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barzzal · 3 years

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when the ball drops

summary: out of all the times you wanted to bail, for once you were certainly glad you didn’t ditch this year’s new year’s eve party.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: language, parties, drinking, flirty banters + a smitten mat (set in a pandemic free au)

↳ genre: fluff, meeting a total stranger, early 2000’s romantic/comedy typa thing (what i think at least)

↳ length: imagine; 5.9k

↳ masterlist: the barn

note: this is an entry for @hockeynetwork’s winter fic exchange and i was matched as @bqstqnbruin’s secret santa! i genuinely hope you get to enjoy this, boo!! i wanna thank a few mutuals, @tkachukme @calgarycanuck @pizzarandomness (esp @thirteenisles !!) for helping me out so i could get thru with writing this imagine! you guys are so nice i truly appreciate all of you. happy holidays & happy new year, everyone! 💕 (gif used: mine)

Every year you swear to yourself that you would spend the New Year’s at home, eating a peaceful dinner by yourself and maybe enjoy a good bottle of wine whilst you spend the whole night watching The Holiday. But just like all the other years you have spent alone since you’ve moved to New York, you end up breaking that same promise, pretty much with the help of your two best friends Emma and Katie.

Now, instead of being curled up in your living room, wearing your favourite knitted sweater and away from all the New Year chaos happening all at once in the very best place to celebrate such a festive occasion, here you are, getting your second glass of vodka tonic as you wait for the goddamn ball to drop.

The local bar has always been crowded especially during this time of the year. You and your friends already made it an annual thing which is probably the reason why despite the yearning you have for the idea of spending it all alone, you couldn’t find enough courage to ditch them and disappear even just for one night.

“Where are the girls?” Gavin, the owner of the bar whom you’ve already befriended due to the amount of times you and the girls spent helping him close up was busily wiping the counter when you sat in your usual seat.

You casually motioned your hand to where you left Emma and Katie, dancing with men they’d most certainly end up kissing once the clock strikes twelve.

“Alone again? You’ve got to blow off some steam, y/n.” He greets you with a concerned look exuding from his virile exterior. You idly shake your head, giving him a tight smile to reassure him that you were doing okay.

“It’s not that big a deal.” is the usual thing you say to people when your being ‘alone’ on the holidays becomes in question. “Besides, I’m a big girl, Gavs.” You proudly announce, leaning against the bar with your palm resting underneath your chin.

“I know you’re a ‘big girl’.” He rolls his eyes before his gaze trails off to your friends and then landing onto a couple of young lads from across the room. “I’m just saying, loosen up. Meet people. It feels nice to have someone holding you close at night so don’t be too hard on yourself.”

A snort bursts from you as soon as you hear the words leave Gavin’s mouth. Who would have known a guy as tough-looking as him would be too much of a softy underneath?

“What?” He holds his guard as he continues making your drink. The liquid swirling around a few ice cubes and a shot of liquor.

“Nothing, nothing. I just– I didn’t think you were one of those people.” You say, clearing your voice once you’ve finally gathered yourself. “You know, the sappy romantics.”

Gavin looks at you, giving you an ‘Oh, please.’ look. “No, ‘cause that’s where you’re wrong.” He protests. “I’ve always been this soft, “sappy romantic” kinda guy. You just choose to see me the way you see me; a typical macho man who hands you good drinks.” He pauses, finishing off with the last touches of your drink. “But you know what? That’s fine. ‘Cause that’s how I know you’re just like me.” He then slides the cold drink towards you.

“What do you mean?” You were intrigued to be fair. You already had your head tilted to the side trying to piece something that could justify what he just said.

“That.” He looks at you, index finger circling before your eyes to make his argument even more compelling. “You act like a strong independent woman, which by the way you still are,– but you have to admit that you do want someone who’s gonna want to spend his New Year’s watching that dumb old movie of yours.” He says with a grin before he pours another customer a shot of tequila.

You were sure you wanted to just shrug it off, but somehow, you can’t help but think of how his words hit you in the subtlest way. Each word bearing an insane amount of possibilities of him being right all along.

But what’d he know anyway? It’s not like he knew you better than anyone else. Maybe it’s just his way with words. Or maybe he’s just that good. After all, that’s basically the reason why he’s running a goddamn bar, right?

𖥸

It wasn’t Mat’s first time spending New Year’s away from his family but if he only had a choice, he’d certainly take the next plane with no question. However, given how the team’s fight for the Cup is going stronger than the last season, he couldn’t bring himself to risk going away and missing out on his usual routines. So, for the past couple of weeks he’d let himself be stuck with Beauvillier throughout the holidays.

Now, for the sake of festivities, the two decided it’d be best to come out to the city and have fun welcoming the New Year along with some good friends that were surprisingly available at the last minute. That being said, the local bar was already the third one they’ve gone to having started the drinking binge earlier than intended.

“Happy New Fucking Year, Motherfuckers!” The loudest and perhaps, the drunkest man cheered at the center of the dance floor, holding up his drink carelessly as he danced to the mind numbing EDM coming off from the DJ’s booth.

“Way to get wasted. Am I right?” Dan says as he stands to gather everyone and clink their beer mugs for the nth time.

“Somebody’s definitely gonna miss the ball drop.” Tito snides, referring to the drunken man cheering tirelessly. Mat shakes his head and idly laughs. Their glasses meet halfway, causing some of the beer to spill over the table. The loud music and cheers echoed in Mathew’s ears, finding the whole scene a little too overwhelming despite how he liked to loosen up with bottomless drinks coming his way.

Somehow, he was thankful that he needed a second to breathe which only meant having to take his eyes off of the same guys he hangs with on and off the ice. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to see someone so beautiful yet seemingly out of place when his gaze landed onto that one girl sitting by the bar all by herself at what seems to be the loudest pub in the city.

“God, she’s pretty.” The words unknowingly slip off his tongue, making him realize he’s announced his thoughts out for the group just enough to make their brows quirk at the now out-of-reach Mathew.

“What?” Anthony leans closer to him so as to give himself a view of what Mat had his eyes peeled for.

“That girl by the bar, she’s— she’s really pretty.” Mathew says, completely sure that he has never said anything true in his life. Much to his surprise, the boys gathered around and turned their heads towards the girl sitting by the bar.

“So? Go and talk to her, man.” Anthony casually proposes with a nudge, urging him to go after her.

Mathew immediately lets out a foolish scoff and chooses to gulp a large amount of liquor from his mug.

“Yeah, just go for it. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Tyson chides, looking at the girl who has utterly made their night a little more interesting. That being said, being stuck with the three biggest blokes wasn’t that too interesting to begin with.

“Oh, worst thing? She could hear me!” Mat runs a hand through his hair, incapable of taking his eyes off of her even just for a second.

“You know if you don’t, I will.” Tyson puts his beer down and acts as if to make the move Mathew was too hesitant to do himself in order to boost his mate.

“Fuck off. Fine. Hold my beer.” Mat rolls his eyes and shoves Tyson his mug before gathering himself by straightening creases off his suit along with a few sharp breaths to ease out the nervousness he’d been feeling.

You watch the teeny tiny leaf of mint swirl around the whirl of liquor you’ve successfully made, ignoring all the background noise, still evidently fixated on the words Gavin has left you with earlier. Has it really been that long since you allowed yourself to be fully vulnerable around someone?

A sad smile escapes your lips, one that made the man that was now towering all over you wonder what could have possibly caused such melancholy on the most beautiful girl he has seen all throughout the city. That’s a rather heavy way to put it but that doesn't mean he was lying. He did find you really pretty. Maybe even a little too much and too out of his league.

A tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts.

“Hi.” He says, gray eyes illuminated by the strobe lights hitting your direction. You give him a tight smile, acknowledging his presence and frankly even the boldness he had to strike up a conversation.

“I just wanted to ask if what you’re drinking is any good.” Mat subconsciously reprimands himself for coming up with what is yet to be the lamest thing he’s ever told a girl.

Great. Now, you’re asking her if a vodka tonic is good? As if it could get any better? He thinks to himself. So, to compensate and reduce further damage, he plays it off by laughing quite sheepishly as he absent-mindedly massages his nape.

Noticing what the man was doing, you let out a shy laugh too, biting your lower lip as you find his foolish attempt of hitting on you quite adorable.

“Wow. You’re really good at this.” You tease, now giving away a playful smile, poking at his middle school pick up line.

Mathew chuckles. His doe eyes shy and alienated by the confidence he certainly knew he had not until a few seconds ago when he met yours. “I swear I’m better than this.” He tries again, this time earning himself a soft giggle from you.

Atta boy, Mat.

“I’m Mat by the way. Mathew Barzal.”

He reaches out his hand which you gladly took. It was calloused and rough around the edges whilst Mat found yours completely fitting in his. Your eyes meet halfway as you both shook each other’s hands. Fingers lingering quite longer than it should be.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“So, you’re telling me you haven’t had a tonic before?” You ask him, hands now all to yourselves. Mat leans against the bar, his elbow resting on the counter, unable to suppress the embarrassment now dawning on him upon remembering his little set back.

“I’m sort of a vodka tonic connoisseur.” He kids in an attempt to redeem himself. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

You look at him, shaking your head at how unbelievably gorgeous this man is. “Fine. It wasn’t. I’ll give you that.”

“So,” He takes a deep breath before taking one of the empty seats beside you. “I– I can’t help but wonder, I mean– if it’s not too forward of me, how come you’re drinking alone on New Year’s?”

You take a sip off of your drink and faintly shake your head, dismissing his query. “Hmm. Actually, no.”

Mathew muttered an “oh.” at the thought of hearing what he thinks you’re about to say next. To his surprise, and frankly feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his chest, you motion towards your best girls, Emma and Katie who were now obviously way too fond of the guys they just met.

“See those girls?”

Mathew nods, the answer to his question now becoming much clearer and put together. An answer that absolutely went along with his cards well.

“Those are two of the most important persons in my life going at it at a New Year’s Eve Party.”

“Would it be wrong to ask why aren’t you ��going at it’ like how they’re doing it now?”

Is he always this formal? You think, lips curving to a grin.

“What?” He asks when he sees the expression (he can’t quite put a finger on) on your face.

“Nah. I’m all good. I mean, not that I don’t want to. I just–” You pause. Unsure of whether telling him the truth would do your case any better. What’s there to lose anyway? He’s just some guy you’re bound to meet at the bar. It’s not like you didn’t anticipate a scenario like this from happening, right?

“Just take me as someone who isn’t really fond of big parties,” he then cuts you off and finishes your sentence, “But still go anyways.”

“Exactly.”

Gavin pops in for a bit, handing Mathew a bottle of beer he was certain of not ordering. He looks at him puzzled. A silent question that Gavin answered with a wink before getting back to tending to his alcohol induced customers.

Apparently, it’s on the house.

“How come you’re here chatting with me when your friends are all the way there?” You motion towards a curly haired man and the other boys across the room. One was even smiling at you but you just opted on giving him a nod before turning your head back towards Mathew.

“Well, I didn’t like the idea of having you celebrate the New Year’s alone.” He honestly says. But since you were the kind of person who wasn’t the best at taking any type of compliment nor flirty exchanges like a normal person would, you roll your eyes and be the blunt person you were always known for. “Oh. I thought you saw a girl sitting alone at the bar and saw that as an opening.”

To be fair, Mat wasn’t really intimidated by your remark. In fact, he actually liked how straight forward you were with him. You didn’t look at him the way he’s gotten used to whenever he comes up and introduces himself to other girls; something that only made him more interested in you. He can’t help but want to know what exactly is going on in your mind. Not the creepy kind, of course. Just the one where he’d rather spend the New Year’s getting to know a total stranger than getting insanely pissed with the same men he’s spent most of his days with.

“That too.” He admits, taking a sip off his beer without breaking his eyes off you.

There was a sheer silence for a moment. The kind that Mat knew was much deafening than the booming sound of the usual dreadful New Year’s Eve Party. “So tell me,” Mat regains himself, catching your attention once again. “What would you rather be doing tonight? You know, if you hadn’t had to come out here.”

He watches your lips quirk thinking about what it was that you actually wanted to do tonight. Then again, you only had one thing in mind.

“I kinda wanted to spend it alone for the past three years.”

“That long? How come?”

“Well, you know, for some peace and quiet. Maybe watch a movie or two.”

Like what he has been doing since the moment he’d gone to talk to you, he watches you run your fingers around the rim of your cold drink. Evidently immersed in your own thoughts from trying to piece out the real reason behind your grave wanting to spend the occasion alone.

Turning the tables, you ask the same question back, “What about you? I mean, other than getting shit faced, what would you rather be doing?”

Mathew takes a deep breath trying to suppress the longing he’s felt for the past few weeks. He just misses his family so much that he couldn’t help but wonder how they’re doing even if he’s constantly kept in touch with them hours before he’d gone out with the boys.

“I’ll be with my folks. You know, all that usual family stuff.” He answers you shortly.

You didn’t think much of what he’s told you so you just tell him the very thing that crossed your mind. “You know, it’s amazing how two people who didn’t even want to be here find each other just so they could bitch about not wanting to be here a little bit more.”

The two of you share a good laugh, utterly and undeniably enjoying each other’s company. It didn’t feel weird having to talk to a total stranger, let alone let them have bits and pieces of yourself that only enables them to put together an image of you that isn’t even as close to who you really are. Regardless of that notion, there was something about how Mathew connected with you, and how you connected with him.

It was far from being the movie type of thing, but you have to admit, the remainder of the time you two have spent talking over a half empty bottle of beer and a glass of vodka tonic has definitely made the two of you feel this unexplainable wanting of having to learn more about each other. That being said, when all drinks were drunk till its last drop, Mathew couldn’t help himself from wanting to spend a bit more time with you. Maybe, even the whole night if you’d only let him.

“D’you want to get out of here?” He shoots his shot as quickly as he could, afraid that losing even just a second would mean losing a night of spontaneity with you.

You have long waited for a reason to miss the annual party. And if that meant having to wait three years just so you could stumble upon a tall and fairly handsome man that was going to save you from a dreadful evening, nothing would’ve felt as right as this if it weren’t for the push Mat had stored in his piercing eyes and mischievous grin.

You didn’t have to give it much thought. After spending a whole hour exchanging little trivias of yourselves, Mat finally had it easy in making a riveting case. You sigh in defeat as you fish out a few cash from your purse and slide it into your tab.

Excitement now exuding from Mathew, he bobs his brows up and down whilst he watches you roll your eyes once again for the hundredth time tonight. “I’m gonna hate you for this.” You tell him as you get off the bar stool.

Mat hurriedly signals Tito for his coat to which he was able to catch the moment he had tossed it towards his way. He then gets yours that was placed on the back of your seat before finally following you out towards the door.

“I highly doubt that.”

𖥸

Mathew draped your coat over your shoulders, helping you to slip into it. You politely say your thanks and hold your purse close, your gloves gripping onto the leather as the two of you stroll the streets of New York, the winter breeze brushing on your cheeks with every stride you make.

“So,” You begin, putting both of your hands inside your coat pockets. “Where are you taking me, Mat?”

He tries to think for a second. The thought of not having a concrete plan for the night finally dawns on him. He clicks his tongue and breathes in the familiar scent of the city. Mathew looks around the block and spots the good old food truck he and the boys once tried when they were out for an away game with the Rangers.

“How about New York’s finest burrito?” He points to where the truck was parked, clueless to how his sudden movement placed him inches closer to you. You didn’t notice it until you looked at him for his eyes were still pinned to where the truck was at.

Mat’s eyes were pretty. That’s a known fact. But what you didn’t realize was how astonishing they are not until you got this close. You took in the sight sitting before you as fast as you could while he was still preoccupied like a five-year-old kid seeing an ice-cream truck pass by the neighborhood. Your eyes linger from his well structured brows, his unbelievably long lashes, down to the tip of his nose and his rosy cheeks before finally settling down to his cherry plump lips. All of which were more than enough to send butterflies in your stomach.

“O-Okay.” You agree. Mathew takes you by the hand before you can even say a word. Thank the gods for letting you live in a city that seems to never stop the hustle to still have open food trucks good for a quick bite at this time of the night close into New Year’s.

“Hey, bud. Two sixes to go, please.” Mathew says politely once he knocks on the window.

“You’ve got to try this, I swear.” He looks back at you with the same warm smile beaming on his face.

“Unless you want a proper meal? I mean, there’s a diner down the–” You immediately cut him off and take out your purse, offering to pay for it instead. “No! It’s fine, really. I’m a bit hungry myself.”

After spending the whole time waiting for the wrapped snack, arguing on who would be paying, you let Mathew have this one for now even if you didn’t like others paying for what you can pay yourself.

You take a good look at your watch and see that you only have about an hour left till midnight. An idea pops in your head, making you gasp at the thought. Mathew looks at you with a half-eaten burrito in his hand, his brows all furrowed as if to ask a piece of your mind.

“Come on, I know where we should go.”

𖥸

Mathew never thought he’d found himself standing on a rooftop of a random building overlooking the Empire State during one of the coldest times in the city. The things that has only kept him sane was the girl who was still holding his hand, the city lights that have always left him in awe, and of course, the well heated rooftop.

There have been a few exchanges that are quite notable over the time you’ve spent with Mathew. He’s told you about the usual night outs he and the boys have for leisure, the family he had back in Coquitlam, how much he misses his mom and his sister, and how much love he has for hockey that he ended up doing the thing he loved most for a career.

Him, on the one hand, pretty much learned the same stuff about you. Well, almost, for he has yet to ask you the one thing that has been bugging him off all night.

You were telling him how this was your safe haven in the city and how much you loved going here every time you felt like needing to take a deep breath and step back from the world when he asked you a simple question. One that’s absolutely left you surprised (and a little bit impressed) that he still even remembered it at this point.

“What’s the movie about? You know, the one you’ve been wanting to see tonight.” He asks, both of his hands inside his pockets to keep warm.

The two of you sat on the bench facing thousands of lights illuminating the whole city. You look at him for a second, biting your lip as you contest with yourself, the thought of Mat being the kind of douché that would shit around women and their romantic comedy films comes rushing to you like a cold December breeze.

“Alright, why do you want to know?” You pass the ball back to his court. To which Mat shortly answers with a level-headed sigh. “I kinda get the feeling it has something to do with the three-year thing.”

“You’re nosy.” You kiddingly say, earning a chuckle from him.

“You’ve spent the whole night walking with me and I can barely even feel my legs anymore, y/n. Trust me, between you and me, you know you’re the nosy one.” The two of you share a small laugh, your voices are the only sound that can be heard besides the sleepless city acting as a white noise to you and Mathew’s little bubble.

“Fine. And you’re a fucking athlete, so don’t even start.”

You playfully give him a nudge on the shoulder when he starts mimicking what you say. Mat stops immediately and looks at you with the same doe eyes glinting under the security lights that the rooftop had. He then patiently waits for you to gather your thoughts, breathing in all of New York as he lets himself drown in your presence.

You didn’t know how but there was this unspeakable comfort you feel around Mat. Sure, he was just a total stranger you’ve met a few hours ago, but no one, not even the guy who dumped you after your five-date rule, was able to connect with you at the same level as Mathew did.

“It’s not that I want to see it so bad. I’ve watched it for like– a reasonable amount before it became my comfort movie. Plus, it’s literally called The Holiday. Why wouldn’t you want to see it during the holiday?”

You tell him a bit more of how you’ve come into liking it, stalling him from the real reason why you wanted to celebrate the New Year’s alone. But you know, that even after all the circles you’re willing to go through just to keep Mat at bay, you’re bound to lose all your strings and resort to telling him in the end. You just hope you wouldn’t be making the same mistake you’ve made three years ago.

You told Mathew about your on and off childhood sweetheart Claude who has always kept you high and dry throughout the years of being together. (That is if you were in fact together.) He was the constant reminder that you will never be the kind of person someone would want to stick around with.

You and him go a long way. You both ended up going to the same university because he just had to have you around and that he couldn’t afford not being with you even just for a second. He said that he couldn’t take the thought of having to see you only on the holidays so as the dumb kid you once were, your feet followed his everywhere he’d gone.

That cycle went on and on until you finally had the courage to leave everything behind and move to New York. Months as a new kid in the city, you were scared, of course. You spent your days hanging around your apartment, doing all sorts of crap you can even think of just so you wouldn’t have to leave your flat. Although, meeting Emma and Katie was the biggest push you needed to finally let yourself let loose. Long story short, at the first New Year’s Eve Party you’ve ever gone to after moving in the city, the person you least expected to see was the very first one to come out of Gavin's bar. Claude.

Just like what a normal person would do, the two of you sat down and caught up. Pretty much the same thing you’ve gone with Mathew. Although only a lot less chit chat and a lot more kissing.

Claude told you his real intentions. He said that he wanted to start something with you for real. Of course, you had let him but you have made the biggest mistake of telling him about your five-date rule.

Lo and behold, Claude did stick around for the fifth date. That being said, he had stayed only for the fifth date. You saw him sneaking out of your flat so early in the morning, leaving you nothing but a voicemail that said his foolish reasons and insincere apologies. Since then, after a lot of major hook ups here and there, you’ve never let yourself become as vulnerable and stupid as you once were with the biggest douche you’ve ever met.

“It’s crazy, I know. You can laugh about it.” You say when Mat hasn’t spoken for a few seconds.

He takes a glance at you, a tight smile on his face. “I don’t think it’s crazy. That man is crazy. And also, a big prick. Classic dick move.” He tells you before he turns his eyes back to the city.

“Well, yeah. That’s me. That’s the holiday story.”

“A crappy one, of course.” You add.

Mat shakes his head no. He didn’t know why exactly but all he wanted to do at that moment, a few seconds before New Year’s, was to give you something,– even just a memory you could look back on. That that story isn’t going to be the one you’d be remembering for the next holidays. He wanted his to be something that’ll make your three-year-old crappy story long gone and forgotten. That his version would be the one that’s stuck.

“Definitely not this one.”

As the clock strikes twelve, cheers erupted throughout New York along with fireworks shooting into the city’s midnight sky. The first thing you see upon looking back were the same kind eyes of the man whom you have randomly met at the party you dreaded most. Only this time, drowning you little by little as it becomes iridescent under the thousands of lights covering New York City.

You were frozen to your seat as Mat’s face inch closer to yours. You feel his breath against your cold skin as if it was lulling you to sleep. His hands find its way to your face, cupping both of your cheeks rather gently as he finally paints a new memory you’d be carrying for the rest of your holidays.

“Happy New Year.” He greets you, almost like a faint whisper whilst the two of you gasp for breath. You blink a few times just to process what had just happened and digest how unbelievably good that kiss was.

Mathew’s hands were still on your cheeks. You held them close so he’d know you weren’t ready to let go. You take a deep breath, gathering enough courage to ask him an unusual way of greeting someone a Happy New Year.

“Will you walk me to my car?”

𖥸

You have both of your hands tucked inside your coat pockets as you walked the street leading to where you left your car. Mat was just telling you about the game happening next Thursday against the Bruins and how it would mean a lot to him if you’d come and see him play.

“To be fair, the Bruins are good.” You commented, a playful smirk plastered on your face rather teasingly.

Mathew lets out a snort as he rolls his eyes, chuckling at the thought of you dissing on his team the moment you had the chance. “Hey, both teams are good.”

“It’s just the matter of who’s better.” You finish his sentence, yet again working your way with a clever remark. Mat hums, not necessarily agreeing with your sentiment.

“So will you come?” He asks again just so he could hear you say yes. You take a deep breath, not letting yourself think too much of the said invitation. If you’re going, you’re going as a friend. Actually, you weren’t even sure if you could even call yourself such a label.

You nod your head yes to which had become the reason of Mathew’s glee. The two of you walked side by side in peace, basking in the comfort of each other’s presence.

Once the rush of excitement about you coming to one of his games starts to wear down, Mathew begins to feel the weight of walking befall on him as it grows quicker with each step he takes. With his brows meeting halfway, he looks at you, eyes evident with confusion.

“Where did you park your car exactly? I feel like we’re walking straight to Long Island.” He chortles, scratching his temple quite adorably.

You bit your lower lip as you looked up at him. Mathew’s physique towering over yours. “I uh– I took a cab to the party. My car’s actually parked outside my apartment.” You admit with a shy laugh.

Mat’s mouth went agape upon hearing you confess; awkward silence envelops the two of you with every second spent not talking to one another. Not long after, he decides to break the ice, undeniably impressed at how he’d never seen it coming.

Clever. He thinks, incapable of stopping his gut from swirling. His smile widens when he sees you looking at him; unfazed and perhaps, enamoured.

𖥸

Mat did walk you to your car. The two of you exchange your thank you’s; utterly grateful for what has to be the best New Year’s you had in years.

You wanted to ask him for one last cup of coffee because the last thing you wanted him to do was leave. But after all the things you’ve gone through with the man within such a short amount of time (and frankly, even a tedious walk) you still failed to muster enough courage to stop him from doing so.

Once you see him get in the lone cab that miraculously passed by your neighborhood at such an ungodly hour, you close the door behind and head straight to your flat.

You get home to the sight of your weighted blanket spread over your couch along with a couple of pillows that seems to be the best place to bury yourself in after a tiresome night out. Things were just as they were left hours ago; prepped for a much awaited movie night. As planned, you quickly get out of your winter clothes, head for a quick shower, before finally slipping into some comfortable nightwear.

You were just finishing up putting the bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Chardonnay on top of the coffee table when a buzz coming from the intercom catches your attention.

Once your hands were free, you quickly made your way towards the box, a bit irked at the thought of Katie and Emma ruining your long-overdue New Year agenda upon remembering how she’d told you to let her in the building just in case Katie gets a little too overboard.

“Emma, I’m about to watch Jude Fucking Law. Just come up!” You hurriedly say, turning your head back to the screen which already had the movie on pause.

However, instead of Katie’s whiny and drunken voice, what you heard was the same familiar chuckle that had been cruising your mind all night.

“You know, I don’t think I mentioned that I haven’t watched The Holiday. Is Jude Fucking Law any good?” He asks. A mental image of how his eyes crinkle when he laughs comes to mind upon hearing his voice.

Once again, pretty much like how you’ve spent the whole evening with Mathew, a wide smile lets loose as you press the black button. “Come on up.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #letters to barzy #barzzal imagines

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alt-rose · 3 years

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21 - colson baker

colson baker imagine

21 - Pete Davidson takes you out to celebrate your 21st birthday after SNL, and you make a new friend.

“this week a midwestern teenager was arrested for kidnapping livestock and hiding them in their neighbor’s garages. here to comment is our resident young person, (y/n) (y/l/n).”

you took a quick breath before you were pushed toward the weekend update desk. you rolled to a stop next to your castmate Michael Che before you dove into your bit with him about cows and the midwestern community.

you made your SNL debut last season when you were only nineteen. you quickly took over Pete Davidson’s former role as the “resident young person” among the cast, and you had formed a fast friendship with him over the last year and a half. he had been eager to take you out with his friends so that you could experience the true nightlife that New York could offer, and now that you were finally turning 21, he could do just that.

after you exited the stage from your weekend update skit, Pete caught you in the hallway as you headed back to your dressing room to get ready for your last skit.

“hey, next weekend,” Pete started catching your attention. “do you want to go out and celebrate your birthday? Maybe get shitfaced?”

“I don’t know. who’s gonna be there? I don’t really want to feel obligated to entertain people while you’re getting me drunk,” you said apprehensively.

“don’t worry. it’ll be a bunch of people you don’t know so you don’t have to worry about anything other than getting drunk. I’ll keep an eye on you, of course. keep you away from the creepos.”

“how thoughtful,” you say throwing yourself into one of the hair and make-up chairs. “but sure, it sounds fun.”

“great. I’ll get the party lined up for next Saturday after the show.”

you threw him a thumbs up before your attention was directed toward the make-up artist giving you an 80s look for your next skit.

“this week our very own (y/n) (y/l/n) turned 21. here to comment on finally becoming an adult is our resident young person, (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“hey Colin,” you call back to him when you roll up next to Colin Jost at the weekend update desk.

SNL did a similar skit when Pete turned 21 so the writers felt it was only right to do one for you.

“hey (y/n), how does it feel to finally be 21?” he asked tapping his pen on his desk.

“it feels great Colin. you know, it’s a bit of an adjustment, but I’m having a great time.”

“right, you’re finally legal now. you can do adult things.”

“yeah, now I can buy tropical fish at Randy’s Pet Shop by my apartment building. I have a fish named Chet now. he’s pretty cool.”

“wait, you have to be 21 to buy fish from Randy’s Pet Shop?”

“yeah, Randy’s got this weird thing,” you paused to make eye contact with Colin. “anyway, besides that, I don’t really feel like much of an adult, Colin. I’m like five-foot-something and still resemble a fourth grader. like look at me, Colin. I was given a kid’s menu at TGI F.R.I.D.A.Y.’S last week. I am not an adult.”

Colin laughed before looking at you. “(y/n), you really don’t think that you’ve grown in this past year? you haven’t felt like an adult in anyway?”

“no.”

“well, I think you have. you stopped ordering chicken fingers at every restaurant we go to for cast dinners. I think that’s a big step into adulthood.”

“yeah, well, joke’s on you because I have a bag of dino nuggies hidden in the back of the breakroom fridge.”

“what?”

“yeah, I just take a few out and wrapping them in tinfoil and heat them up in the microwave for four minutes-”

“wait, hold on, hold on,” Colin laughed waving his hand to stop you. “you put the nuggets in tinfoil before you put them in the microwave?”

“yeah, you just wrap them up in the tinfoil, and they cook really well. they get all sparky and stuff. they taste a little smokey though”

“you’re the reason why the breakroom microwave is always broken?”

“what?”

“(y/n), you’re not supposed to put tinfoil in the microwave,” Michael chimes in.

“you can’t put metal in the microwave. did you not know that?” Colin asked.

“what?” you put on the confused act.

“(y/n) (y/l/n), everybody,” Colin shouts turning to the audience and ending your segment on the update.

“who let me be an adult?” you laugh shouting to audience as Colin pulls you into a side hug. the crowd cheers as you wave to them.

“for weekend update, I’m Colin Jost.”

“And I’m Michael Che. GOODNIGHT.”

you continue to smile and laugh with both of the guys as the camera panned away from the stage and the recording light turned off. when you made it off stage, you started to head back to your dressing room. you had finished your last sketch of the night, so you planned on getting ready for your night out with Pete and whoever else he invited.

an hour later, you were crammed in the backseat of an uber next to Pete.

“where are we going?” you asked him as you check the battery on your phone.

“this club a few minutes away. it’s pretty lowkey. everyone’s going to meet us there.”

“okay, sounds good-”

“it’s actually right here,” he interrupts stopping the driver. “thanks, man.”

Pete opened the door of the car and climbed out. his lanky form towered over the small sedan. he leaned down to help you scoot over to open door. you took his hand as you scooted over to the door before sliding out of the car as best as you could in your mini skirt.

after both of your feet successfully hit the pavement, you adjusted your black leather mini skirt from riding up before you fixed you black turtleneck to make sure that it was still tucked into your skirt.

“ready?”

“yeah, let’s go.”

after making it past the bouncer, Pete led you over to the bar before dropping you off at a bar stool. you watched as he made his rounds saying hi to everyone. it was almost 1 am now. you began to wonder how late you were going to be out tonight.

you suddenly felt two hands on your shoulders causing you to slightly jump.

“you ready for your birthday drink?” Pete shouted in your ear.

“yeah, let’s do it,” you laugh turning to look at him.

“can we get four shots of Fireball?” he shouted to the bartender.

“four?” you shout over your shoulder at him. “I though you weren’t drinking.”

“I’m not. you are. you’re downing all of those.”

“oh god.”

he slapped his hands on your shoulders once more. “you got this, baby.”

the bartender placed the shots in front of you as Pete opened a tab.

“we doing this?” you asked staring at the shots.

“let’s do it.”

you grab your first shot before raising it as a cheers to him. you brought it to your lips and downed it. you felt it burn as it slid down your throat. you squeezed your eyes shut as you finished it.

“that was strong,” you cough.

“next one.”

you down the second one, and then the third one shortly followed. the cinnamon flavor left a burning sensation in your throat.

“last one, last one.” Pete shook your shoulders cheering you on.

“fuck this.” you downed the last one.

an hour into your party, it was clear to you that you were feeling very drunk. you had spent the last hour dancing with strangers on the dance floor before slipping back to the VIP section Pete had for you and some of the people at the party. after your first couple shots, he had introduced you to a few people, but at this point, you can’t remember your own name so how could you be expected to remember theirs.

you’re currently sipping on a tequila sunrise now that Pete decided that you handled enough straight liquor. you were slightly leaning on Pete as he stood next to you while you were sitting on one of the barstools for the high tabletops.

“yoooo,” you heard someone call as they approached your table. “dude, whassup.”

Pete leaned over to bro-hug someone before that person began to lean on your table next to Pete. you could hear their muffled conversation as you played with the straw in your drink.

“so what’s this party for anyway?”

“it’s a birthday party,” Pete yelled over the music.

“who’s birthday?”

“hers,” Pete said motioning to you causing you to look up at Pete and his friend. “this is my castmate, (y/n). she just turned 21 so we’re celebrating.”

your eyes met the stranger’s, and you smiled. he was pretty with his bleached-out hair. you gave him a small wave.

“I’m Colson,” he said extending his hand to yours.

“(y/n),” you said taking his hand.

“can I buy a drink for the birthday girl?” he asked flashing you a smile.

“sure,” you said before taking the last sip of your tequila sunrise.

when he brought you back a drink, you stood over your shoulder placing the drink in front of you.

“let’s fucking party.”

“okay,” you shouted before knocking back the drink and taking his hand to lead you to the dance floor.

you spent the rest of the night with a set of hands planted firmly around your waist. when you had finally had enough of drinking and dancing, you made your way back over to the VIP section with your six-foot shadow following behind you with his hands still on your hips.

“I’m tired,” you say to Pete as you approach your seat the table. your shadow rested against your back as you hopped up onto the barstool.

“do you want to head home?” Pete asked leaning close to you and your shadow, Colson.

“kinda,” you said leaning your head back on Colson. your drunken state couldn’t careless that you were practically laying against a total stranger.

“do you even have a place to stay tonight?” Pete asked Colson as he looked up from you to the tall guy behind you.

“not really. I could just get a hotel,” you could hear Colson tell Pete.

“you guys can just crash at my apartment. I have a couch and a guest bedroom,” you interrupt as you stare off into space.

“are you sure?” Pete asked.

“yeah, let’s just go home.”

“cool with you?” Pete asked Colson.

“I’m cool,” Colson answered.

10 minutes later, the three of you were sitting in the backseat of a black car, which you assumed was an uber. you head rested against someone’s shoulder as you began to close your eyes.

you felt someone jostle you awake. you opened your eyes to find that the uber had parked in front of your building. Pete was leaning in the car once more to help you out. you blinked the sleep out of your eyes as you took his hands. he helped you out of the car just as he had when you got to the club. you felt a pair of hands gently adjust your skirt, and you whipped your head around to find Colson standing behind of you.

“your skirt was riding up, baby,” he said to you while he tapped your hip.

“thanks,” you murmur.

you slapped your keys into Pete’s hand as he went to buzz you in with your code to the building. you began to walk to the door with Colson resting his arm around your shoulder. he kept you walking upright as you both entered the building. you took the elevator up 12 floors.

when you finally stepped foot into your apartment, you stood in the doorway and ripped your heeled boots from your feet. Pete dropped your keys into the bowl by your door, and Colson closed the door behind the three of you.

you turned around to the both of them, almost tripping over your own feet.

“kitchen,” you said pointing to the kitchen, “couch,” pointing to the living room, “guest room,” pointing to the guest room, “bathroom,” you pointed to the bathroom door. “there’s extra blankets in the closet,” you said pointing to the small closet by the bathroom. “help yourself to anything. I’m going to sleep.” you gave them a salute before turning around to your bedroom.

they laughed lightly as you slammed the door behind you.

as you stumbled into your room, you plugged your phone into the charger on your nightstand. after your phone was charging, you slipped your skirt and turtleneck off before slipping on an oversized t-shirt. you quickly wiped off your makeup before falling face down in your bed.

the next morning, you woke up with blurry eyes and a fog in your head. you blinked a couple times before rolling over to fall back asleep. you had your eyes closed as you tried to fall back asleep.

that’s when you heard a crash in the kitchen.

you whipped yourself out of bed, and you grabbed the baseball bat from under your bed. you took a deep breath before throwing your bedroom door open. with your bat raised, you lunged out of your bedroom at the intruder.

instead of the intruders, you found Pete and some guy standing in your kitchen messing with your pots and pans.

“jesus fucking christ, Pete, what the fuck?”

“oh, sleeping beauty’s up,” the guy called waving his arms out to you with your skillet and spatula in his hands.

“who is this? and what the fuck are you doing?” you shout annoyed at Pete.

“This is Colson, my friend who you met last night, but guessing from your reaction, you don’t remember much. you let us stay over, and now we are making breakfast,” he said before going back to whatever he was doing.

you felt Colson’s gaze on you. you dropped your bat on your shoulder as you met his stare. you glared into his eyes as he intensely stared back into yours.

“nice bat,” he said still staring.

“thanks, I played softball,” you glared back. “I’m gonna go put some clothes on.”

“you don’t have to,” you heard Colson call back to you as he watched you retreat to your room. from your room, you could hear Pete yell at him in the kitchen.

you laughed lightly as you threw on a pair of sweatpants and put a bra on under your oversized shirt. you took a scrunchie and threw your hair up before heading back to the kitchen.

you plopped yourself down on one of the counter stools in your kitchen.

“what are we eating?” you ask the guys.

“I’m attempting to make pancakes with whatever you have,” Colson called back to you.

“fantastic,” you reply.

“how’s your head?” Pete asked from his spot at the counter.

“it’s not bad. I don’t feel very hungover,” you replied.

“that’s surprising seeing how much you drank last night.”

“what even happened last night?”

“you drank a lot. you danced a lot. then, Colson showed up. then, you drank and danced some more with him.”

“wow,” you mutter staring off into space before you felt Colson staring at you again. you met his eyes before speaking up, “I apologize for that and whatever I did.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said before flipping a pancake.

“it was so funny. you were like one of those velcro monkeys wrapped around him all night,” Pete laughed.

“don’t make fun of me,” you yelled before whacking Pete with a dish towel on the counter. “you’re the one who got me drunk.” they both laughed before you looked up at Colson once more. “I am definitely apologizing for that.”

“I don’t mind. I liked being your arm candy for the night,” he said plopping a pancake on a plate.

you rolled your eyes before opening your phone. “what’s the damage? was there any paparazzi last night?”

“weelllllll,” Pete drew out.

“what?” you whine dropping your head a bit.

“there’s a few from when we left the club, and they followed us back to your building so there’s a few from then too. there’s two articles running already.”

“just because we went out for drinks?” you ask motioning between you and Pete.

“no, because we,” Colson motioned between the three of you. “went out for drinks.” he dropped a plate in front of you. “apology pancakes for the tabloids.”

“how thoughtful,” you murmur. “what did the articles say?”

“nothing just speculation,” Pete said taking a drink. “it’ll go away. you just might want to keep away from Colson for a while.”

“you’re kidding,” you said opening your phone before typing your name into safari.

you scrolled through the new section before you found the pictures from last night. in the pictures, Colson had his arm wrapped around your waist as you were shielding your eyes from the flash. you assumed these pictures were from when you left the club. the other pictures were of the guys helping you out of the car. Colson was standing behind you, towering over you with his arm around you. it totally looked like the two of you were a thing with how touchy you two were. you were not a touchy person when you were sober. you could only assume that the alcohol turned you into a velcro monkey as Pete put it. you briefly skimmed the articles only to find that they were speculating that you and Machine Gun Kelly, Colson Baker, were in a relationship.

“Machine Gun Kelly. you’re Machine Gun Kelly?” you ask him, squinting your eyes at Colson.

he and Pete laughed at you.

“I was wondering if you were going to put it together,” Pete laughed. “that took you forever.”

“well, I’m sorry, but I was drunk.”

“you knew I was friends with MGK,” Pete laughed.

“I didn’t think you were going to invite him to my birthday party.”

“so I take it you’re a fan?” Colson said raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not actually. I haven’t even heard your stuff. I’m not really into rap,” you said to him.

“ouch. that’s rough,” he sighed.

“sorry,” you shrugged. “thanks for the pancakes though.” you give him a smile before taking a bite.

Pete’s phone buzzed before he got up from his stool.

“shit, I have to go. I have to take my mom to the airport. are you going to be okay if I leave you?” Pete asked staring at you.

“yeah, I’ll be fine. tell your mom hi for me,” you said looking up at him.

“okay, bye kid. happy birthday.” he wrapped his arms around you.

“thanks for getting me drunk. I had fun,” you said patting his arm.

“yeah, I know,” he called back as he headed to your door.

“be safe,” you shouted before he closed your front door, leaving you with Colson in your kitchen.

you and Colson took a pause as you both watched the door. he was the first to break his gaze as he turned to you. you both made eye contact as you both stared at each other.

“so,” you started.

“so,” he replied leaning down on your counter to stare at you at your eye level.

“so.”

“so, what do we do now?”

“we can watch tv, or you can tell me about last night,” you suggest before shoving another bite into your mouth.

you were not bashful when it came to eating, and you were not deterred by Colson staring into your eyes as you chewed, even if he was really pretty.

“what do you want to know?” he said. his gaze never leaving your eyes.

“we seemed very touchy in those photos,” you hummed taking another forkful of pancakes.

“can’t help that your kinda hot.”

“wow,” you scoff leaning back from the counter. “this is hot for you,” you say shoving the pancakes in your mouth.

“very,” he laughed.

you peered an eye up at him, skeptically. you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. there was no way that someone as pretty as he was would be interested in you.

he extended his hand out to you face as your eyes watched it move to your lip. he flicked a piece of pancake from your lip before smiling at you. you heart practically jumped out of its chest.

fuck. you were crushing.

the two of you hung out and talked for the next hour. you both flirted a bit back and forth. you felt this undeniable connection to him, and it made you feel sick. you were notorious for running from people and your feelings. you always chickened out before saying anything to them, and then when you finally got the courage to, that person had already found somebody else.

“fuck, I should go,” Colson said throwing his head back on the couch from where the two of you were sitting. “I don’t want to though.”

“I need to shower and get started with some pitches for work tomorrow,” you say lightly placing your head on the back of the couch.

“okay, I’ll go.”

“I’ll walk you down.”

he took your hand in his as he got up from the couch. he pulled you up as he grabbed his jacket from where it was placed on the arm of the couch.

you grabbed your keys before he pulled you out the door. you closed the door behind you before the two of you waited for the elevator.

you laced your fingers with his as you stepped into the elevator. here goes nothing, you breathed.

“I had a lot of fun with you,” you say staring straight at the doors of the elevator.

he turned to you with you fingers still locked with his. “I really like you.”

“cool, cool,” you say as you saw the number on the elevator tick to floor 6. you turn to him. “I should give you my number.”

he slipped you his phone, and you typed your number into his phone before handing back to him.

“cool, cool,” he started as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

you counted before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your height. you stood on your tiptoes, and you placed your lips on his. he grabbed your face as he kissed you back.

the elevator dinged as the doors opened. you broke away from him as you shoved him out the doors.

“call me sometime,” you say as you stood alone in the elevator.

“aye aye captain,” he saluted you. he moved back toward the elevator before pulling you back to him. “one more for the road.” he kissed you until you couldn’t breathe.

you finally pulled away for air while he held his hands on your head.

“you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“you’re not too bad yourself. now go so I can work,” you said fully pulling away before the elevator alarm was set off. “Bye Colson,” you said hitting your floor button.

“Bye (y/n),” he waved as the doors shut.

as you made your way back to your apartment, your phone dinged.

unknown number: hi velcro monkey

you rolled your eyes as you entered your apartment. this man was going to be the death of you.

first Colson Baker imagine. feel free to send requests. - rose xx

#mgk #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagines #colson baker #colson baker imagines #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly x reader

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starksvixen · 3 years

Text

Best Shot - Part 2

Warnings: mild blood and gore, mentions of death, shooting scene, some harsh angst, mentions of sexuality (no smut), swearing

Word Count: 1325

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 (finale)

-~-

Here’s the plan. Burgess and Ruzek had gotten in contact with one of Quentin’s sellers. Jay would go undercover as a buyer, inquiring about buying one of the girls. He was to talk to Quentin about the specific Jane Doe to try and locate the rest of the girls that the trafficker had hidden. Once there was enough information, Jay would position Quentin into a specific spot where you could knock him with a bullet.

That’s where you were stationed now, watching as Jay spoke with Quentin, his hands in his pockets. You trailed the duo through the scope of your sniper, watching each step with your finger ready to fire. Suddenly, you see Quentin reach behind him and pull a gun on Jay. He had been compromised. Only problem was, Jay was in front of Quentin, blocking your shot.

“(Y/L/N), do you have a clear shot?” Voight’s voice echoes in your ear.

“Almost, I just need Jay to move a little bit to the left.”

“No, it’s too risky, don’t take the shot. Do you hear me, (Y/L/N)? Do not take that shot!”

Quentin steps closer to Jay, shakily adding pressure to the trigger of his own gun.

“Sir! He’s going to fire on Jay, this is my only chance!” you say into your comms.

You inhale, your finger slowly beginning to add pressure to the trigger. A sigh reverberates in your ear.

“Do it.”

Jay moves to the side just in time for you to exhale, sending a bullet narrowly close to Jay’s head but a dead hit in Quentin’s shoulder. The offender is shot to the floor, sending blood everywhere, and Jay quickly disarms him before holding pressure to the wound.

You quickly pack up your gun and make your way down to the scene. By the time you arrive, Quentin is being loaded into an ambulance with cuffs on his wrists. Laying your case into a squad car, you spot Jay exiting the building. However, when his eyes meet yours. it’s obvious he’s ticked. Storming over to you, he runs a hand through his hair.

“Do you know what you did in there! He was going to give me all the locations of his girls but you shot him!”

“He was just going to kill you after telling you, Jay! I couldn’t let him do that! Voight told me to take the opportunity I had!”

“Yeah well dying is part of the job description. You got lucky, (Y/L/N). One inch off and it would have been me in that ambulance...”

“So what? You don’t trust my shot anymore?”

“I don’t trust your judgement to keep your feelings out of our work!”

That was the last straw. You hide your tears and rip off your bulletproof vest, shoving it into Halstead’s chest as your glare daggers at him.

“Don’t expect me home tonight,”

And with that, you walk away. Little did you know, the minute those words left Jay’s mouth he was filled with regret. He had hurt the woman he loves the most.

-~-

“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight, (Y/N).” a familiar voice says from beside you.

Gently slamming the whiskey glass to the bar’s top, you look to see Connor seated beside you fresh from a shift at Med. With a soft, slightly tipsy smile, you wave down the bartender and order a drink for both of you.

“It was a hard case tonight,” you reply.

“Was it the case that was hard or the guy you had to work with?”

You both take a drink of the hard liquor at the same time, a soft sigh ghosting your lips. Connor and you were friends with benefits, especially after you were hurt by your perspective partners. When Jay told you about him and Erin, you fell into the handsome doctor’s arms. When Robin left Connor to go home, you had to help him sneak out of you and Jay’s apartment the next morning. After Jay asked you about the ring he picked out for Erin, you helped christen Connor’s new apartment. After Ava killed herself in front of him and Jay had pushed you away because of his heartbreak, you and Connor practically didn’t speak for a week. Just sex.

Because of your many encounters, both of you had grown close as friends. Both of you knew each other’s work and romantic hardships. Without the sex, you guys were close drinking buddies. The bed hopping was an added bonus. A release of anger and frustration from your perspective situations.

“He kinda made it clear tonight how he felt,” you reply, taking another long sip of the burning liquid.

“Yeah, that always sucks,”

“Says you! You’re nothing but a chick magnet!”

“Hey! I’ve had my fair share of losses,”

Both of you end up in a fit of laughter, sharing drink after drink as the night goes on. Eventually, as the bar begins to close, you find yourself riding to his apartment in his Porsche. His lips upon yours in a drunken frenzy. Your naked selves tangled in his sheets as you sleep the night away.

-~-

The smell of fresh coffee and scrambled eggs battles the killer hangover headache that greets you when your eyes open up. Where Connor always slept is empty, but he had laid one of his shirts there for you to wear when your body decided it was time to fight your hangover. With a soft smirk, you put it on and walk out to Connor’s kitchen.

“Thank god for days off,” you say as you grab a mug from the cupboard.

“No such luck for me, I got a surgery in an hour.” Connor replies as he finishes cooking.

“Damn, what a shame.” you say as you steal a piece of cheese from beside Connor, earning a slap on the hand and a smirk.

“Hey! That’s meant to go in the eggs, not your mouth.”

“There are a lot of things that can go in my mouth, Dr. Rhodes” you say with a wink.

A knock on the door reverberates in the semi - empty apartment as Connor hands you the plate of eggs. He walks out to answer it, leaving you to eat and enjoy the gracious sip of coffee. Your little moment is interrupted when you hear Jay’s voice raising.

Quickly putting your meal down, you rush over to the front door. Jay hasn’t changed from last night but to you, that didn’t matter. He still made the feeling of butterflies rise into your stomach.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as you back Connor away from the door.

“You weren’t answering my calls or texts, I thought something had happened,” he replies, not noticing Connor’s shirt on you.

“Yeah, you being a dick happened, Jay.”

“Look, I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

That’s when he notices Connor’s shirt on you, the hickies from last nights events making anger fill his eyes.

“But I can see you had other plans...” he growls.

“What does it matter to you who I sleep with?! Jay for fucks sake, ever since Erin left you act like you own me! But you don’t! You chose her over me!”

Tears fill your eyes as realization fills his.

“I’ll pick up what I need from the apartment later on. I can’t do this anymore, Halstead.”

You slam the door as tears race down your face like race cars on a track. Holding a hand on your mouth, you muffle your cries as your free hand holds onto your torso. Gently, Connor pulls you into a hug, giving you the comfort you needed but from the wrong guy.

“I’ll help you get what you need and you can crash with me.”

With a soft nod, you wrap your arms around him tightly.

Not once had you missed a shot in the past 10 years. But here you were.

You had missed your shot with Jay.

Tag List: (leave a comment to be added)

@annaallicce @ikleesfiction @weepingfestivalmentality @ shipshipshipau

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #one chicago #chicago pd #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes #conner rhodes imagine #reader insert #(y/n)#chicago med

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fulgurantfirstborn · 2 years

Text

men. you agree. (a quiz judging taste in men)

pathetic (affectionate)

A sad sopping wet sewer rat of a man waiting on your doorstep. The kinda guy who can’t hold his liquor but still meets you shot for shot, who gets in fights he knows he can’t win but does it anyway for a good cause. A man who actually reads the Terms & Conditions and then rants about it. Someone with no sense of self-preservation, who sticks a nerdy little pencil behind his ear and says “Actually, technically” to a bunch of people who want him dead.

Stolen from @vilestblood

#this is so fucking funny #so gwynfor is into nerdy twinks?#gay nerdy ratty twinks #he would like viktor from arcane?#he Would like my oc bellevance #except bel isnt a very argumentative type #txt #ooc

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katie-writes24 · 3 years

Text

Say It Don’t Spray It

Pairing: John Laurens x reader

Warnings: Language, alcohol, suggestive material, FUCK TON OF ANGST KIDS, kinda sad, John doesn’t know when to shut up :,)

Part 2

Request: hey! my request was a laurens x reader where they're frenemies, n one day they get into this huge fight that stems from nothing, angst angst angst, and then he comes to her house to apologize. they simultaneously realize they have feelings for one another, and fluff fluff fluff...idek know after that lol - @notebookgirl30

Okay....WAYYYY OVERDUE I TOTALLY APOLOGIZE! Ngl this was a bit of a struggle to write because I just wanted to get a good feel of their “relationship/friendship” but I think I got it. Maybe? But I built a bigger storyline than expected so there’ll be a part 2. But yeah, hope you enjoy! Thank you @tinywhim for the title (you’re a real one, you don’t even know). Let me know if you want to be tagged! Leave me some feedback PLEASE!! And yeah! Enjoy!

“Has anyone ever told you you’re super boring?”

Y/N scoffed, “I’ve always loved your compliments, Angelica.”

She rolled her eyes, giving her coworker an exaggerated look. “You have nothing better to do on a Friday night. Normal people go out, and party and have fun! It’s the weekend, Y/N, you don’t have to worry about anything!”

That was an overstatement. Y/N actually did have lots to do, like finish her report and pay her bills and visit her parents and do actual adult things. Her partying days were over in college, and she knew that nothing good could come from a night surrounded by all of Angelica’s friends, some who happen to be their coworkers.

This was different though, in a way. Yes, it was Angelica’s birthday, but she was never good at social interaction, especially not at a club. These days she’ll go out with the Schuyler’s for a couple of drinks and go home and call it a day. That was enough for her, and she was okay with it. She was perfectly fine with her own friends telling her how she’s a buzzkill when it comes to partying. She was fine with not putting herself out there to guys because she didn’t think it was necessary right now.

She was comfortable at this point in her life, and she wasn’t going to ruin that over a drunken night at the club.

“Aren’t you two like best friends? You’re gonna miss your best friend’s birthday party?” Y/N turned to find John tutting in mock disapproval, swaying slightly on his chair.

“Will you butt out?” Y/N glared hard but it didn’t have the proper effect when he only laughed.

That’s the other problem. John is going to be there, which could only mean chaos. She’s been to enough office parties over the last two years to notice that he can’t hold his liquor and is incredibly loud. Not only were his obnoxious traits an issue, but there was something about him that got under her skin, not totally in a good way.

Eliza would never make her forget her little crush that sparked at the beginning of her job, when John was always nice to her and would give her this blinding smile. That sailed long ago, but apparently, a drunken night full of shared secrets was enough for the Schuyler to remember. Now, maybe there were some things that Y/N could pick out to prove to herself that he was an actual decent human being, but the John Laurens that had been sitting beside her for years was still John Laurens.

“I’m sitting three feet away from you,” He gestured at their desks that were only separated by a couple of inches. “I can literally hear everything you’re saying.”

“And he’s right!” Angelica reached over her desk and grabbed her hand. “It wouldn’t feel right if you weren’t there. Please, Y/N, it’s just a couple of hours. I promise if you really get uncomfortable you can leave, but I know you won’t because it is going to be amazing!”

Rolling her eyes yet again, Y/N did feel a little guilty. Angelica has always been there for her, through all the ups and downs, she’s been her biggest support system. It wouldn’t be fair to not celebrate her birthday with her.

“Fine,” Angelica practically squealed at her grumble. “But don’t count on me as your designated driver, because I might really dip out if it gets too rowdy for me.”

“Might as well not go then. Put me and Alex together, pshhh, you’ll be walking out the door as soon as you step in.” John winked, like he just knew how to get Y/N fired up and ready to argue back. Angelica knew too, as she pulled her hands toward her again, gaining her attention.

“Ignore him, I swear we will all have a good time! Plus, who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone there.”

She looked hopeful, almost as if this was her intention all along. But Y/N knew better, no matter how many times Angelica tried to set her up, she wouldn’t invite her somewhere only to be mislead and be set on a blind date.

“I am not interested, I am perfectly capable of finding someone on my own, if I choose.” She made sure to point out the last part so her friend would drop the subject.

“I’m just saying,” Angelica put her hands in up in defense, but still had that knowing look on her face like she didn’t believe her. Y/N sighed and got up from her chair, heading towards the break room for another coffee.

Upon entering, she noticed Thomas was already by the coffee machine, pouring his own cup. He looked up and raised a brow. “Long day?”

“And it’s only getting started,” Y/N rubbed a hand over her face and motioned towards the machine. “Are you done hogging that now?”

“Woah, woah, what did I do to be treated with such attitude?” Thomas chuckled and grabbed a cup for her.

“Sorry, I’m just...kind of stressed, not really looking forward to the weekend?”

“You mean Angelica’s party?” Thomas handed the cup over to her, nodding at her thanks and watched her add cream into the liquid.

“Yes, actually. I’m not really good at parties, I think they’re too exciting for me. Go on, say it, I’m a boring buzzkill.” It’s not like she’s ever heard anything different before when trying to explain how she’d rather stay at home and unwind while reading a book or watching tv and just relaxing, instead of being surrounded by sweaty bodies and drinking till she grows numb.

“Now why are you putting words in my mouth? I was actually going to say I agree with you.” Y/N looked up in shock, not believing that Thomas Jefferson was one to refuse a party invitation.

“Really? You don’t like parties?”

“Not that I don’t like them, sometimes they grow old. It’s the same scene over and over again and I’d rather switch it up a bit, change the location, you know?” He had a small smile on his face, looking like he was fonding over some memory.

“You’re right, it must be so hard being invited to parties all the time!” Y/N smirked as he gasped dramatically in mock offense. It only lead to them giggling to each other, only stopping when someone else cleared their throat from the doorway.

Y/N found John standing, his usual smile gone and replaced with a frown and furrowed brows. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no, I was just leaving actually,” Thomas made way to the exit before hesitating, turning back to look at Y/N. “I’ll see you at the party, Y/N.”

She waved shyly, watching him walk away. It was comforting talking to Thomas, in a way. They didn’t do it very often, but when they did Y/N felt relaxed.

Lost in her thoughts, a cough startled her and she realized she was standing in John’s way. Y/N stepped to the side, muttering an apology and thinking how Friday night might not be so bad.

~~~

It’s not that Y/N doubted that Angelica would not settle for less than a full out, top quality club. But she didn’t think that it would include a private floor, filled with a bunch of people that Y/N didn’t know. Luckily, she spotted the birthday girl herself from across the room.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Angelica screamed over the music that was blasting from the floor below. She was well passed tipsy already, but she knew that Angelica would want to sober up before the night was over. She was never one to purposefully forget her birthday. “Come on, let’s get you a drink!”

She pulled her over towards the overcrowded bar, pushing passed drunks and couples dancing, Y/N even got stumbled into and turned to find a familiar head of curls.

“Watch it, Laurens!” The glare sent his way was enough to make him sheepishly smile.

“My bad,” John walked off towards a booth in the corner, surrounded by a few other men, one who she had recognized as a friend of Thomas.

A shot was shoved into her hand and soon enough, so were two more. Once a proper drink was in her hold, Angelica invited her to a game of pool with her sisters.

Somehow, Y/N got surrounded by a bunch of people that she didn’t know. Angelica had been dragged over by a short man, which meant Y/N was dragged as well. It was the booth full of John’s friends, and they had made their impression, that was for sure.

“Ah, and who do we have here?” Thomas’s friend came over and smiled, making Angelica smirk and push his chest.

“Laf, this is Y/N,” Even though they had never met before, Lafayette beamed at the mention of her name.

“So, this is the famous Y/N we have heard so much about, heh?” He grinned devilishly, like he knew something that she didn’t. It was strange, what would Angelica have said about her?

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N stuck out her hand politely.

“Oh please, the pleasure is all mine, cherie!” He took her hand and placed a gentle kiss in her knuckles. She giggled at his performance, looking to see if anyone else was buying the act. But when she looked around to see if anyone else knew something, she only saw John glaring at his friend while sipping on his drink.

Her coworker’s odd behavior was enough for her to move herself to the bar, ordering another drink for herself. As the bartender handed her the cup, he told her that it was already paid for, pointing her in the direction to a man across the room. He was cute, and if the look in his eye told her anything, it was the words Angelica had said.

You don’t have to worry about anything.

Maybe you’ll meet someone.

Perhaps she was right.

She was tired of everyone telling her how boring she was.

Y/N found herself dancing with the guy, not bothering to learn his name and more focused on her hips moving with his. The lips on her neck gave her a rush, like she was finally doing something fun and risky.

His hands were pulling at the hem of her dress when she was jolted forward. The guy had bumped into her hard, and when she turned around she found out it wasn’t the guys fault, but John’s.

“What the hell man?” The guy got up in his face. Y/N couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but it looked like it was something threatening. Laf, the short man and another one of John’s friends appeared, trying to pull him back and tell him to just leave it alone. John wasn’t having it, took to pushing the guy hard once more.

It was a giant commotion that got security involved, and Y/N was over it. She ran out of the club, tears brimming her eyes as she thought about what exactly just happened.

John always had to ruin the night. John always had a problem with her.

John also stopped her from calling a cab, grabbing her hand just as she reached the sidewalk and calling her name.

“What the fuck, John? What the hell was that for?” Y/N screamed, wide eyed and wondering why when she was finally having a good time, he had to fuck it up.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry! I just- I couldn’t let him-”

“Couldn’t let him what? Touch me? Dance with me? Why? How does that have anything to do with you, John?” Nothing was connecting, there was never a time she could recall where John cared about her love life.

“He was an asshole anyways, alright? Was he really all that to you? Okay, if anything I was helping you!” If he could actually believe that, John was growing angry, too. He had no right to be, but his kept spitting out words that only made Y/N fill with rage.

“What did I ever do to you? Why? Why do you have such a problem with me?” While furious was an understatement, she seemed to be more confused as to why John got involved anyways. She was finally inching out of her shell and he just had to give her a reason to want to never leave her apartment again.

“I don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. I’m drunk, I’m-I didn’t mean to do that, I just-”

“Just what?” While John was stumbling with his words, she knew better. “Being drunk is not an excuse against your actions!”

"I was just trying to make a point! He was all over you, I thought you were uncomfortable!” He narrowed his eyes, and he’d grown more angry than regretful only a few seconds before.

“Well, I wasn’t! I am a grown woman, John, I’m allowed to have fun and meet guys! I was having a good time until you had to ruin it!”

“Jesus- I was just looking out for you! It’s not my fault you’re such a whore-”

The world seemed to stop as the two screaming voices died instantly at the sharp sound of the hit. John locked his jaw before he lifted his hand to rub his cheek. When he finally lifted his eyes, he saw Y/N pursing her lips in pure rage, a single tear streak ran down her cheek. She looked so small, fragile in a way that made him want to wrap her in his arms and promise that he would make sure that nothing ever hurt her.

He had already proven that he could never do such a thing.

“Fuck you, John.” Y/N whispered and turned, leaving him standing alone, full of regret.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Laurens taglist: @alievans007 @etjt1821 @dontblinkumightmiss @hj-creates

#john laurens x reader fic #john laurens x reader #john laurens imagine #john laurens x oc #my writings #hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #John watch your mouth #we respect women in this house #anyways #I’ll probably rewrite this but it’s fine

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vihilum · 2 years

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men, you agree.

𝙋𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙏𝙄𝘾 ( 𝘼𝙁𝙁𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙏𝙀 )

#muse: kate bishop.#steal it!#deceased by her sewer rat taste! fitting!

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makaias-trash-heap · 3 years

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Soooooo lately ya girl here has been running into a lot of writing issues so I gave something a try...BACK TO BASICS FOR WHAT I ORIGINALLY MADE THIS BLOG FOR!!! First time I’ve written anything for my favorite Tsundere in a while. Enjoy!! Just more of my own self indulgent writing while I have no requests.

“Sooooo, guess who I just heard from.”

Shin glanced up from his book with his usual blank expression, “Why not just tell me?”

Mira smiled and rolled her eyes slightly, “My parents. They called and asked me to come over for dinner for my sister's birthday this weekend.” She stated, plopping on the couch next to him.

Mirdorima raised an eyebrow giving her an intrigued look, “This is the first time they've wanted you over since we've been together nanodayo.”

Mira hummed in agreement leaning into his side, naturally causing him to blush like always.

“Are you going?”

Mira shook her head, “Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Shin, my family and I haven't gotten along in years. I've tried going over a few times and it always ends in a fight.”

She ignored the look he gave her in favor of playing with his fingers, a habit she picked up on when he still tapped them.

“Mira, they're still your family nanodayo. We've been together for nearly 3 years and I don't recall you seeing them at all.”

“Not true, I've seen my brother.”

“Mira.”

“Look, I don't want to go because I don't want to fight and that's exactly what will happen. Especially going now.”

He gave Mira a slight confused look, “What does that mean?”

She sighs turning to face him, “We've been together for about 3 years and aren’t engaged, I'm perfectly with how things have been going but my parents are incredibly judgmental and will nag and question why. There's also the fact that I’m 2 years older than you. And even though it’s incredibly stupid, my parents will not agree with the fact that I'm with someone younger than me. And to top all of that off I'm pregnant out of wedlock, big no no to my parents. We also fight about my brother everytime I'm there. I guess they invited him too so this is going to be twice the chaos.”

Midorima adjusted his glasses looking down at her, “I understand these situations can be uncomfortable, but they're still your family and you haven't seen them in years. For all you know they may have changed from the last time you saw them.”

Mira halfheartedly glared at him and sighed realizing this wasn't going anywhere, “You aren't letting this go until I agree to go are you?”

“I don't intend to.”

“Fine. But if I have to deal with them you're coming with me.”

He turned his full attention to her, “What! Why am I involved in this?”

“You got involved when you bugged me into going. And besides, as you've said, we've been together for 3 years, and you've yet to meet my family.”

If looks could kill Mira would be dead right now, multiple times over.

“You'll see why I don't get along with them and I promise you'll never end up going with them again and you won't bug me into it.”

Midorima lets out a sigh leaning back into his seat, “I suppose. When are we supposed to be there?”

“Saturday at 5.”

(Skip to weekend)

“Remind me again why we're here?” Mira groaned as they pulled up in front of her parents house. She ignored the slightly surprised look that snuck his way to his face. She’d given him warning that her family was pretty well off.

He recovered quickly enough, “Because they're your family nanodayo.”

Mira rolled her eyes trying to mentally prepare herself for the interaction tonight. They climbed out of the car and started making their way up to the house. Mira spotted her brother coming up the sidewalk and waved.

“So you decided to come too huh.” Kenjuro said, returning the gesture.

“Not really, Shin forced me into it. I'm kinda surprised you came though.”

He shrugged, “Boyfriend forced me to. He offered to come for moral support but you and I both know that that would have been a really bad idea.”

“How’s Reo-chan doing?” Mira asked as they started walking up the sidewalk to the house.

“Good. I watched him play basketball with his old team from high school. So that was kinda exciting .”

They finally reached the door and stood awkwardly glancing at each other until Midorima gently nudged her forward.

“Ok ok sheesh.”

Mira knocked on the door secretly hoping that her parents would ignore them and not answer….sadly that did not happen. Much to her dismay her sister Aika answered the door.

“Hey Kenjuro, Mira.” Aika greeted them with a fake sweet smile.

“Hey Aika, happy birthday.”

Mira slipped past her with Kenjuro and toed her my shoes off pulling Midorima in behind her.

“Hello Mira, Kenjuro. We're glad you could make it.” Her parents appeared at the door to greet them

“Hey mom, hey dad.” Mira forced a smile.

“Who is your guest Mira?”

“Oh, right, Um, mom dad, this is Midorima Shintarou, my boyfriend. Shin, these are my parents.”

“It's nice to meet you Hashigawa-San.” Midorima politely greeted her parents.

“The pleasure is ours. Please right this way. Dinner is almost ready.”

Everyone started filing into the dining room, Mira and Midorima following behind last.

“I don't understand your concern. Your parents seem rather pleasant.” He mumbled quietly so only Mira could hear it.

“Oh, just wait for dinner. That's usually when the show starts.”

They all took a seat at the table, Kenjuro sitting as far as possible from their parents. Which left Mira and her sister to sit by them. Midorima sat next to Mira starting to notice the awkward atmosphere.

“So Mira. It's been a while since we've last spoken. What have you been up to?” Her father asked after a few moments of silence.

Mira hesitated a second before preparing to answer, this most likely this wasn’t going to go well.

“Working mostly, I just finished up art school not that long ago so I've been working freelance for a while. Making films for tourist companies, helping design Billboards, things like that.”

Her parents stayed quiet before turning their attention to Midorima.

“Midorima-San, may I ask what you do for a living?”

“I am going into the medical field. I'm currently working on my internship at the hospital.” Midorima straightened up answering.

Mira’s father nodded, “Then a man as logical as you, you can't support this crazy dream of hers.”

Midorima froze and glanced at Mira before answering, “It's her decision to make and if it's something that she feels strongly about then naturally she has my support.”

Her father was about to say something when he was cut off, “Now now dear, we're trying to have a nice civilized dinner tonight. Ok, this is a discussion we can have another time.”

Mira quickly turned her attention back to her food to avoid more questions. It worked for a while. Although this point Midorima was very uncomfortable. Kenjuro followed Mira’s lead but he's usually safe from questions. Their parents hate the fact that he's gay so they usually don't even acknowledge that part of his life.

“Mira.”

Mira looked up from her plate to see her mom holding the wine bottle out to her.

“Oh no thank you mom. I'm good.”

Aika snorted across the table, “wow, you of all people are turning down alcohol?”

Mira rolled her eyes, “do you really want to go there Aika?”

She shrugged, “I'm just saying for a while here sobriety was not your strong suit,” Mira shot a glare at her across the table, “oops sorry, did your boyfriend not know about that?”

“Do mom and dad know you've been sneaking into the liquor cabinet since you were like 14?” Mira shot right back at her.

Of course he knows, he helped her get her act cleaned up. Still a rather sensitive topic right now.

“Ok that's enough you two.”

Mira rolled her eyes at her dads warning, ready to leave. On top of the unpleasant conversation, the constant nausea from the morning sickness was rough on her today.

“Mira, you ok?” Kenjuro asked, starting to notice her discomfort.

She just nodded waiting for the nausea to subside, “Yeah, stomach is just a little upset.”

Naturally Aika didn't seem to miss a thing.

“Oh my god you're pregnant aren't you?”

Mira immediately tensed up, hoping to completely avoid this topic, “What are you talking about?”

“You aren’t drinking which is pretty out of the ordinary for you, you’re randomly sick and I’ve noticed the weight gain.” Aika quickly insinuated.

Mira didn't answer, deciding instead just to get up and get ready to leave. Midorima grabbed her hand to stop her, it seems like he has other plans.

“They were going to eventually find out Mira.” He said, looking up at her.

“Is that a confirmation?” Her father looked back and forth between them waiting for an answer.

Mira sighs, “Yeah dad, it is. I'm pregnant.”

Neither of the parents said anything right away. The tension gathering in the air was enough to show that this news was about to be either very well accepted or very poorly.

“We had the perfect life laid out for you. All you had to do was do as you were told and follow it.” Her father started to lecture, “First you turn down one of the best universities in Japan, and then rather than going to any university at all for a real career, you start to follow this ridiculous idea at some art school, and now you're 23 and pregnant. You couldn't have at least been decent enough to get married before spreading your legs for the first guy to take interest in you?!”

For the first time in an argument with them, Mira was speechless. Her father certainly had a tendency to be cruel, but that was low even for him. He continued yelling, Kenjuro and Aika eventually getting involved in the argument. Mira started to tune out the yelling. This whole night has done nothing but stress her out, and stress is not good for her right now. She felt a sharp pain rip through her abdomen and lower back which snapped her back to reality and the current argument at hand.

“I don't understand where I went wrong with the two of you. My son is a faggot and my daughter is a who-”

“That's enough,” Mirodrima said sternly, “I understand you don't agree with Mira’s life choices. But you cannot control her. She is an adult and it's still her decision to make. As for her being pregnant. No it's not ideal timing right now. My parents were rather disappointed as well.

We’re not married, and I’m only 21 years old and in medical school while starting this family, but we’re doing it. And my parents have never once referred to myself or Mira in such a derogatory manner.”

“Shintarou.” Mira grabbed his hand and squeezed to get his attention.

He crouched by her side, “What's wrong?”

“Can we go? I'm starting to cramp badly and I'm just ready to go home.” She whined starting to stand up.

“Yeah let's go, but I'm going to call your doctor to make sure that things are ok before we go home.”

He helped her stand up and started walking with her to the front door. He occasionally glared back behind them to make sure their family got the hint to leave them alone. Kenjro followed behind them to the car. Midorima helped her into the passenger seat taking her keys to drive.

“Feel better sis, call me later so I know things are ok.”

Kenjuro closed the door and then went around to talk to Midorima who was on the phone. Once he hung up he turned his attention to Kenjuro to talk to him before climbing into the car.

“How are you feeling? Are you still in pain?”

She shook her head, “No, it stopped for now. I just feel really sick now.”

He nodded and started the car. The ride home was fairly silent as he focused on the road and Mira focused on not throwing up. He pulled up to their apartment and he quickly came around to her side in case she needed help getting inside.

“Your doctor said that as long as you aren't bleeding and you don't continue to be in pain that you should be ok. Sometimes some cramping isn’t uncommon, especially in stressful situations. But if they start again she wants us to come immediately,” He explained while they were settling in the bedroom, “so if you're in pain like that again I don't care what time it is wake me up and we’ll go ok.”

Mira nodded changing into one of his shirts to sleep.

“Why do you insist on stealing my clothes all the time, you have your own dresser full of them.” He grumbled and changed as well.

“Oh stop whining,” She teased looking back at him, “I only steal your shirts and it's only for bed. Besides you never wear these.”

He grumbled under his breath again while he settled in bed. Mira crawled in next to him and curled up into his side. He's finally used to cuddling with her...it only took him forever to do so. He turned on the lamp on his side of the bed signaling that he planned on reading for a bit before bed.

“Don't fall asleep with your glasses on again.” Mira said rolling over to turn off the light.

He scoffed, “that was once.”

She chuckled, situating herself into a comfortable position to drift off. Mira was nearly asleep when Midorima poked her in her back to get her attention.

“Hmm? What's up?” She rolled over and looked at him.

“What your parents said earlier, it's bothering me.”

She sighed and sat up, “Just ignore it. Don't ever let anything they say bother you. Like you saw they're a bunch of judgmental assholes.”

He shook his head, “Nothing like that. They aren't bothering me. It just has me thinking. Are you really ok with how things are going?”

She cocked an eyebrow at his question, “I told you earlier I was. I mean, so long as you aren't planning on taking off on me anytime soon I'm perfectly fine with how we're doing ok.”

He nodded, setting his book aside, “we should go to sleep.”

Mira leaned over and kissed Midorima before laying back down, “Goodnight Shin.”

Midorima returned the kiss and put his book away before laying down and wrapping his arm around her, “Goodnight Mira.”

#kuroko no basket #KNB #kuroko no basket imagines #kuroko no basquet #kuroko no basket midorima #KnB midorima #kurokos basketball #Midorima Shintarou #shintarou midorima #shintaro midorima #midorima shintaro #midorima shintarou imagines #midorima x oc

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ride-the-dinos · 4 years

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Calli drags a nail across his throat, right above the seam of his collar. Her bangs tickle his ear as she speaks.

“Be a good pup and save our seats, yeah?”

He nods and presses a quick kiss to her exposed collarbone before she slips off and drags Wis towards the bathroom. He watches the fabric of their dresses shimmer and sparkle in the pulsing club lights until they’re swallowed up by the crowd.

Luka leans back against the bar, enjoying the heavy buzz zipping from his fingertips to his toes. They’d been here...five hours? Six? After the fifth shot he’d stopped caring. It’s not like anyone’s expecting them back anytime soon, Calli’s dads are in town but she has yet to make herself known to them, opting instead to stay at the downtown penthouse and waste the weekend away with Wis and himself. He’s not certain why she’s been holding out but he’s certainly not complaining. He thinks about the ropes they’d left dangling over the bed and grins lazily.

The music is so loud his teeth ache with it. He taps his foot against the linoleum floor and doesn't realize he’s off-beat until the next song starts up.

The room is smoky, sticky and way too crowded. Drunk men and women wearing scraps of clothing worth more than Wis’ Yamaha writhe in time with the bass. Sweat gleams, teeth flash, and feet pound.

He’d still thoroughly enjoying the way the beat vibrates in his skull when he feels someone slipping into the seat next to his. A spark of anxiety cuts through the euphoric haze when he turns and takes in a man taller than Calli and twice as broad.

“Oh, uh...that’s…”

He trails off as the man smirks at him and runs a hand through his greased-back hair. The rings on his long fingers reflect the neon lights as he lifts a glass to his lips and it’s distracting enough to knock Luka’s thoughts off-track. Well, that , and the overflow of alcohol drumming through his veins.

“Those girls who just left, they with you?” The way he purrs around the question sparks an alarm in Luka’s mind and he frowns.

“Uh, yeah. That’s-that’s one of the seats-“

The man chuckles and Luka can barely hear it over the music, “I won’t be here long, it’s alright. I wan...”

Whatever he’s about to say is drowned in the swell of the bass and Luka shakes his head in confusion. The man leans so close he can smell a waft of peppermint on his breath as he speaks up, “Wanna go somewhere a bit quieter?”

“They told me- I’m saving their seats.”

“We won’t be long, I just want to talk for a minute.”

Luka shakes his head, vision tilting with the movement. The buzz in his fingertips is no longer light and comfortable so he turns nervously on his stool and picks his glass back up, sipping at the cool liquid. It’s bitter going down and he throws back the entire glass before licking his lips and grabbing the attention of the bartender.

“Oh, come on, kid. You look bored as hell sitting here all alone,” the man grins, sharp and bright, “I can help with that, ya know?”

Luka’s heart is in his throat as he looks away from the man’s smile. He hates disappointing people. He hates saying no. But this guy gives him...bad vibes. And the girls… His anxiety is kicking into full gear. He takes a sip of the new drink and forces a breath, forces himself to stay grounded.

“I’d like to stay here, I’m sorry.”

The man backs off with a smooth wave of a hand and takes another contemplating sip. Luka hates the way his skin crawls under his dark gaze.

“So who are they?”

“What?”

“The two you’re with? They’ve gotta be someone to get up here. I’m curious.”

Yeah, that’s a no. “They uh...they’re visiting from Arizona.”

The man’s eyebrow furrows into another smirk, “That barely answers my question, kid. Are they dancers? They’re pretty enough.”

Luka leans back and stares at him, “H-how long have you been…?”

“You can’t blame a guy for noticing a pretty little thing, can you?” The man drags his gaze down Luka’s torso and Luka can’t help the goosebumps that rise to his flesh when their gazes meet again.

The discomfort he expected to feel is missing. In its place is a warm buzz. His fingers feel numb against the cool bar. He’s so distracted by the building sensation that he barely catches the next words.

“...lucky man, two hanging from your arm tonight.”

“Wait- what..?”

The dark gaze is intense now and Luka has a hard time tearing his eyes away.

Why is the man swaying? Oh wait. Maybe that’s him?

“Sorry, I, uh-“ Luka fumbles his glass and swears as the tinted liquor splashes across his chest. The man’s hand comes out of nowhere and plucks the glass from his numb fingers, brushing at his shirt. Luka is too out of it to notice the man’s pause when he sees the collar, barely notices when his long fingers brush against the material.

“I’m sorry, fuck I’m-I’m really…”

“Hey, it’s okay. No harm to me,” comes the silky admission, “You want to wash that off?”

“I…” Luka stares dizzily down at his ruined shirt. Why is it so hard to speak? Why are his arms so fucking heavy ? He’s way drunker than he thought.

“C’mon,” the man slips large hands beneath his arms and hefts him up.

His breath catches in his throat when he realizes just how much larger the man is compared to him. His nose is nearly pressed into the man’s large chest and one of his trunk-like arms wraps around his waist. The contact burns against his ribs.

Luka’s focus is suddenly split on keeping his feet under him and on how good the guy smells. For some reason the sharp cologne reminds him of Wis and he aches a bit. He falls a bit further into the guy’s torso before being hit with the realization that he’s left the seats behind.

“Hey wait, I dun...��

“Shh, you do, remember? You asked me to help you.”

Luka doesn't remember, and he tries to say as much but the man pulls him tighter to his torso and before he knows it he’s hit with a cool blast of fresh air. The breeze helps clear his head a bit and as he takes in the yellow parking garage lights he realizes what’s happening.

This has nothing to do with his drenched shirt.

Luka tugs at the man’s grip but his limbs aren’t responding. He whimpers around a thick tongue, struggling to dig his heels in.

“Le’go of me- stop-“

“Hey!”

Luka’s face explodes in white-hot pain and suddenly he’s gasping up from the harsh gravel, vision swirling with the sickly yellow fluorescence above. He chokes on something thick and warm and metallic. The man’s greasy face swims into view.

“You’ve been so good up till now, don’t ruin it, huh?”

Luka’s eyelids are as heavy as his limbs, and he finds that he can no longer stand on his own power. The man grunts as he hefts him into his arms. He doesn't seem to care about getting his expensive suit dirty.

Luka watches blood smear on the crisp white collar he’s pressed against, brain a muffled fog.

It isn’t until he’s set back down on the pavement, leaned back against a concrete barrier, that he closes his eyes against the dizziness. The hand is back again, ring cool against Luka’s jaw as it jerks his face up.

“Be a good boy and wait here for me,” the sugary tone has a dark undergrowth and Luka whimpers as the grip tightens.

He’s left drowning in a numb existence, breaths labored and shallow as he fights the current of panic muffled by whatever drug is flowing through his system.

Why can’t he just go home? Where are the girls? He wants Calli’s strong arms and Wisteria’s warm legs wrapped around his aching limbs. They were just here, weren’t they? He just saw them a minute ago. Where did they go? Why did they leave him here? It’s cold and hard and he’s feeling kinda sick...okay he's feeling a lot sick...

It could be minutes or hours before anything happens. The noise is back but this time the man sounds...angry. Angry and loud and Jesus this is too much but he can't do anything he can’t move .

There are other voices now, too, feet pounding against pavement and screams echoing like a bullet ricochet through his skull.

It swells and swells and swells until a long, drawn out groan drips from his lips alongside the trickle of blood.

He flinches when a cool hand presses against his bruised cheek, another wraps into his hair and he wants to tell whoever this is that it hurts stop touching but he can’t he’s still drowning.

“...py? Luka, c’mon…”

He smells it again, that sharp cologne. The hands only hold tighter when he flinches away and he moans against the steady grip.

“It’s me, it’s Wis. C’mon Puppy, open your eyes for me.”

There’s an explosion- it echoes between his ears and he’s dead now isn’t he? The hands are gone and he can’t feel anything-

The world fades into grey and he gives in to the swell, unconscious before the next wave hits.

...

Luka wakes slowly to the soft sensation of fingers trailing through his hair. It’s nice, and he’s warm, so he falls back into oblivion.

…

The next time he opens his eyes he’s met with a brilliant smile. Golden strands of hair swallow his vision and those lips are pressed to his forehead in a gentle kiss. Relief soaks like a balm into his skin.

Calli.

“Hey baby, it’s okay,” a thumb swipes beneath his eye and he leans into the touch, allowing hot tears to bubble down his cheeks as he takes in Calli’s pretty eyes and creased brow.

“How are you feeling? Any better?”

Any better? Better than what? He closes his eyes and thinks hard, cutting through the heady fog in his brain. He remembers the club, the dancers, lots of lights...yellow lights, greasy black hair, his mouth filling with blood, and oh... that was a lot to sift through. So he doesn’t. He lifts a hand and brushes weak fingers against her arm.

“Lay by me?” He croaks.

She nods and tucks into his side, laying one long leg over his own, wrapping him in a strong embrace. Tired eyes flick around the room, recognizing the stark walls and equipment as those of a hospital room.

“Where…?”

“Now that you're up we can go home,” she explains, breath hot against his shoulder, “They just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Hm.”

He closes his eyes and nearly drifts off again when he realizes, “where’s Wis?”

“She’s fine,” Calli assures gently, “She’s talking to dad. He’s gonna drive us home in a bit. Are you up for that?”

He nods absently, thoughts are scattered. The drowsiness of moments before swept away by a familiar anxiety, “What- what happened?”

Calli tenses a bit before explaining, “You were drugged, they believe the pig who did it had ties to a trafficking ring leading up the coast. But it's okay” She hastens to soothe, “We caught up to you and security managed to get him locked up. You’re okay.”

“There was...it…” Calli waits patiently while he threads memories together, “A noise, a crash?”

She looks confused for half a second before realization washes over her features.

“Oh. He had a gun in his car. No one was hit though.”

“Mm.”

Luka shifts so that he can press his face into the divot of her neck, letting the warmth and connection between their bodies ease the strum of anxiety vibrating down his spine.

They stay like that, wrapped in the safety of the embrace, until the others come to take them home.

#whumptober2020 #no.2 #whump #kidnapping #light D/s #oc #not my oc #gift fic

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ohtobeoneofbuckysplums · 4 years

Text

Some Friendly Competition [BUCKY BARNES X READER]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader // Avengers x Reader

Summary: The first time you ever interact with Bucky Barnes is over a game of beer pong.

Word count: ~1.7k

Contains: just some good ole fluff and a bit of PG-13 language

A/N: My first fic/post on this blog! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and let me know your thoughts/give me some feedback! Requests are open, so feel free to send me some ideas or just say hi!

–––––

“Friday, chill sesh in the main apartment,” Tony calls out as you guys walk out of the meeting, “I’m gonna dock your pay if you miss it!”

–––––

The hangout is already in full swing when you arrive.

“Lady Y/N!” Thor booms when you walk in, raising his drink to you, and you wave back laughing. Tony’s outside at the bar next to the pool, playing bartender. You walk over.

“What can I get for you, kid?” He asks, throwing a dishrag over his shoulder.

“Surprise me, old man,” you shoot back.

After grabbing your drink (he made you a Margarita), you head to the ping pong table at the other side of the pool where Sam and Steve are talking.

“What’s up, Y/N,” Sam greets with a hug.

“Great job on the mission,” Steve says, patting you on the shoulder.

“Easy peasy,” you say with a nonchalant wave of your hand. Your gaze catches on the red solo cups on the table.

“Wanna go a round?” You ask Sam, shaking the ball that’s clutched in between your fingers.

“No way, Y/N. Remember the last time we played?” he asks, and you cackle at the memory of finding him the morning after going sixteen rounds of beer pong (all of which he lost but continued to call for rematch after rematch) in a neon pink speedo and asleep on the unicorn floatie on top of the pool. You used up half of your phone’s data taking pictures of him, all of which you sent to the team group chat.

“Stevie?” You asks, jutting out your bottom lip. He laughs at you.

“Nice try,” he says while shaking his head. Since he can’t get drunk, you guys usually play with a forfeit. Last time he had to let you pick his outfit for one day. The look on everyone’s faces when Captain America walked into the mission meeting in a hotdog suit brings a smile to your face every time you think of it.

“You guys are no fun,” you say with a pout.

“I’ll play a round with you Miss Y/L/N,” Peter pipes up from the couch in front of the fire pit. You raise a brow and Sam laughs, but you throw him a ball anyway.

“Good luck kid.”

“Okay, okay cool, I’ve only played like once at a party, but I don’t know if that counts since we didn’t have beer, so we used cranberry juice, but I feel like––”

Bucky plucks the ping pong ball out of Peter’s hands. “You and me,” he says to you. You raise your brows, surprised that the Winter Soldier decided to even come out to one of these hangouts. You talked to him before, basic pleasantries on missions and around the tower, but haven’t really had a full on interaction with him. You ignore that though. The tequila is beginning to work its way into your bloodstream and he looks especially good in a simple black tee and jeans and you kind of want to see how good of a beer pong player the famous Winter Soldier really is. You look at him for a beat longer, giving him time to change his mind if he wants, but he simply quirks up a brow.

“Okay, you’re on Barnes.” He flashes you a smile that makes your cheeks warm.

“You don’t want to play her Barnes, she’ll smoke you,” Sam warns him.

Steve folds his arms across his chest, his face adorned with an amused smile. Because honestly, he doesn’t know who would win. A super soldier with a bionic arm against an assassin with deadly aim. Each has an equal shot.

“Eye for eye,” you both say in unison, locking eyes while tossing each of your balls. Yours makes it in while his bounces off the rim of a cup.

“Next time, sweets,” you say with a wink. He cracks a smile and rolls his eyes. You make two of his cups, and now it’s his turn.

Flicking his wrist, the ball plops into the cup at the center of the triangle. Your mouth melts into an evil grin.

“Pants off.”

His eyes sharpen. “What?”

“You made the center cup on your first try. Pants off.” His mouth opens, about to argue.

“Those are the rules man,” Steve says, eyes crinkling at the corners. Bucky gives him a glare that would make any other man piss his pants, but Steve just shrugs and beckons him to undress. He lets out an annoyed huff, but proceeds to unbuckle his belt. When he finishes pushing down his black jeans, he’s left in a pair of tight black briefs. Someone whistles. You can’t help your eyes as they wander down.

“Eyes up here, Doll,” he says with a smirk, and your mouth drops open. The dimple on the side of his face deepening when he sees your flustered state.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes,” you say, trying to ignore the way your stomach twists when he calls you “Doll.”

–––––

You’re currently in the lead when Nat walks over, six shots held impressively between her fingers. She hands you two of the them, gives two to Sam, and downs the last two herself.

“I would have gotten you two oldies some, but then I remembered that you guys only drink gross whiskey,” she says to Bucky and Steve.

“How considerate,” Bucky says dryly, arms now crossed against his chest.

You hiss when you feel the vodka run down your throat, and you scrunch up your face at the taste.

Sam laughs. “One of the best Russian trained assassins can’t handle the taste of vodka.”

“Fuck you Big Bird,” you wheeze out, flipping him off. Sam’s mouth pops open comically. Bucky chokes on air, and Nat howls, clapping her hands together.

“Big Bird? Big Bird?” Sam asks, eyebrows to his hairline. You all continue to laugh even harder at his affronted expression, and he scoffs.

“The utter disrespect. Big Bird? Come on, I need a drink,” you hear him mumble to himself as he walks away.

“I love you!” You yell. He waves you off, and you blow him a kiss. Nat’s still giggling when your favorite song comes on.

“Your turn Barnes––oh my god, I love this song!” you exclaim. Bucky gauges the shot, and he’s just about to release the ball when you raise your arms above your head, swaying your hips to the music, and his eyes laser in on the small strip of skin that’s uncovered when your shirt rides up. His hand falters, and the ball flies to the left and bounces away and onto the ground. You smirk and wink, and his eyes narrow.

“Distracted there, Bud?” Steve murmurs. Bucky glares at him. And out of spite, he tosses the ball while still glaring at Steve. It splashes straight into a cup. Steve raises his brows and his hands in mock apology.

You’re both down to your last cups. He’s a formidable opponent. It’s his turn, and he makes it. You’re not worried though.

Okay just gotta make this shot, or he wins. Easy peasy. You take a breath and release the ball. It soars in a nice arc, hits the rim, and…

rolls off the side of the cup and bounces off the table.

Your mouth pops opens in surprise while Bucky’s stretches into a triumphant smile.

“Rematch,” you demand.

“Uhh, I don’t think so, I kinda like being the king of beer pong right now. Maybe another time,” he says with a smug grin. Your shock turns into a begrudging laughter.

“Okay fine. Good game, good game,” you say, offering up your hand, which he takes, warm hand and rough callouses rub against your skin deliciously.

You grab his tumbler of whiskey sitting on the table and down the rest in one gulp. He raises his brows, eyes focused on a drop of liquor at the corner of your mouth.

“I’m gonna hold you to that rematch,” you say before sauntering off. He watches you leave before seating himself down on the couch.

A hand offers him a refilled glass of whiskey, which he takes. He can’t get drunk, but it’s familiar, and Tony’s collection tastes nice. Seconds after, Steve plops down next to him.

“So, what do you think of Y/N?”

“She’s cool. I like her,” he says simply, not taking his eyes off the way you’re drunkenly dancing dangerously close to the pool’s edge with Natasha. Steve narrows his eyes, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Shut up, punk,” he says

“I didn’t say anything!” Steve exclaims, raising his hands in defense.

“Didn’t have to,” still gazing at you. You’re now braiding Thor’s hair, and his stomach clenches with something akin to jealousy and something else when he sees you throw back your head and laugh at something the lightening god says, wishing that that person who was making you laugh was him. That the hair you’re combing your fingers through was his. That he could laugh that easily with you.

“Okay, whatever, I won’t push it,” Steve says, clinking his own glass to Bucky’s.

A few moments of peaceful silence.

“Bucky has a crush!”

“Oh fuck you, what are you twelve?” Bucky says before pushing himself off the couch.

“Hey––where are you going?” Captain America calls after his best friend.

“Away from you!”

Steve shakes his head as he laughs, raising his glass to his lips before hearing Sam’s shriek followed by a loud splash.

“Fuck you Barnes,” Sam sputters once his head breaks through the water. Bucky just flips him off as he walks back inside.

“What the hell did you say?” Steve asks, wiping the water droplets off of his face.

“I just asked him why he was smiling so much!”

#Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #sam wilson #thor odinson #Tony stark #my fic #my writing #avengers #avengers x reader #peter parker #spiderman #natasha romanoff #black widow

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hornsbeforehalos · 5 years

Text

Waste Love: Part Fifteen

Pairing: Colson Baker|Machine Gun Kelly x OFC Warnings: Language, Alcohol and Drug Use, Smut, Violence, Angst, Fluff A/N: This is definately a shorter chapter, and I’m sorry for it. The series is wrapping up and I have a plan for the ending, just trying to make everything work the way I want it to.

Three weeks had passed since Colson had headed back to California to get everything situated before he went back on tour. Tiffany had heard from him every day, but the incessant loneliness still lingered around her like a fog. After their argument, he’d tried to convince her to come see him multiple times, but she always declined with the excuse she had way too many responsibilities at the gallery. Which she did, of course, but there was also something deep inside her that was keeping herself guarded. She knew if she went to California she wouldn’t come back, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. She knew better. She knew that despite all his declarations of love and marriage, he was still MGK.

She did love him, and she did want to marry him, she just wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to uproot her entire life and have nothing again if things didn’t work out.

Work was mundane and empty without Norman around, and with him being her only friend in the city, her social life was non existent. After spending all day in the office editing or setting up shoots, she’d simply come home, order dinner, curl up on the couch, and wait for Colson to call.

Tonight, however, was different. It was the night of the concert and Ashleigh and the band had come over as soon as their plane had landed and spent the day with Tiffany while they waited on Colson and the others to arrive.

“Shot time, bitch!” Ashleigh laughed, leaning against the door jam of the bathroom with a glass in her hand as Tiffany finished drawing a pointed black line across her eyelid.

Tiffany smiled at Ash through the mirror as she replaced the cap to the liner, running her hands through her purple waves before turning around and facing the woman with her hand extended. They tapped their glasses together before downing the tequila, the acrylic-flavored burn making both of them wince.

“You know, for having a millionaire for a fiancé, you sure do have some cheap fuckin’ liquor.” Ash hissed , shaking her head back and forth with the taste.

Tiffany narrowed her eyes at her friend at the use of the ‘f word,’ but didn’t comment on it, instead just sticking her tongue out at her before turning back around to finish her hair. When she was done, the two women made their way into the kitchen where everyone else was. Baze was pouring more shots for everyone while AJ and her brother were rolling blunts at the breakfast bar.

Rook turned around as he ran the rillo over his tongue, his eyes widening for a second as he took in her appearance before a grunt of protest could be heard.

“Oh fuck no! Ain’t no fuckin’ way you’re wearing that!” Rook scolded, placing the blunt on the counter before grabbing Tiffany by her shoulders and pushing her backwards.

Tiffany slapped his hands away and stopped in her tracks, pushing on his chest with a perfectly manicured fingernail, “The fuck are you talking about?”

“You're going on stage tonight, dumbass,” Rook stared, gesturing with his hands to her outfit, “You can’t crowd surf in a fuckin, skirt and hooker heels.”

“Since when and who said?” She responded annoyed, her brow furrowing as she placed her hands on her hips, “This is the first time I’m hearing of this.”

Shrugging, AJ replied, “That’s what Kels said.”

Tiffany groaned in response while stealing the shot from the counter, downing it quickly before turning around and stomping towards her room to change.

Once she’d replaced her outfit with a cropped Motley Crue shirt and shorts with her Chucks, it was time to be on the way to the venue to meet up with everyone else.

—

“Alright, alright, guys,” Kels began, raising the mic to his lips as his other hand gestured for the crowd to settle down as the ending of Candy drifted off through the auditorium, “I’ve got one song left off of Hotel Diablo before we play some old shit for y’all.”

The audience’s screams echoed through the building once more, bringing a smile to Colson’s face as he looked back behind him to Slim and the rest of the band. They beamed at each other for a moment before Kels raised his hand again, the cheers calming almost instantly.

“This is a song that I wrote for someone extremely special to me.” He began, looking out to the crowd once more before continuing, “If you guys don’t mind, I would like to bring her out so I could perform it for her for the first time.”

The crowd roared again, and Kels looked over to the side as the stage as Tiffany made her way towards him. She waved to everyone as they cheered for her, Colson wrapping her up in his sweaty embrace before kissing her deeply.

The intro to the song began once they pulled away from each other, Colson tangling their hands together after putting the mic in the stand between them. He sang the first verse into the mic while staring straight into her eyes, they’re hands swinging back and forth slowly.

Tiffany couldn’t help the tears that rolled silently down her cheeks as his voice captivated her, the lyrics holding so much more meaning than they normally did. Colsons eyes widened in surprise when she stepped forward for Madison’s part, her voice shaking with emotions as she sang the words.

Colson pulled away from her as he began the last verse, detaching the mic from the stand as he took a step back.

“Why you tryna run when I feel like you the one sometimes? I guess a little bit of pain kinda make it feel good”

As the last word drifted off, Colson pulled the small box out of his pocket and kneeled down. His fingers were trembling with nerves as he fumbled with the lid, jerking it open to reveal the perfect diamond ring. He looked up to the woman he loved in pure fear, his pupils encased by the oceanic blue of his irises.

Tiffany’s breath caught in her throat with a gasp, her hands covering her mouth as she looked from Colson to the audience, back to him before turning towards her brother and the others who had gathered around. Rook held out his phone to her to reveal her father on the screen, the old man himself choked up as they all watched and waited.

“Tiffany Marie Cappelletty, will you marry me?”

Tiffany’s body shook with a sob as she nodded her head, the crowd erupting instantly with the rest of her friends around her. Colson’s eyes shined with the brightness of all the stars as he jumped to his feet and enveloped her in his arms, squeezing her as tight as he possibly could.

His fingers were practically vibrating as he ripped the ring from the box, almost dropping it as he shoved it on her hand before jerking her wrist up to show off the flashy ornament.

Tiffany laughed as she watched his excitement feed into the audience, letting him bask in the moment before pulling him to her lips. She snaked her tongue in his mouth to savor him for a second before pulling away and hugging him again.

“I can’t believe you,” she said into his ear, her heart beating a thousand miles an hour.

“You told me I had to do it right.” He replied smugly, kissing her again before turning back to the audience

“Thank you all for being apart of this.” He spoke into the mic, looking out at all the fans as he pulled Tiffany into his side, “This is something I wanted the family to be apart of.”

“If just to ensure she wouldn’t say ‘no!’” Slim teased as he wrapped a long arm around Colson from the other side, bright smile beaming at the two of them.

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Colson chuckled back, shrugging his shoulders while dodging a slap from Tiff before continuing with the show.

Masterlist

Tags: @cobainscocaiine @coffee-obsessed-writer @through-thesilver-lining @daryldixonandfrogs @buckyscrystalqueen @mgkobsessed @iamdorka @creatureofthen1ght-v3 @xxencagedxx @xxkellsvixen19xx @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @bvibunny138 @crystalbaby12

*credit for the bomb ass banner is to best friend @coffee-obsessed-writer

beta’d by @buckyscrystalqueen

#colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x you #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfiction #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk imagine #mgk

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arianakristine · 4 years

Text

@skagengiirl So, this has actually been sitting around in a word document since about 2015 (what I meant by cheating a bit). I’ve taken pieces of the ideas for other stories, but I hope you will enjoy anyway :)

Title: Girl Talk Summary: The Wonder That’s Keeping the Stars Apart collection. A few months after everything settles, a party is held at Granny’s. And Red has a question that’s been bugging her for a while. Some Frankenwolf mentioned.

“Emma,” a voice calls. She looks up to see Ruby stumbling toward her, her drink sloshing around her glass precariously but not spilling. “There’s my godchild!”

Emma winces, but lets the woman hug her awkwardly in her seat. Ruby falls back into another chair clumsily, giggling all the while.

“You’re such a light-weight, Ruby!” Emma teases, denying the way her own voice came out in a cursive. She can barely hear over the din of people talking and music playing. Granny’s looked more like a bar than a dinner currently, but everyone looked in a good mood.

Ruby takes a sip of the cola-colored liquor and chances a glance behind her. “Emmy, you gotta tell me –“

“Uh, uh, no way, no Emmy. Nix it,” Emma corrects firmly. She points at her directly. “Emma’s short enough, no nicknames needed.”

Ruby cackles. “Fine! Though I’m sure you and your hubby have plenty for each other.”

Her eyes darken as she seeks out Graham from across the room. His hand is curled around the neck of a beer bottle, chatting amicably with David and Archie. He is grinning, that dimpled smile that sends heat straight to the core of her. She sucks in a bit of a breath. “Not my husband … not yet, Ruby,” she corrects. Then she blinks. She must’ve had a couple more whiskeys than she should have, to imply something like that. She turns back to Ruby sharply, but the damage has already been done.

“Are you guys engaged?!” she asks in a stage whisper, her eyes widening.

“Hush, no, we’re not!” she says as she bats at her. “We’re not even really talking about it.”

Unfortunately, even an inebriated Ruby can pick up on the things she’s saying. “’Not really talking about it’? Does that mean you’ve kind of talked about it?”

Emma’s nose crinkles. “God, Ruby, really?” she sighs. She peeks back up at Graham. She can see the way the muscles of his back move through his shirt as he gestures. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, his hands in plain view. She pictures a band around his left ring finger, trying hard to ignore the pleasant tingle that curls up her spine at the thought. “We only really mentioned it once we saw each other again. We’re not talking marriage for real.”

“Bree’s what, almost six months old? What’s the delay?” she asks, her bright eyes trained on hers as she twists a cherry stem between her teeth.

She huffs a sigh. “Nothing, it’s just … we weren’t really together together before he … you know. We’re taking our time.”

Ruby’s brow arches. “You guys have a kid. You’re true love. But marriage is a rush?”

She waves her hand, and then takes a thick swallow of the honeyed whiskey. “We’re doing fine right now; why worry about getting married.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, taking another sip of her manhattan. “Whatever. Anyway, what I was saying before: I gotta know something that has been bugging me for ages,” she gushes dramatically.

Emma gestures. “Shoot.”

Ruby’s gaze turns playful. “How in the hell did you wind up pregnant in the first place? I’ve been trying to pinpoint the timeframe.”

Emma grimaces. “Ruby! Seriously?”

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “Yes, seriously! Now, was it after the dart incident? You guys were pretty heated; did you guys have like some angry sex against the cruiser or something?”

Emma gapes at her, slightly insulted. “No! We didn’t have angry sex!”

Ruby presses further, the alcohol making her bolder. “Not angry sex? Did the tension just bubble over and he took you in the middle of the parking lot or something?”

“Ruby!” she hisses. “No! We didn’t have sex that night.”

Ruby is pensive. “Hmm, not that night, then? Was it before? Was that why you were avoiding him when you found out about him and Regina?” she asks.

“Ruby!” she moans out. She takes a gulp of her whiskey, downing it cleanly. “No. Not then, not before then.”

Ruby’s expression turns stunned, training on her in sympathy. It takes Emma a second to realize she just basically told her the day it happened. The same day he died. “Emma, it was that day? Oh, I’m so sorry. Tell me you at least had time to enjoy it.”

Emma buries her face in her hands. “Just enough,” she grouses.

The other woman’s face spreads into a wicked grin. “So, it was good?”

Emma scowls, her first reaction being just to straight tell her off and exclaim that she would never tell Ruby something like that.

Then, it hits her. Ruby’s a friend. A friend like she’s never had. Sure, Mary Margaret and she are fantastic friends, but it hasn’t been the same since the curse broke. They’re family, and things run smoothly like that and they are still closer. But it’s not like it is with friends; not like late nights in the bunks at foster homes or half-whispered convos between girls in coffee shops. She can’t exactly talk to her mother about how good her boyfriend is in bed.

To gather strength, she pulls the open bottle of whiskey from the counter behind them and pours a shot that she downs immediately. She pushes the bottle towards the other woman in invitation. “God, Ruby, you couldn’t have imagined how good,” she finally admits.

Ruby pours over the ice left of her drink and grins impishly. “Girl, we’ve all imagined it,” she says with a wink. “I mean, his looks haven’t exactly gone unnoticed in this tiny town, or even in that massive forest before.”

Emma feels something creep up inside her that feels suspiciously like pride. She pours another glass and smiles into her drink. “He’s even better out of uniform,” she says, feeling decidedly playful.

Ruby’s eyes widen slightly. She opens her mouth to reply when Victor plops down in the chair next to her, pulling her close with arm. “So, Ladies, what are we discussing on this fine evening?” he slurs dramatically.

Ruby frowns. “Girl talk, Victor.”

Victor pouts. “Am I not allowed in on girl talk? Ruby, I will have you know that I am very in touch with my feminine side.” He whips his hair back and then leans into Ruby, smiling widely.

Even though Emma still holds a bit of a grudge against the doctor even months of reconciliation later, she has to stifle her laugh against the rim of her glass. The man is a funny drunk.

Ruby presses a teasing kiss against his lips, just barely brushing them. “Be that as it may, this is private, mister. You may get a reward if you leave now.”

Victor locks eyes with Emma’s and raises a brow suggestively. “Then I should be off. Have fun, lovelies.”

Once he leaves, Emma smirks at Ruby. “So, how’s that going?”

Ruby waves her hand as if pushing away the implication. “Just someone I’m testing. Not making a big deal out of it.”

She laughs. “Testing? Haven’t you been ‘testing’ for two months now?”

Ruby snorts indelicately and raises her cup, the ice tinkling around the glass. “We’ve been dating for two months. I’ve been ‘testing’ for the past week.”

The girls giggle together, and Emma has a sharp feeling of poignancy. She’s never had this kind of friendship with anyone, amicable and teasing without being heavy with other emotion. She finds herself enjoying it. “And? He is …?”

She looks up thoughtfully, tapping a finger on her lips. “Acceptable,” she finally spouts. “A solid 8 out of 10. Room for improvement.” She picks a fleck of polish off her bright red nails. “Proportionate.”

Emma glances up at Graham again, almost shyly. Not-so-sober eyes trace the lines of his body, heat flicking in her as her memory looks past the clothing. She looks back at Ruby. “Not so proportionate. In my favor.”

Ruby gives a noise of approval. “Mazel Tov,” she quips with a coy nod.

Emma takes a sip of her drink, feeling a blush creep up her neck. “God, I must be drunk.”

Ruby grins. “Well, while we’re at it – how did it happen? Y’know, the first time?”

Emma purses her lips, considering. “Quid pro quo?” she asks.

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “Deal. I’ll even go first: we had a real date, you know, dinner, drinks, nice music. He was a perfect gentleman, and we closed down Tony’s. Then went to his place to look at this painting he just got, and once the door closed … well, I just kinda jumped him.”

“Sounds like you waited too long,” Emma chuckles.

Ruby smirks. “And you don’t think you and Graham waited too long?”

Emma rubs her temple. At the time? No. She had been worried that they had rushed things. Hindsight, however, did get her wondering about the what-ifs. “Yeah, well.”

Ruby chuckled and swiped lipstick from around the side of her glass. “So?”

She sighed and pulled her lip through her teeth. She glanced at him once more before meeting her eyes. “I had just had a fist fight with Regina after he broke up with her. He fixed me up, I kissed him, and somehow that ended up with us on the desk.” She grimaces slightly; it sounds subversive in such simple terms.

Ruby’s eyes widen considerably. “On the desk? In the office? Kinky, Emma! I love it!” She seems to think about it a second, shock crossing her face. “Hey, I’ve sat at that desk!”

Emma laughed and pulled up her hair. “Months later, I might add.”

Ruby shook her head with a grin. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at that office the same way ever again.”

“Why would that be?”

Emma doesn’t turn; the voice’s soft rumbling tones, the elongated syllables have alerted her to who exactly is behind her shoulder. She leans into him, and he helps pick up her hair, coiling it into a bun. He easily relaxes into her, the pads of his fingers lightly caressing the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

Ruby is looking at Graham with an openly appreciative glance. Her eyes are steadily focused above the belt, but Emma can see the restraint in the brunette’s eyes. “No reason that you don’t already know, Sheriff,” she teases.

Emma turns her head, pressing her face into his stomach and breathing in his scent. All this talk, the warmth of the liquor in her belly, the smell of him, his nearness … she is suddenly glad she left Brianna with Mary Margaret this evening. “Sorry, Ruby, but I think Graham and I have to go,” she says, giving the woman a pointed look.

Ruby hums an agreement. “We’re not done, just so you know. We’ll talk again tomorrow,” she says with a wink, rising slightly unsteadily in her sky-high heels. “I’ll just find Victor. Have fun, lovebirds.”

Emma stands and rolls into him, her arms crossing behind his neck. She presses a lingering kiss to his lips, which he responds to immediately. “You’ve been watching me again,” he says, a smile in his voice but worry in his eye.

Emma shrugs. “I was just appreciating the view.” She knows what he’s getting at, but this time she wasn’t watching to be sure he wouldn’t disappear.

Graham tightens his arms where they linger at her waist. “We should go home.”

She nods, grabbing her coat. Then, she turns, a different thought on her mind. “Or, we could go to the office. I think I remember something that needs to be fixed over there,” she says huskily.

He raises a brow and pulls her close. “Some desk work you need to finish?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. And I think I need someone to help me jog some memories about the last time the desk was worked on.”

He laughs. “Em, you must be drunk if you’re picking up my sense of humor. Maybe we should just get you to bed.”

She shakes her head, but sways as she takes a step forward, the room spinning slightly, and she wants to groan aloud. “Fine. But tomorrow, we’re going in early.”

He kisses the top of her head. “Let’s get you home, Emma.”

Emma’s seized with the sappiest feeling, and in her inebriated state, lets it come into words. “I’m already there.”

He looks down at her, those dark-blue eyes gleaming. “You’re my home, too, Emma. But let’s also get to a place where we can sleep it off.”

Hugging him, she nods. “The Reason, Graham.”

Slowly, he rubs her back. “The Reason, Emma.” He presses a kiss into her hair, tracing a line down her back.

#gremma #graham humbert #emma swan #gremma ff #ouat ff #wilding verse #that's right

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atopearth · 4 years

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Pub Encounter Part 1 - Yorihisa Hodo Route

Okay, so I bought this on the Switch since I don’t think I have the guts to play this on Steam for the whole world to see LOLL. (However, apparently I have the guts to publish my thoughts on a blog post for the whole world to see anyway LOL) I’ve always been curious about this game because it features LIs on the older spectrum, maybe a bit too old for others, but I’m cool with it if they’re interesting! Typical start with Shiori going to a random pub and meeting a bunch of random old men who are regulars there. I’m following a guide on Steam, so I’m gonna go for Yorihisa first~ He seems to be the type that’s kinda flirty and open but keeps that as a facade? We shall see~ All the guys didn’t really appeal to me in the prologue haha. But! Yorihisa is Shiori’s favourite author and he’s a literature professor too! He sounds cool! Lol! It’s funny how Ryuunosuke seemed pretty cold initially, but when he started talking about Yorihisa’s books (that he enjoys), he actually smiled quite sweetly haha. Guess he’s the cold on the outside CEO that’s actually really nice type?

Shiori is so cute though. After talking to Yorihisa and them about her favourite book of his, she stayed up all night and read the book again loll. Gotta say, him gently touching her cheek and expressing concern over her dark circles was prettyyyy cute hahaha. It was really heartfelt when Shiori thanked him for writing these books, it really seemed like he appreciated how genuinely she loved his books. Hahaha omg, they’re really planning to play a game to see who falls in love with the other first? Guess Shiori is going to have to try really hard to win and get him to write another romance novel! Lmao when she said she’d turn him into a lovesick little puppy🤣 Honestly, with how bold Yorihisa is by holding her hand, kissing her forehead etc, I can’t find any hope in her winning considering how innocent she is LOL. Initially, it seemed so awkward for Mamoru and Hideaki to help teach her how to grab a guy’s heart, but I think Hideaki was just so cuteeee for hugging her in excitement when she was able to do what they taught her properly haha. LOL, she ended up failing as expected, but him warning her that the way she tried to seduce him felt like an invitation for sex and not “love” was good, she should be a bit more aware of how guys might react if she does all this touching and gazing into their eyes! It’s so normal for someone of his age to have had a wife, but it just completely flew over my head and I didn’t expect him to talk about a late wife who died a few years ago. I was so surprised at how forward Shiori became after seeing how sad he looked thinking about his wife, she literally brought him back home and was ready to give herself to him! I’m glad he didn’t take her up on the offer and only kissed and cuddled her to sleep. It’s pretty crazy how smitten she is with Yorihisa though lol. OMG, I guess I can say the same for Yorihisa, he’s definitely smitten with her, like dang. It was so hot when she asked him how you’re supposed to drink Nikolaschka (his favourite drink), so he got Hideaki to demonstrate that you kinda mix the lemon, coffee and sugar in your mouth and then drink the liquor in the cup in one shot, which sounds very fascinating tbh. But omggg when he asked her if she still wanted to try it, and when she said yes, he literally put the drink in his mouth and then kissed her and gave her the drink that way omggg LOL, I feel sorry for the clueless LI guys watching that on the side hahaha. I guess he was kinda jealous of how Hideaki and them were talking about how they taught Shiori how to seduce a guy and she tried it on them loll.

I love Hideaki, he’s like a Dad, caring about her and watching out for her so she doesn’t get taken advantage of. Ryuunosuke on the other hand cares in a different way though, he acknowledges that she’s an adult but made sure to ask Soichiro about what happened and why he didn’t stop it haha. Love that even though it was done kinda in a teasing way, Yorihisa still made sure to ask for consent before doing anything. Oh wow, I didn’t expect him to have lost both his daughter and wife to illness. It’s kinda saddening and yet sweet that his wife bought him a cat (similar to the one they previously bought for their daughter) before she died. It was so nice to see how they were starting such a normal couple life with her cooking him food and making a bath for him etc, it was quite cute. Only problem is, for some reason he’s ghosted her for a month! I can see why she would cry at the pub with Soichiro over that, I mean, it seemed like her feelings finally got across to him and he was reciprocating, and yet now he’s just…gone. Okay, that was so hurtful and uncalled for! First, he avoids her, and then says it was all a game etc and then spites her by giving her a kiss like she “wants”. It seems like he’s afraid that being with her any longer would make him really fall for her and he thinks that would mean he’s forgetting about the family he once had. It’s an understandable thing to go through I admit, I mean, he probably feels really unfaithful and terrible towards his late family for thinking that he can enjoy such happiness without them BUT, he was still pretty slack to Shiori though, she’s just earnestly trying her best to be with the man she loves. Well, they made up fast! I’m glad Ryuunosuke confronted Yorihisa though, he was so cool! I’m just glad to see how unrelenting Shiori is though lol, but I guess that’s something she’ll need if she’s going to chase after Yorihisa, since he likes to run away lol. Honestly, it seems like Yorihisa probably spent that month writing his new book to be like a confession to her or something. So I guess he’s gonna surprise her~

I thought he would chase after her and say that initially, she was a replacement for his wife, but not now, not anymore, but he just let her assume that was it! That was honestly heartbreaking to hear for her, here is Shiori laying her whole heart out to him, telling him that she loves him and doesn’t care about the game anymore, and he can’t give her any words of reassurance? Even if his novel is a confession to her, I’d still be annoyed. You can’t just leave her and hurt her like that! Sigh. Well, that was a rollercoaster of a ride, he can really be so cold and warm at the same time lol. I didn’t expect him to publicly dedicate the book to her, that was nice. But I think I liked the good ending more, just because I thought it was really sweet when she said “I’m home” to her empty house, and he said welcome home to her walking in behind her. I think it’s always nice to hear that from another person.

Overall, Yorihisa was a playful guy, but maybe a bit too playful and hurt from his past so he hurts Shiori a lot by not communicating better with her. He hides good things and bad things alike so I feel sorry for her. She’s always so upfront and honest about her feelings and she tries her best to communicate that, but he always backs away. Until the end anyway, kinda!? At least in the end, he can finally frankly tell her his feelings and his thoughts, so I guess that was nice. He’s quite a frustrating guy, and he definitely has Shiori in the palm of his hands, so I guess it was pretty frustrating to see her so easily allow herself be so vulnerable and reliant on his manipulative ways? Loll. But yeah, it was cute sometimes, but otherwise, their relationship is so unbalanced.. Not sure why she had to quit her job in the sequel when we don’t even know much about her job in the main route but okay loll. The date was a nice sweet little addition to the story~ but yeah, as a whole, I couldn’t take Yorihisa for always hurting Shiori and yet never apologising for his actions.

#pub encounter

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mentalmimosa · 5 years

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slip of the tongue

Prompt: Prompt: You’re the super hot server at a restaurant who said ‘enjoy your meal’ and I accidentally replied ‘I love you too’ and now I can’t look at you.

“I’m sorry?” the guy says, pretending, god bless him. His ears are pink and his cheeks are too and there’s no way he didn’t catch every syllable verbatim, is there? Steve thinks in a panic. Crap. Crap crap crap.

Doesn’t help that Tony’s wheezing with laughter, or that Nat just shot Barcardi out of her nose. And Sam’s gleeful, sunny grin might as well have you’re never living this down, Rogers written on it in neon.

“Sorry,” Steve echoes, pink answering pink. “I meant, uh, thanks.”

Their server-- Bucky, if his nametag’s to be believed--bobs his head, dark waves brushing his collar and those blue, blue eyes somehow brave enough (kind enough?) to meet Steve’s. “Sure. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Oh, Steve needs something, all right,” Tony spit out before Bucky’s more than three steps away.

“Tony!”

“Yeah, Tony,” Nat chides, making a beeline for the cheese fries. “He’s gonna need it more than once, by the looks of him. How long's it been since you had any, sailor?”

Steve’s face flips full-on beet red.

“Aw,” Sam says, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Cut the guy some slack, ok? It’s not his fault he lives like a monk. Oh, wait. Yes, it is.”

Then they’re giggling like monkeys, the three of them, his best friends in the world who are apparently bent on humiliating him in public--no more, Steve thinks morosely, than he already did.

“If it make you feel any better, Rogers,” Tony says in his three drinks-in drawl, “he is pretty. I’d fuck him.”

Steve reaches for his (first) beer and shrugs off Sam’s arm. “Nope. Not helping.”

“Yeah,” Nat says. “You’re not exactly discerning, Stark.”

Sam laughs. “She means that you’re a slut.”

Tony shrugs, beaming at Steve across the nachos. “If by slut you mean a very sexually satisfied person open to new experiences with all manners of interesting people, Natasha, then count me guilty as charged. Not all of us find the love of our tragically monogamous lives in college and exchange rings and house keys the moment we kiss.”

“I’ll tell Wanda you said hi.”

“Please do,” Tony says magnanimously. “Lovely lady, your wife. Kind of her to let you off the leash for one night. So yes, please give her my best. If she’ll allow you to speak my name in her presence, that is.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Can we set aside your hate-crush on my wife for ten seconds and get back to the business at hand?”

“Which is?”

A big, wicked grin. “Reminding Steve that he just proposed to our waiter.”

“I did not!” Steve says, way too loud, which only sent his friends further into hysterics. “God, it was a slip of the tongue.”

“Oh,” Sam snorts, “yeah, you wish it was.”

Tony nearly spits up the last of his Mai Tai. “He wishes it was a slip of the dick, more like.”

“I hate all of you,” Steve says, which is sort of true, but what’s more true is that he kinda hates his damn self. “Each and every one of you. So much.”

“Do we need more drinks?” Nat says, shaking the rocks in her glass.

“Oh, we so do,” Sam says. “All these fuckers are empty. Hey, Steve. Get your sweet baboo over here, huh?”

“I’m just”--Steve’s on his feet, pushing away from the table, embarrassment peeling over him in waves--“I’m gonna, um--”

And then he turns tail like a scared hare and runs.

****

The bathroom is mercifully empty. The mirror’s shaking from the speakers on the other side--something raucous with a serious twang--and the sink could do with a scrub, but there’s nobody in there to needle him except his reflection. The room smells like cigarettes and there’s ash on the floor and hell yes, that’s exactly what he wants.

He lights up and takes a long, greedy drag. The tobacco cuts through the beer nicely and he draws again, holds it, blows it out with a steadier breath. Put the last 20 minutes in clearer perspective.

So he declared his love for some random (albeit painfully gorgeous) guy. So what? No, it wasn’t his finest hour, but something tells him a man that pretty has heard a lot worse. Which doesn’t make it ok, what he said, but it probably won’t make the guy’s guess what some drunken douchebag said to me top ten.

Not that Steve’s drunk. He’s not drunk. He’s just--he waves the cig around, watches the smoke swim around him in the mirror--he’s just fucking lonely, that’s all.

Picky, Tony would call it, the word coated in nine different levels of disdain. Overly dependent on conventional concepts of romance, Nat would say, if she weren’t up to her eyeballs in rum. Afraid, Sam would say if they were alone in their office, chatting comfortably over their monitors. You’re just afraid of getting hurt again. Which I get, Steve, believe me. But you can’t keep living in the past. It’s been two years, man. You gotta let that shit go.

He bites hard into the filter, feels his teeth catch his bottom lip. Yeah, he thinks, intellectually, I know that. But emotionally? Easier said than done.

It’s been long enough now that he doesn’t see Thor all over the apartment, that the space doesn’t feel like it’s haunted anymore by half-developed images of the good times, the ugly, and the bad. He’s gotten rid of a lot of their furniture, swapped it out for new pieces one by one, as his paycheck allowed, and that’s helped a lot. He doesn’t walk on the rug that Thor brought back from Turkey or sit in the chair Thor’s mother picked out. He doesn’t sit every night on the couch that Thor liked to fuck on, liked to spread Steve over his lap and open him up and then pull him flush so that Steve’s cock was trapped between them, Thor’s fingers wrapped around his wrists, his wrists shoved against the small of his back, and Thor rolling his hips slowly, slowly, until Steve’s head fell back and his dick was so hard that it hurt and he begged .

Thor hadn’t wanted to take any of it with him into his new life, and why would he? Steve stubs out his dead cig and lights up another. Thor’s new boyfriend--god, no, he reminds himself, his husband, natch--has a hell of a place by the lakeside, a penthouse. Can see all the way to the UP on a good day, probably.

He’s only seen them in the city once, Thor and Loki, across a crowded street on the Mile. They’d been getting out of a limo in front of some top-shelf hotel and the way Loki had curled his arm through Thor’s, the way that Thor had looked down at him, a hot smile that was somehow full of loving--well. Steve might have ditched his Tinder date and bolted for Tony’s and his ever-ready liquor cabinet instead. No more attempts at a date after that.

His friends thought he was pathetic. Well, Nat did. And at least she’d say so to his face. Sam took more of the sympathy line, to a point, but even he, Steve suspected, was getting tired of Steve’s Eeyore shit. And Tony? He laughs to himself, watches the mirror him chuckle, too. Tony had made his preference known more than once, and as fun as that might be, Steve didn’t want to go there:

“I can’t,” he’d said the last time Tony had made a play for him. “I need you as a friend too much.”

Tony had smiled, a low, simmering smile that didn’t quite hide his hurt. “Of course you do,” he’d said, taking a small, enormous step back. “You’d be a mess without my stellar guidance. You’d still be in the closet, practically.”

He'd fought the urge to reach out, to squeeze Tony's arm. But he knew that would've made it worse. Instead, he'd said: “I was out for ten years before we met, Tone.”

Tony had shaken his head. “Ah, ah. We’ve had this discussion before, Steven. There’s out and then there’s, you know, out.”

Steve sighs and watches the last of the embers burn. Where the hell is he now, two years after getting dumped on his ass for a skinny rich son-of-a-bitch? Declaring his love for random servers and smoking illegally in a bar bathroom. Yeah, he’s really on the goddamn up and up.

He sees the door swing before he hears it, swings around in a flustered, smokey rush.

“Hey,” somebody says, gruff. “No smoking inside, man. You wanna light up, go around the back.”

Then Steve sees the somebody and the somebody sees him and goddamnit, his face goes right back to lit match.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky says, looking as suddenly flustered as Steve feels. “It’s you.”

#stucky #past thor/steve #wanda/natasha #accidental declaration of love #no powers au

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justanotherwannabeclassic · 6 years

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Finding Neverland (13/?)

Summary: When Juliet Jones and Gideon Gold fall through a time portal and find themselves in Neverland, finding a way back home is the least of their worries. One wrong step can irreversibly change the course of history, placing both of their existences in jeopardy. As Juliet attempts to ensure her parents are on course to falling in love, Gideon struggles with the realization that he’s about to meet his deceased brother for the very first time. Will they succeed in preserving the timeline, and what happens when these star-crossed lovers realize their respective families’ goals are at odds? Relationships: Gideon Gold x OC Swan-Jones kiddo, Captain Swan, references to Rumbelle and slight Swanfire

Read now on AO3.

Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

Chapter 13

Her plan needs an operation name.

Plans with operation names tend to be more successful -- at least, that’s what the storybooks have told her. Operation: Cobra. Operation: Mongoose. Operation: Light Swan. Operation: Whatever Random Animal Comes to Mind. Operation names had always been Henry’s forte, but since Juliet had long ago made it her own form of rebellion to be the opposite of Henry in a number of ways, she finds herself lacking in the whole “naming operations” department.

Most pressing, however, is that Juliet’s plan needs to actually exist outside of the vague conceptualization of “let’s hook -- pun only kinda intended -- my parents up.” That’s the end goal, right alongside “don’t die” and “get back to the correct point in time.” Though, Juliet reasons, if she fails at part one -- the aforementioned hooking up of her parents -- then she’ll just fade from existence, technically not dying.

After all, she can’t really die if she never existed in the first place.

How comforting.

All of this weighs heavily on her mind, but instead she focuses on naming the whole damn sort-of plan because that feels the least daunting. She needs a win right now, and naming her operation will be it. Only what will it be? She doesn’t know. Henry is the poetic one in the family, stronger with metaphors and fun naming conventions. Juliet’s creativity comes in the form of art and photos. She’s visual, and unfortunately, operation names are not that.

“Operation: Anything having to do with a Swan” feels a little too on the nose.

“Operation: Kittens” sounds a bit too cute for a life or non-existence scenario, no matter how much she likes kittens.

She’s still mulling over a name when she notices her father approaching her, coconut in hand. Operation: Coconut, it is. The operation name might not be an animal, but she doesn’t totally have to follow in Henry’s footsteps, pleasing her inner rebellious teen. And despite hating coconut water -- a fact this version of her father apparently doesn’t know -- seeing him with something in hand clearly for her makes her smile, and that’s enough.

“Hi there.”

“Morning.” He holds out the coconut, which she takes gratefully. She can power through pretending to drink coconut water if it means spending more time with him. She misses him -- the version of him she knows and loves -- terribly. “I know that Emma mentioned you weren’t fond of coconuts, but you need sustenance for what’s coming.”

She stares up at him, blinking in confusion, until she realizes that he’s referencing their plan to steal Pan’s shadow. Everything from the previous night is somewhat fuzzy. Try as she might to stay awake, Juliet had found herself dozing when the others had begun discussing the next steps toward successfully saving Henry. She thinks the plan they concocted involved something to do with using her and Emma’s magic, and she resolves to better inquire about the plan some more. At the moment, however, she’s more interesting in the first half of her father’s statement. Emma mentioned that Juliet didn’t like coconuts. That means that they had talked about her, a fact that ignites a small bit of hope. “You guys talk about me?”

“When it’s relevant, yes.”

“What makes it relevant?”

“When you get kidnapped by Pan.”

“Oh, that.” It makes sense. Dimly, she wonders what it was like when she disappeared. She knows that Gideon hadn’t reacted well -- that much she could tell from the way he had refused to let go of hand as they trekked back to camp. But the others? She isn’t sure. Up until now, her father’s past self had acted indifferent since he had found her and Neal outside of Echo Cave. Did he care when she had gone missing? Juliet isn’t sure she wants to know the answer.

“Aye, that.” He glances over the part of camp where Gideon is speaking in a low voice to Neal. She wonders what they’re saying. Her father turns back to her, and scratches behind his ear. It’s an action she’s seen plenty over the course of her life, one that indicates that he’s particularly nervous about whatever he plans to say next. “Listen, love, Pan is a monster. He enjoys both sowing discord and hurting people.”

“I kind of figured that part out when he had his crew kidnap me. And when he attempted to proposition my boyfriend into killing everyone -- which he wasn’t going to do, by the way.” Juliet makes a point of stressing that Gideon wasn’t going to hurt them. Recalling his hesitance outside of Echo Cave, she isn’t positive that her father truly believes her, but it’s worth a shot. She knows that Hook doesn’t actually have a reason to trust Gideon at this juncture, but she still finds her father’s attitude unfair and feels the desire to defend the man she loves. “Pan probably knew you were lurking in the bushes, anyway. He wanted you to think that...that Romeo was was the bad guy, making you not trust him. Sort of like how everyone here doesn’t trust you, even though you’re one of the good guys.

“I’m no hero,” he says with a false sort of laugh. He rights himself quickly enough, and once again runs his fingers through his hair. “At any rate, his stunt at Echo Cave was one such example of that.”

“Neal and I got ourselves out of it.” By revealing way too much information, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Aye, but not without a few bruises, it seems.” He casts another significant glance over his shoulder toward Gideon. For a moment, Juliet struggles to recall just what he’s referencing. Then she remembers Neal’s cover.

As grateful as she is for Neal’s quick thinking, she’s not fond with his particular choice of lie. It had been clever and believable, especially since she’s pretending to be someone that ran away from her family for a man, but she doesn’t like that Gideon is now forced to feign anger and hurt in regards to their relationship.

Her father looks like he’s about to say something else, but he’s cut off by Neal announcing, “Hey, Romeo and I are going to get some water. When we get back, we can leave to get the shadow.”

Juliet doesn’t pay attention to Regina’s argument in response, but instead focuses on Gideon and his resolute expression. He takes a deep breath before following behind Neal and disappearing into the jungle. She’s curious about how the conversation will play out, halfway worried about the effect that it might have on Gideon, but mostly glad he gets the chance to spend time with Neal.

“He loves you.”

Hook’s voice pulls her attention. She wonders now what he would say to her if she actually did come to him with her non-existent worries about whether she and Gideon were moving too fast. Romantic relationship advice had always been more of her mother’s forte. It wasn’t that her father was bad at it, but Juliet had always felt more comfortable turning to her mother -- probably the gender thing. Regardless of who she went to first for advice, her father had always provided a shoulder to cry on when needed. Of course, now that she actually needs his shoulder to cry on, he’s not the same man.

“Did you really come over here to discuss my love life?”

“No, I didn’t. I came over to ensure your safety.” He continues to stand over her, a large, looming figure covered in black. “However, I did spend an extended period around him. He was driven mad with worry after he realized you disappeared.”

“He’s that kind of guy.” She sits the coconut down and pokes at the ground. She doesn’t want dwell on the effects that her kidnapping had on her boyfriend. She might have been the primary victim in the situation, but her loved one had also been unfairly hurt in the process. As angry as she already had been with Pan, she feels it double in her chest. She’s come to realize exactly why her father had always referred to Peter Pan as a demon.

“Aye, he is.” Her father fixes her with an intense stare. “He seems like the sort of man who would understand if you had reservations regarding your relationship.”

Had this conversation taken place thirty years in his future, Juliet might find his concern to be sweet. Instead, she feels a bubble of guilt forming in her gut at the slight worry in his eyes. She loathes the protracted lies she and Gideon have needed to weave to maintain their covers. She’s uncomfortable lying to her parents in this manner. Though she’s told her fair share of lies to them in the past -- what kid hasn’t lied to their parents every now and then? -- her actions now feel more insidious...and there’s nothing she can do about it except lie some more.

She looks away from her father, the loss of eye contact making her deceptions easier. “We’ll figure it out. We always have.” She picks up the coconut. “Thanks for this, and checking on me, and discussing my love life even if that wasn’t your full intention.”

“Right.” Juliet thinks he might turn to leave, but he continues to stare at her carefully. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“I should have asked Swan to do this,” he murmured, casting his eyes skyward. He sighs deeply. “Love, did Pan or any of his crew touch you in any way…?”

“Touch me…?” It takes a moment for her to process. “Oh my God.”

Suddenly, she’s fifteen again, drunk off wine coolers and rum stolen from her parents’ liquor cabinet. Juliet remembers the night -- the “unofficial” cast party celebrating the closing of the school’s production of Legally Blonde: The Musical. (She had been Elle, thank you very much.) Juliet had been reckless then, believing herself unbreakable and immortal in only the way teenagers can. Instead of crashing for the night in Susan Sparrow’s basement, she’d decided to walk home -- she only lived a mile away -- and sneak in through her bedroom window.

“My dad’s the best pirate, so that means I’ve inherited the best sneaking skills. It’s a fact!”

How she would sneak through her second-story bedroom window that night, Juliet didn’t have the opportunity to find out. Her father, by chance thanks to a night patrol, had found her emptying the contents of her stomach into Grumpy’s azaleas.

Juliet remembers how he had ushered her into the back of the patrol car and driven her home. She remembers his tight, but loving embrace when he carried back into their house, and tucked her into bed. And, she remembers the lecture she’d received the next day, just the two of them on the back porch swing.

“I loathe that we live in a world that forces me to tell you these things, and I recognize what I’m saying places a burden on you that shouldn’t be yours, but sweetheart, you have to stay safe. I’m not saying don’t imbibe ever. I’d be a hypocrite if I tried. But the world -- and yes, even Storybrooke -- is not a kind place, and it is full of people who enjoy preying on the vulnerable, and inebriation makes us more vulnerable.”

“Dad--”

“When I was just a pirate, I saw terrible men do awful things, and overheard the most sordid of tales. While laying with a consenting woman was always policy on my ship, it was not like that for everyone. And last night, when I found you sick and alone, I was reminded of those men.”

“But nothing happened!”

“And I want nothing to ever happen. The prospect of it, even thinking that -- Juliet, promise me that if you are ever in a situation like that again, you will call someone. Your mother or I, Henry, your grandparents, or even Neal. It doesn’t even have to be family. It can be a trusted and sober friend. Don’t get behind the wheel yourself, or try to wonder home disoriented. We will find you.”

He’d been so concerned then. As much as it embarrasses her now, Juliet had written off his concern as parental paranoia. He’d always had an overprotective streak, the result of his own past trauma. It hadn’t been until she’d grown older and lived a life outside of the protective watch of her parents that she truly began to understand her father’s warnings.

But the man standing before her now isn’t her father -- not yet, anyway. His concern for her isn’t paternal, but it’s still there. As starved as she had been for his attention the previous night, she’s grateful for whatever care he can muster -- even if the delivery lacks his normal affection. At least this way she can pretend that the man before her is the Killian Jones she knows and loves.

She’s happy when she finally doesn’t have to lie. “Nothing happened. I promise.”

He smiles, the relief evident. “Good.”

-/-

“So...what do you think of Neverland?”

Small talk has always been an enigma for Gideon. While working with patients, it comes naturally to him. He thinks it’s because he can hide behind the mask of the white coat, and that small talk helps his patients -- especially the kids -- relax. In social situations, however, he finds himself at a loss for words, stumbling over the dumbest of questions.

Like asking his brother what he thinks of the hell hole that is Neverland.

But he has his reasons. Kind of. When Gideon had been younger, he’d asked his father about Neverland and Peter Pan. The concept of an island where no one ever ages had been appealing to him as a child. Truly, it sounded like an awfully big adventure. That had been the moment Gideon first learned that his grandfather was Peter Pan. His parents -- because his father, understandably, felt this was a story best told with his mother present -- had given him the sanitized version of the truth behind Neverland and Peter Pan. Henry and, later, Juliet’s father had given him the unsanitized version. Over the years, he had wondered what his brother’s adventures entailed, and now that Neal is here, Gideon has the opportunity to ask….even if it feels like a stupid question.

It probably is a stupid question, but it feels safe. The novelty of actually getting to know his brother hasn’t fully sunken in, not in the way that matters. Part of him feels as if he’s wasting the moment. Another part of him still wants to run away back to camp. The part of him that recognizes his running back empty-handed would be suspicious keeps him in place.

“I think I wasted way too much of my life here. So, it sucks.” Neal looks over his shoulder. “Please tell me you didn’t ask me to go get water with you so we could discuss Neverland.”

“Um, not really, no.” Gideon looks down at the ground, cheeks flushing red. He takes note of the vines and roots, making certain to not also trip. “J thought it would be good for us to have the chance to talk. You know, without others.”

“So your girlfriend made you drag me out here.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Realizing how terrible that sounds, he continues, “It’s not that I didn’t want to without her pushing things along, it’s just a lot. It’s weird.”

“Because I’m dead in the future.” He can’t see Neal’s face. His brother is continuing to push forward toward some pond -- they do have to come back with water, after all. But, Gideon can see the tenseness in his shoulders and hear the heaviness in Neal’s voice. It reminds him of his patients, the ones who had been given the worst medical news. And, in a way, Juliet had handed Neal his own death sentence.

“Something like that.” Gideon takes a deep breath. “I mean, have you ever spent your whole life wondering about someone, having all of these questions, and knowing you might never get answers? And now, suddenly, you an get answers and it feels...daunting.”

There’s a long pause before Neal answers. “Yeah, I get that. Guess it’d be like that if I met my mom again.”

Gideon winces at Neal’s response. “So you meant what you said back at camp? About your secret at Echo Cave?”

“Something like that,” Neal parrots. He stops then, and turns to Gideon. Looking him in the eye, he says, “Just so you know, I was making that stuff up about what I said about your girlfriend. She never said anything about moving too fast.”

“Uh, yeah, I know.”

“You didn’t act like it.”

“I thought it would blow our cover if I was too blase about it.” He shrugs, even though Neal doesn’t appear entirely convinced. “But thanks for your quick thinking. That was helpful.”

“I couldn’t exactly say your girlfriend said you were both from the future,” Neal replies. His expression then turns curious. “Speaking of covers, please tell me your name isn’t actually Romeo. I know Belle loves books, but --”

“It’s not. Just the first thing that came to mind.” Gideon refrains from mentioning that he’s half-convinced that he and Juliet are some incarnation of Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers. Henry had mentioned once that Shakespeare had been an Author. “My name is actually Gideon.”

“Gideon Gold, huh?”

“Not all of us can be named Baelfire.” Neal barks out a laugh, and for a moment, Gideon feels a surge of pride. He’s able to make his brother laugh. “Mom’s the one who named me -- after a character from a book -- so you got that part right.”

“And about Belle, apparently.” There’s a twinkle in Neal’s eyes, and Gideon’s stomach immediately drops. He’s struck by how easy Neal had been able to weasel information about the future out of him. Sensing his panic, Neal raises his hands in supplication. “Hey, that part I had figured out since your girlfriend said you were my brother. The way my -- our -- father is with Belle, it wasn’t hard to put two-and-two together. Besides, you look a bit like her.”

Gideon breathes a sigh of relief. “Father says that’s a good thing.”

“Better to inherit her looks than the crocodile skin,” Neal says with a small laugh. “Look, we still need to get water. How about on the way, we talk about normal sibling things -- things that aren’t full of spoilers about the immediate future, so you can stop having a panic attack every time something comes up.”

Gideon cracks a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

As they make their way toward the pond, Gideon and Neal trade questions. They start with small questions -- favorite colors, foods, and books -- but quickly the questions grow a bit deeper. Neal listens intently as Gideon shares horror stories from his medical residency and explains his motivations for choosing the medical profession. Neal, in turns, opens about about starting over in the Land Without Magic. By the time they reach the pond, they’re trading stories about living in New York.

“I don’t know if it comforts me to know that the subway system is still a mess that far in the future,” Neal says, dismay evident from his tone to his face after Gideon recounts nearly missing his test in undergrad because he had been trapped in a stalled train.

“Look at it this way, the more things the change, the more they also stay the same. You can count on it like death and taxes.” Gideon immediately regrets his choice of words. I am an idiot.

“Some of us can count on death more easily than others.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out about that. I can’t imagine it’s easy knowing.” Gideon fills his skein with water. “Juliet wouldn’t have told you if she didn’t have to. I’m pretty sure she feels bad about that.”

Neal scoffs. “Pretty sure?”

“We didn’t exactly have much time to discuss her specific feelings on the matter.” There’s something in Neal’s tone that sets Gideon on edge, but he doesn’t let it show.

“From where I was sitting, she didn’t seem to like me too much.”

“She hardly knows you. Besides, she told me that she didn’t think you were the worst. She even called you charming,” Gideon answers. He feels the need to defend Juliet, even though Neal hasn’t said anything completely off-base.

“She completely blew her gasket when I kissed Emma,” Neal says, and this time Gideon recognizes that his older brother is now hedging for clues about the future.

“I think that’s an extreme read of the situation,” Gideon sighs deeply. He had known this area of conversation was unavoidable, insofar that Juliet had requested that he do whatever possible to discourage Neal from pursuing Emma. Gideon knows he needs to do this, but he hesitates. His conversation with his brother had been going so well, and now he’s going to ruin it all.

“You know, for a brief moment, I thought she was my kid. Once I found out she was from the future, I thought that might be the reason she seemed so mad at me in the cave. I died and left her, and there was some lingering resentment, and I hoped...” Neal rubs the back of his neck, and looks skyward. “Anyway, then she said you were my brother, and that killed that dream.”

“We’re not the Lannisters.” Their respective family trees might be convoluted, but they’re not blood related. Gideon shudders at the thought. Still...he can’t quite blame Neal from going down that mental path. Knowing his feelings for Emma, it only makes sense.

“Yeah, I hoped not,” Neal says with a broken sort of laugh. “But she’s related to Emma, right? She said her family was here, and she looks a lot like Emma.”

“I think we’re getting into spoiler territory.”

“You know that’s basically confirming my suspicions, right?” Neal kicks a rock into the water. He doesn’t look at Gideon, and for that Gideon is grateful. “So what is she, like her sister? It seems pretty obvious Snow and Charming might want another kid. They don’t strike me as a one-and-done kind of pair.”

They’re not, Gideon thinks. They have another son. They named him after you. He’s a police officer, and lives in Storybrooke with his husband, and they’re in the process of adopting twins. Of course, he can’t tell Neal any of that.

“Listen, Neal…” Gideon comes up short with what to say. He settles on, “You already know a lot about the future.”

“I’m honestly a little surprised the others haven’t noticed the resemblance.”

“They’re not looking for one. People see what they want to see.” Like how you think she’s Emma’s sister. He’d been worried about it, at first, believing that someone might note the similarities in appearance. No one has, and if they’ve thought about it, they’ve held their tongues. They don’t see them as Gideon Gold and Juliet Jones, but rather Romeo and Juliet from far off Verona. Juliet is just another pretty blonde in a sea of pretty blondes, just like how he’s another guy. They’re not looking for family resemblances in the way that Neal is.

“Why’d she not want me kissing Emma anyway?”

“Because you and her didn’t happen back then, er, now. And we’ve changed enough already. We don’t want to wreck the timeline even more than we already have,” Gideon explains slowly. He wonders if this is what Neal had really be trying to get at when he started asking about Juliet. “So you can’t do that anymore. Kiss Emma, I mean.”

Goal: accomplished.

“How can you even know that?”

Or not.

“You know how Henry has his fairytale book with everyone’s stories? There’s another book in the future where that includes this whole adventure, and a ton of stories that happened since Emma first arrive in Storybrooke,” Gideon huffs out. His frustration is growing. Why can’t Neal understand? He feels like a villain, crushing the heart of his victim. “And you and Emma? You’re not in it, at least not as lovers, not since first left her way back when.”

“You love you girlfriend?”

“What?” This is not the direction Gideon had expected the conversation to go. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s a yes or no question. Do you love her?” Neal is once again facing him. Gideon takes in the hard set of his brother’s shoulders, the way his arms are crossed, and his knitted brows. Neal will not back down from this train of thought.

“Of course I love her.”

“How much?

“Really?”

“Humor me.”

Gideon casts his eyes skyward. This is not how he expected to be discussing his love life with his deceased brother. “I have a ring. Back home. I’m planning to propose soon. Going by that, I love her quite a bit.” He pauses, thinking of an earlier conversation. “She’s all my heart.”

Neal’s expression momentarily softens. “Wow, congrats. I hope she says yes.”

“Unsurprisingly, so do I.” He’s fairly certain that she will say ‘yes’. Their friends seem convinced of that fact. Her family, too. The aforementioned Neal Nolan, who acts more like Juliet’s closest friend and confidant than uncle, has even made Gideon promise to run by any proposal plans. “She’s going to agree to it no matter what, but you want the whole thing to be something she’ll remember, right?”

“Okay, so you have this girl--”

“--woman--”

“--woman, fine, you get the point. You have this woman that you love. Now imagine finding out you’re going to die, that you’re going to lose absolutely everything, and you don’t know when or how, but it’s definitely going to happen -- and soon, by the sound of things. You can’t tell me that you won’t do everything possible to hold onto the person you love,” Neal pleads with him. And, in a way, he’s right. If the world ended tomorrow, he’d want nothing more than to spend it with Juliet in his arms. But--

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Gideon doesn’t even try to hide the defeat in his voice. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation. What he wants is for Neal to not even pursue Emma, for them to just act like brothers-- whatever that means. What he wants for the weight of the future to be lifted from both their shoulders. What he wants it to not be the bad guy. He can’t always get what he wants. “Neal, I understand the future is terrifying, and I know you’re probably thinking about every single thing you regret--”

“You know? I don’t think you have any idea how I feel! I’m going to die, and you have a future with your girlfriend to run back to!”

“A future that might not even exist,” Gideon argues, his voice rising. He runs his fingers through his hair and takes a step back. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it. We didn’t even want to be here. We fell through a goddamn portal. J and I, we didn’t even try to, and we fucked things up. Things are bad right now, universe ending bad. So, while I might be sympathetic to your plight -- it fucking sucks -- it’s not high on my priority list.”

Neal blinks, clearly taken aback by Gideon’s outburst. “What are you even talking about?”

“Things that were supposed to happen didn’t end up happening, which set off a domino effect of preventing other things from happening, and we don’t know how to fix it.” His answer comes out in a half-sob, the weight of everything at stake finally taking over.

“Could what you did hurt Henry? Emma?”

“Definitely.”

“Then tell me how I can help.” Neal walks over and places his hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “If Emma and Henry’s future is really in danger, tell me what you two messed up, and I will help fix it.”

Gideon shakes his head. “We can’t. We already told you too much.”

“Look, I already know too much, and I’m a dead guy walking. And by the sound of things, you two are completely in over your head. You need help,” Neal insists. “You know I’m right.”

Gideon considers Neal’s offer. They need help. Desperately. But, “You’re not going to like what we have to do.”

“I kind of already figured that part out.”

Gideon suddenly wishes desperately for Hook’s flask of rum. Juliet is going to kill him. But, if they pull this off, she’ll still exist. That will be something worth celebrating, assuming Neal doesn’t kill him because of the words that come out of his mouth next.

“We need to get Emma and Hook to kiss.” Neal recoils as if Gideon had just burned him. “What.” It’s not a question.

“We need to find a way for Hook and Emma to kiss. They had their first kiss in Neverland, you see, and I know for a fact that the events that led to that kiss didn’t happen, which means that they likely didn’t kiss.” His explanation feels silly, because a kiss feel simple, not monumental. But it’s the first kiss in a series of many more kisses, that will ultimately lead to a fuller and happier life.

“I don’t get it. You’re worked up over them kissing? Wait--first kiss? How many times do they kiss?”

“It’s never crossed my mind to keep count.” Now, that’s a train of thought I don’t need to follow. Gideon shakes his head, he needs to focus. As expected, Neal isn’t handling the information well. “As for the ‘getting worked up over them kissing’ part, that kiss kind of sets up a chain of very important events. It’s a domino effect.”

“He ran away with my mom, and now he’s kissing the mother of my son. That’s a little messed up, don’t you think?”

“I told you that you wouldn’t like what we had to do.”

“I can’t...I don’t understand how that kiss helps keep Emma and Henry safe.” Neal looks utterly defeated. Gideon wonders how he would feel if someone said that Juliet absolutely needed to be kissing someone else. He decides not to dwell on the thought.

“Like I said, it’s a domino effect. I can’t fully quantify it, but trust me when I say that their futures as I know it depend on this kiss. My future own depends on this kiss.”

“Your future? How--” He stops, eyes widening in realization. He shakes his head. “No, no, no, no.”

Gideon doesn’t know what to say, so he keeps his mouth shut. He’s at a loss for what to do. His mother would know what to say -- she’s the most empathetic person he knows. He’d inherited Belle’s love of books, but not this. For as long as he’s known her, she’s always found a way to bond and sympathize with strangers. Blood relations or not, Neal is still a stranger to Gideon, making it all the harder.

“God, and I thought she was mine and Emma’s kid. Guess I was half right, huh?” Neal turns away from Gideon, and kicks angrily at a ground. “Seriously? Her and him?”

“If it makes you feel better, they’re very happy together.”

“It doesn’t.”

Gideon bites his lip. Unsure of what else to say on the topic of the Swan-Jones relationship, he attempts a different tactic. “He would talk about you to me. Hook, I mean, in the future. Even before Juliet and I were together, we’d talk about you and he’d tell me stories.”

“To ease his guilty conscience,” Neal snorts.

“Maybe, but not in the way you think,” Gideon tells him. It’s strange to defend Juliet’s father to his brother. He recognizes the reasons why Neal resents them, but the Killian Jones Gideon knows is so far removed from one Neal knows, knew. “He told me once that one of his biggest regrets in life was what happened between you and him and Pan. I’m pretty sure he and our father have talked about you, but I’m pretty sure they’d both deny it if anyone asked.”

“Gideon, I’m glad you like your girlfriend’s father,” Neal begins, and Gideon realizes this is the first time he has said his realization aloud, “but Killian Jones is the last person I want in this scenario. He destroyed my family, and you’re asking me to help make sure he raises my son with the woman I love while I...while I’m dead.”

“Then don’t do it for him. Do it for me, your brother. Do it for Juliet, who has no control over who her parents are.” Gideon grabs Neal’s arm, forcing Neal to finally look him in the eyes. “You’re hurt and you’re angry, and that’s a perfectly understandable way to feel. But don’t let your feelings result in either me or Juliet getting harmed. I spent my entire life wondering who you were, don’t let it be this.That’s not fair. Hook, Henry, Emma -- they all told me that you were a hero. So prove it. Be a hero.”

“Just--can you give me a moment, please?” Neal asks, his anger giving way to something that sounds a lot like defeat. “Let me think. You owe me that.”

Gideon opens his mouth to argue that he doesn’t owe Neal anything right now, but he finds himself saying, “Yeah, we can wait.”

Neal moves away, sitting at the edge of the pond. Gideon hesitates before joining him. Silently, they sit and stare at the water. Moonlight cuts through the dense foliage of the jungle, creating slivers of light on the water. It’s beautiful, Gideon thinks. Years earlier, he and Juliet had rented a cabin upstate. The cabin was by the lake, and he remembers the two of them sitting laying on the bank, looking up the stars. They’d discussed their hopes and dreams, and began to tentatively make plans for the future they might have together. Sitting beside his brother, Gideon wonders if that future might ever come to pass.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs au #cs canon divergence #s writes finding neverland

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whitewitchdani · 6 years

Text

Infinitely Different: Chapter 13

Read Chapter 12 Here

Word Count: 2,912

Pairing: Winchester!Sister Reader x ???

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon typical violence

A/N: I told you chapters would start coming out steadily again. :) I hope you guys enjoy chapter 13! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and please give me all the feedback on this series!

Infinitely Different Masterlist

“Well, you know all about my family, tell me about yours.”

Your head shot up from looking at the empty cup in your hands, “What? No. Trust me you do not want to delve into the mess that is the Winchester family.”

You had been talking for a while and heard the full story of the Original vampires and the amazing lives Elijah and his siblings had led over the past 1000 years. You had countered with the story of how your brothers jumpstarted Judgment Day the first time. But to tell him the story of how you became a Winchester? That was one can of worms you would prefer remained tightly sealed.

“Nonsense, my family is an absolute train wreck. I doubt there is anything you could say that could make me think any less of you. After all, you can’t change your family.”

You sighed, “It’s not that I think you’ll think less of me, more that it’s kind of painful to talk about. And also after I tell you everything about my family, John should be happy he’s already dead. The last time I told anyone about my family was to Damon and he was dead set on kicking my dad’s ass afterwards,” you said with a dry laugh.

Elijah smirked, “If you don’t want to tell me that is quite alright, I understand. I just wish to know you better, understand you more. Perhaps knowing your background will give me insight into why you are the way that you are.”

You looked at the Original vampire in front of you and let out a long sigh. There was no reason for you to not tell him, you trusted him and well if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda liked him. NO, you can’t think about that right now. Until you were able to sit down and think you liked no one.

“Well, I don’t know how much you know about the Winchesters but we have an interesting story. Firstly, I am not Sam and Dean’s full sister.”

“I knew that already.” Elijah interrupted.

You looked at him confused, “What? How?”

“Your blood smells different to me than theirs. It’s obvious you only share one parent, father most likely.”

“Oh, well, yeah. John is the boys’ dad, and mine. I’m about two years younger than Sam. My mom was a hunter and met dad when he was still kind of a rookie, sort of saved his ass on a nasty vengeful spirit case outside Indianapolis. After that, there were drinks at a little hunter dive nearby and then... bada bing, bada boom. Nine months later, Y/N Winchester makes her appearance in the world.”

Elijah smiled at your colorful description, holding out his hand, “Would you like another cup?”

You looked down at the empty teacup and back to the vampire with a sheepish expression, “No offense, but if you want me to continue with the Winchester Sagas I’m gonna need something a little stronger than English Breakfast Blend,” you said with a sly smile.

Elijah smirked, taking your cups and leaving the room. When he returned he carried two crystal glasses and a decanter of amber liquid. He poured two generous portions into each glass and handed you one of them. When you took a sip you smiled.

“Whiskey. Didn’t take the Mikaelson’s for whiskey drinkers,” you smirked as you took another drink.

“Not typically. But we have spent quite a bit of time in America and developed a taste for it. It was mostly a guess if you’d enjoy it, but hunters as a demographic tend to lean toward that type of liquor.”

You laughed, “I’m pretty sure we helped invent it and now keep most of the manufacturers in business.”

He began to laugh with you until it died down into a somewhat uncomfortable silence; the only sound the fire crackling in front of you. You knew what came next in the story, and part of you didn’t want to tell it. Stefan didn’t even know. The only people who knew the full story about your mom and your childhood were the people who were there for it: Sam and Dean. You had told Damon bits and pieces during your late night drinking sessions, but never the full story. But here you were, about to spill your guts to someone you were supposed to kill on sight. Real smart, Y/N.

“In the first six years of my life, I only met John twice. The day I was born and the day I turned six, because apparently he was nearby. I really had no desire to meet him, Mom talked about him like he was a complete bastard and after I lived with him for a couple months I understood why,” you huffed a small laugh.

“But John showed up the day I turned six and spent the day with me and after that I had this glowing view of my father. He was my hero. My dad saved people just like my mom and to me that was the best thing in the world. I wanted to be a hunter just like my parents. My mom never hid what she did from me, because she wanted me to be prepared for what was out there and because monsters and their families tend to be revengeful types. And she was right. Because that’s what took her from me.”

You were quiet again and suddenly found your glass to be incredibly fascinating. Again, all that was heard were the embers crackling in the fireplace. You could feel Elijah’s eyes on you but you knew they weren’t full of pity, rather admiration of the strength he had already seen in you. Now he was learning where it had come from.

Without looking up you continued, “Um about four months later I was sleeping when I heard a noise downstairs. I sat there for a minute until the noise turned into a loud crash. I raced downstairs to find my mom wrestling with a werewolf on the floor of our living room...

“Y/N RUN!”

“MOM NO!”

You watched as your mother continued to fight against the wolf holding her to the floor. The little training you had began to kick in and you bolted for the arsenal under the stairs, grabbing a gun and silver bullets. When you came back, the wolf now had your mother pinned to the wall. You pulled the hammer of the revolver back, loading a bullet into place. The sound of the gun cocking caused the werewolf to turn and look at you.

“My beef ain’t with you kid. Do what your mommy said and run, I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

While the wolf was distracted your mother had pulled the spare knife she kept from her boot. She went to stab him but the wolf was quicker, grabbing her wrist and turning it back around on her, causing the blade to go into her own stomach.

The wolf must’ve been a pure-blood, as he drew back his claws and his eyes returned to normal. He stalked toward you but your wide eyes were still locked on your mother’s slumped form against the wall. When he got close you finally noticed his advance and began to back up, dropping the gun as your back hit the wall behind you.

“You got someone you can call?”

You nodded.

“Good. Here, this was hers.” He handed you your mother’s cell phone, which you took with a shaking hand. “Now, don’t ever let me catch you hunting or I won’t be as nice next time. Understand?”

You nodded again, a tear streaking down your cheek.

“That’s a good girl.” He patted your head a couple times before walking out of the front door like nothing had even happened.

You stared at your mother’s body. You couldn’t find it in you to go over to her, so you looked down at the phone in your hand. There was only one person you could call and you hoped like hell he would even answer. With shaky hands, you dialed the number your mother made you memorize for this very instance. You thought she was being overzealous and paranoid, if you had only known.

The phone rang four times before a gruff voice answered, obviously upset at being woken up at the late hour, “What?”

You were silent. You had only met John twice and had literally just watched your mother get murdered; you were entitled to a bit of a freak-out.

The voice on the other end huffed, “Hello? Who’s there? How’d you get this number?”

Thinking your only family was about to hang up on you jolted you into action, “Hi,” you said in a small voice, “Is this John Winchester?”

“Yeah, who’s askin-” he paused as he thought he recognized the voice and when he checked the number that had called, he recognized that too. “Wait, Y/N?”

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Baby, why are you callin’ me at 3 in the morning?”

You sniffled, trying to keep the tears at bay, “I need you to come here.”

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Where’s your mom?”

The tears had managed to escape and were cascading down your face in full force, “Just come here please.”

“Where’s your mom, Y/N?”

“A man got into the house. There’s blood. Daddy, please.” You begged, crying hard at this point.

John sprung into action, waking his oldest son to get his youngest together. “Okay baby, I need you to go upstairs to your room and get into your closet and shut the door. Don’t come out for anyone but me, understand?” John thanked whatever powers there were that he was only an hour away from your house; with a Winchester driving it could be made in about 20 to 30 minutes.

When he arrived he rushed into the house, ordering his sons to stay in the car until he returned. He entered the house and cringed at the sight he saw; he and your mom may not have always seen eye to eye but she was the mother of his child and because of that, whatever did this was going to pay.

He ran upstairs to his daughter’s bedroom and tore open the closet door, finding her small form sitting on the floor hugging her knees and sobbing. Thankfully, she had no blood on her and looked unharmed. Physically at least. John knew it was going to be difficult for her; Dean was only four when Mary died and it took months to get him talking again.

He crouched down to her level, “Y/N/N?”

You looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, “Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby. It’s me. C’mon, let’s go.” He scooped you into his arms and carried you out the front door, making sure you didn’t see the scene in the living room again. They were close enough to Bobby’s that he could drop off his children and then return to deal with this mess.

As he plopped you down in the front seat next to him, you turned to look at the two boys in the back seat, both older than you.

You turned to look at your father, “Who are they?”

He sighed, this wasn’t how he wanted to do this, “Y/N that’s Dean and that’s Sam; they’re your brothers. Dean, Sam, this is Y/N, your sister. She’s going to be staying with us from now on.”

The flashback played like a movie reel in your head as you told the story to Elijah out loud. It was strange; actually telling the full story to someone felt kind of... good? Freeing? Sort of like a weight had come off of your shoulders. Sam and Dean knew everything of course, but had always walked on eggshells around you when the topic came up. Something told you Elijah wouldn’t.

“I know this is not helpful nor any consolation to what you’ve gone through, but I am truly sorry. Losing your mother that way...”

You looked up at the Original vampire in front of you and smiled, “Thank you Elijah. You should know that you’re the only person who knows the full story besides Sam and Dean; I’ve never told anyone.”

“May I ask why?

“I didn’t want their pity I guess? Also I guess I’ve always felt sort of guilty. I could’ve pulled that trigger and saved my mom but I froze. It’s my fault she’s dead.” A lone tear streaked down your face.

Elijah moved closer to you, a bit hesitantly at first to see if you’d stop him, and then moved right next to you when you did not. Using his thumb, he wiped the tear from your cheek.

“First, you were six, merely a child when she was killed. Parents are meant to protect their children, not the other way around. You were incredibly brave for a child of your age, mature in your actions and thought processes.”

You laughed, “My mom always used to say you could’ve plucked my brain from my skull and dropped it into the body of an 18 year old and no one would’ve been the wiser.”

He smiled, “She was most likely correct. You should not blame yourself for her death, Y/N. If the blame lies with anyone, it is with the creature who took her from you.” He cupped your cheek after wiping another tear away.

“He’s dead.” You whispered into his hand.

“How do you know?”

“Because I killed him.”

Elijah pulled back and looked at you, “When?”

You sighed, “When I was 14. Dad came back from a hunt one day and said he had found the wolf that had killed my mom and that it was time for me to put everything he had taught me to the test. So he took me to the house the pack was holing up in and he took out the other two and left he one who killed my mom for me. He recognized me too. Cursed me for turning into my mother: a hunter, a cold-hearted killer. And then I put a bullet in his heart. John was so proud, I don’t think I spoke for a week.” Remembering the alcohol you had in your hand, you downed it in one fell swoop.

The room was quiet again. Tears were flowing down your face in full force now. You hadn’t cried in years, not since Sam had left for Stanford, but you had ended up on his heels anyways. You went to wipe the tears but two hands beat you to it. Elijah cupped your face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.

“He was right. We’re all killers. Why we claim to be better than the things we hunt I’ll never know. I tried to leave this life, I did. But everyone always gets pulled back in. Even when I tried to leave I ended up here, a town made up of 75% supernatural beings. John made his children into killers, Dean never asks questions; it’s always so black and white for him. I never followed John’s orders like he does, even less than Sam did. No wonder Dean resents me so much. All I did was come into the family and piss John off basically with my existence as I got older.”

You were still crying at this point. Why were you spilling your entire guts to him? What the hell was happening to you? Oh yeah, this is why you didn’t want this can of worms unsealed, because it was so damn difficult to keep them all from crawling out. Now you were basically having a breakdown in front of someone you barely knew.

Elijah brought you into his arms and you instantly relaxed in them. He held you tightly and you wrapped your arms around his neck, reciprocating it. You felt your breathing begin to even out as one of his hands rubbed your back and one cradled your head.

“It may not mean much, but from what I have seen and heard you are an incredibly strong woman.” You both pulled back from the embrace but stayed close. “You protect yourself and others but know that there is a line that should not be crossed, and that there are shades of gray when it comes to people like me. To deviate your beliefs from those of your friends and family I know is not easy. From what you have told me you have overcome insurmountable ordeals and dealt with events no one else will most likely ever experience. Yet you still dropped everything to come aid your friends here in Mystic Falls.”

Elijah moved even closer to you, your noses almost touching, and you swore you completely stopped breathing. You knew what was coming, and even though you knew you should, you were making no effort to stop it.

“You are an amazing woman, Y/N.”

With that, Elijah closed the space between you until your lips finally met. The kiss started slow and gentle; you could feel the care he had for you behind it. Then it became a bit harder, more passionate. He cupped your face and you drew the lapels of his jacket into your fists. Your lips moved in sync and the rest of the world seemed to melt away. You didn’t know how exactly you felt in that moment; all you knew is that you never wanted it to end.

Oh you were so screwed.

Read Chapter 14 Here

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