conforms to his girth and length. Your hands travel up his stomach and chest, resting atop his broad shoulders as he begins slowly thrusting in and out of you. You know he wants to make sure you can handle his entire length. Your fingers reach up into his hair as you arch your back when Pedro’s hard cock is completely inside after slowly entering you inch by inch with his slow thrusts.

Pedro nuzzles your neck; his teeth nips at your skin. You are so tight around him, so wet, so hot around his cock. He doesn’t want to move as he feels your pussy clench around his cock. He growls lowly as he feels your hands travel down his back and lightly touch the ridge of his ass. “Y/N,” Pedro grounds out at your featherlight touch.

You nip back at his neck as your fingers travel back up his back and thread through his hair. You roll hips up and back down. Pedro begins thrusting as you begin rolling your hips.

“Fuck,” Pedro growls. You rolling your hips and him thrusting into you is causing his orgasm to build up inside of him quickly. He doesn’t want to cum too quickly but knows he can’t hold on too much longer.

Your orgasm is cresting inside of you as you and Pedro begin finding the same rhythm, begin moving as one. “Pedro,” you breathlessly whisper. You make your soft gasping moan sound as your climax begins to rollover your body. “Pedro,” you moan lowly as your fingers move from his hair to his back. They dig into his flesh as you feel Pedro thrust into you a few more times.

“Y/N,” Pedro moans as he thrusts into you. The feeling of you orgasming with his cock inside of you drives him off the cliff and he cums. Pedro looks down at you and sees your Y/E/C eyes looking up at him. He sees you smile widely at him as you reach up and touch his cheek. He takes your hand and kisses the inside of your wrist. He kisses down the delicate skin a couple more inches then returns his lips to the inside of your wrist. You sigh as he leans down and captures your mouth with his.

You loop your arms around his neck as you pull him down on top of you completely. You don’t mind the weight of his body on yours, don’t mind feeling his hot skin against yours.

Pedro returns you greedy kiss and rolls you both onto your sides. His cock slips out of you slowly. He keeps his mouth glued to yours for a few more minutes before pulling away and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be right back.”

“Not going anywhere,” you whisper as he leaves your bed.

You’re snuggled into the sheets when he returns a couple of minutes later. You feel him wrap your arms around you, you feel he has placed his underwear back on as well. You burrow into his warmth as he kisses you atop your head. You fall asleep satisfied and sedated.

When you wake up in the morning, Pedro is still there with his arms wrapped around you. Your heart soars as you smile. He kept his promise.

Chapter Three

[maviemesregles]

Twas two days before Christmas

This one-shot fic was written for @thelallybrochlibrary​ Holiday exchange.

A prompt from @maryooch​ :  "How about Jamie meets Claire while she’s trying to skate (badly) at Rockefeller center during the Christmas season. Both are unattached and in the city for different reasons."

Special thanks to Anne  @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur​  for always getting my messy ideas and improving them. For once again for making sure it's nice and readable for you guys.

Hope you enjoy and feel a wee bit festive! ❄️

AO3

New York, New York Frank Sinatra sang. The Big Apple stretched out all the way to the horizon in a milky white blanket of snow. The skyline pierced with gleaming structures of steel, glass, and concrete.

Claire stared out of the window where snow became even thicker than an hour ago and turned the buildings into giant ice cream cones.

“Honey, are you there?”

“Yes, Mum.” Beauchamp pressed her ear to her iPhone and climbed onto the high hotel bed. “I’m listening.”

“Baby, what did they tell you about the flight? Father has been calling British Airways at least a hundred times today. You know what he’s like.” Julia Beauchamp rattled around in the kitchen cupboards.

Claire dropped her head into the mass of pillows crispy scented of fresh laundry.

Of course, something like this could have happened only to her. After the three-day medical conference in New York, with bags full of gifts, sweets, booze for Dad, and cosmetics for Mum, Claire was ready to go back home for the holidays.

But this year the family tradition wasn’t going to happen because Claire got stuck in this city for God knows how long. The heavy blizzard came upon New York, forcing all the transatlantic flights to be cancelled. Red-faced, hands full of bags, and sweaty in her jumper, the English surgeon hissed “Fucking morons” when she was told she’s not flying today. And most likely not for the next three days. Her cell-phone kindly reminded her today is the 22nd day of December. Only two days left before Christmas. If not for being scared to be without a means of contact, Claire surely would have smashed the device on the white airport tiles.

“They put me into the hotel. It’s all paid.” She glanced at her suitcase, surrounded by shopping bags. “All flights to London cancelled.”

Reaching into one of the bags, Claire grabbed a chocolate bar, not caring about a proper lunch at the moment.

“What about Bristol? Manchester? Anything at all?” Her mother sighed, looking at the shopping list for Christmas dinner. “Dad could pick you up. Lamb just got the car back, all fixed.”

Chewing on the mint chocolate, Claire flicked through the menu on the side table.

“Nothing. I even checked flights to Edinburgh and Dublin. It looks like I’m stuck here.”

There was silence for a while. Claire could hear their dog Pop, an old pug, snoring in the background. All she wants to do is cry. Is it so much to ask? To be home for Christmas time?

“Oh, darling.” Her mother’s voice is soft and reassuring. She knows. “It’ll be fine. I’m certain that you will get home right in time for Christmas.”

After a brief goodbye, Claire checks the flight schedules again. Her frustration mounts and she begins to pace a circular path for at least ten minutes. Her nerves begin to fail her and she decides a cup of chamomile tea would be just the thing.

“Or better yet, a bottle of red," she speaks out loud filling the void for the room. She may as well take advantage of all this suite has to offer.

Her body relaxes into the lavender-scented bath foam, warming her chilly flesh as the fruity Sauvignon Blanc infuses her mouth. Later spurred by the TV forecast (damn the winter) Claire gets into leggings and oversized, knitted horridness of a sweater (decorated with mistletoes and festive ornaments all over it).  She shortly video chats with Geillis who is hugely disappointed Claire won’t get to the annual work party at the hospital.

“I do hope ye willna waste yer time in New York, a thasgaidh,*” hummed her ginger colleague. “Go to Time Square, Central Park or… Oh, weeeel, ye can go skating! Mebbe ye’ll find some attractive American who’d lay an eye on ye.” Geillis smirked.

Checking the explosion of hair on her head in the mirror, Claire sighed.

“If that attractive American is a pilot that takes me home, I would not mind, just tell me where to find him.” She tried to secure the naughty curls into something that could resemble a bun but eventually giving up.  “I feel like bloody Kevin McCallister,” Claire said as she slid into her boots.

“Weel, just dinna get in trouble with burglars.” Edgars barked a laugh and wished Beauchamp to have fun.

                                                   🎄  🎄  🎄    

Claire surely could say that Christmas time in New York must be wonderful. Even though her mood sunk to the lowest level, she became determined to raise her spirits. God, all those books about positivity and visualization her Mum reads out loud to her should have a hint of truth to them. Right?

The streets were decked with glimmering lights and dazzling displays. The chill in the air burned her cheeks and Claire was swept up into the herd of people like a fluffy sheep in her soft white woolly coat.

Roads were covered in a sparkling powder that made a nostalgic crunchy sound under feet. People were dressed in layers of scarves, cardigans, and warm winter coats. Some held onto hot beverages to warm their hands as well as their bodies. Some brave tourists were sporting red noses just like the one of Rudolph the reindeer Claire had seen in a Macy’s display. Everything was bright and festive. All the Christmas lights twinkled and the colourful signboards reflected off the snow. Christmassy music played from the shops displaying their wares touting them as the perfect gifts. The sounds of Christmas could be heard coming from phones and the passing cars. It was everywhere. Claire softly hummed a tune as her feet followed the crowd leading her to Rockefeller Center. When Claire lifted her head, her heart grew tender with childhood memories. She stood right in front of the huge Christmas tree, adorned with all its lights, the star on top causing Claire to get teary-eyed. She literally felt like a movie character standing here now. Glancing at rosy-cheeked, laughing people on the ice rink, she joined the queue.

“To hell with it.” She could make her own Christmas memories here, alone in NYC.

Claire had to admit she underestimated herself, thinking that skating is like riding a bike. But, she found that it most assuredly wasn't. She tried to keep her legs as steady as possible, trying to get used to gliding on the ice. Holding onto the rail, she wobbled around before she braced herself to finally go into the middle, and actually skate.

She surely thought that she looked like a penguin trying to find its friends, as she awkwardly moved around in the crowd. Occasionally, she squealed and even closed her eyes when particularly fast skaters passed her by. The moment Beauchamp thought she had got it, she pushed harder and began to glide on her skates. Before she knew it, she crashed into someone else. Clenching her fists and closing her eyes before her body hit the ice.

“Jesus. H. Roosevelt Christ!”

Falling down on her bottom, surgeon hissed at the burning feeling of her palms meeting the ice.

“Here, let me help ye.”

After no needed pause, Claire opened her eyes, glancing at the owner of the soft burr. The stranger whose hand was stretched out to help, smiled, a pair of blue eyes studying her intently.

“Thanks.” Giving a faint nod, Claire accepted the man’s hand. A swift pull and she was back on her feet, trapped between the arms of this bloody good looking man.

He was handsome from the depth of his cobalt blue eyes to the gentle tilt in his voice. A face with striking features Claire was sure she likely won’t forget. The strong jaw with a shadow of stubble and lips that took the soft shape of a smile. A scent of expensive cologne swirled around him. And the hair of the brightest red she’d ever seen.

“Yer didna hurt yerself, lass?” The man steadied her with both of his hands firmly on her waist.

Claire’s cheeks turned into a lovely shade of pink and she could feel the heat of his touch growing on her skin. Beauchamp dropped her gaze down her feet, mumbling.

“I’m fine. Though it takes some time for the pain to settle in and I can only hope I will be able to walk tomorrow.” She waved her hand in no particular direction but rather in frustration.

The stranger smiled as they awkwardly skated to the rail. Claire glanced at him through her lashes smiling back.

“So yer a Sassenach then.”

“Excuse me?” Claire furrowed her eyebrows, unable to stop looking at him. Damn him, he was attractive.

Her saviour let out a soft laugh.

“Yer English, no?” Besides his remark about her Englishness (Claire figured he was a Scot in mere seconds), his tone was kind. “It means an English person or an outlander.”

“How lovely.” Claire snorted examining her palms.

“I didna mean to offend ye.” He leaned to touch her shoulder gently. It took Claire longer then it should to speak up, the words burning against her dry throat.

“You didn’t.” The surgeon gave him a lopsided smile, stretching out her hand. “I’m Claire. Thanks for saving my arse.”

The Scot barked a laugh and took her hand in his. Claire wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not, but the way his skin felt upon hers gave her the rush of goosebumps all over it. Did he feel it too?

“I’m Jamie. And I’m more than glad to save such a lovely arse.”

What an eejit, he thought to himself. Who says that to a lass ten minutes after meeting her?

He already opened his mouth to give her a stream of apologies but she bit her lip and the bell of laughter warmed his heart. A Dhia, she was lovely.

Jamie had noticed her almost immediately when she entered the rink. That mass of curls that made her look like a fairy that stepped out the Scottish legends. He had to smile at the lass when she tried to skate (and very badly to his own good luck). Jamie watched her for a while when he could catch a glimpse of her absolutely horrid Christmas jumper and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Her arse did not escape his attention either, perfectly round in those leggings.

As they made their way toward the lockers to gather their belongings, he learned she was from London. A surgeon visiting here for a medical conference. And no, she has never been to Edinburgh.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the window, Claire mentally admitted there were times when she had looked better when a man approached her. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her back as she did her shoelaces, slowly she brought her head up, eyes locking with his.

The blue oceans met the whisky rivers. Claire wanted to say that she should go, it’s getting dark, and this day had got the better out of her. But instead, she took a step as if an invisible magnet was pulling her towards him. There was a silence that drowned them both into the abyss of unknown but much-needed connection.

“Jamie, I -” Her tongue, feeling like sandpaper, moved ever so slowly.

She felt hypnotized, barely registering that she started to walk the opposite way to the exit. But the next second, she found herself staring at their linked hands and his eyes travelling to her face.

“Wait, Claire.” Jamie wet his lips, the corners curl into an almost apologetic-like smile. “I ken it might be daft as we just met, but would ye do me the honor of joining me for dinner?"

She glanced at him, with eyes warm like a fine aged scotch.

“I would not mind a company.”

“I ken a perfect spot.” His hand on the small of her back, leading out of the crowd.

                                                   🎄  🎄  🎄

Claire was sure the air crackled with electricity or chemistry (or whatever they call it) as she and Jamie walked through the snowy streets of New York. The roads have been only partially plowed and cleaned. Beauchamp found her legs drowned up to the ankles in the fluffy mass. Jamie carried her over the asphalt where the snow began to turn into mushy puddles from the trampling of an endless stream of pedestrian traffic. Claire giggled as he carried her across each puddle, and felt the tips of her ears turn scarlet red.

The distance between them grew closer and closer until eventually, their shoulders were brushing against each other. She had learned that Jamie was born in the area of Inverness. He had a huge family, a sister and a brother which included many nieces and nephews as well. Claire smiled when she noticed his proud tone when he spoke about his father and the particular tenderness when he mentioned his older sister Jenny. Jamie had worked for the last three years in the US and at 34 years old he was a successful entrepreneur.

Claire mentioned the nomadic lifestyle she lived when she was a child. Her parents worked a lot and she had spent two years travelling with her uncle Lamb. She had a best friend, a Scottish lass named Geillis. Beauchamp liked to read and spend time in the garden with her mum. She sadly recounted that she had made the mistake of getting married only to find herself divorced after four months of the young marriage. Her ex-husband’s name was Frank. The memories made her uncomfortable and she did not want to remember more. Jamie did not ask further, only stating he never married.

“And yer telling me ye have no boyfriend?” Fraser’s hand curled over her delicate shoulder, encouraging Claire (to her own delight) to nestle closer against him. It was such a casual move that she had thought she knew Jamie for ages already. The warmth that was radiating from him rooted deep in her belly and was rising up and up, making her ache at the very core of her being.

“Seeing no one.” Claire shook her head, peeking at him through her lashes. “And how is that my fellow Brit is not with a lassie? ”

Jamie made a sound deep from his chest, something typically Scottish she’d gathered.

“I am with a lassie, and a verra bonnie one, I must say, am I not?” He smirked, though his voice was painted with seriousness.

“Flatterer.” Claire dropped her head, pretending her boots were much more interesting than anything else she’d seen. In truth, it was to hide a smile.

Later their hands merged together, fingers entwining. The strangeness and absolute familiarity of their palms fitting together was something neither of them could explain. Everything seemed to be suspended around them causing the time to become disjointed. Finally, they arrived at their destination.

“Highlands NYC?” Claire read out loud the name of the place Jamie had brought her. “Really? Out of all places in New York, you brought me to Highlander bar?”

The tips of Jamie's ears burned, the red matching his hair. Letting a shaky breath, his lips leaned over to her ear.

“Sassenach, ye should experience Scotland to its fullest.”

That moment Beauchamp went weak in her knees. The raspiness in his voice and… God damn, all of him almost forced her to drag Jamie to the nearest toilet and indeed enjoy one of Scotland's sons to his fullest. She did not.

They sat at the bar since all the tables were booked. The barstools migrated as close as possible for Jamie’s fingers to run freely at the expense on her back, sending goosebumps all over the skin. Her knees accidentally touched his. She laughed, loud and infectious at his stories. Throwing her head all the way back, exposing the pale skin on her neck, placing the blue of her veins in full view. The sight made his cock twitch. She laughed heartily, smacking her palm on his thigh when she found his joke particularly funny. Jamie's breath hitched becoming shallow and broken. She licked her lips. Claire slid her hand over the cold glass containing her cocktail. Her movements were deliberate, slow, down and up over the patterned glass mimicking... What did Geillis say about the unconscious signs?

Fraser shifted in his seat, more than ready to suggest they go somewhere where they find their way to each other. The hot air inside the pub and between them made both ache for each other.

But the food arrived distracting them from their lustful thought. They dined on Haggis dressed in whisky butter, and warm quinoa with crispy spiced chickpeas. They laughed and joked, speaking of this and that learning about each other. As the evening wore on, Claire found her heart beating its way out of her ribcage. She leaned in planting a soft kiss on Jamie's cheek fearful of having to whisper words of parting lying on the tip of her tongue. But she found she was not yet ready to say goodbye yet.

“Would ye like me to walk ye to yer hotel?” His voice was hoarse, scented with the whisky he had drunk. Claire leaned into him whispering:

“Yes.”

They hadn’t said goodbye in front of the hotel. Not in the foyer, either. Certainly not in the lift. As they stood in front of each other surrounded by glass cubicle she moved first.

Before he knew it Jamie’s mouth was claimed by hers. Chest heaving and gasping for air, both parted and stared at each other until the lift announced their destination with a soft Ding.

Claire’s hands shook, the room card almost slipping out of her sweaty palms. The second her feet entered the room, Jamie had pulled her closer by the waist. The lengths of the bodies pressing, Claire’s cheeks flaming hot. He breathed heavily as he left a trail of burning kisses down the column of her neck.

“Christ, I want ye.”

Cupping her arse Jamie’s lips traveled up, taking her bottom lip between his. She smiled against his mouth, hands pulling at his nape, closer and closer, until the kiss could actually hurt. She could feel the length of him, hard and ready through his jeans and it made her almost blind with animal-like want.

“Take this off,” Claire whispered pulling at the hem of his shirt. Aching for him became powerful to the point where she could not bother unbuttoning his shirt, Claire just yanked the soft material over his head.

She could swear she heard him growl when her sweater followed the same destination as Jamie’s shirt and landed into the fabric puddle on the floor. No bra in the way, Jamie did not hesitate to kiss his way down Claire’s cleavage, stopping for the thorough exploration of each breast. Her mouth dropped open in a silent plea when his lips captured the nipple. Almost burning with the heat that grew between her thighs and made her belly ache, Claire reached down, to unbuckle his jeans. Tongues danced, lips bitten surely to swell come the morning, teeth raking over the soft skin of the neck. Pulling the leggings with underwear to her ankles Jamie definitely left blueish trails where his fingers pressed. But it was a delicious feeling that bordered with painful pleasure. They stumbled upon the bed, falling into it, a suppressed laugh emerging between their mouths. Gently but firmly Jamie had pushed Claire flat on her back, letting his hand trace the invisible paths all the way from the high hills of her neck, down to the valley between her breasts, the plain expanses of her belly, all the way down to the hidden secrets between her thighs.

She moaned into his lips when his fingers had found her apex between her thighs. His bold caresses drew sighs, moans, and keening that he longed to hear. With the right pace and rhythm he drew those sounds out of her. Claire’s curls flew all over the white pillow. Air! She needed air and began to take deep lungfuls. Writhing as the sweet torture continued, Claire took large fistfuls of linens as an anchor. Arching into his hand, she had lost all the train of coherent thoughts.

“Jamie…” Gasping for air burning hot in her throat, she finally broke into the million atoms finding herself thousands of light-years later, breathing heavily, the sweat trickling down her nape.

“Ye’re so beautiful when ye become undone.” Jamie murmured, lips pressing a soft kiss at her brow.

Still shaking Claire reached between them finding a condom and gladly placed it on him. She’d found herself again in Jamie’s embrace. Still, she kissed him hungrily with the remnants of her own satisfaction yet to fade, asking for more. Jamie did not need much encouragement and with the slightest nod of her head, guided himself into her. The sudden, hot sensation of him made Claire throw her head back. Seized lungs could not produce any coherent sound. As Jamie’s hips moved fast into her, reaching that right spot, again and again, she could only cling to him for dear life. When Jamie’s own breathing became slow and shuddering, it wasn't clear where he began and she ended. The world expanded beyond itself. It grew into a million colourful stars shining brightly around them.

Well into the night, as Claire slept, he drew tender paths with his fingers mapping the lines and valleys of her body.

Later she awoke from her sweet slumber by the quiet rustle next to her. Jamie sat upright, hands roaming on the floor in the search of his underwear and jeans. For some reason, it bitterly stung. Claire slowly brought her hand up, gently touching his back.

“Please stay.”

                                                 🎄  🎄  🎄

Claire was sure it’s all had been a dream. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and in ten minutes her mother will call her downstairs to help start making dinner preparations. The brussels sprouts and mashed potatoes are not going to cook themselves. Her still sleepy mind started registering unusual noisy traffic outside, quite the opposite of the calm London neighbourhood where her parents lived. She turned to her side, eyes still tightly shut. Claire wasn’t sure now if she wanted to open her eyes and find herself home (where she so desperately wanted to be just twenty-four hours ago) or to wake up to the reality of finding one particular Scot next to her?

The mattress felt unfamiliar and too comfy. Her old bed in Beauchamps house surely did not feel that way. Moreover, the heat radiating from her left side was more likely from a person than the furnace. Claire’s eyes snapped open and she had to blink several times to get used to the bright sun, bouncing off the snowy scenery outside.

“Weel, hello to ye, sleeping beauty. I was afraid ye’d been cursed and would never wake.” Jamie rolled onto his belly, propping himself on the elbow. “Though it’s rather a nice sight to observe”

He ran his fingers down the line of Claire’s jaw before leaning in to kiss her.

“So you’re not a dream.” She smiled and pulled the blanket up higher than her waist, suddenly feeling shy. “What’s this?”

Her brows furrowed in confusion as Jamie fished his phone out, nodding to the screen.

“I don’t understand.”

“Ye’re going home, Sassenach.” He chuckled, feeling quite proud that he’d managed to find them both tickets to Edinburgh this evening. Jamie rather never did say out loud the price he paid but the look on Claire’s face was worth much more than that.

“Bloody hell!” She squealed, not believing her eyes. “How can I ever repay you?”

Jamie smiled when her hands wrapped around his neck.

"Love me some more, Sassenach.”

[en-la-casademiamor]

In a neighborhood, as in life, a clean bandage is much, much better than a raw or festering wound--Mayor Ed Koch

I’m going to begin many of the following sentences with the word, and—because whatever I say, it’s been said before. Countless times. In different places and in a variety of languages and tones. And I wonder if we gain anything anymore with words, no matter how it’s written or who it’s spoken by, but I’m willing to try. 

Here I go—And I remember it was maybe 1983, and my dad’s office window faced the Empire State Building. And I can’t say I was surprised by this when I first went to the skyrise he worked in. Maybe in some unidentifiable way, I felt my dad was successful and that this office, with its large window that faced a NYC landmark was befitting of how I viewed him.

In any event, my dad had a green thumb. He could make any plant not just grow, but take over. And so he had this type of plant that I always heard Cuban’s call, la malangita. And the full breadth of this plant circulated the entirety of his office. He was quite proud of this plant too, as if it were a child to him. I have inherited tons of its photos. My dad made sure to leave them with me when I last saw him in 2013.  

My dad’s office window had no curtains. I’m not sure there were even blinds and it was a very large window. I remember the vines from this plant criss crossed right in front of the extra large pane. NYC on cloudy days, its skyline can appear quite steely looking.  Its buildings can look exaggerated and sharp in its dimensions; and on this particular day ( I visited), I guess it was overcast because the green from this malangita just popped like in the way color pops when a comic book artist applies it to a strip that was primarily drawn in black and white. The plant’s green bled through, while behind the grey; the immensity of The Empire State Building stood stern. 

People were very friendly at my da’s office and I remember how they loved him. I was made to feel welcomed by them too. Everyone looked elegant but walked casually.  I remember that warmth, the soft jazz on low.  Every aspect of this place was in sharp contrast to where my mother worked before she finally left the textile industry in the mid to late 80′s.

But before she left, she had worked for a long time in a factory that made tablecloths for places like Macy’s and Bamberger’s or Gimbels.  The building my mom worked now houses the wealthy, which is always interesting to me; how gentrification has worked over the years.  

I remember what it was like inside the building and in the shipyard.  With distinction.  The workers there were primarily from Latin America, so when I’d go, I could hear many of them hollering in spanish, Evita! Mira quien esta aquí/Look who’s here! 

The building in where my mom worked was big for Hoboken. It towered over the nearby brownstones and bars that littered Washington St. The only elevator in this particular building was a freight elevator that carried up tons of spooled fabric that would come right off the docks. I haven’t seen ships docked in Hoboken in a long long time, and I guess I never will again.

When there was a fire, and there always were, employees from this factory would have to use the cement laden stairs. And if you fell down these stairs while exiting—And people did, you didn’t fair very well—And I’m not sure who paid for the medical bills accrued, but I recall that plenty of people were afraid to sue.  They just did their best to mend in order to go back to work quickly.

And I remember too, when come January, expected layoffs would roll in—And the women, would call each other; and cry, despair, and fret. When my mother was laid off one year, she got called back about less than a month’s time later.  This seemed to be the rote factory people were used to. I enjoyed her being home.  I think she enjoyed it too. 

By the time Reagan became president, factories took a massive direct hit. Most companies were finishing up the aspirations they started up with Nixon, and many of the factories that lined up against the Hudson River went belly up—It may have been in 1986 when her beloved employer never called her back.  In the long end (it’s good to note), these closures would affect my dad’s job too; as he was an managing accountant for very large department stores, famous ones, that would die hard in those years.

My mom wound up getting some other, lesser type job down in Hoboken or maybe it was Jersey City, after that. She didn’t make tablecloths anymore.  She had to pry apart lace from its overall sheet.  I’ve worked at this before.  It’s very hard on the eyes.

I remember going to that place in particular, too. It was a bigger death trap than the factory on the docks. I had been very ill on the day she took me and she had needed to take off, which managers from factories absolutely hate.  She had decided to show up to speak with the managers on the day she took me because I think they had threatened to fire her. And I guess she brought me along as proof; that I was not well. Imagine having to drag a sick child into a filthy factory to demonstrate need of absence?  Well, she did this because she needed to level some sort of independence against my father.  Times were that critical in my family.

She left me outside the office door when she went into speak with management. People around me generally ignored me while I was there.  It was as if I didn’t even exist. They weren’t friendly, I thought, like at the other factory where my mom worked at for many years.  They looked hollow too. Indifferent.  In any event, I guess I got bored of waiting. Or of being ignored? —And so I quietly opened the door to find my mom getting on her knees, pleading in order to keep her employment.

I was struck by the scene. I wanted to rush in there and pull her up.  The memory is as indelible as any profound experience anyone can have. The look of the young managers impressed upon me too; and how old everyone else looked in comparison to them.  My guess is that the factory was something that was passed down to them by their families.  

My mom got to keep her job that day, but I expressed my complete discomfort in her keeping it.  Imagine a child having a say.  She said to me, what can I do?  You know I need this job.  Within a few months time, my mom wound up passing the US Post Office test—And this would be her employer until she retired.  Thank God.

I write all this to say, I deeply value everything my eyes have ever witnessed. Not just what I’ve lived, but what others have too; that these differences in class that existed right in my home have served me well.  Very well--In my line of work and how it’s enabled me to connect deeply with people who want to connect deeply, at every stage of my life.  

At an early age, I was asked by something outside of me to see past illusions, past the clothes people wear, past the accents that overtake the english language.  I saw what my father could afford and how my mother had to scrimp. I lived too, the real time punishments of racism; how my father was belittled when he went into stores.  His fancy gear, great education and position did not afford him anything in those moments. 

I’ve been put into circumstances that have challenged me to consider one way of life over another. I may not get it right all the time.  There’s just no way anyone can get it right all the time, but I venture to stay in the breast of humility; and I don’t need to be right.  I just need to do right.

Those years in where industry was collapsing all around us; in where nothing was secure anymore; those years made me aware of the human need for dignity above anything else.  Nothing matters if a person is not treated with dignity.  Nothing matters if a person’s basic needs are not respected.  And what are our basic needs?  It can mean many things, but they all have to ring true in its highest form.  I’m not sure why I needed to write of this today, but it’s gloomy out, and the lessons of my childhood are speaking to me.

[themarissaharrison]

I Just Want Her | Discord

                                   DISCORD THREAD #002

Who?: Marissa Harrison, Nicola Slone @nicolaeisms​ When?: Marissa goes back to Cleo’s where she is staying with Cleo and Nicola after partying with Aaron in Manhatten. Where?: Cleo’s Penthouse Balcony

Mentions: @cmlopezofficial | Lauren (NPC) | Delilah (NPC) Triggers: death mentions, halluncination mentions, alcoholism, smoking

MAJOR PLOT DEVELOPMENT?: No, just MAJOR FEELS.

MARISSA

Marissa had no idea what the time was. The last time she’d checked it was midnight, and that seemed like ages ago. As she got out of the car, she didn’t even remember giving Cleo’s address to the driver so she was a bit surprised. Still, this was where she was supposed to come, wasn’t it? She took in a deep breath as she waited for the private pent elevator to come down. Her phone was dead, so she just kind of stared around and tried to sober herself up as she waited. The doors pinged open and Riss stepped inside, pressing the Pent button and then slipping her heels off so she could potentially slip in unnoticed. Maybe she could play off a late night in the office... The doors opened and Marissa used the key code to get in, trying hard not to knock into anything as she made her way through the darkness. Riss actually thought she could get away with it, then she felt the breeze of fresh air from the balcony and the smell of cigarette smoke. Fuck.

NICOLA

it's one of those nights again, nicola couldn’t shut her eyes to sleep as usual. she didn’t want to wake cleo or cordelia up if she forces herself to sleep. they’re surely witnessed a handful of times of her waking up in the dead of night screaming in pain, drenched in sweat. she wanted to at least spare both of them from that for at least one night.  she’s been standing by the balcony of cleo’s penthouse for at least an hour now, and she’s lost track of how many cigarettes she’s already had. marissa still hasn’t gone back, and she actually has slipped away from her bodyguard. honestly. she was just so exhausted; she doesn’t think she has the energy to confront her and asked where she’s been. she heard her door unlock, signaling that the brunette’s here, but she didn’t bother to move, to look back if it was really her. the older businesswoman lights up another cigarette and puts her attention at the city lights that can be seen from where she is. nicola’s just waiting for her to say something, to tell her a perfect excuse, a reason she slipped off her security detail. though is that enough to calm her nerves down?

MARISSA

Marissa thought for amount about ignoring it, about pretending like she didn't even see the back of the woman's head. But, even in this state she knew how much of a bad idea that was. She placed her heels down on the floor and let out a heavy sigh before rolling her eyes and then walking through the room and out onto the balcony. Honestly, she had no idea what the hell to say. With her eyes on the blonde now, there weren't really any excuses for why she was coming in so late, why she wasn't accompanied by Nic's security detail... She fucked up, and she was fucked up. They weren't two things that ever mixed well together. "Would you believe me if I said it was a late night at the office?" She said quietly as she came up beside Nicola, eyes following the others' gaze out over the city lights.

NICOLA

nicola takes a long drag of her cigarette, still not moving a muscle when she sensed the other walking up to her, finally breaking the silence between the two of them. she momentarily turns back to get the glass that was on the balcony table for a while now, drink’s almost forgotten. she needed anything to calm down her nerves, just anything. she doesn’t want to get mad, she isn’t even mad about this, yet she was feeling this tinge of disappointment, the letdown, it felt like a promise is broken, even though she didn’t hear it leave marissa’s lips, from what she could remember. “i’m going to try.” she says, convincing not just the brunette but also herself. “even though we both know that’s not the truth.”

MARISSA

Riss took a long breath in, shoulders dropping a little. She'd expected harsh words, shouting even, but this... Silent, quiet, disappointment... It was ten times worse than any shouting match ever could be. If she hadn't felt guilty before, she sure did now. Her eyes broke from the skyline to watch as Nic took a sip of her drink, then she looked back into the penthouse before looking back to the city. "I just..." She sniffed, brushing her finger under her nose which was really starting to burn now. "Needed to forget... Just for a little while," Riss sighed gently before glancing at Nic. "Aaron really needed a friend too, and... Nic, there's nowhere safer for me and him than Manhatten... Babe.." She steps in a little closer to the blonde.

NICOLA

does nicola want to talk about this? she’s too tired to know. not even the things she depends on to relax her nerves isn’t even working right now. she just stood there, with her back still facing marissa while she continues exploring the city with her eyes. she takes another long hit of her cigarette while the gallery owner spoke, letting the smoke stay in her system for a moment before exhaling. “it’s alright.” is she just convincing her, or she was convincing herself too? maybe she was being uptight with her and cleo, but knowing that man she encountered back in chicago is alive….ever since that night….she hasn’t had a proper sleep, she hasn’t stopped watching her own back, even when she thought he was dead. “i understand,” she refills her glass with white rum and downs it quickly, hoping the pain in her chest would just go away. “go get some rest,” she mutters, still not bothering to look at the other.

MARISSA

The coldness coming from the other woman cuts into her skin far more the sharp breeze of NYC at night. She says it’s alright, that she understands, but there’s no meaning behind those words. There’s nothing there... Marissa hasn’t seen this side of Nicola before. She hasn’t seen this closed, calculated woman. It... almost scares her. Riss almost wants her to shout, at least then she’d be able to feel something. At least then she’d be able to get a read in what was really happening beneath that stare... “Do you?” She said, feeling this overwhelming need to stay. At this point, Marissa knew she’d only lay down and stare at the ceiling. “Nic... Talk to me. Please... You want me to explain? I will. I just... Talk to me, baby... Don’t cut me off...”

NICOLA

she could shout, maybe give marissa a lecture for disregarding what she witnessed in the office and what happened back in chicago, when nicola literally dropped everything and just flew there to ensure her safety. she felt like the younger woman just ignored those things happening, like she's forgotten her pacing around the room in her penthouse in chicago, how she neglected the security she asked her to have. yet she didn't want to. she was about to pour herself another drink, but instead she grabs the bottle and drank a mouthful before putting it back down on the table. she didn't want to be this cold to the younger woman, but she felt so tired, tired of constant worrying and now feel ignored, with how it felt like she disregarded everything that happened for the past week on purpose. "you can do whatever you want, you can explain if you want. i'll listen."

MARISSA

Why had she even come here? In her drunken state, of all the places she could have turned up... She loved Nicola. There was nothing about that could be left to doubt. And, Marissa felt this connection with Cleo too... Something... There was something there. But— of all places she could have gone... She came back to the people she knew she’d pissed off the most. There’s was probably a part of her that wanted to be shouted at. To be reminded that she existed and was alive... She had felt so numb lately, so disattached. Then Nic ditched the glass and drank from the bottle and she knew she wasn’t okay. “Nicola...” She said in that voice she’s only used a few times. She knew that Nic was tired, she could see it in the way she was holding herself but fuck... Marissa couldn’t help it, the alcohol, the tension... She cupped the older blondes cheek, turning her head to look at her. “Speak to me...” She pleaded, thumb running across her cheek. “I’m sorry... Please— don’t shut down on me...”

NICOLA

nicola takes another hit from her cigarette. she swore to herself that she's going to make herself quit or at least lessen it, but she's just downright anxious about her whole situation. she's still been battling wanting to go back to chicago and finish the job she failed doing before, to not wait around and depend on the possibility of him not being able to survive. and then now this....what if he still had connections outside? of course he definitely would have, and he knew where his daughter is, it's not going to take long for him to find her too, after being the cause of his almost-death, a huge part of her feels he'd want payback. and with marissa neglecting her request and slipping away from her bodyguard's watch....she doesn't know how to feel about it. she shuts her eyes close when the younger cups her cheek before she could even take another sip of her drink. she's close to breaking down once again, in front of her this time, this could be twice in a row in a span of hours after cleo has seen her like that at the cove. she doesn't know if she could take more. "it's okay, i hope you had fun, at least," she says as another attempt to convince the both of them. "i'm okay. i just need something to relax before i sleep."

MARISSA

Marissa shakes her head lightly as Nic’s eyes close to her touch. These waves of guilt keep crashing into her obliterating any high she had from the coke left in her system, sobering her better than any medical drip ever could. “A little...” She answered quietly, feeling her heart drop more every second that she looked at Nicola’s damaged face. “You’re still thinking of going back, aren’t you?” Marissa sighed softly, taking the bottle from Nicolas hand gently and placing it back on the table before cupping both her cheeks. “It’s okay if you are...” Marissa tried to reassure. “I get it... I— am struggling to stay away from my demons too...” Riss admitted, swallowing a little as a tear rolled down her cheek without her even realising. “What I did isn’t okay... you don’t have to pretend like it is...” She added on before tucking a hair strand behind her ear. “I need you... I always have...”

NICOLA

"that's good to know." nicola takes a long, deep sigh at her question. the thought never left her mind, she still wanted go back there. she knew it was a decision everyone wouldn't want her to do, especially cleo and marissa. with the restaurateur's idea of going away for a while to montauk, she took it as a chance to clear her head, think about how things would go down if she decides, with a clear mind, to go back and finish what she started. this has been one of her loudest demons for the past couple of years. something she's been trying to avoid. i need you... i always have... instead of bringing her life, those words seemed to have done her the opposite, her heart weighing heavier instead. "with what you did tonight, riss? it doesn't feel like it." she softly takes her hand away from her cheek and looks away, finishing the rest of her cigarette. "it feels like--that night we shared back in chicago just slipped away from your mind. i just..." she finally glances back at her. "i'm just asking for one little thing, and it's for you both to be safe. it would've been okay if you just told me you'll go out, instead you...you just--fucking hell." she puts the cigarette butt in thr ashtray, and struggles to get herself a new one, only to find out that she's run out of them. "i must be really out of my mind."

MARISSA

Marissa watched as all the wheels spun around behind Nic's eyes. She didn't need to say anything for Riss to know that whatever was happening inside her head was loud and repetitive, demanding every bit of attention and disallowing her to switch off. Riss had wanted her to talk, wanted to hear what was going on but as soon as she got that wish... It just made that pain inside more alive. "I know... I know," she breathed out, heart breaking as Nicola took her hand off her cheek and turned away. Marissa swallowed thickly as she furrowed her brow and nodded a little. "It did, I'm not going to stand here and-- lie to you-- anymore... Everything has been... Slipping my mind, honestly?" She took a shaky breath as she tensed her jaw and allowed her eyes to scan the older blonde. "No, you're not... And here..." Riss sighed softly and walked over to the chair she had dropped her Chanel bag on, opening it and getting out a carton before coming back to Nic and handing it to her. The last thing Marissa could do right now was tell Nic not to smoke so much because it was bad for her health. Another deafening wave of silence fell between them as her eyes fell back to the city's skyline. "I'm-- seeing her again..." She admitted, voice breaking as she spoke. "At the bar... In the cove when I-- disappeared... I thought I saw her in the crowd, but it wasn't and I went to the restroom and, er-- she was there," Riss covered her mouth for a moment. "Just for a moment, it wasn't-- it wasn't very long... And again last night and I just..." She swallowed thickly. "I just needed to get-- away... From my own head..."

NICOLA

"if i'm going to stay safe as you needed me to, please ...i just need you to do the same thing for me." nicola isn't mad at the brunette at all. all that she's feeling is worry and disappointment. she remembers marissa slipping out of her thoughts that day while they were in cleo's office. "i may have gotten a sense that you weren't telling me something. and i just--" she lights up a cigarette and takes a drag, then exhales in relief before staring out in the horizon. "i chose not to bother you about it. i'm not.... i'm not angry, it's just....you really worried me, riss." she now moves closer to the younger woman. that now explains why she suddenly left them at the dive bar, that explains the look on marissa's face. she puts down her newly-lit cigarette in the ashtray and faces her, this time, it was her reaching for the other's cheek. for quite some time, there were instances when she's thought she's seen lauren in the crowd, but with the way how the other describe how she's seeing her....now....she can she why she needed to get away from her own head. "promise me one thing?," nicola sighs, and for the first time tonight, she looks into marissa's eyes. "promise me.... you'll tell me these things? i don't want you to keep it all on your own. you've been....you've been here for me ever since we got back in each other's lives and....i don't want to lose you this time. i was just...i was so worried," she takes a deep breath. "please....just don't lie to me about these things anymore."

MARISSA

Marissa nodded as she tried to keep it together. Saying all of that out loud... It made it real. It was easier to ignore something that had never been uttered aloud. It was easier to bury. Bury under alcohol, coke, friends, loud music... Now all those things were gone and she was stood on the balcony so high up in Brooklyn that it was almost silent, just the occasional sound of a distant horn from downtown. "I didn't want to worry you... I know you're-- I didn't want to put anything else on your shoulders," she replied softly, almost timidly. When Nicola asked her to promise about telling her these things, Marissa hesitated. Her mind so full of-- fear. God, more than anything else she was scared. Terrified of falling back into that... Fake reality. Into her... It wasn't until Nic looked into her eyes that she snapped out of that fear. She nodded, leaning into her hand, turning her head slightly and kissing the blonde's palm gently. "I'll try..." Riss breathed out as her own hand came up and wrapped around Nicola's. "I can't-- I can't go back... I can't go back there..." She cried almost silently. "I'm supposed to be better..."

NICOLA

"riss....," nicola wraps her arm around her waist this time. "you will never, ever burden me with what you're going through. and i....would worry less if we just open to each other more. that's all i'm asking for." she draws marissa close. "you've looked after me ever since we were back in each other's lives. i just want you to allow me to look after you the same as you and cleo are taking care of me right now." having the two younger women look after her, nicola at first felt like a burden herself, though with that something they shared back at the cove that night, both in the dive bar and the other blonde's office when the two held on to her, stopping her from falling in that deep black hole once more....she wants to do the same for them. "i'm here....alright? i'm here...," she whispers as she leads the both of them to one of the chairs. she sits down, drawing the other to her lap, running her hand along her back as she cried in her arms. she didn't want to ask more about what else happened that night, she didn't want to pressure the other into telling her what else happened. though....she wants her to know that she's not alone, not anymore. "we're going to montauk soon, and i want us to rest our minds for a while. i want us to take care of each other."

MARISSA

Marissa practically falls into Nicola when the blonde wraps her arms around her waist. She realised she had no idea just how badly she needed to be held until it happened. “I just... I want it to stop, and I thought it had... Its been months... and I feel like I’m slipping but I can’t go back, Nic—“ she mutters as she let’s Nicola draw her in on the chair, her face burying in her neck. “I just feel so alone all the time...”

NICOLA

"riss.....," nicola whispers, kissing the side of the brunette's head. it pains her to see this side of marissa, that all she could do is hold her close. "i'm here....we're here.....cleo and i....you're not alone, alright?" she cups her cheeks with both of her hands, looking deeply into her eyes. "you have us, you have me. i'm not going anywhere," she leaves soft, loving kisses on her forehead, her eyes, cheeks, the tip of her nose and then her lips. "you have me. you have us. we're going to montauk soon. we're going to hide away from everything else for a while. alright? i...." she sighs.  "you have us now."

MARISSA

Marissa's arm snakes up and around Nicola's shoulders, as if she were clinging onto her for dear life. In a way, she was, she was holding onto her to try and remind herself that she wasn't alone, that she was alive, that she was here and this was happening. I'm here... We're here... those words should have filled her with security, but instead they caused more tears to pave their way down her cheeks. She hadn't intended on telling anyone about what happened at the reception, hadn't intended on allowing it to become real. She wanted to pass it off as a bad dream... But alcohol loosens the tongue better than anything else. "I know..." Riss breathed out as she felt her fucking heart breaking all over again, as it did every time she thought she saw Delilah in the crowds. The pain fresh all over again. She had had two years of this, mending and breaking, a repetitive, vicious cycle. But, this one hurt more than any other because she was supposed to be better... She was supposed to be okay. This was supposed to be over... Would it ever be over. "I just want her..." Marissa muttered, not even realising it came out loud. "I'm sorry..." She said through staggered breaths. "I'm so sorry..."

NICOLA

there's never a day that nicola stopped missing lauren. never a day she stopped dreaming about her. her life was absolutely turned around by this woman and changed her life for the better, with her, she left her old, unlawful ways and straighten her whole life out. she started working on herself as their friendship progressed which eventually they've come together, and not so long after, got married. somehow....she knew how it felt like still wanting lauren above anything else, that if she could go back, if she had the ability, she'd be spending the same day on a loop with the woman she loved with all her heart and soul. for her to be taken away, it was like falling into this endless pit of unfortunate events in her life. somehow....she understood. they might be different in a way, but she knew, she fucking knew. "i know....," was all she could say, running her fingers through marissa's hair. "you don't have to be sorry.....it's okay. i got you, we got you, okay? we're going to get through this together." just stay in my arms.

MARISSA

Marissa’s body jerked a little as she cried, her face lost in Nicola’s neck and shoulder as she held on to the older blonde in a way she never has before. They has such similar pain, they both knew grief in its rawest state and even though theirs had their differences, they understood... Riss didn’t know how much she needed someone who understood until that night in the alleyway at Throuple... until now... She nodded gently, falling quiet now, knowing there was nothing more to say. She just wanted to feel close to the other, to be held, and she was... Riss didn’t stop crying quietly until she slipped into sleep, her grip on the blonde slackening as she entered her dreams... The only place it didn’t hurt to spend some time with her... With Delilah...

NICOLA

nicola cradled the brunette in her arms, hand running along her back as she slowly drifts off to sleep. she could slowly feel exhaustion finally getting to her. she stands up from her chair and carries marissa to the bedroom they share with cleo for now. she couldn't help but leave her little kisses on the side of her head as she walked them there. she instantly noticed that the restaurant owner is missing, she was there when the blonde left to the  balcony an hour or two ago. she lays the woman in her arms down and kisses her forehead before leaving the room to look for the other.

[jxst-saying]

Omg please make a part two of the social media manager imagine!! It’s so good

A/N: Part two has finally arrived! (I wrote this in a four–part mini–series.) You can request part three here like usual! 

[+masterlist]

Part One can be found here! And so can be Part Three! Don’t forget Part Four! 

Empty. A city of nearly four million people felt empty. How that was, you weren’t all that sure. But it didn’t feel like your other city, the one that didn’t sleep and had no mercy for those who did. Sure, the sun was warmer and brighter and the people were obnoxiously friendlier. You wouldn’t bother denying any of that. It was a nice thought to have the ocean as close as it was; it was even nicer to sit on the shoreline and watch the waves come in and out and feel the sand in–between your toes. But staring out at the massive expanse of blue and white, you didn’t feel anything but some kind of emptiness.

This wasn’t your home. It wasn’t anything of the sort. You were in the Golden State, but it felt more like Siberia to you.

Your promised promotion wasn’t half bad. After a month and a half, you had finally fallen into a routine of sorts. Six o’clock in the morning was your short run around the neighborhood block. (You had finally found an apartment, and your furniture was said to be on the way.) Seven o’clock in the morning and you were drinking your black coffee (you could leave the Big Apple, but that didn’t mean the Big Apple could leave you). Eight o’clock and you were stuck in traffic on the 405 (whatever that was) headed to the office. Nine o’clock in the morning and you were sitting at your desk with the pretty little gold–embossed title tag that read, “Public Relations Specialist, Y/N.” You still weren’t too sure what that meant, but maybe it didn’t really matter in the end. Maybe it wasn’t really supposed to mean anything. Ten o’clock in the morning through one o’clock in the afternoon would find you filling out paperwork with a view of the Los Angeles skyline behind you. The windows were floor–to–ceiling and let in all the light that the city could find. Your office was perpetually golden. If you didn’t feel locked in this city, the always golden hue might make you happy. But right now, it didn’t make you feel anything because you did feel locked in this city with its 502.7 square miles. One o’clock was lunch. Always. Your assistant (you had an assistant) tended to remind you of that. After lunch and you were back to work until five o’clock in the evening. Most days, you were let loose at 5:00; only on a handful had you stayed past golden hour. To be honest, you didn’t particularly care either way. If you were out of the office by 5:00, you were hitting the worst of the worst traffic no matter what. If you got out later, around 8:00 or 9:00, you were still hitting traffic on the 405 or the 1 (or anywhere, really) but it wasn’t necessarily as bad.

The boys had a week or so left in their Europe trip. It was entirely promotional. None of them knew anything about your own promotion (read: banishment; exile; prison sentence) as of yet. But it was only a matter of time before the executives told them of your speedy departure. This was the longest you had gone without seeing any of them. If you didn’t constantly see photos of them or news of them crossing your desk day–in and day–out, you might have just forgotten what those oceanic eyes looked like or the (now) blindingly red hair or the tattoos that were littered across their skin. Maybe that would have been better. Besides moving to the other side of the country, it felt like you had lost four of your closest friends. Now, you didn’t even know what the five of you were. Past colleagues? Old friends? Best friends? Acquaintances? Nothing? Something More?

The single had released the other week. Turns out the executives’ plan was well–formulated and entirely correct. Without you in the picture, the music was the only thing to focus on. Billboard’s Top 100 Chart seemed to agree, as well. You even received a fruit basket from the executives thanking you for all your “hard work.” You may or may not have immediately thrown it in the trash.

You had never really missed anything or anyone before. Not really, anyways. So, you had no idea what it felt like––all that aching and longing and heartache. But if this is what it felt like … this complete and utter numbness and not–all–thereness and void that you felt that nothing could ever really fill … you never wanted to feel this again. More importantly, you couldn’t feel this again. To go through all of this time after time after time? That wasn’t negotiable. And you missed it all. You missed the hot–dog vendors and coffee carts on the street that knew you by name in your neighborhood; you missed seeing the light of sunset glinting off the Empire State building; you missed the way your apartment always smelled like patchouli no matter how many air fresheners you used; you missed coming home late at night to find your door already unlocked and a gangly boy (man?) with oceanic eyes sitting on the couch in your living room. How was there any space in that heart of yours for all of this missing?

And sitting in your office just now with the Los Angeles skyline behind you and the desert fanning out even beyond that, you had never felt more missing or more alone.

+

On the other side of the globe, the situation wasn’t that much different. (At least, not with a certain band front–man named Luke.) They were in Rome for the weekend––La Città dell’Amore. But to Luke, it was just another city. Another place without you in it. A little over a month and a half without seeing any sort of vision of you and it felt like some kind of earthly hell. The melody of your (slightly obnoxious) laugher was better than any tarantella; your eyes were brighter than the Roman sun; and your crooked smile was warmer than the Mediterranean Sea. However, these were all things he had to keep to himself; in some way, they were things he had always been keeping to himself.

The Roman sun was just beginning to set. A bead of sweat was falling down the nape of his neck in between his scapula. Luke didn’t even notice as he walked past La Fontana di Trevi. He wasn’t noticing anymore. Everything was a kind of blur, like when you’re driving on the highway and the lights are speeding away too quickly and bleeding together into one continuous stream of light.

Unlike you, Luke was more focused than anything on the rumors about the two of you. (Well, now, the blatant lack thereof.) He remembered all the photos, all the memories, all the times spent with you. Each and every one. And maybe that was his own personal curse, some kind of karmic retribution for an err in a past life. But standing there in that historical and ancient and miraculous city and all he could think about was you. But it wasn’t anything romantic. No. Of course not. You were just his best friend. Hell, you were their social media manager! He was just used to having you around; that was all. Really.

So, yeah. He noticed when the rumors careened to a complete stop like they had never existed. Seemingly overnight, any and all mention of you anywhere vanished without a trace. Zilch. Nada. Only a couple fans noticed your disappearance from the crew of the four boys. (Luke, included.) What was even odder than your farewell at JFK was your near radio silence since. No personal social media usage, no phone calls or texts, not even a postcard with that ever–so cliché wish you were here.

It took Luke another forty–three minutes to traipse his way back to their hotel off La Piazza Barberini but only another minute after that for the other three boys to open their mouths in rapid–fire questions.

“Did you know that Y/N moved to Los Angeles?” Calum.

“Speaking of Y/N, why isn’t she here? She’s our social media manager. Isn’t this literally her job?” Michael.

“I called her apartment and office in NYC and she wasn’t at either. The person who answered her phone at the office didn’t even know who I was calling for. Luke, where is she?” Ashton.

Luke collapsed onto the bed. NYC was their city; how could she just up and leave and head to a city that was the complete opposite? He knew the streets of her neighborhood and that apartment better than even his own. She couldn’t just leave like that––not without a goodbye to him, to that apartment, to that city, to their memories. “I didn’t know anything.”

“Is she even our social media manager anymore? You said she wasn’t at her office or apartment. And she moved,” Michael asked Ashton.

Luke shrugged his shoulders.

“Come on,” Calum egged. “Everyone thought the two of you were dating. Hell, even we did sometimes! Did you really not know any of this?”  

Yes, he really didn’t know any of this. He really didn’t know that the last night he spent in that apartment would be his last. Forever. He really didn’t know that the last time they couldn’t sleep at four in the morning and went to Central Park for a breakfast picnic was The Last Time. He really didn’t know that everything with you in that city of yours (of the two of yours) was going to be The Last Time.

“Have you––have you talked to her? Lately?” Michael asked tentatively, his words cautious.

“No.”

“Don’t you think you should? I don’t know, maybe see if she’s alright? Why she moved, maybe?” Ashton.

“Moving takes time. She probably just wants some space to figure it all out. That’s probably what she’s doing: figuring it out,” Luke answered. An excuse, that was all it was. Just something to delay the inevitable.

And that was definitely what it was: Inevitable. Because that night when Michael, Calum, and Ashton had long since fallen asleep (he could hear their snores), Luke pulled his phone out from underneath his pillow and opened the long since used text message conversation with you.

To: Luke Hemmings

if you don’t delete that last tweet of urs i swear to GOD i’ll drop kick your ass onto the tarmac

A small smile curled onto his face at the memory. But that text was written nearly two months ago at this point and all that was left between you both now was the distance from Rome to NYC and then the newly added distance of NYC to LAX.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard of the cellphone. All it took was something like hi, right? Any baby step. Just one. That was all he needed.

Actually, no. What he needed was to be told why she left their city. That was what he needed.

To: Y/N

heard u left the big apple how u gonna do ur job now

It wasn’t long before his phone lit up in the dead of night with a response.

To: Luke Hemmings

It’s 1:14 in the morning for you. Go to bed. Get some sleep. You have meetings in the morning.

To: Y/N

answer my question

To: Luke Hemmings

Yes, I moved to L.A. I’m about to go into a meeting. I’ll talk to you later. Go to sleep.

There was something different in your tone. Something more professional, distancing. Something that definitely did not sound anything like the Y/N that Luke knew. The girl was texting him now was not the same girl that he left behind at JFK a couple months ago; this version of you was a stranger. And that was a thought that haunted both his dreams and nightmares, waking or otherwise.

The minutes ticked by at a glacial pace until he looked at the red numbers on the clock at the bedside and discovered that it was only 2:09 in the morning. It hadn’t even been one hour. A long night, that was what it was going to be. And maybe that was what gave Luke the initiative (read: desperation) to call your number at obscene hours in the morning for him but just the beginning hours of the evening for you.

The phone rang four times before you answered.

“Go to sleep,” were the first words out of your mouth.

“I thought you were going into a meeting.”

“It got cancelled.”

“There was no meeting, was there? Y/N, what’s going on? You’re not here with us; you apparently moved out of NYC; you don’t even work at that office anymore; you’re in LA. What is going on with you? You tell me everything, and all of a sudden, I’m getting nothing from you? What’s that all about?”

He could hear you sigh through the phone. It was the frustrated one, the kind that you used to give when you had to repeat your Chinese food order five times over the phone because the sixteen–year–old taking the orders was too busy flirting with her boyfriend across the counter. “It’s really not important, Luke. I just had a change in careers. I’m still working for the same firm, just at their Los Angeles headquarters. It’s not a big deal. You’ll be getting a new social media manager, and they’ll be taking over for me.”

“What is going on?” Luke asked again. You weren’t answering any of his questions; you weren’t helping him understand anything. You were still the stranger that he didn’t know.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Luke. Trust me. This is better for the band in the long run. Your music streams and sales have been up nearly 93%, and your promotional events over in Europe seem to be doing just the trick. This is good, Luke. If it’s good for the band, it’s good for you.”

But that wasn’t the case. That wasn’t any sort of Truth at all. What was good for the band in any sort of PR sense, if it broke the two of you apart, was not good for him. How could you even think that? Luke didn’t understand how you could go from that old farewell at JFK to this cold–as–ice behavior that he was getting from you now. He remembered it much too clearly. Leaving you just before the first security checkpoint of JFK. It was more painful than the others. Not terribly so, but just enough. There was some sort of look in your eye, something he hadn’t seen before and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Your mouth opened just a fraction of an inch, enough for Luke to think you were going to say something. But no words came out and the two of you were left in the silence with Calum yelling out in the distance for Luke to “hurry up and get his ass in line.” So, he left you with the haphazard and friendly farewell of see you later, alligator and you responded with a sort of forlorn smile, the kind that has some sadness lingering behind it or a secret or two, and in a while, crocodile. He turned around, then, grabbing his suitcase and duffle bag and walked back toward his bandmates in line. But six steps in the line and he was turning back around to take one last look at you, something to memorize and store at the back of his memory. This was a first of sorts. You weren’t coming along with them. You were staying behind. And in Luke’s mind, he was leaving you behind; right now, that felt a lot more painful than he thought it ever would.

With that memory in mind, Luke spoke his own truth before he could lose his nerve and before he could accept whatever it was you were telling him. “You don’t really think that, right? That whatever’s good for those guys in suits and their profit margins is good for me is good for the band? There’s no way you genuinely think that’s the truth, right? Y/N, it’s different without you here. It isn’t the same. I don’t … I don’t like it. I don’t like you there and me here.”

“You land in JFK in a few days. You’ll be fine and stateside then. Enjoy your last few days in Italy. La città è bellisima––”

“Y/N, you don’t––you don’t get it! It’s not the same without you here. I don’t know how many different ways I can say that! It’s not the same without you here. You need to be here; not some other social media manager, not anyone else. Just you. Is this because of all the rumors about the two of us?” (Maybe his heart fell a little at that possibility.) “Because if it is, they’re a non–issue now. No one’s talking about us anymore. It’s really not that big of a deal. Just––if it’s that, if it’s because of the rumors, then tell me. I didn’t think they were really getting to you that much, but if that’s what this is––”

“I took care of the rumors, Luke. I did. That’s why they’re all gone. I’m in Los Angeles because they’re all gone. For your music, for your band, for you—that’s what I did. That’s what I had to do. I know the rumors are a non–issue, Luke. I know because I made them a non–issue.”

For once, Luke had nothing to say.

And then you sighed again. That same one. The frustrated one. Maybe mixed with a little sadness this time. “Luke, I really have to go. I have a meeting. You have to get some sleep.”

Click.

+

REQUEST PART THREE! 

[warpedtourniall]

17. u pick the ship

:/ what if :/ more grungy nyc au (17 is “things you said i wish you hadn’t” lol u love to encourage my angst)

-

Louis doesn’t even change into street clothes after work, just heads out the Met service entrance and directly into the Park, still in his waistcoat and everything. 

It’s the sort of verdant afternoon, after the lunch service, that makes Louis feel a thousand threads of possibility, silky in his fist. He makes a left down the path towards seventy-ninth. On a less beautiful afternoon he might take the train down to meet Liam, but it’s rush hour underground and the sunlight up here is gauzy and weightless, birds in the trees, kids shouting and laughing on the lawn. Louis undoes his tie as he legs it across the seventy-ninth street transverse, where horses are ambling along towing carriages. 

The five of them - and dozens of their classmates - moved down to the city from Purchase right after graduation, and since then they’ve scattered like sand. Apart from Liam, Louis hardly sees any of them. Zayn’s sharing a cavernous loft in Bushwick, parceled with crumbly drywall into barely private rooms. His living room’s got a quarter-pipe skate ramp built inexplicably into it and three spoiled cats running rampant. 

Niall has inherited a room in a rent-controlled apartment on the lower east side: the apartment’s been the home of broke Purchase alums for years - not even Niall seems to know who’s on the original lease. There’s a small back patio affectionately nicknamed “the swamp” which is accessible only via Niall’s bedroom window, and which despite Niall’s efforts towards cleanliness has maintained a consistent frill of cigarette butts and beer caps over its concrete surface. It’s sketchy as hell. 

Harry is shacked up in Washington Heights with a ballet dancer and an aspiring Broadway star - Louis can’t remember which ones, their graduating class had such a selection. Their apartment is a fifth floor walkup, and every time Louis is invited over for dinner he has to mentally weigh the benefit of a meal cooked by Harry, which is likely to contain a vegetable and a protein as well as some sort of seasoning, to the detriment of climbing so many stairs after a day spent waiting tables.

Liam and Louis, for lack of other close friends, had ended up in Long Island City, in the basement apartment of a little brownstone off twenty-first, just the two of them. Their last anxious weeks of school spent house-hunting had felt like they might never lead to anything. They were young, and poor, and nobody had wanted to offer them a lease without someone more reliable to cosign. Then Liam had gotten the job he has now, and his salary and adequate credit score had allowed him to sign a lease and, humiliatingly, guarantee Louis’ half as well.

He still has a half hour until Liam’s out of work, so Louis takes himself through the Ramble. There’s a spot - if he can find it - just past the big black tupelo tree, where - yes, that’s it. Louis stands perfectly still and looks up. He’s surrounded on all sides by green foliage, a dappled canopy of leaves. It’s the only spot in the whole of New York City where he can stand outdoors and turn in any direction he pleases without seeing buildings. 

Louis has one glorious moment of feeling completely alone before a couple barrels past him on the path, too loud, making each other laugh the way people only laugh when they’re newly in love and would rather be doing something else. 

What a shame, Louis thinks, to be at ground zero of gay sex in Manhattan and to be alone admiring the birds and the foliage. 

Louis takes a moment to shuck his waistcoat and crumple it up into his bag. He undoes his shirtsleeves and shoves them up to his elbows. It isn’t much, but it does help. He feels marginally less like what he is: a waiter with a forty-thousand dollar arts degree and nobody to kiss. 

Maybe Liam will be up for drinks after work, or something. Louis has been stuck on dinner service for weeks, and they keep missing one another. 

He makes his way out of the ramble, past the lake and the benevolent figure of Bethesda fountain, and then hurries himself up some. He’s always getting sidetracked when he cuts through the park - none of the paths seem to want to take him where he’s going with any sort of efficiency. It is beautiful, though: families carrying kites and bubble wands and picnic blankets; young lovers holding hands; under their feet the soft palm of the earth. Louis takes a winding dirt path and ends up exiting the park just north of Columbus Circle, only a few minutes late. He can see Liam down the block, handsome in a discount suit Louis had pitched in to get tailored when Liam had been offered his job.

Liam, the only one of the lot of them who’d landed a job at least slightly in his field, doing glorified party planning for the city’s foremost jazz organization. Louis doesn’t know if he’s more proud or jealous. Maybe he ought to just be grateful.

Liam sweeps him up into a big, crushing hug when he sees him. They’re both overdressed, and even as the buildings around them empty and the sidewalk floods with men and women in suits, in breathable silk blouses, in oversized sunglasses and comfortable sneakers incongruous with the rest of their outfits. 

“Home?” Liam asks, and Louis nods. 

The train is so crowded that they end up squished together against just inside the train car, nearly toppling out at every stop when the doors whoosh open behind them. Liam puts a hand on Louis’ waist to steady him, and the train empties out substantially just before it crosses over into Queens and Louis gets smooshed into an empty seat, Liam standing over him. When the two of them emerge, blinking, into the late afternoon sun, it gilds the buildings in burnt oranges and venetian pinks. Everything - the buildings, the leaves on the trees, one another’s hair - is limned in golden light. 

“Let’s go to the bar,” Louis says, turning and smiling at Liam. He’s exhausted, they both are, but he doesn’t want to go home and sacrifice the rest of the evening to inertia. It’s beautiful out, and they’re young, and he has tips in his pocket waiting to be spent on somebody else. “I’ll buy you a drink, anything you want.” 

Fifteen minutes later they’re ensconced at a corner table on the back patio of their favorite neighborhood bar. It’s an overlong golden hour; the Manhattan skyline just visible from their table is a romantic and familiar shape. Liam is crushing a maraschino cherry into the bottom of his glass with a cocktail straw, smiling to himself. 

“What’s with you?” Louis says, tilting his head to catch Liam’s eye and smiling at him. “Been all distracted all evening.” 

In all honesty it’s just nice having him there. The farther flung his friends have become, the more Louis clings to Liam, finds comfort in his reliable presence. 

“It’s nothing,” Liam says, still smiling in that way that means he’s trying to keep a straight face. “It’s just - you know that girl at work who does the saxophone seminar at jazz academy?”

Louis does; he keeps a mental catalogue of all Liam’s coworkers, so when they catch up at the end of the day he’s not stuck asking who the principal characters are over and over. This saxophonist is also a recent graduate, a performance major at Carnegie Mellon and new to the city. “Esperanza?” he asks Liam. 

“Yeah.”

As the sun sets beyond the skyline, a barback comes around to light the citronella candles at the center of each outdoor table, and Liam is prevented from going on for a moment, so caught up is he in saying thank you. 

“Anyway,” Liam says. He clears his throat, then drains the rest of his drink. “She asked me down to Fat Cat this weekend, like a date, so.” 

“Oh,” Louis says. He finishes his own beer and points at Liam’s empty glass. “Another?”

It’s a moment later, leaning against the bar and watching a bartender muddle sugar cubes in the bottom of a rocks glass that he registers quite what he’s feeling: it’s disappointment, as cold and solid as an ice cube. 

He accepts their drinks and, making his way back outside, puts his mouth to the edge of Liam’s glass; takes a sip. It’s sweet and whiskey-warm. He sets it down in front of Liam and takes his seat across from him, already sorting out the face he’ll need to wear to get through the next question: 

“So start at the beginning. What exactly did she say?” 

[halsteadproperty]

Sit Down with One of the Youngest Brokers in NYC to Surpass $100M

The Halstead Social Team recently sat down with one of the most promising stars to recently move to Halstead, Matthew Cohen from our Village Office. We talked real estate, food, downtime, and emojis. Enjoy!

What were some of the deciding factors that impacted your move to Halstead?

Worldwide exposure for me and my clients and the overall positivity and excitement from every single member of the Halstead family.

What makes your approach to your clients different from a lot of the other agents out there?

This is my entire life (and I don’t say that lightly). Many agents will say that their clients are everything to them, but my clients really are. They are family and I think about them as well as speak to them almost every day.

Favorite brunch spot right now and why?

La Bergamote in West Chelsea. It’s the perfect medium between casual and sophisticated that New York brunch can be.

Favorite hidden downtown spot?

Brandy Library in Tribeca. I’m not a big brandy fan, but this is one of the best bars in all of New York.

Wellness is a big part of your life. Tell us a little about where you go in the city to support your diet and workout regimen.

I have a Soul Cycle obsession and am not ashamed! It is truly the only thing in my day-to-day life that takes me to another place both mentally and physically.

What made you get your real estate license six years ago?

One of the top ten brokers in the industry asked me to come work for him. He said I had the look, the knowledge, the energy, and most of all, the passion. So I took the leap. He and I don’t keep in touch, but I thank him every day for introducing me to the love of my life.

We understand you enjoy playing golf in your downtime. What’s your favorite golf course?

My favorite course in the tri-state area is Bayonne Golf Club. Is there anything better than links golf with New York City skyline views?

Favorite emoji right now and why?

Anyone close to me will tell you my favorite emoji is the heart emoji and that I color coordinate it with the situation.

Connect with Matthew on Instagram, visit his Halstead page, or email him at mcohen@halstead.com.

[bernadineisreborn]

Handling the Truth

Chapter One: New Beginnings

Summary: You, a college freshman, are moving to NYC to go to college at Empire State University, where you got a full ride and placement in a special program. Oh, and you can also tell when people are lying. Watch out world, because you are ready to finally get things going in your favor! Plus, there are cool things to do in the city, like Spider-Man (wink).

Warnings: Swearing but not like, mean swearing

Word Count: 5,063 little words of love

A/N: Hi! Here is the first chapter, coming to you after a long spell of writer’s block (or me just being lazy idk anymore). READ THE PROLOGUE IT EXPLAINS SHIT! If ya like it, hit me up in any way shape or form you see appropriate! [Friendly reminder that everyone in this story is above 18 years of age!]

Other Parts: Prologue

You woke up to the pilot’s voice over the speaker, informing you of the impending landing.

You blinked yourself awake, stretching, yawning, and looking out the window. You stared at the skyline in awe, surprised at how much bigger New York looked than Chicago.

Not long after, the plane was landing and you were getting ready to exit. The strange man next to you looked impatient and the flight attendant looked tired, but you were ready to start a brand new adventure in the greatest city in the world.

The airport contained an unfathomable number of people for such a small place, but you managed to find the luggage pick-up. You quickly spotted your own bags, branded with a unique luggage tag you had made, and reached for them. Suddenly, another arm reached towards the unclaimed bags around you, throwing you off balance. You turned around, giving the person a death glare, when you saw that it was the same man who sat next to you on the plane. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and decided to let it go.

Now chasing after your slowly moving bags, you pushed through the small crowd of people until you finally caught up to them, grabbing them, and heading towards the exit.

You were almost out the door when you felt someone grab your arm. It was the lying man from the plane. Again.

“Is there something I can do for you?” you said as sarcastically as you could manage, taking a step away from him.

“Um, maybe. I am having a party this weekend, and I think you would have fun. What’s your-”

Astonished, you pushed past him and started walking down the street, ignoring his derogatory calls after you. You were not going to let one stupid, pathetic man ruin your first day in New York. You barely knew the guy, and the few interactions you had with him were poor ones. You wondered what could possibly have driven him to approach you at all.

Stupid, pervy old men. Ugh.

Still strutting angrily down the busy sidewalk, you felt something land on your forehead. You looked up, the skyscrapers lining both sides of the road barely made the thick gray clouds visible from the ground. Still, it was visible enough to guess that it was about to start raining.

A tad desperate, you cut to the side of the road and tried to hail a taxi. You knew how, having been to Chicago hundreds of times, but there didn’t seem to be any empty cabs on the busy road.

Finally, a car pulled up to the curb in front of you, yellow and sprinkled with rain droplets from the increasingly heavy rainfall. A passenger got out and you gratefully began walking towards the cab, before the door closed and it sped off, splashing a puddle onto your lower legs in the process.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

You began walking along the road again, sullenly this time, trying not to let yourself cry. As optimistic as you wanted to be, you couldn’t deny that everything felt like a train wreck right now.

You sniffed, holding in your emotions, and took a deep breath. It was starting to shift closer to a downpour than a summer sprinkle, and you needed to take cover.

Luckily, there was a Starbucks at the end of the block. You gripped your backpack and your luggage bags and made your way there.

The Starbucks was different than the one in your small hometown. It was decorated in the comfortable style that you had come to associate with Starbucks, but it felt bigger, somehow, it felt more grand. You plopped yourself on the closest lounge chair and took out your phone. You had a text from both your parents, wondering if you had landed. You sent them a quick affirmative reply and glanced around you. There were a lot of people here, taking shelter from the rain. Behind you, rain fell in sheets onto the pavement from the sky above. Though inconvenient, you couldn’t deny the appeal of rain hitting the cement. The city looked like a dream.

You forced yourself to think away the stresses of the day and opened the Uber app on your phone, deciding that hailing a cab would be unnecessarily difficult in the rain. You wanted to get a coffee before your ride arrived, so you got in line.

As you wait, you let your eyes wander, noticing the boy in front of you. He was cute, with curly brown hair and warm brown eyes. His skin was lightly tanned, and he was wearing jeans with a shirt that had some pun scrawled on it in graphic letters. There was a backpack slung loosely over his shoulder.

He was talking on the phone, trying to reassure someone of something.

“Yes… No, I’m fine… I promise, Aunt May… Yeah, I’ll be home soon. Then we can go… Love you, too. Bye,” he wrapped up the conversation and then it was his turn to order, “Hi! Can I please get a venti coffee with some cream?”

You got a weird sensation in the back of your neck when he talked. He wasn’t lying, but he definitely wasn’t telling the full truth. There was something he was keeping from everyone else.

Maybe he was a murderer.

Pssh, he’s probably not a murderer. Chill out, Y/N.

Wary anyway, you scooted away from him a little. You ordered, deciding to get your usual favorite instead of anything new.

As you waited for your order, you observed the stranger more. He was staring down at his phone. He must have felt you staring, because he looked up to meet your eyes.

You quickly looked down at your own phone, cheeks growing warm with embarrassment at being caught.

The barista called out, “Peter?” and placed a cup on the counter. The strange boy, Peter, made his way to the counter, grabbing the cup and saying thank you to the worker.

Your drink came out next, and you grabbed it, watching the boy walk through the door. Your phone started ringing, and you answered it. It was your Uber driver, calling to tell you they were here.

Bags in tow and drink in hand, you walked outside. The Uber was easy to find, you shoved your bags in the car and scooted yourself in.

“Hi, your request said you’re going to ESU?” they asked.

“Yeah, the dorms. My building is called Osborn Hall,” you replied.

The drive wasn’t too long, but the traffic was even worse than what you had come to know in Chicago.

By time you got to the dorm, the rain had slowed to a light mist, and you gathered your bags out of the car. Thanking your driver and giving them a five-star review, you looked up at the building. It was beautiful, and fancy, as if it had been built recently. You walked in through the large, glass front doors.

There were a lot of people waiting inside, most of them appearing to be around your age, a few of them the age of your parents. Probably parents helping their kids move in.

You navigated through the crowd until you found what must have been the front desk. There was a boy sitting behind it, his hair long and flowing past his shoulders, dyed blue.

“Name, please?” he asked with a bored expression.

“Um, Y/N L/N,” you replied, only half paying attention to him as you scouted the crowded room.

He typed into his computer, then said with the most monotone voice imaginable, “Can I see some ID? Just to make sure it’s really you and get it on file.”

You handed him your driver’s license and he examined it.

“Sweet. Here’s your campus ID,” he said, still void of any emotion as he handed you a bright green piece of plastic that had a picture of you on it, among other information, “It also functions as your room key and stuff. Your room number is 2314. Your roommate has already checked in, so she’ll probably be in the room.”

“Okay. Thank you!” you said, trying to convey how helpful he had been.

Finally, he smiled. “No problem, if you have any questions or whatever, I’ll be here.”

You smiled back and started for the elevator. There was a little crowd by the elevator doors, waiting to go up just like you. The elevator bell dinged and you clamored in with the rest of the crowd. You ended up pressed against the back window, giving you a great view of the city through the glass pane. Even by New York skyscraper standards, Osborn Hall was tall.

As the elevator climbed the 23 floors, making various stops to drop people off, you grew in excitement. It can’t get much worse, right? It’s already been rough, so it can only get better.

Finally, it was your turn to get off.

You walked down the hall, getting closer to your home for the next 9 months. 2310… 2312… 2314. There it was, right in front of you. The door was a pristine white colored wood, and the walls in the hallway were a smoky grey. The hallway was littered with signs and posters that welcomed freshmen and advertised various clubs.

You were fumbling with the card reader, trying to get your card to work with the ID scanner on the door’s handle, when it opened from the other side.

Standing in the doorway was a girl, your roommate, presumably. She had a darker complexion, but it didn’t look like she went in the sun very often. Her hair was a luscious, dark ashy brown and it fell in natural curls down the sides of her face. She had brown eyes that glinted gold in the light, framed by thick, arching eyebrows. Her lips were set in a small smile, but she looked cautious. She was absolutely stunning and you suddenly felt less confident.

“Hi,” she said as her face moved to display mild excitement, “I’m Michelle Jones, you must be Y/N L/N?”

“Yup, that’s me,” you said with a smile, reaching out your hand to shake hers.

You had gone in blind for a roommate, hoping for the best because you couldn’t force yourself to give the energy required to find someone online. Staring at Michelle, you had a feeling that you had gotten lucky.

As she shook your hand lightly, you noticed she was wearing mostly black, but still was dressed in style.

“Sorry if I startled you opening the door, it took me forever to figure out the card reader for the first time, so I thought I would help,” she said, “Do you want me to help get your bags?”

“No, I got them, thanks though. Are you already moved in?” You two walked into the living room and you took a few seconds to look around. It was small, but it had a large window with a nice view of the city. There was a small bathroom on the left wall, complete with a shower, and two bedrooms, one on each side. Michelle had placed a small, black couch in the living room, but there didn’t appear to be any other decorations.

“Yeah, mostly, I just have to finish decorating… Your room is this way,” she explained as she led you to the room on the right, “They are both the same size, so I just took the left one.”

Your room was not big, but it was spacious enough for all of your belongings, plus you got it all to yourself. There was a twin sized bed frame and mattress already in the room. You set down your bags and said, “Wow, can’t believe we get our own rooms.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s nice, and our own bathroom. It’s almost nicer than my parent’s house.”

You laughed, “Yeah, same. I would never have been able to afford to go here if it weren’t for scholarships.”

“Me neither! Which scholarship did you get?” Michelle asked with curiosity in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

“I got put in the Leaders of Tomorrow program, what about you?” you asked, careful not to say an amount in case she didn’t have something equal.

“Oh, cool. My friend is in that. It’s a full ride, right?” you nod and she smiles, “I was sponsored by a program that helps people succeed in the arts, so I have a full ride, too.”

“Oh, the arts? What are you going into then?”

“I’m not sure, honestly, but I know it will be something creative. I like drawing and acting and fashion and stuff,” she said with a little laugh, “What about you?”

“I don’t even have a field of interest yet,” you explained, “I am hoping that I can figure something out this semester.”  

You and Michelle continued to talk as you unpacked a little, and you really started to like her. She told you that she had grown up in Queens, and that her family still lived there. She went to a school called Midtown, and said that she had some friends from high school that went to Empire State, too. You told her about your high school experiences, and you found yourselves relating to each other a lot.

Best of all, your neck remained tingle free. She did not tell a single lie the entire conversation. Michelle was like an angel sent to rescue your horrific first day in the city.

After an hour or so of sitting in your almost bare living room on the surprisingly comfortable black couch Michelle had brought, she offered to help you set up the rest of your stuff. You declined, saying that you didn’t have very much to do anyway, which was true, your family was mailing you the rest of your things and they wouldn’t be here for a couple of days.

So, you set up the things you had. You had bought a new, F/C comforter and matching sheets. You had a beautiful tapestry on your wall, a soft rug, and fairy light strung across the ceiling. The look was completed with a dozen or so photos of things that inspired you, plastered on the wall next to your bed.

Happy with your new set up, you sent a picture to your parents. Then, you exited your bedroom, finding the living room considerably more decorated than before. Michelle had hung a tapestry of Van Gogh’s Starry Night and set up a small TV. It was cute and cozy.

You walked across the small room, knocking lightly on Michelle’s door.

“Hey, do you want to go get dinner?” you asked, hopeful that she would agree because you wanted to get to know her better.

“Yeah, sure,” she said from her lying position on her bed, which was covered in a purplish-grey comforter. She had sketches taped to all four of her walls, a black patterned rug, and potted plants on her windowsill. The room smelled like lavender.

You and Michelle went to Panda Express, where you discovered she was a vegetarian. Then, you decided to go to Target to pick up a few more decorations for your living room. You and Michelle had agreeable styles; it felt like you were destined to be friends.

Laughing at something one of you had said, Michelle asked you, “Is there a name you prefer to be called? Any nicknames or anything? Or is Y/N good?”

“Y/N is good, but I’ll accept suggestions,” you said, still smiling, “Why? Is there something you want to be called instead of Michelle?”

She looked down, a little embarrassed, “Um, yeah. My friends call me MJ. So, since we’re friends, now, um… you should call me that,” she said quietly, looking up at you to smile.

You smiled widely back at her, “MJ it is, my friend.”

You walked back into Osborn Hall, still amazed at how grand it is. “God, who designed this place? It’s so fucking nice.”

MJ scoffed, “Norman Osborn sponsored it. He is a super millionaire who does a bunch of science shit.”

“Oh, yeah. I have heard about him before. He’s kind of like Tony Stark, right?”

“Yeah, kinda. Just without the Iron Man suit and the heart of gold.”

“The heart of gold? You make it sound like you know him,” you questioned.

She was silent for a moment. Then, “He spoke at my graduation.”

Cue a tiny tingle in the back of your neck. She wasn’t telling the full truth.

“That’s it? Just graduation?” you quizzed.

“Yeah, that’s the only time I have seen him in person,” she explained.

And the tingle went away. If there was a lie there, it wasn’t a big one. You were willing to accept her answers for now.

As you got on the elevator again, MJ’s phone dinged. She smiled a little, “It’s my lame friend from high school! He wants us to come up to his room so he can meet you and we can meet his roommate. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sounds fun!” you said, but you suddenly felt uneasy.

MJ noticed somehow, and said, “He’s super chill. No need to be nervous.”

MJ pressed the button for floor 40, the top floor. You shot her a quizzical look, to which she shrugged.

If you had thought the ride up to the 23rdfloor seemed long, the ride to the 40thfloor seemed twice as long. The people on the ground faded to tiny specs as the little number near the ceiling climbed higher and higher.

The ding of the elevator accompanied the opening doors; the 40thfloor was different than the 23rd. There was a single hallway, a few doors labeled ‘Janitorial’ and one door labeled ‘4000.’

You glanced at MJ, who said, “I think his roommate has some crazy money or something.”

You and MJ walked down the short hallway and knocked at the door. There was music playing faintly inside, 90’s hip hop, and you could hear light footsteps approaching the door.

You had not been expecting to see the cute, suspicious boy from Starbucks again, but here he was, standing behind the door with vague recognition in his eyes as he looked at you, then happiness as he looked at MJ. He gave her a hug, the two of them exchanging words about missing each other.

Then, MJ was introducing you to him.

“Y/N, this is Peter. We have known each other for like five years now, so, I mean it when I say he’s a loser,” said MJ through a laugh.

Peter’s chocolate brown eyes met yours. You felt a slight tingle at the base of your neck. He reached out a veiny hand.

“Hi, I’m Peter. Uh, Parker. Peter Parker,” he said, and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down his creamy neck.

You met his hand with yours and shook it firmly. You realized that you probably looked like you were glaring, and made an effort to soften your expression with a smile.

“Hey, I’m Y/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you,” you offered. He smiled timidly back at you, unruly eyebrows crinkled.

“Um… Do you guys wanna come in? The place is pretty nice, and uh, you can meet Harry,” said Peter as he began walking back into the dorm room.

The ‘dorm room’ was much closer to a penthouse apartment. As nice as you had thought your own room to be, this made it look ridiculous. The furthest wall was a less of a wall and more of a window; it was made of crystal clear glass and displayed and the best view of the city you had ever seen. The rest of the room was decorated sleekly, with dark wood and black accents. There was a huge TV, a leather couch that lined the room’s corners, and a complete kitchen with marble countertops.

You couldn’t even begin to comprehend how rich Peter’s roommate must have been.

As your and MJ’s eyes swept the room in awe, another boy approached. He had neat, dark blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Taller than Peter, he was dressed nicely; a button up shirt, dress pants, loafers, and a sports coat. He looked at you and MJ with a small, patient smile on his face, as if he was used to people reacting this way to his wealth.

“Harry Osborn,” he said, “Good to know that Peter has pretty friends.” He took your hand first, kissing your knuckles lightly. You couldn’t help the feeling of heat rising to your cheeks. He did the same to MJ, and she rolled her eyes but accepted the gesture.

“Good to know that Peter has rich friends,” she responded sarcastically, crossing her arms at her chest.

You looked at Harry skeptically, “Osborn, as in…?”

He laughed a little, awkward with his next words, “Yes… Osborn as in Norman Osborn, as in Oscorp, and as in Osborn Hall.”

You nodded, looking around again, “Makes sense.”

MJ glanced between the two boys in curiosity, “How do you two know each other?”

Peter finally spoke up, “Uh, our parents used to research together, so we were childhood friends. We have recently gotten back in touch, and…” Peter trailed off, gesturing around him.

You didn’t get any tingles that time. He was telling the truth.

The two boys gave you and MJ a tour of the rest of their dorm/penthouse, which consisted of two bathrooms and three separate (and very large) bedrooms. The first bedroom, which belonged to Harry, was decorated with a few framed Forbes magazines and pictures of Harry with an older man you assumed to be his father. The second bedroom, Peter’s, was decorated with a shabby but soft looking comforter and Star Wars posters. The third bedroom was occupied by a boy called Ned Leeds, who was out to dinner with his family, but was known by both Peter and MJ in high school. They promised that you would be introduced to him soon.

When the tour was complete, you and MJ made your way back to the door, saying your goodbyes and goodnights, promising to catch dinner with the pair sometime soon.

Peter’s brown eyes followed you as you left. Even after Harry had walked away, Peter watched. You waved a final goodbye to him and tried to ignore the strange feeling of his eyes on the back of your head as you approached the elevator.

You couldn’t help but think: Murderer.

But by time you and MJ turned around to face forward in the elevator, the door had shut.

As the elevator doors closed, you turned to MJ, “That was insane,” you giggled.

“I know!” she said, astonishment appearing on her face, “How does one person have that much money?”

“No idea. And how is one person so good-looking?”

“Who? Peter or Harry?”

“Well, Harry, but Peter, too! You could have told me that your friend was gorgeous beforehand,” you say, nudging her shoulder a little.

MJ laughed, “Yeah, whatever. You’ll make his head big if he hears you talking like that.”

---

The next day, you were supposed to meet with your mentor for the Leaders of Tomorrow program. There was some kind of ceremony, where the program board provides dinner to both the mentors and the students, allowing them to get to know each other or something. Since you had no idea what field you were interested in, you had taken a quiz, and they were going to match you up based on your responses.

You were nervous, to say the least, but you wanted to make the most of this opportunity, so you decided to rise to the occasion.

The dinner was semi-formal, and you had packed your favorite dress from home. It was from one of your school dances and could easily be considered semi-formal.

Plus, you looked pretty damn good in it.

Anyway, your mentor was a constant for all four years of university. Getting paired up with someone that you didn’t mesh well with would affect your entire experience in the program.

God, I hope this goes well.

You spent the first half of the day hanging out with MJ, still getting to know her, and unpacking the box of things you had gotten in the mail from home.

You started getting ready a few hours before the event. The shower in your dorm was decidedly better than expected, and the hot water helped to wash away some of your nerves.

You finished getting ready in your bedroom, using the mirror you had set up on your desk. You opted for a simpler makeup look that highlighted your cheekbones and eye color. Then, you added a statement lip color that went well with your dress.

You were just about ready, clipping in your earrings, when MJ knocked on your door.

“Hey, girl! How you doing?” she asked. You stood up and began searching for your shoes.

“I’m okay. I mean… I’m nervous. Yikes, how do I look?” you asked her, pretty sure she would give you a straight up answer and trusting her sense of style.

She looked you up and down, eyes narrowing as she studied your appearance.

Finally, she let out a whistle, “You look damn good, Y/N,” she replied, an approving smile gracing her lips.

No tingle; she really meant that.

Your cheeks burned, always so susceptible to compliments. “Thanks, MJ. Wish me luck!”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need it. They’re gonna love you,” she said, ushering you out the door and waving at you.

“Bye, MJ,” you said, waving back as you started wobbling down the hallway, not used to the heels yet.

Shit.

The ceremony was being held in Osborn Hall, so the trek there was only a matter of taking the elevator to the right floor. But, once you reached the ballroom, which had been decorated beautifully in preparation for the ceremony, you were lost.

There were people everywhere. Literally everywhere. You couldn’t even see the stage.

By the grace of some being above, you managed to find your assigned seat at one of the round tables, marked by a name card that had fancy letters on it.

You sat down, arranging your dress around you. It was 6:02 pm. The ceremony was to start at 6:30, but you were supposed to get there early to meet your mentor.

You looked around you, guessing that about half of the people in the room were contributors to the massive fund that put you and 49 other students through college for free, and that the other half was made up of staff, students, and mentors.

A couple of minutes later, someone else sat at your table, another student. You tried to make pleasant conversation with them until your mentor arrived. However, theirs arrived first, and you watched the happy introduction wistfully.

A couple more minutes passed, and you heard a familiar voice behind you.

You turned around, and MJ’s friend Peter is there, talking to an attractive older man, around 50, with dark, styled hair and calculating, brown eyes. You didn’t have the best view, but you could tell he had a fashionably-styled goatee, and a perfectly-tailored, navy blue suit that screams “rich.” He wasn’t wearing a tie, instead allowing his white button up to hang open a button or two more than appropriate. His lips were moving, and his face was sarcastic, but you can’t hear what he was saying.

Peter didn’t notice you looking at him. He was wearing a pretty fancy suit himself, dark grey with a black tie. He looks nice, and you can’t help but stare a little as his eyebrows crinkle in concentration at something the older man is saying, the right eyebrow a little more out of place than the left. His pursed lips crack into a smile as he listens earnestly.

You caught yourself smiling at the sight.

The pair shifted a little, and you were able to look at the older man’s face more carefully.

It’s Tony Stark.

How the hell does Peter know Tony Stark?

You were still studying them, guessing that Tony was Peter’s mentor, when someone pulled out the chair next to you. It was a Latina woman, mid to late 30s, beautiful but intense as she made eye contact with you and attempted a smile.

“Hi, I’m Gina Lupo. Are you Y/N L/N?” she asked, dark eyes focused on you as you stutter a response.

“Hi. Yes, that’s me,” you said, offering her a hand to shake. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she was wearing a nice, black pant suit.

Her firm handshake confirmed what you suspected, “Good. I’m your mentor, then,” she laughed, but her intimidating expression remained in place as she sat down next to you, “Where are you from?”

“A couple hours outside of Chicago, how about you?”

“Brooklyn,” she said with a small smile, “How did you end up at ESU?”

“This scholarship, mainly. But I have always wanted to go to school in a big city,” you explained.

She nodded, “Do you know what you want to study?”

“No, not really,” you said with a nervous laugh, “I am hoping to figure it out at some point this year.” I am hoping you can help me figure it out.

She nodded again, “I didn’t know what I wanted to study until my second year of school.”

“What did you decide on?”

“Double major in Criminal Justice and Psychology,” she said, eyes scanning the room as she spoke, “I went to the police academy right after I graduated. Eventually I worked my way up to detective status, and now I run the department.”

Impressive.

“Wow, that’s…really impressive. How did you know that you wanted to go into criminal justice?”

“I-” she was cut off by Peter sitting down at your table with Tony Stark. Peter didn’t seem to have noticed you, yet, his chocolate brown eyes still intently focusing on Tony.

What are the chances that he would be seated at my table?

Then, he looked up.

His eyes widened, “Y/N!” he exclaimed, looking you up and down a little, clearly surprised at your presence. Tony’s eyes followed Peter’s, reading the situation. Gina’s eyes followed Tony’s, clearly holding back in amazement.

This was going to be interesting.

---

A/N 2: If you made it this far without quitting or vomiting…… thanks for reading and let me know what you think HERE! Watch for chapter 2 and pls give me love😙😙😙😙

Tag List: @condy-wants-a-cookie @misskarynie (let me know if you wanna be added!)

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Find Your Way Home | Part 2 of 5

Not all of the Avengers show up to dinner. Bucky doesn’t know whether to be grateful or annoyed that their strategy to ease Bucky in is so obvious. Was Tony’s welcome a part of that?

Dinner that night has Bucky meeting Bruce and Clint, both betas who should be less of a threat to an alpha like Bucky and therefore set him more at ease. It sort of works - Bucky hasn’t avoided the news enough to not recognize the Hulk or Hawkeye, and so he knows even the betas in the Avengers are threats. Dinner remains fun and simple, though. Bruce shares stories of his travels, Clint talks about everything and anything, and Sam drops enough dry comments that the conversation keeps going, though Bucky remains quiet. Steve is there, an anchor amongst all the commotion. Steve can’t pull Bucky into the past - the other three divert the topic every time - but Steve keeps Bucky grounded in the present, a reminder of why he’s here.

Bucky wants to remember. He wants to remember what home is.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He rests, lying on the mattress that is the best he’s ever felt, but he doesn’t close his eyes. He remains there until there’s a ding, which turns out to be JARVIS notifying him that Steve has left a message for when he’s awake.

Bucky opens it. Does he want to go with Steve to walk around the streets of NYC?

Bucky swallows and gets out of bed.

“There’s not a lot left that looks the same,” Steve says as he leads Bucky up the stairs from the subway into Brooklyn territory. “There’s been a bit of… oh, what did Sam call it, gentrification? Or something, a lot of renovation and changes. It looks nice but… it’s not the same.”

Bucky nods. He keeps an eye out for anyone tailing him, tailing them, but looks around to see if anything jostles his memory. Bucky gets nothing, at least from the architecture. Steve keeps talking, jumping around from old memories to the ones that Steve doesn’t have himself, explaining the decades that neither Steve and Bucky remember. They get burgers for lunch and walk along the wharf, and Bucky doesn’t remember much but today, in the sun, with Steve at his side, it doesn’t bother him so much.

Steve’s scent still niggles at Bucky’s brain, but being out on the streets dilutes it out and prevents a headache from forming.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve admits as they stare at the Manhattan skyline across the river. “Memories or not, Buck… I’m just glad to know you’re safe.”

Until the end of the line, punk. Bucky has remembered enough, writing them down in his journals, to know what he should say. But the words don’t feel right yet. He can’t say them.

“Me too,” Bucky says, and offers Steve a smile.

Steve grins back and claps him on his shoulder. “Come on, we’re almost at Coney Island and I can show you where I puked after you dragged me on that roller coaster.”

(More after the break!)

*

There’s another dinner to introduce the rest of the pack. Natasha is an alpha and a high level threat, so she’s introduced to Bucky with Tony at her side to keep things relaxed.

Bucky tenses and tilts his head. “I remember you,” he realizes, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. He’d been on a mission… was she the target? No…

“Good,” Natasha says as she sits. A strategic move to make her seem non-threatening, but Bucky accepts it as a truce and so he sits as well. “That means I’ll forgive you for shooting me.”

Right, he’d shot through her to get to his target behind her.

“Twice,” Steve says with a smirk at her. Steve takes the seat next to Bucky rather than Tony.

Bucky frowns.

“Don’t push it, Rogers,” Natasha says, threatening him with her spoon.

Bucky tenses, but doesn’t move. Challenges for hierarchy in the ‘pack’ happened all the time in Hydra, and Steve and Natasha were both alphas.

“Alright, alright, keep the posturing to your own time. This is dinner, it’s time to eat!” Tony says, clapping his hands.

To Bucky’s surprise, they do. There’s no fight, no challenge. Steve and Natasha don’t even insult each other or glare or do anything. Bucky remains quiet in his seat, but the conversation around him is easy and fluid.

Pack.

*

Bucky is out with Steve on another walk through the streets of New York. They pass through a market, with produce and flowers and trinkets, where everything is new. Neither of them expect Bucky to remember anything.

Steve had left off with a story about the Howling Commandos, though, and so Bucky shares, “You found a good pack now, though.”

“Yeah, I did. The Avengers are… it’s good,” Steve replies as he looks over the offering of gerber daisies. “Missed you, though. The Commandos… Peggy,” Steve says with a small shrug.

“Still, a good pack. And you have a bonded now,” Bucky replies, confused at Steve’s dismissal. “He seems…good,” he finally settles on, though Bucky knows the word is inadequate.

Tony had welcomed Bucky, right from the start. Maybe that was because of Steve asking him to, but to give Bucky his own space in the Tower? And JARVIS told Bucky that Tony had provided the overwhelming selection of things in Bucky’s closet, with Bucky free to choose to keep or toss anything. The trust and generosity… it had been so long since Bucky had seen anything like it, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do with them.

Steve bonding Tony makes sense. Tony is fantastic - as a person, as a teammate, and as a bonded. Bucky tries not to be jealous. Steve has memories, a pack, and a mate. Bucky had Hydra, and now has nothing.

“Tony is Tony,” Steve replies with a small laugh. “When you get to know him, you’ll understand. It’s just… not the same. But good,” Steve clarifies hurriedly. “I’m just so glad you’re here too.”

Bucky nods. He picks over a stack of apples to prevent himself from thinking what it would be like to come home to a pack like the Avengers and come home to… not Tony, because Tony is Steve’s, but someone like Tony, maybe. Maybe someday, if Bucky can remember who he is.

“How did you do it? Ask him to bond?” Bucky asks as he hands over the cash for his small bag of apples. JARVIS had given him many options to access money to use for whatever Bucky desired, but Bucky stuck to the small amount of currency he’d accumulated on the run.

“Oh, it’s not a good story. It kinda just… happened,” Steve waves away. “Hey, why don’t we take a left up here? Sam suggested we check out this bakery that’s supposed to have the best cronuts of the city.”

*

Slowly, Bucky settles into the Tower. Dinner with the pack now means all the pack, except for Thor who is offworld. Some days he goes out exploring with Steve, talking through pieces of memories that Bucky has. Some days he lurks around the Tower and avoids everyone. Some days he goes to sports games with Sam, who doesn’t seem to have a favorite game.

Bucky lets himself be dragged to a minor league baseball game, a professional basketball game, a college tennis tournament, a high school cross country meet. It isn’t until Bucky finds himself at a Little League’s football match that Bucky decides to ask.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Sam leans back on the bleachers, sipping a Coke as he watches little kids run around the field. “You’re the one who said yes, man.”

“You often come to Little League games on your own?” Bucky asks.

“Nah, but football is a bit out of season. This is the closest we could manage.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow as he watches a kid trip over the lump of grass. The ‘we’ Sam had dropped implied it was a pack decision. Did that include Steve? Because Steve would never have suggested taking Bucky to a football game. Baseball was Steve’s game of choice and he had recounted several memories of games they’d gone to together. Bucky doesn’t remember any other sports.

“What’s next on the list?” Bucky asks.

“Soccer and hockey are the next big ones. You got any suggestions? No limit, not with Tony Stark financing. We could go to a soccer game in Argentina, if you want.”

“Not how I remembered a pack working,” Bucky voices carefully, watching Sam to see if he’s overstepping. “One person paying for everything.”

Sam shrugs at the question. “Tony’s got a lot, and he’s not afraid to share. He’s a good guy; it doesn’t come with strings attached or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve had to find my own ways to contribute to the pack, like being the eye candy,” Sam says with a smirk.

Bucky rolls his eyes, and Sam laughs.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam continues. “You want a job we can find you one. I still work part time at the VA and I’m totally willing to refer you for like, mopping floors or something if you want.” Then Sam looks at him, gaze serious. “But right now, the most important thing you can do is take care of yourself, okay? That’s what packs are for, that support system, so I’m telling you to not worry about it right this second.”

Bucky thinks Sam’s words over, and then it takes Bucky several moments more moments to voice, “Dancing. I’d… I’d like to go, to watch.”

Sam grins. “Alright, man. Not my speed, but we can hook you up.”

Back at the Tower, JARVIS offers Bucky a variety of ways to go see dancing. There’s Broadway or off-Broadway or off-off-Broadway, with both dancing and singing. There are collegiate dance recitals and professional ballroom dancing competitions and even strip clubs listed as options. Bucky picks the one he meant, though: ballet.

*

“I’m so thrilled! Who would’ve guessed that the Winter Soldier would be the one with culture compared to Captain America?” Tony greets when Bucky comes down to the communal floor the night of the ballet.

Bucky hesitates. Not because of what Tony said, but because of how Tony is dressed. Tony’s suit is a classic black with a white shirt, but the cut and the fit stall Bucky’s brain. Tony’s collar is done up, and Steve’s mark isn’t visible but Bucky wants nothing more than to press his face against Tony’s neck and take in Tony’s scent. Bucky had only gotten small whiffs of Tony’s scent trail over the past few days.

Bucky had seen little of Tony since that initial dinner with Natasha. Occasionally Tony stopped by the pack dinners, always on his way coming from somewhere or going somewhere else but dispensing cheek brushes and pats to the shoulder before he was gone again. Even with as much time with Steve that Bucky was spending, he hadn’t seen Tony.

Maybe Steve and Tony hung out when Bucky was with Sam?

Then Bucky sees Natasha behind Tony, and wonders if Tony is only here to be a buffer between alphas.

“Sam isn’t into ballet, but I am,” Natasha says, hair curled and dressed in a slim knee-length black dress. “If you’d rather that I didn’t come…”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, which is true. There’s the tingling sense of another alpha, a threat in the vicinity, but Bucky was getting better at tamping it down after spending so much time with Steve, and Tony’s scent helps. And better not to be alone with Tony, because Bucky is still an outside alpha and shouldn’t be trusted with the pack omega.

That’s old-fashioned, he reminds himself. Sam had given him a rundown during one of their sports matches. And even if omegas were still supposed to be hidden away, Tony could take care of himself Iron Man suit or no. But wouldn’t it still be weird to go to a ballet with Steve’s bonded?

“You, however, are not,” Tony says, eyeing Bucky. “Go change that shirt and grab a blazer.”

Bucky hesitates, crossing his arms. He’s more casual than they are, dressed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. He’d worn similar outfits to all the sports games and had put it on without even thinking.

Natasha nods. “You’ll attract attention like that, where we’re going.”

Bucky retreats to his room.

With JARVIS’ additional guidance, Bucky comes back down a second time more properly dressed in a button down and blazer. Once they get to the theater, Bucky starts to relax. The lack of comfort in the new outfit is worth being able to fade into the crowd. He almost wishes he had changed from jeans to something else, too, but Natasha grabs his arm and leads him away.

They leave Tony behind, a crowd forming as they ask for autographs and pictures.

“Should we leave him?” Bucky murmurs.

“He can handle this, and there’s enough kids that he doesn’t mind it too much anyway,” Natasha replies as she leads him into the theater.

Still, Bucky thinks that someone - Steve - should be there with him.

“He’s fine,” Natasha assures, squeezing his arm when Bucky takes another glance back. “And don’t say anything about it or he’ll get all ruffled about alpha posturing. Speaking of which, you’re doing remarkably well with me.”

Bucky shrugs.

“Steve had a much harder time,” Natasha murmurs as she hands over their tickets. “I think we expected the same of you.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t respond. Hydra had been a pit of posturing, but Bucky, the Winter Soldier, whatever he was, hadn’t bothered. When he was challenged he simply killed his opponent, and soon enough he was left alone. Now, Bucky prefers avoiding confrontation and the attention it would bring. Flight came easier than fight. Bucky remembers enough to know that Steve Rogers would never understand that, pre or post Captain America.

Even now, Bucky still has the urge to run from Steve and the memories Steve brings to the surface.

Right when the lights dim, Tony takes his seat next to Natasha. The private box has only the three of them, and Bucky is grateful not to be packed in below without an easy escape route.

Then the show starts.

Bucky enjoys it. His chest aches, something teasing him in his brain, but it’s a good kind of ache. He can hardly take his eyes off the principal dancer, leaping across the stage in a fiery red dress while the male lead chases after her while performing a complex set of spins.

There’s a lift matched with a musical crescendo, and when Natasha leans forward Bucky gets a waft of her scent.

The memory devours him. The Red Room. Training. Blood. Ballet. Girls, so many girls, but one with red hair. One he danced with. One he beat to near death. One with that scent.

A new scent floods his nose, one that makes Bucky think of flying and forging. The memory relaxes its hold, and Bucky blinks and realizes that he’s still in the box, the ballet is still ongoing, and Tony is in his face.

Natasha is gone.

“Hey, hey, you’re fine, you’re fine,” Tony whispers, hands hovering over Bucky but not touching.

Bucky relaxes his grip on the armrests, and he realizes he has left dents where his fingers were.

“You want to stay, or…?” Tony offers.

Bucky shakes his head, and then Tony is herding him out of the box and out of the theater.

“Eh, it was getting stuffy in there anyway,” Tony breezes as he calls for a car. “I’m thinking ice cream is a much better choice, what do you think?” He keeps a hand on Bucky’s arm.

Bucky could shove him off, could disappear. He’d miss his backpack - still kept stocked with food, water, and his journals - but he could run.

Tony puts his phone down. “Is that a no for the ice cream? Or a yes? Or we can do whatever you and Steve or Sam or whoever do when you get hit by a bad memory, it’s cool, I just don’t know what the usual is, you know. Not that I don’t care, because I do, we just didn’t want to overwhelm you all the time with us given your previous Lone Star state.”

Bucky breathes. He wishes he had his journal. It was easier to stop his brain from circling when some of the thoughts were put down on paper. He doesn’t have his journal. He has Tony and a city that would be easy to disappear into.

“Where is Tasha?” Bucky forces out, and then winces as the nickname escapes. “I, she shouldn’t have, she left you. She left you with me, that shouldn’t, your pack,” he stumbles.

“You’re pack,” Tony states, firm and sharp.

Bucky’s chest heaves. He remembers the blood on his knuckles. He remembers the feeling of a throat underneath his palm. He remembers the echo of his gun in his ears. “I’ve, I’ve done things. I didn’t choose them, but I did them.”

“Welcome to the club,” Tony bites back. “Listen. I don’t need to know what your kill count is to know that I have it beaten at least three times over, all because I was an idiot. You think Iron Man will ever make up for the lives that ended because I wasn’t paying attention? You think any of us don’t regret the lives that we took? Steve? Sam? I’m sure Natasha has stories directly on par with yours. Ask Clint about Loki sometime, except don’t. Even Bruce gets it, okay?”

Tony steps closer. Bucky freezes, afraid that his own reaction will be violent if he so much as lets himself twitch. Tony brushes his cheek, just like when they’d met.

“You’re pack,” Tony repeats firmly as he steps back. “Like it or not, you’re one of us.”

“Because I’m Steve’s,” Bucky says.

“Because you fit,” Tony counters. “Or you will, when you stop lurking in corners. Or lurk in them less, feel free to continue lurking if it makes you happy. We’ll be here. Any of us.”

Tony steps back again and brushes off his jacket. “Now, ice cream?”

[youmightaswell]

Die!

My actual diary entries from 9/11

I’m very lucky in that I have kept a secret online diary since 2000. I have a record of every first date I’ve been on since then, every monumental happening in my life...

On 9/11 I remember heading to work in Midtown on the crosstown bus. I lived on 54th and 9th and worked on 42nd and 3rd. I was slightly late and remember how clear the sky was. I got there and the office was in chaos. A group of colleagues were huddled around an old boxy tv and explained that a plain just crashed into the WTC. (We had an office there!) I dropped my stuff at my desk--happy no one noticed I was late--and gathered with my friends. I saw the plane crash into the tower and my colleagues gasped. I figured it was a replay but no! Turns out this was the second plane. There was a second plane -- a second tower hit. 

As time wore on we knew the Pentagon was hit too and being in such a centrally located place on 42nd Street we were given the option of leaving or staying. I figured I’d head home and get through the Midtown streets quickly before any further danger descended closer. I recall being back on the crosstown bus and seeing smoke as I looked downtown. A stop before my own the bus went out of commission and I walked towards Ninth Avenue to my sixth floor walkup, dazed and confused. 

I began chronicling my thoughts in my online diary. (Several years later I would become the first fired blogger in NYC and it would ultimately launch my own PR company which I still run happily today. Lemons/lemonade, friendos.)

Here are those original diary entries from 2001:

Yeah, what Nostradamus said…

Thank you to all my well wishers. I am fine. I got to work and was told a plane crashed into the WTC due to traffic control problems. We went to the conference room and watched it on tv. We saw the 2nd plane crash live. We all knew at that point it was terrorism. We then watched the Pentagon go up in flames and saw Tower 1 go down. I work by the UN and next to the Chrysler Bldg. I went out into the sunshine in a daze, an eerie song of sirens being sung. On the bus we were in tears. All of us looking madly at each other for some sort of answer. Strangers yet related by common tragedy. For once we wanted to be close. I breathed in my fellow passengers thankfully.

Got home and turned on the news and watched the 2nd tower crumble live. It’s like watching a bad Stallone or Schwartzenhagger movie. It’s impossible to comprehend. Our phones work on and off. Cells are out completely.

I am alone. Everyone rushed off to call loved ones and to try desparately to get to them. I had no one to call. No one to rush to. I packed a bag—I’m not sure why. I laid down with my shoes on in front of the tv. The streets below are empty. All lower NYC is evacuated. There are so many dead, jobless, unable to reach their homes. Everyone is trapped. There is no route out–tunnels are closed, bridges likewise.

The only thing to do is walk. People are walking around in groups…far distances. The mayor has just alerted us to go North. That doesn’t give us much direction as where to go or what do to.

There are fighter planes in the sky. They are armed and ready to protect us. What does that mean exactly? There really is no protection, is there?

I’m wondering if I should go out and get batteries and water, canned goods. Should I rip sheets and boil water–opps that’s just for childbirthing, no?

I’m scared for me, for US. Now more than ever I fear having Bush be our President. He is too aggressive. He says he will retaliate. This is how wars are made, my friends. Bigger bombs, louder sirens…

My company does telecom. for trading floors and financial companies. We all have friends, associates in these 2 bldgs. A friend I grew up with worked on the 104th Floor. Luckily we just got word that she had gone down right before it happened to have a cigarette. How ironic one saved her life.

I grew up seeing the WTC in the skyline. It is gone now. A skyline permanently changed.

People saw people jumping from the buildings. There are people covered in blood. Ambulances are still racing down my street. There is a blood shortage it would seem. The TV keeps flashing we are under terrorist attack.

But today, are we alive as a nation? Something died in everyone today. New York, I thought could get no darker, is darker still.

How could WW3 start on such a sunny day?

***

And Darker Still

And darker still, a demonic night has for once come in day. Sirens are louder if one can believe their ears, when we assuredly cannot believe our eyes.

I lie around unable to leave the tv. It is my family and I believe I have begun to look like it; it like me. A blank screen with only one unblinking eye. New York is a once abused animal now abandoned. We shriek and gasp at any attempted touches, recoiling.

We are a city in the fetal position. Our fingertips still smarting from touching a massive burner.

The tv is an unmanageable child. I fell asleep earlier on the futon in front of it, feeling latchkey. I awoke a while later with my shirt slightly damp from sweat from dreams of sautéed mushroom clouds that I thought only those supposedly abducted by aliens reported.

I have always believed. Maybe now more so.

When it happened my bladder immediately acted up. it, my Achilles heel, swelled and needs to void constantly. I dare not take my medicine, too numb and almost thankfully for the abdomen of pain.

I’m not sure what to do. It is silly but I’m craving a peanut butter shake. But walking downstairs 6 flights and out in the actual air will make it all too real. It is easier pretending I am watching action movies in bed as a result of a sick day. I long for coloring books and crayons, cartoons and jello.

It’s just a flu, isn’t it? A flu that makes us feverish and a bit shaky but it’ll pass won’t it with the ease of a few aspirin?

Our nation is like me, it doesn’t appear to have the warm arms of a protecting mother to hold it.

Where do I go tomorrow? I have a list of chores but none seem to be worthwhile. Should one pick up their dry cleaning at a time like this? Does it seem worthwhile to mail a letter or buy some stamps? Does anything warrant standing in a subway depot waiting for a train that may not come? I really have no idea what I should do with myself.

I have spoken with friends but today is good day to speak to not-so-friends.

Now more than ever I long to run into someone’s arms. I have had a taste of the end of the world and I realize now more than ever that I will face it alone, in a sweat dampened shirt, aching bladder and slightly dirty feet.

***

There’s no K in WTC

OK. I’m now sick of the coverage. I’ve watched non-stop for two days. I cried at times. I’ve slept some. Earlier I smelled a horrible burning and got scared my bldg. was burning. It turns out it’s in the air. The wind is blowing and even though I’m 65 blocks away from site the smell is so strong I gagged. I quickly shut all the windows and sat on the floor. I need to be grounded, yet we’ve all learned that the ground is not the end-all for it can fall through in the blink of an eye.

Tomorrow I will try to go to work. There will be so many sad stories. I’m pretty sure I will cry at my desk. I am almost anxious to be back just to have some people around me. I have been completely alone for all these days now. I want to hear voices around me. I want to hear the rustle of steps.

I think I can’t handle it–the loneliness, the destruction. But inside we are all forced to handle it. “We will recover, I just don’t know how.”  It’s all so unstable. We could die at any moment. We could be tortured. We are all fundamentally unsafe. The ground has no contract to stay under our feet.

[ninjakitty15]

Chapter 17: Bigger Fish, Doo Doo Doo Doo (Loki x OFC Pairing)

No matter how many times I visited Salem in the past, I never got tired of shop hopping every touristy store or authentic wiccan shop in the city. Of course with it being so close to All Hallows Eve, that wasn't what ended up happening when the streets were packed with street vendors and all their beautifully handcrafted delights. Under normal circumstances, I'd abhor walking through so many crowds of people but this was the only time of year I really felt strong and alive again, with the veil between worlds being so thin it was like Ned Flanders ski suit. Of course even before all the necromancy stuff I loved the holiday, there was nothing more liberating than dressing up as whatever the hell you want and no one judging you for it or making you feel less for doing so. Plus free candy, you can't go wrong with free candy despite all those urban legends about drugs or razors being mixed into that. Just don't go trick or treating to places/neighborhoods you aren't familiar with, it's common sense people!

"Steer clear of the fake psychics while we're here, they don't like me much," I warned Loki as he eyed a palm reader tent.

"Why, what did you do?"

"Called them out and made them lose clients, it's their own damn fault preying on desperate people who just want to talk to their recently deceased loved ones and capitalizing on it. For just this amount of money I can get them to talk to you, even make them solid so you can see em one last time. That's fucked up, you're giving them false hope and a bigger hole in their wallet. The real ones also charge you for it but they're not as over the top."

"Is there a way to tell a difference between them without being sucked in by their claims?"

"I can tell them apart, one is actually linked to the dead, the other is just greedy bastards. But I kinda doubt others can tell them apart and that's how they lure em in. Like an angler fish."

"Hideous beasts those creatures are from what I've seen of them, hope you don't go fishing for them like other big fish," Loki muttered.

"We tend to not go for deep sea creatures because as you said, the deeper they are the uglier and freakier they get and that's not remotely appetizing."

"You'll eat squid and those crustaceans though and they're not that pretty either."

"Because they're not deep sea and they're fucking delicious, I will fight whoever says lobsters especially aren't delicious, that's my favorite food in the whole multiverse."

"I have a strong suspicion you haven't even been off this planet let alone another universe."

I glared playfully at the cocky god and scoffed. "Minor details, it's still the bees knees."

We wandered and splurged till the evening and returned to the field by the sea while there was still sunlight, enjoying the quiet as vendors started to simmer down before the night festivities started up.

"You really wanna stay here? With me?" I asked him quietly as we watched the skyline.

"I take it you're surprised I've suggested such a long term commitment to someone I've not known that long and it's understandable your reaction but I meant it."

"You know we can't have a family, well I can't, apparently you can if those myths about you were true."

He gave me an unamused, pointed look, knowing full well that I knew they weren't true as he himself made that clear. "All I want is to be with you, in the end. What comes after that, whatever it is, we'll handle it together."

"Bring it on," I agreed.

"If you say so," a new voice interrupted.

I spun around just in time to feel something big and burning strike me right in the chest, knocking me back off my feet and several feet away from Loki who's face went from horror to furious and instantly went back to his preferred form of black hair and green Asgardian attire, a dagger in each hand. I scrambled to my feet only to be shot at, not by magic this time around but by rock salt, not just good against ghosts like in Supernatural. Black blood instantly spread from the chest wound and up my throat as I coughed to clear it, still stunned from the magic punch and weakened from the salt. "Motherfucker!" I couldn't see from where I lay which rat bastard of the traitors knocked me down but I could definitely see the Hydra agents closing in on us. I looked over to where Loki was and his eyes locked on mine and he instantly knew what I was trying to convey, we couldn't fight them when I'm down and out, and I didn't wanna fight them in my happy place anyway, we needed an out. He didn't hesitate on the idea and created a thick green smokescreen around us as he rushed to my aid, picking me up in his arms and teleported us away from the oncoming chaos.

We were suddenly in NYC, Loki still holding me in his arms, surrounded by buildings in one of the parks, probably Central.  

"We can't be out in the open," I gasped, turning my head away from him to spit out more blood.

"And we don't want to draw the Avengers attention either, I assume, so where?"

"Do you need an address? I don't know where exactly but I have an idea of where."

"Think of it and I'll get us there."

So I did and green magic took us into a set of apartment buildings in a rough part of the city.

"You sure this is a good idea?" he asked me softly.

"I just need a place to lay low till I can get all the damned salt out of my system, its hindering my ability to self heal."

Loki carried me to the first door we could find that I felt would be the safest bet and knocked on it softly.

"One second!" a familiar somewhat squeaky voice called from the other side before hurried footsteps were heard coming to the door and it was pulled open. "Mr. Loki! What are you doing here? Oh my God, what happened?"

"I got shot, can we come in, please?" I asked the kid in front of us.

"O-of course, man, it's a good thing May's out having a date tonight though, good timing there," he muttered. "Why here though?" He stepped aside to let Loki carry me in where I was gently placed on the couch, my head propped on a pillow propped on his lap while the host propped on the farther armrest.

"I needed a place to lay low and away from the Avengers, so you can't tell Tony I'm here, like at all, same for Loki."

"O-ok, but wouldn't he be able to help you, there's nothing I could do here, he'd have more experience and resources."

"None of which can help heal someone already dead, hun, all I need is a place to hide that's off the radar and seeing as none of your enemies know where you live, I kinda suspect your place is my best bet right now. I won't stay long, just gotta recover and I'm off like a herd of turtles."

Peter looked at me with an expression between concern and curiosity. "Who shot you? I thought you said most weapons don't work."

"Hydra are on my tail again and they have people, my people helping them track me down. Most weapons don't work on their own, I got hit by something else first that weakened my defenses down to a normal human's so I wouldn't be able to heal myself when I got shot after." I looked at Peter then, really looked at him, I didn't need ghost vision to see he was a good kid, insatiable curiosity and all. He worshiped Tony without question or hesitation, stuck to his morals, and did his best in all he could which couldn't be easy as for a kid, he could do a hell of a lot.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked me.

I wanted to shrug but pain didn't allow much movement. "What's good for flushing salt from a wound?"

"Water and foods rich in potassium, um sports drinks with electrolytes in them."

I wrinkled my nose at the last one. "Of all the choices Tony made, the one he made on you takes the cake. I think you need to submerge me in water, you do have a tub right?"

"Of course. Do you need help with that or...?"

"I've got her," Loki assured him.

"What he means is I'm about to get naked and he doesn't like sharing the view," I joked. "Ain't that right, babe?"

"Even when you're bleeding out, you still manage to tease me over this," he growled. "Maybe I should just drown you."

"You're welcome to try but I should remind you first that I don't breathe so that kinda won't work. Pete, lead the way and thank you."

I let myself sink to the cold porcelain bottom of the tub, staring up through the water at Loki who watched me worriedly as the water started turning dark with blood. To lighten the mood, I started singing Singing in the Rain like Alex in A Clockwork Orange, as after this bath I'd be cured alright.

Peter knocked on the door during one point, making sure I was doing okay without peaking in, being the little superpowered boyscout he was. While I was flushing out salt, he was nice enough to clean and dry my clothes for me at nearest laundromat which I was thankful for and also surprised he got out the black blood stains, maybe I should just wear black for the purpose of hiding blood but then it wasn't often people made me bleed my own blood. Once I was strong enough to move without crumbling, I allowed Loki to pull me out and dry me before he returned my clothes fresh out of the dryer and I sighed at the warmth before collapsing back on the couch as Peter insisted there was no rush to leave.

"What could've made your defenses that weak?" Peter asked.

"Not a whole lot actually, I wasn't brought back from the dead just to die by any ordinary means."

"It had to be mine," Loki murmured.

"What?"

"The color of the energy blast was green when it was fired at you and you flickered to your old form when you got hit by it. They must have gotten it from me while I was contained with you back there."

If I wasn't already unnaturally pale, I would be now. "They're getting smarter, those bastards, how the fuck did they figure that out?"

"Does it matter? They know I'm your weakness more than metaphorically now, while I doubt they can keep using what they got from me initially, as long as we're both still around they'll be after us."

I groaned and dropped back on the couch dramatically. "This is why I wanted more power to begin with, to stop being a target and level the playing field or wipe out competitors. Should've kept the receipt on that deal."

"There's always a bigger fish," mused Peter.

"Yeah well I was promised I'd be great white status and Hydra ain't remotely close to Megalodon so I shouldn't be dealing with them like I'm forced to."

"Megalodon?" questioned Loki curiously.

"The biggest shark to exist on this planet, could swallow the biggest animal easily if it were still around but it presumably died out with the other prehistoric monsters of earth. Could eat a whole pod of whales and still have room for more."

"Hold on, what do you mean presumably?" squeaked Peter.

"There's speculation they're just napping at the bottom of the sea somewhere, I mean it makes sense since sharks are still around when all other prehistoric beasties are out of existence, they're survivors. I mean yeah there's relatives of them walking around now but sharks stayed sharks, just smaller over time. Much like people, they too shrink with old age."

"Is that why you're so short?" teased Loki.

I opted to simply punch him in the arm but as I hadn't completely recovered, while the bleeding and flickering had stopped and the wound was closing, I apparently still had mortal strength and the very audible sound of fingers breaking happened as a result. "My me-time hand!"

"That shouldn't be an issue when you have me," Loki noted.

I scowled. "Yeah well that ain't happening anytime soon, my moral compass might not point north but I'm not shagging in a tiny little apartment as a guest, we'd destroy the place and the host's sanity and innocence in the process and then Tony will really be after us."

"Have it your way, oh wait you can't as your good hand is broken," he retorted.

"Peter, how strong are your webbings, could they muzzle a god for instance?" I asked the hapless kid watching us.

"I-I'm not sure that's a good idea, Nell. I think with you being injured and him being an actual god, he might actually be the strongest here."

"Nah, give him to Dr. Banner on a bad day and he's just like the rest of us. You on the other hand, you're young and super strong and can stop a speeding bus with your bare hands or hold a ferry together. I can see why Tony has such faith in you, you got some serious potential...don't fuck it up."

"I won't...and thanks."

"You're a good kid, Pete, with a big heart and a serious case of wounded puppy look, don't let anyone change you, you've no idea how rare someone like you is in this world."

"That's-that's really...are you okay? I mean, I kinda thought you didn't like me and now you're..."

"Nah you're okay, just before when you were at the compound, you were a fucking moment killer, pun intended and that insatiable curiosity can get on my nerves when I'm already in a mood by you ruining my good one so you kinda had it coming then but seeing as I interrupted you this time around, we good." My hand bones began to fix themselves as my body was slowly returning to it's dead stasis state of unbreakable but not alive either. I wiggled the fingers once they set themselves back properly and sighed happily. "It's good to be dead."

[tomhollandarling]

Star What? Part Two

Summary: There’s a few complications with finishing a chemistry worksheet. That being Peter’s internship, and oh yeah, a stolen truck. Part Two of Star What?

Part One

Masterlist

Word Count: 2260

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: Hey! Finally back with part two. Sorry it took a while to update! AP classes have me swamped. Don’t take APUSH, it’s a trap. ALSO: sorry if the perspective switch is kinda confusing. I didn’t want the whole story to be from the reader’s perspective since I did start part one being Peter’s. I think it makes it interesting. Hope you guys like it! I’m definitely going to continue writing this. (ALSO I FOUND THIS CUTE GIF AND IT GOES WITH THE BEGINNING OF PART TWO KINDA)

4:48pm

As soon as Peter picked up on the unusual amount of sirens due to his heightened senses, he knew something was up from where he was situated: the ledge of someone’s fire escape, eating a sandwich with his mask half off.

Discarding his food, Peter pulled it down to fully cover his exposed features, hiding his identity. Taking one last moment to admire the setting sun of New York, he quickly began to swing from concrete rooftop to rooftop, paralleling the skyline on his way as the city slowly fell into evening’s grasp.

---

It was nearing five and Peter still hadn’t texted you the address to his apartment complex or even contacted you. Just meeting him and all, you were hesitant to text multiple times. You didn’t want to annoy him or come off as rude and you’d already texted him earlier. Although, being a student in NYC, students got together at each other’s apartments all the time to work on projects even if they weren’t super close. It was no big deal. Maybe you could just finish the questions on your own. Yeah, yeah. I’ll do that if I don’t get a reply by 6.

But, Peter had mentioned an internship so that could have occupied his time more than usual? Where does he intern though? Either way, you decided to not let it bother you, instead turning to make home on the plush couch in your living room. You knew Peter was a good student, or at least that what was what your peers said. He’d have a good reason.

To your left was a window looking out at the city buildings and streets. Your mom was working late tonight and your dad was on a business trip so you had the whole apartment to yourself. Always working. You sighed. The faint sound of traffic carried upwards into the area, more sirens than usual going off around the block. Typical New York crime on a Monday night. You mentally rolled your eyes.

Snuggling up with a thick maroon knit blanket and a mug of tea, you turned on the news to learn what the commotion was about.

5:02pm

“Just around the 12th avenue bridge multiple vehicles have been involved in an accident regarding a stolen Stark Industries transportation semi that has been hijacked by unknown personnel. Police and officials are doing their best to keep the situation contained. We at 7News advice you to stay inside and off the streets as the individuals inside the vehicle are heavily armed and have already injured 6 civilians…”

Dang, that sounds bad. What the hell is in that vehicle that they wanted? You wondered.

---

Shit. I was supposed to have (Y/n) over.

Peter barely had time to think as he was in the midst of running across a street that was packed with ongoing traffic, let alone send you a text. Angry drivers and taxis honked their horns, shouting and making rude gestures as they had to slam their brakes in order not to hit the masked teen. He was, after all, jaywalking in the middle of the street. Probably not the smartest move but...I could’ve stopped one if I had to. A wave of satisfaction washed over Peter as he realized his strength again: it never got old. Wait, I can stop a car. I can actually stop a moving car with my bare hands. He smiled under the suit.

Peter sprinted down 12th avenue’s sidewalk and up towards the bridge, the scene of the crash just ahead. Red and blue lights surrounded the accident and detour signs had been placed around the stretch of road. He rushed over, analyzing the area. Ambulances were already stationed and medics had started to help the victims. Three cars were involved in the crash he noticed. Allegedly the stolen Stark Industries truck had been tailgating, urging the car on as a means to get away faster. That’s what caused the crash.

“He started ramming into my bumper and at this point I was gettin’ pretty mad, you know, so I rolled down my window, makin’ a gesture, which I know I shouldn’t a’made, but you gotta understand he was ramming my back! An’ that’s when I felt somthin’ hit my hand.”

One of the victims was explaining how the crash started, showing Peter his hand as a medic finished wrapping it, the white fabric already a bit stained with crimson. “An’ then I span out of control. Thought I was gonna land in the lake.” He noted.

“I can’t move it now. I can move my arm, but not my hand.” He said, alarming Peter. “They don’t know what hit me.” The man continued, referring to the medics. “No evidence of a bullet. They think it’s gonna be paralyzed for a while.” He rambled on.

Peter stood there at the sidelines of the crash. He couldn’t muster up an idea. “That’s really weird. There’s nothing to prove what hit you? Nothing in your hand?”

“Goose egg, son.” The man sighed, completely unfazed about a teenager in a spandex suit interviewing him. Police started to make their way over to the man as they needed statements. Before they could ask Peter what he was doing there, he quietly excused himself and casually walked away towards the crash.

Taking the chance to explore the site, Peter slipped under the police tape and behind the crushed cars unnoticed, looking for something. Anything. There’s gotta be something. Come on.

He shuffled around pieces of broken glass and shredded metal and peered through the car windows. Peter didn’t know what they he was looking for but how on earth could something leave no evidence? Especially since it was something that was shot at someone, he assumed.

Peter was just about to give up searching around the crash to pursue looking for the runaway truck until something got caught in his peripheral vision. He turned on his heels, jogging over to the one of the totaled cars. This must be that guy’s car. Peter observed, referring to the man he was just talking to, as the bumper was crushed inwards and some of the tires were torn off. The drivers side mirror was missing from the vehicle but it wasn’t due to the fact that the car had rolled. It looked as if something had blown it off.

Where’s the mirror? Peter squatted down, running his fingers over where the mirror would be and scanning the car’s surroundings.

Peter closed his eyes, visualizing what could have happened. He walked over to where the tire skids were burned into the asphalt in a wavelike pattern, assuming they were from the car’s.

“..An’ then I span out of control. Thought I was gonna land in the lake.” Peter recalled.

The lake.

Okay okay. You got this Peter. You’re the Spider-man. He pumped himself up, deciding to go down into the water as he made his way over to the guard rails. He peered side to side, checking if anyone was watching. The crash blocked him from view to his right and there wasn’t any movement to his left. All clear.

Peter gingerly stepped up onto the railing, still holding on, and swung himself over to the other side. He glanced down at the rushing water. The breeze started to pick up, sending chills down Peter’s spine. He tightened his grip on the rusted guard rails.

Shooting a web, he attached it to the side of the bridge’s concrete, pulling on it to test the strength. Slowly, he inched his other hand away from the rail and put his trust into the web. He started lowering himself down at a reluctant pace. Checking the durability once more, Peter tugged at the web. You’re fine. It’s fine. People hang over the side of bridges all the time.

Descending downwards he was halfway there when his phone started buzzing uncontrollably, making him jolt in surprise.

What the?

---

5:20pm

Taking a sip of your tea you noticed that your phone lit up. Hoping it was from Peter, you urgently grabbed it. Just another news notification.

Still nestled in a blanket on the couch, you were getting impatient. 5:22 is close enough to 6 right? Yeah, okay. I’m just gonna call him. You decided. Internships don’t go this late. Not for students.

You found his contact and pressed call, holding up the phone to your ear waiting for an answer. It only took 7 rings for him to pick up.

You heard Peter clear his throat. “H-hey.” He spoke.

“Uh, hey.” You started, unsure of how to start the conversation. “So, it’s um past five. Weren’t we gonna finish the chem paper?”

“Oh. Sorry about that I got held up at the..the internship. Yeah the internship.” The sound of wind filled the phone, making it hard to hear him. Where is he?

“Where are you?”

“What do you mean? I’m at the internship. Avenger’s tower.” He sounded nervous.

“Are you outside or something? It sounds windy--wait Avengers Tower?”

“YeAH.” His voice quickly went up in a frenzy and you heard some muffled movement.

“Peter? You okay?”

“Yeah yeah! I’m good. Just slipped. I’m...outside on one of the balconies.”

Avengers Tower? Peter Parker interns at Avengers Tower? No wonder he has no time. To your surprise, anger wasn’t what filled you, it was concern. How does he manage all his homework and the internship? Even you weren’t finished with all your work, being in advanced classes just like Peter, the teachers piled it on every night. It was hard to imagine how much he must have.

“Okay, well I can finish the questions then if you’re still there. Who do you intern for?”

You heard some more movement on the line. “Peter?”

“Yeah.” He let out a deep breath of relief.

“I asked who you intern for.” You repeated.

“Uh. Tony Stark.”

“Woah seriously? That’s so cool!! What do you do?”

He seemed really distracted by something. “I can explain to you tomorrow?”

“Oh. Okay, sure. That works.” You put your attention towards the tv, bringing your knees up to your chest.

“...As the chase continues, NYPD have sent out backup towards the situation…” The screen panned an aerial view of the crash.

“Wow. Have you heard about the crash?” You asked, following along on the news story.

He coughed in surprise at your comment “Y-yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you’re at Avengers Tower so I don’t know, I guess you might know more than me or the news right? There’s a runaway Stark truck.” You laughed a little, trying to cheer the situation up. He seemed uncomfortable.

“Oh, heh. Yeah…” Peter trailed off. “I heard-”

Suddenly his voice disappeared and you heard a weird crash. “Hello?” No answer. “Hello? Peter?” You called. The phone call beeped and ended. Well okay then.

“That was weird.” You commented to yourself, staring at the black screen.

---

“Peter, you’re an idiot. An actual idiot.” He said to himself, watching his phone fall down into the lake, sending ripples outwards once it hit the surface.

Just as Peter was lowering himself down towards the water you had called him...and he answered...as he was hanging halfway down the side of a bridge with nothing but a spider web for support.

“Why would you answer? You could have called back? YOU ALMOST FELL.” Peter continued scolding himself, webbing the tear in the web rope again for extra measure. It had ripped as he was declining towards the lake and of course he’d botched his words.

”YeAH.” He mocked himself, remembering the conversation and how just as the web snapped half-way he sorta fell. “You know it’s fine. Just tell (Y/n) that you’re Spider-man and this all would have gone well.”

“Oh hey, (Y/n)! Whats up? Yeah me too. Nothing much, just chilling. Hanging on a web halfway down a bridge over a lake trying to find a car mirror.”

He tilted his head back in frustration. He’d have to explain what happened to you tomorrow. “Yeah I tripped on the balcony at Avengers Tower and then I dropped my phone off the ledge.” Peter rolled his eyes. “Ned’s gonna get a kick out of this.”

Peter finally made it to the water. A determined red and blue reflection stared back at him. Alright. Back to business.

---

6:12pm

You decided to finish the chemistry worksheet since Peter was still busy with his internship. Retrieving your chem binder, you flipped through the pocket to find the lab papers, clicking your mechanical pencil you began the questions. They weren’t difficult at all, there was just quite a handful of them. Also, being invested in the story on the news didn’t help either as it distracted you. Emergency notifications kept popping up on your phone involving the incident and you were still tuned into 7News.

“..Just in: Officials have reported that the hijacked Stark Industries semi has crashed into one of New York’s finest jewelry shops and stole some of the merchandise. As of right now, we do not know how this relates to the heist. Luckily, with the help of Spider-man, police are closing in on the scene.”

Diamonds? Really? What does that have to do with anything? You sighed and returned to finish the assignments, still wrapped in the blanket that hung around your waist, hoping the situation would be resolved.

After a while, you finally clocked out around 11 and trudged off to your room, forgetting the day’s troubles when your head hit the pillow.

Part One  Part Three

Masterlist

[brokenbones-singsongs]

I’ve begun to wonder how many different ways I can write about how much I miss you. How many poems will come to be before I feel like I’ve given this peculiar feeling enough attention? How many times can I almost convince myself that it is possible not to love you? How many nights can I trick myself into believing that the tears are for nothing and that there is no reason for me to want you the way I do? How many words can I speak before I run out? Poem #1:  “I’ve been told once, Twice, Three times Their lives were better Before me Without me How unfortunate How Unfair Poem #2: Enjoy the peace He says There is no peace for me. Not in goodbye. Poem #3:  That feeling You resting your hand on my shoulder. You tracing circles on my knee. You pulling me into you Out of the way of the crowd. You. Those New York City Streets And me. Poem #4:  Thank you for the reminder That life is unkind And what I wish for Isn’t What I want Will never be. You are not the you I grew to love And I can’t stop the tears I can’t unclench my fists I can’t unbreak this heart. Poem #5: Talking to you Feels like those first few months After I lost him for the last time Trapped in a whirlwind of Awkward silences Wondering what to say I wanted to shout that I loved him from the rooftops Instead I settled  I hope you’re doing well How was work The weather is nice today I miss you. Poem #6: I’d give anything To stand under a marquee Frozen to my core With you Again. Poem #7: When I think of the city. I think of saxophones. I think of the way the sun set over the Hudson River. I think of the way the lights looked from the Brooklyn Bridge and the hum of the subway coming through the cracks in the sidewalk. When I think of the city, I think of the unconventional carousels; walking for miles without end And I think of you. Poem #8: I can see it You responding to others the way you once responded to me. Sending sweet messages. Apologetic, caring, sincere In response to their bad days. I can see it all. You sharing things you think they’ll like to see Things that mean something to you. Things that meant something to me. I’m painted green with an envy I didn’t know I possessed I was never a jealous person. Yet here I am watching them get the attention I so desperately miss  Watching while they take for granted a side of you that I worked for years to see Watching And saying nothing Because you could take that away from me too. Poem #9: How often do I stop in the middle of my day and wish you were here to see this. To share in the hilarity of my work day. To marvel at the skylines, mountain ranges, and endless horizons before me. To tell me which color dress goes best with these shoes, with my eyes, with this hair that’s somehow a different color every other day. How often do I wish I could hear your laughter And see the smile you once tried so hard to hide from me. I miss calling you on my way home. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss simply seeing you, even through a screen. Of all the things you could have taken from me,  Why did it have to be this? Poem #10: I want so bad To ignore you To not feel the need to text you back instantly. It’s become a game with myself. “How long can Sierrah go before she picks up her phone?” You’ve not-so-kindly reminded me that you don’t sit around and wait for me to respond to you Why can’t I do the same? Poem #11: The longer this goes on The clearer things come to be. I want to believe you when you say you care, But how often do you tell me you don’t know what to say Or give no response at all? You don’t care about my favorite songs, You probably couldn’t even tell me my favorite color.  You can’t tell me how I like my coffee And though I told you a week ago, you probably don’t know what my favorite movie is either. I wish you paid the same kind of attention as I do. I know your favorite color is purple You love just about anything sweet. Snickerdoodle cookies, Krispy Kreme donuts, and buttercream icing.  Your sister drives you insane and you love anything rose gold.  You’re picky as hell with food and you don’t like fruit.  You could put any and all of my knowledge about Broadway to shame and you’re probably the most sane person in your house.  You don’t like to smile much and you make this face that I could never describe with words to replace it. You’re the only person I know who could fall in love with an orchestration most would ignore and you collect all of the things I would die just to hold for a moment. You’re quiet. You’re reserved. You’re so very guarded. But you’re kind. You’re generous. You see the good in people. You have a patience that almost runs deeper than my own.  You don’t see it, But you are important and so loved. You matter to so many people. You matter to me. I just wish I mattered like that to you. Poem #12: Much to your disappointment I told you for so very long that I could only be your friend And now that you’re telling me that’s all you can manage Somehow it feels it will never be enough for me. Poem #13:  My feelings make you feel guilty But they consume me Make it so all I want is to lay down and cry You told me to stop bringing it up So I did Now you wonder why there’s silence It’s just that nothing feels like it matters enough If I can’t tell you I love you at all. Poem #14  I don’t think you realize The pain I am in Poem #15:  Maybe you do realize Maybe you meant it when you said you were sorry This is so one-sided for me Poem #16: It’s be a long time since  My love given was not returned How do you turn it off? How do you keep it for yourself? How do you wake up one day and not know whether you will ever feel this way again? Poem #17: I want so bad To hold on To believe there is hope here But what if you never come back to me? Poem #18:  We talk about that weekend every so often The one where I get those plane tickets  The one where I get to see you again. I try to add emphasis to wanting to see the shows To get my cookies and to visit Chelsea Try to draw attention away from the want to spend my time with you. I’m afraid, you know. What happens when it’s time for me to go back for the night And you don’t follow? I’ve only ever spent one night alone in NYC And I came home an entirely different person I don’t know if I’ll survive another. Poem #19:  The absence of the words “sweet dreams” Is enough to raise lump in my throat almost painful enough to stop me from breathing But a forgotten goodnight makes me forget I have lungs altogether. Poem #20: I wish I were capable of hating you.

[blog-optimisticcoffeestuden-blog]

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I have been on the same plan for 10 years now and they charge $165 each month which is ridiculous. Any idea what is the best company to get a better insurance rate?

""Why are necessities, such as food, clothing and shelter mostly affordable, but not health insuarnce?""

Can't figure it out. Here in Tempe if a man were to work 80 hours a week and earn minimum wage with no benefits (remember, we have nine-percent unemployment now, higher than Belgium, Australia and Norway, mind you), he could bring in about $2,000 per month before taxes. He can get a studio for under $500 or a rented room for a little less; one month's worth of groceries, if purchased at the 99 Cent Store or Food City, could run him $250 per month, and a week of clothing purchased at Goodwill might run him about $100. All affordable, many options for the low-wage earner. Now, this guy actually works for a living maximum hours, so he doesn't qualify for state aid (I've looked into it, that salary is too high), and many jobs don't offer benefits, particularly low-skilled ones, so what's he to do? Let's say he has a pre-existing condition, therefore, he is either denied insurance outright or charged well over $1,000 per month (look at Blue Cross/Blue Shield, Golden Rule, Aetna, Cigna and United). So, he works for a living, doesn't smoke, no woman will have sex with him, he has no children, he doesn't do drugs, he has no gadges (iPod, computer, stereo), no car (he takes the bus), even after all that, he's still screwed. He needs preventative care, not emergency ward treatment as that's not financially viable for America long term, so what does he do: job offers no benefits, is denied or overcharged for health insurance, can't find a job with benefits, state won't provide the working man with state insurance...shouldn't he just quit working and become the welfare leach that conservatives revile because hard work is getting him nowhere?""

What would my insurance be with a DUI with a 2001 Ford Mustang GT? Nothing else on my driving record.?

I was in an accident but no one was hurt. I am thinking of getting this car but want to have an idea how much my insurance is going to be. I live in California.

Health Insurance question?

So I just turned 18 and I will no longer be covered through Amerigroup so was looking at some Health insurances to buy. I know the deductible is the amount you need to pay out of pocket before the insurance will start paying, but how will the insurance know when you have payed the deductible?""

Can I have two cars under two separate car insurance companies read my situation please!?

I have my own insurance on my own car with Farmers Insurance. However, my best friend just bought a new car and her insurance rate sucks. Can I insure my friends car under my name with Gieco and add my friend as a secondary driver and keep my Farmers insurance under my own car? Also, is there any way that Farmers would no if I did this? Do I have to tell anyone I have two insurance companies? Just put insurance, right? THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!""

Will an insurance company drop a client if they get a DUI?

Will an insurance company drop a client if they get a DUI?

What is average car insurance for 19 year old boy and girl?

Well, I am taking my test soon (hopefully I will pass) and I am 19 --- and I heard that car insurance is worth a lot for youngsters that they can buy a BMW second hand with same amount money that they pay for 3 years. so, how much do 19 year old boys pay monthly for it and how much do girls pay ( heard it is a lot cheaper for girls). -- my younger sister will turn 19 in 2 years time till then if she passes her test -- how much will she pay when she gets licence---- what would be your solution -- if I want to get cheaper option (I heard of pass plus scheme - would it work)""

Does searching for Car Insurance drive you crazy?

Does searching for Car Insurance drive you crazy?

How/where can i get liability insurance as a massage therapist?

i am..well, was licensed (let my license expire because i'm moving out of state) in south carolina. i am moving to alabama and it seems like everything they require to be licensed is pretty much the same except i have to show proof of liability insurance before i can apply for the license. do i just call the same people i have my car insurance with? or can i go thru the NCBTMB or AMTA (whichever one the state of Alabama approves of?). please help.i didn't have to deal with liability insurance with the state of SC so this is new territory to me.""

Do I have to have car insurance?

I use to own a car and had insurance I now sold the car and drive a company car 100% of the time. I called my insurance guy and told him to cancel it and he says that Illinois has a state law that says I have to have insurance on a car since I live at home with my parents and everyone in the house has a car. I could potentially get in to one of there cars and be uninsured. I told him I don't cuz I still a car with company insurance he said I have to have a policy with my name on it by law is this true?

""Why do women get cheaper car insurance, that's stupid and totally discriminatory and plain our racist?""

In Europe the European courts have already ruled it unfair. google Cheaper insurance for women ruled unfair Wtf? Women are horrible drivers. I've only been in one accident my entire life of driving and it wasn't my fault, a WOMAN backed into me as I was passing a parking lot. Apparently that wasn't the first time she did that either. One other time a WOMAN almost crashed into me on the free way, she wanted to get into my lane but apparently she didn't see me and just without using a turn signal just decided to turn into my lane and luckily i was paying attention and was able to break soon enough and she probably came within inches of her back side smashing into my side. it caused me to break suddenly which made the car behind me break suddenly and honk his horn, i honked my horn and the lady in front of me was apparently clueless to the world. Anyways the reason if this is true because I don't believe it men might have more accidents is because they're more likely to become drunk. Men drink and drive more, not only that but they probably like to show off more. rates should be higher for people like them, not all men. Gender biases are unconstitutional because that's prejudice. Also it's a total lie that women make less money than men. when i waited tables, the women got all the good tips from men. while i generally just got the minimum tip. not only that but sometimes if i was dealing with another male, sometimes they didn't give me a tip at all especially if they were drunk or some scruffy looking truck driver trying to hit on the other girls. But if one of those hot girls waited on them, they would sometimes give them a tip that was more than the food that they ordered! I think it's all bs. and of course completely racist. Why does america allow this? You know in some countries they don't allow women to drive. MAYBE it's because they're bad drivers!!!""

Who has the Cheapest libility Car Insurance in Chicago?

I want some libility Insurance under $50.dollars, not over $49dollars.""

How much is car Insurance in Ireland for me?

I want to buy a 1.6 1998 civic type-r (11000), but am worried it will cost too much to insure. I can get insured on it as a named driver if needs be, but would prefer my own policy. I'm 22 with a full licence for 2 years and have 5 years named driver experience with nothing on my record. Where's the best place to get a quote? And if I do how much do you think it will be? (ballpark)""

Home insurance?

im looking for some insurance that will mean if either my fiancee or i die our house will be paid off in full (this way our kids have a home) im still quite young (38) any one know any good companys to get a quote with?

Best Car Insurance For ME?

I am nineteen years old, have a child, am married, and am in college. Does anyone have any recommendations on CHEAP car insurance? I plan on getting a used vehicle that I can pay cash for on the spot.""

""How much would insurance be on a peugeot 106, female, 17?""

Hi, im 17 and should be passed my driving test by christmas. I want a peugeot 106 and was wondering does anybody know how much (roughly) insurance would be? i live in a small town, in a quiet cul de sac and the car will be parked in my driveway (if this narrows it down)! thanks""

Car and Insurance for Teen driver?

I'm 16, turning 17 this year living in Houston, TX I have had my license since August of 2009 and Insurance twice from August to November I think, and from January I believe, until now. I never had any accident, finished Driver's Ed., and have 3.6 GPA. I'm getting my own car now, and I'm looking for low price car with good reliability and low insurance cost. Which car and which insurance company would be the best for me? I'm looking for something cool, sporty. I can drive manual.""

How do you calculate the prices of car insurance?

where do all these companies get their prices for car insurance from?

How bad is insurance for a 17 year old with a stock 1979 datsun 280zx?

im buying my son a car soon and he found one stock average insurance cost? per month or annual

Does motorcycle insurance help future auto insurance?

My driving record isnt very good. So i was considerong a motorcycle since insurance is less expensive. In the future i would like car insurance. Will having motorcycle insurance say for like a year help me when i get auto insurance later on. Ive never been insured. 21 yr single male 1 accident of 8000+payouut 3Pts on license

Does being a cyclist affect health insurance rates? How so?

A cyclist might be more at risk to injury in accidents because they're on a bicycle instead of inside a car, but cyclists are probably generally healthier.""

Insurance for a 16 year old. ?

I turn 16 on December 30th, and i can get my license on January 4th. I know insurance costs less if you have a 3.0 or something like that in California, thats the state i'm asking about. Our new semester starts when we go back to school on the 3rd or something like that and i will have all a's. I was wondering if anyone knew if they look at those grades, or the final grades from the semester before? this is for the deduction on the insurance, anyone know?""

MINI One for first car? Insurance?

Desperately want a mini for my first car but they're quite expensive - especially insurance! Was wondering the approx cost of insurance on a mini one for a 17 year old after passing, I haven't passed yet so can't get a quote :/ Also, are 2003-4 reg minis more prone to problems & break downs? Loads of people I know have minis so can't be that bad? Or their just wealthy haha""

Volvo- insurance costs and maintenance?

I'm thinking of buying a used Volvo. Anyone know anything about maintenance costs or the insurance costs?

Motorcycle Insurance?

Ive been trying to find online quotes but am unable to (don't know why, but they cant give me a quote online). Anyways I was just wondering what insurance company would you recommend for motorcycle insurance? I want to buy a bike, I don't have my M1 (because I don't want to take the test before getting the bike), and obviously I've never taken the motorcycle course. Yea I know it would be hard to get a quote given that I have zero riding experience or licensing but cmon do you really expect me to get my license only to have it expire in 90 days without even having a bike yet? Anyways when you started out what kind of insurance were you paying and with who? Also is 600cc pushing it? will that screw me over for insurance? I was looking into getting a honda 600. Thanks!""

How does insurance work?

How does insurance work? like im really not sure.. do you pay into it every month?

California Insurance company that will insure a shake roof?

Does anyone know of an insurance company that will insure a home with a shake roof. We put an offer in on a house in Big Bear CA and now we are 3 weeks out of closing escrow and need to find an insurance company that will insure it for the close of escrow??? PLEEEEEASSSSSE HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

""How much would insurance be for a 17 year old with a 06 Altima,?

I live in Texas. I have no driving history. How can I bring down that cost?

""Where can I find affordable dental insurance, that I can use immediatleywith no waiting period???

Im in the State of VIRGINIA :)

My 17 was caught driving a car without a licence or insurance?

Does anyone know how much of a fine he can expect to get? Can't believe he has been such an idiot! He has never been in any sort of trouble before this.

Car Crash and Insurance Please Help?

Hi, Yesterday I got in my first wreck I am 16 and the fault of the accident was put on me even though the woman in front of me slammed on her brakes so fast that I didn't have enough time to slow down. Anyway, the car I hit was a tank of a truck, I didn't put a scratch on it but her trailer hitch rammed into the front of my car, smashing the hood and other things. The woman said she will not fill out the insurance thing since I did no damage to her car so that brings me to my first question. If she doesn't tell her insurance company, which she probably won't, do I have to tell mine? My parents and I really don't want my rates to go up and my dad will be so furious if they do. My second question is how much do you think it will cost to fix my car? It is a 2003 Mazda Protege... Please help I really need to know and if you give a good answer I will give you 10pts in a heartbeat :) Thanks""

Is a 2004 or 2005 Subaru impreza rs hatch a good first car?

is a 2004 or 2005 Subaru impreza rs hatch a good first car? are they reliable, good on insurance and costs to run and fix. cant get a wrx because of p plate restrictions but from experience is the rs any good. what is the average price they sell for and how many k's on them? thanks""

""I am looking for cheaper insurance, for a BMW M3?

I am 38 with 7 years no claims. Direct line have quoted me 900 per anum. Anyone know where i may get it cheaper?

Where can I get the third party insurance?

I am travelling in New Zealand and I am looking for a temporary third party insurance policy. I am a non resident of New Zealand and was wondering if anyone knows where i can get an insurance policy?

CHEAP Car insurance company UK ???

I need the cheapest quote from somewhere and preferbly without deposit. im 26 and had a licence for 3 years

Can car insurance companies check if you drive another car ?

if you get a car insurance quote and you say you have access to another car in your information is there any way they can check ? I have just renewed my car insurance and noticed that it was cheaper when i said i had regular use of another car. The thing is i do have use of my brothers car but im not an actual name driver on the insurance. My brothers car is fully comprehensive and thinks that anyone can drive the vehicle. Is this true ? i dont get how my insurance company are going to catch me out if im driving my brothers car without any mention of my name on his insurance

Wondering about car insurance/registration?

This makes sense to me and seems like it should be possible, but my family has no idea. If I buy a car next week and have the car put in my name and list either one of my grandparents as a CO-OWNER on the title, would I be able to put the car on THEIR insurance, instead of getting my own, and have them just list me on as an extra driver? If there's anything I can do to keep my insurance low or possibly just have it on theirs but with the car title in my name, please explain! I live in CT if that makes a difference.""

How auto insurance works in california?

i backed up into a car today and there is no damage to my car but a dent in the others hood, and i said lets call the police and they said lets just exchange information, i said no i'd rather have them come...they said they called when i was getting something in my car and said the police said they would take a while so we decided to exchange info...i got her license but they said they didnt have the insurance info with them....but in the mean time i gave them my info...now i have a feeling that maybe they didnt have insurance and there is no police report so what can happen now?""

Young Drivers: How much did you pay for car insurance?

Hello all, I'm trying to find out the average cost of car insurance in the UK or Ireland for a political debate on the subject and was wondering if young drivers (provisional license) could provide some. Thanks very much!""

Universal Health Care- Insurance Companies?

Will private insurance still be available if the US becomes a single payer health care? If not, what will happen to all the insurance companies, will everyone be laid off?!?""

Why did my car insurance double from last period?

Does it make sense that your auto insurance can double for 1 at fault accident? I just got my renewal documents for my car insurance and my premium doubled from what it was last period. I did have one at fault accident so i knew there would be an increase but I didn't know it could double like that...

Car insurance for occasional use?

My question is this... I want to get a motorbike so that I use my car less often (a bike is cheaper to run). Are there any companies (in England, UK) who offer car insurance for occasional use only ('pay-per-use' style??)? I would like to commute to work each day on my motorbike and only use the car once a fortnight. This would be good for my pocket (what with the credit crunch effecting our lives) and also good for the environment (less fuel used). Ideally, I would only use a motorbike, but really do have to keep the 4 wheeled alternative as I have my 2 daughters once a fortnight. Could anyone please help me answer this question. It would be very much appreciated!! Any other suggestions you could offer would also be appreciated! Thank you!""

Do i need car insurance?

don't ask me why but i didn't get my license until a year and a half ago (im 23). I don't own a car but regularly drive my girlfriends. Her car is fully insured by herself and mother, and the car is totally paid off. I've asked this question for a while, some say i do need insurance, others say i don't because it's fully covered. So do i?""

I want to buy a car insurance on my own and i am 18 years old.?

I want to buy a car insurance on my own and i am 18 years old. and i am going buy an used car (130,000miles). I get just have my driving license. i am a no experience driver. I live in EDISON NJ 08837, is it possible my car insurance is high than $2000/ year?""

How bad is insurance for a 17 year old with a stock 1979 datsun 280zx?

im buying my son a car soon and he found one stock average insurance cost? per month or annual

Need health insurance for my child

I have a child who lives with his mom and I need to buy health insurance for him, Im also moving o/s so I cannot get insurance though my work, does anyone know of any programs or discount insurance company I can go though.""

Car insurance for teenagers!!?

I'm currently 19, I've held my driving license for 9months, since February. I've done the pass plus thing which in my opinion and everyone else's opinion a waste of time as it doesn't really save you that much off car insurance. Car insurance for me and my friends are through the roof, the only way to get lower car insurance is to get ourselves named as a named driver through our parents as they've got many years worth of no claims bonuses. Or to even change the address of where we live, such as a family or friends place, which is away from London and off the public roads. car insurance is a cheaper that way, as well as if you pay it annually instead of in monthly instalments. I work and basically want to get a car that is relatively cheap to insure, around the 1000-1500 mark not 4000 mark. I've tried fiat punto's, corsa's, the lot and they all seem to give me quotes of 4000 when the car is worth like a 1000. Its absolutely ludicrous, I want to be the owner of the vehicle so I can start my no claims bonus, otherwise my insurance will be high for some time, but i don't want to pay 4000 or go as a named driver as i will not work on my no claims bonus. Any suggestions? I both want and need a car, buying the cars not a problem, running the cars not a problem, paying for road tax or MOT's is not a problem it's just the insurance which is the main problem!!! Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated! :) Thanks in advance-Mike""

How much is car insurance?

How much can I expect car insurance to cost? I am taking drivers ed soon (which I have heard lowers the insurance price) and I also get pretty good grades (which I also hear lowers the insurance price). I would be driving a used car. Any ideas on how much insurance would cost me?

Info About Car Insurance Needed?

Why are these 2 cars so different on insurance: Cheapest price: 1781.36 VOLKSWAGEN GOLF CL 4+E 1595cc Third Party Only cover, no NCB 250 Voluntary excess requested and Cheapest price: 3006.11 SUZUKI ALTO GL 993cc Third Party Fire & Theft cover, no NCB 500 Voluntary excess requested the 1st one has almost twice the size engine than the 2nd one, and the 1st one is almost half the price than the 2nd one oh and the 1st one is a bigger car all together too... someone explain please?""

How much money insurance can offer my car severely damage in accident 1999 Mitsubishi diamante 132000 mileage?

some one hit in front while i was waiting to traffic pass , i have aaa and they have state farm insurance.""

How do you know the address of health insurance company??!?

On the insurance sheet for Band.. it asks Insurance company name: health Choice, then Address: and Phone: how do I know what it is?? There're different contact D:""

Would car insurance be cheaper in Tennessee?

I live in Denver, Colorado. I used to live in Tennessee and noticed that it is ALOT cheaper to live out there. I am wanting to move back. I know my house will be cheaper among other things. I was just wondering if anyone would know if car insurance would be cheaper out there too?""

Will my car insurance price increase with my mother as an additional driver?

Hey guys, My mother has had two accidents in the past, one of which was her fault.""

How to find affordable Health Insurance options?

i live in san francisco, CA and am about to turn 30 (female). i haven't had insurance since leaving a job with a good plan about 5 years ago and i'm (haha, pun intended) *sick* of it! webMD and i can only do so much, and i'm beginning to think the doctor at the clinic i've been going to doesn't know what she's doing. money is tight (surprise surprise) but i do need to get real about covering myself. anyone else been in a similar boat and found a good solution? OR know of any sources where i can begin leg-work of my own? thanks so much!""

Best medical insurance in maryland?

what is the bestand cheapest medical insurance in maryland

Do I need to have insurance or proof of insurance when renting a car?

I'm planning on making a trip to Chicago. I have been wanting to go on a road trip for a long time. And I am afraid of taking a bus or going on a plane. A plane ticket costs a little bit too much for me. I'm 21. I currently do not own a vehicle of my own. So I am considering renting a car. I'm just wondering if I have to have car insurance in order to rent a car. I've never done this, so I have no idea what kind of things are required in order for me to rent. I've got my driver's license and a clean driving record. I don't have a line of credit. I don't have any credit cards so I hope there's no credit checks involved. Also, what's a rental car service that you would recommend? One that is cheap, honest, reliable, etc. My budget is $300. I'm going to meet a friend in Bartlett who is going to help provide me with lodgings so my only expenses to consider besides the car, are fuel and food costs. Thanks.""

Where can i get cheap car insurance?

The cheapest i have found to be is Nationwide

What insurance company do you have and how much do you pay monthly?

I'm just wondering, I'm about to get my first car (I turn 16 in 2 weeks) and I'm just trying to decide what's the best insurance for me, and I have a job so I'm trying to calculate how much money I'd have to make to be able to pay for insurance+gas. Soo what's your insurance company, how much do you pay a month, and how old are you? thanks guys:)""

How do I calculate my monthly house insurance for my math project?

You will also have to purchase house insurance, which costs a yearly average of 0.3% of the purchase price of your home. Calculate your monthly house insurance. What should I add, divide, and/or mulitply? Thank you for your help!""

What is a cheap car insurance for students?

What is a cheap car insurance for students?

""Insurance price for dui, speeding and driving w/o license?

big predicament i got myself into... now i would like an estimate if u know how much insurance would be with these convictions. my previous premium for my 2006 car was approx. 800 for 6 months... thats with clean record... now how much u think it would be now? if im going to do this legitimate i know im gonna have to pay an arm and 2 legs...crap.. any suggestions at all would be very helpful...

What do you pay for car insurance?

I have 3 cars and paid $1600/year. I had a speeding ticket 15 miles per over and now my insurance has been raised to $2600/yr. I've quoted other insurances and they are all about the same.

What's the cheapest car insurance?

What's the cheapest car insurance?

Two-thirds of one months insurance coverage has expired?

I need accounting homework help! I'm stumped. Two-thirds of one months insurance coverage has expired? 2500 premium for 12 months. Please!

Insurance in college?

My mom tells me that you have to go to college directly after high school in order to stay on your parents' insurance plan or you get taken off and have to work full-time to get insurance. However, my question is if you get a job after high school and get insurance for yourself and then decide to go back to school a year later can you get back on their plan.""

Insurance question please answer if you know?

my friends husband has colon cancer the health insurance is about to run out she is looking for morer health insurance does anyone know any health insurance that will insure him?

Is it hard to learn how to file insurance as an admissions person?

Is it hard to learn how to file insurance as an admissions person?

How much is the cost of a health insurance policy for a family of 5 in USA?

lets assume Joe (38years old) and Sally (38years old) public both work and make a total of $70,000 a year between them. They have 3 children, Todd, 15, Gwen 13, and Gina 10. They have to buy their own health insurance since their employers do not provide it. They want a plan that does the following: max $25 dollar deductible for any visit to a doctor....and then 80% of all cost after that up to an individual maximum cost per person per year of $2000 at which point the insurance will pick up 100% up to $300,000 per person per year. Dental and vision coverage is a flat 80% of all procedures after $25 deductible. If this family goes out in the market place to buy this insurance, how much will it cost them per month.""

Could you give me a rough estimate of my teen auto insurance?

I want to get either a honda civic or toyota corolla (those have best insurance rates supposedly) and I am 16. Great student, no record, no driving problems etc. Could someone give me just a really rough estimate. Thanks!""

Cheap car insurance for 17 year old in u.k?

can anyone tell me how to get cheap car insurance for my 17 year old in u.k

How bad is insurance for a 17 year old with a stock 1979 datsun 280zx?

im buying my son a car soon and he found one stock average insurance cost? per month or annual

First time insurance on following cars?

im 17 and looking for my first car at the moment as i just passed recently. ive looked at a few but when i do insurance quotes on the net i get some crazy quotes like 5000 for a 2004 fiat punto 1.2. i no insurance is expensive for first timers and being a male, and 17, its even more. however all my frineds who have cars pay way less, eg my friend also 17 and first car has a 1.6L vw polo 1998 and he pays only 1,500 also another has a 2004 punto 1.2 and pays 1,700. another has corsa 2005 1.4 and pays about 2000 all above are fully comp and with them as first and only driver on policy. who is the best company for my age and experience group. also whatinsurance prices can i expecct for following cars, if you know or have one etc.. live in a good, low crime area and it will be garaged at night so insurance should be lower with this. corsa polo punto clio 206 fiesta all from about 2000- 2005 plates thanks""

How much does car insurance cost for a new driver?

How much does car insurance cost for a new driver?

Car Insurance?

I got a new car (2001 Toyota Corolla, 90k) to replace my old car, (1995 Honda Civic, 123k) and my insurance company tells me that my premier will go up by $125. Is that a fair increase in the value, or is it too expensive?""

Who has the cheapest insurance for a motorcycle?

I'm purchasing a sports bike soon but don't know where i can find the cheapest insurance for it. If you know please share. I live in NJ.

Is this true about car insurance?

I know that when you're 25, your car insurance is usually lowered. Today someone told me if you're under 25 but over 18 and have a child, your insurance is the same as someone over 25. Is that true?""

Would car insurance be cheaper in Tennessee?

I live in Denver, Colorado. I used to live in Tennessee and noticed that it is ALOT cheaper to live out there. I am wanting to move back. I know my house will be cheaper among other things. I was just wondering if anyone would know if car insurance would be cheaper out there too?""

17 years old how to get cheap car insurance?

I found a car i had my lieance for 3 months, the insurance is for 2400 how can i get cheaper insurance the insurance will be on my name or if i put it on my dad name how would i be able to drive the car.""

How do I get all my old insurance names?

Hiya. Im struggling to find a way to get my information. Most of us dont keep all our old paperwork. Been driving for 6 years but cant remember even who the companys where. Any way of finding out or are they lost forever? Is it also possible to claim on possible ppi on car insurance?

How bad is insurance for a 17 year old with a stock 1979 datsun 280zx?

im buying my son a car soon and he found one stock average insurance cost? per month or annual

How do I renew my health insurance card in the U.S?

I am 15, and my health insurance card a few months ago. How do I renew another one? Do I have to sign up all over again and do all the paper-works or I just have to go to that place and ask for a new card? May I get plenty of details about this? Because it's really important to me. The person with has the BEST answer will get pretty awesome points. Thanks :)""

How much will my insurance cost next year?

My insurance at the moment cost 1200 and this runs out sept of this year. If I don't make any claims can any of you estimate how much it will cost for renewal. I am 21 female. I've got 5 points until 2010 and I drive a 1999 peugeot 206. It may be a dumb question but I was just wandering if anyone might have a rough idea?

What does comprehensive automobile insurance entail?

What does comprehensive automobile insurance entail?

Non US citizen car insurance?

Hi guys, I'm non us citizen and i will be here in US for 6 months. I decided to get a car while i'm here. I know i can get one but i'm not sure about the insurance since i can not get non citizen insurance quote. Could anyone give me some advice on where to go to get car insurance as I'm not US citizens. Or is there any other solutions?""

How do I become a 220/440 insurance agent in FL?

How do I become a 220/440 insurance agent in FL?

Does anyone know any really cheap car insurance companies for old cars?

I have an R Reg Corsa 1 Litre, and 6 years no claims, but it seems to be the age of the car that's bumping up my insurance policy? HELP!""

How much money should I expect to pay for car insurance if I buy a 2013 Dodge Charger?

How much money should I expect to pay for car insurance if I buy a 2013 Dodge Charger? I am 20 years old.

What is the cheapest north carolina car insurance?

this is my first insurance as a driver has anyone found anything cheap around greensboro? also, do i need to have insurance to get my licence at the dmv, or can i just use a car that is insured?""

Cheapest life insurance in singapore?

which insurance company in singapore offers the cheapest life insurance?

Low car insurance adjustment from liable company's adjuster?

Someone else hit my car while it was parked. It was very cut-and-dry. I got a police report, the officer talked to the driver. It states that my car was legally parked and the other driver is at fault. The damage is minor rear bumper damage, nothing too terrible. I filed with his insurance company, and after a lot of frustrating phone tag, an insurance adjuster came out and wrote me an estimate for $450. I had an adjustment for $734 from the local body shop for my make of car, and I showed it to him. I expressed my dissatisfaction with this estimate, and he said the body shop would settle with the insurance company directly for costs in excess of the estimate. $300 is a little much. Since it's minor damage, I think the body shop will probably take the money and do a shoddy job on the car. It's my understanding they are supposed to repair my car to pre-accident conditions. I got another estimate for $745 this weekend. I can't get it fixed for $450. What are my options? (cont'd)""

Cheap Dentist on Long Island NY?

Hey Im 22 and dont have dental insurance. Ive had a bad cavity for about 2 years and off and on gives a really intense pain. At times I go a few days without sleeping because as soon as I fall asleep Im woken up by the pain and have to run it under cold water. Im looking to have an extraction. Its the last tooth on the top right side and has a large hole in it so its not a full tooth. I dont have insurance and dont have the money to get insurance. I was kicked out and have a lot of bills and work as a waiter so I dont have a large income. Where on Long Island NY can I find a place to extract the tooth at a cheap price? Maybe a dental school or something. Any information would help. Oh and when it starts to hurt it usually bleeds(swelling gums into the sharp edge of the tooth) If your just going to say go to an emergency vet and make payment plans please dont post because Im already 3 grand in debt and dont want anymore. Thank in advance

Car Insurance....Help?

Hiya!!! i am 17, jus passed my test, got pass plus aswell, am male and a full time student...does any cool dude out there no of any cheats on how to get the cheap car insurance coz for a 1.2 fiat punto costs me 2800 and i jus havnt got that money!!!! any help really would be appreciated :) :) :) thankssssss x""

What does your credit paying history got to do with paying higher/lower car insurance rates?

What does your credit paying history got to do with paying higher/lower car insurance rates?

Self employed insurance?

bf is self employed and never been covered under insurance before. I am looking into policies but can not find out anything about preexsisting conditions. He hurt his shoulder several years ago and will probably need surgery. he did see a doctor at that time, but nothing was done, and nothing has been done since. What would be the waiting period if he did see a shoulder specialist and there recomendation was surgery""

How much of an auto insurance discount does a family get for having more than one car?

How much of an auto insurance discount does a family get for having more than one car?

What is the average cost of auto insurance for a 21 year old male?

if i could get a price range as well that would be great. i know it changes based on a whole bunch of other things but i would just like to know a general price range and average to budget. thank you

How bad is insurance for a 17 year old with a stock 1979 datsun 280zx?

im buying my son a car soon and he found one stock average insurance cost? per month or annual

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/what-average-total-cost-learning-drive-car-suitable-respect-santa"