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junko-and-riri-domain · 3 years

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exam season ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ni-ki

“you aren't wasting my time, and you need rest. please, ___ this isn’t healthy.” riki pleaded, and he seemed so genuinely concerned for you. “I know we’re labelled as rivals all the time but I want to get to know you better. as someone who ranked 1 consistently, I wanted to meet the one person who managed to achieve the same thing."

you and nishimura riki are rivals under the same company. after all, being the same age and pretty much the same level of talent made you and him quite unstoppable. the company thought it’d be a good idea to let you two meet and get along, but it turned out to be quite the opposite ordeal. though, this always remained to be a respectful rivalry. nothing petty.

warnings : overworked reader, insecurities, fainting from exhaustion, hints at negative body image ( good ending )

note : this is also off the top of my head, please ignore any mistakes !

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ rest under the cut

what were you supposed to think?

you had to admit it to yourself though, similar age and practically same amount of skill in dance would mean that this unit would be pretty much unstoppable. it’s just ;; the unspoken consequences of young teamwork at play.

training for about half a year at belift, you’ve become quite popular among the trainees. they describe you as a dance prodigy. if you were going to be honest, it was kind of embarrassing. the spotlight was okay depending on the circumstances but, to be described as something so honorable made you feel like you weren’t worthy of it. on top of that, your vocals were always stable while practicing, making you stand out and always place #1 on exams.

and so you started to practice harder, with the same thought of

‘i have to prove that i’m worthy to be labeled as a prodigy, otherwise why else am i here?’

to ni-ki, you were always so hardworking. sometimes, he thought it was too much. he’d pass by the room you were practicing in during lunch breaks and he would see you dancing your heart out, sweat threatening to fall from your face. he could tell you were tired, but due to the rules, he wasn’t allowed to talk to you. he considered you his opponent in a way, but it wasn’t to the extent of ruining your workflow.

and to you, ni-ki seemed like a charming rival. the way he danced had always mesmerized you, his snaps and swift moves are always close to perfect. this motivated you to practice even harder, despite already achieving extreme skill. you often nitpicked on yourself and keep saying that you’re not doing something well enough, and that you’re not good enough and you have to try harder. you honestly thought he was kind of annoying. not only is he literally so tall, he's a dancing machine. everything that you wanted to be. ni-ki may have been your unspoken rival,

but overcoming your extreme feeling to be better than the previous day is your true rival.

coming home after training, you were always exhausted. as much water you drank, it never felt as if it quenched the thirst you brought upon yourself from working so hard. while doing homework you always zoned out, your concentration nowhere to be found. at some point, you even stopped messaging your friends as much as before, ignoring any notification that popped up and practicing till the sun peeked above the horizon.

this feeling of wanting to slip away into well-deserved rest never sat right with you.

'if I have time to do something, then I'll do it now. rest can wait.'

---

the week before, an exam was assigned to all the trainees. the exam was to be separated by gender, but you thought this was kind of dumb. and so what did you do? you asked the choreographer if you could take both of the choreographies instead of being categorized into one section.

"that's a great idea, ___! I'll allow it this once, since you always rank 1 anyways. in fact, why don't I ask riki if he wants to do an co-op exam with you? you guys are the same age right?"

all you could do was let out a hum and nod.

'nishimura riki... I hope I don't mess anything up.'

"he always ranks 1 in exams as well so I think it'd be perfect!" he continued, a bright smile flashed across his face at the realization of a great performance in development.

he walks off, and briskly walks to where riki usually practiced.

phew

you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. you've done many exams before but it had never been with another person. trying to convince yourself everything would be okay, your intrusive thoughts came in again.

'what if i embarass myself? what if I can't learn the choreo and mess everything up? what if he doesn't like m- wait. that doesn't even matter- ugh.'

you stood there for so long thinking to yourself about the future that one of the trainees had to tap you on the shoulder to make sure you didn't see medusa or something. repeating your little sorries and thank yous, you left the practice room and went on your way home.

you'd think that after weeks of non-stop overworking you'd hit your limit by now. the thing is, you never learn your lesson until you have to learn it the hard way. and that's exactly what's gonna happen.

---

back to the present, riki was currently doing a run-over of what he thinks you guys should do to make the choreography better. if there was one thing you and him had in common, it's that you always wanted to be ranked 1 through hard work.

however, you disagreed with some of the steps he created, and respectfully asked if you could show him what you were thinking of. in all honesty, riki was quite impressed. he'd never seen you dance up close since all he was able to do was take quick glances, but seeing you pour your heart into what you love and being absolutely great at it, it kind of gave him the feels.

yes. the feels. the butterflies. 🦋🦋🦋

though, in the next moment, butterflies was far from what he felt. his stomach did a full 180 and his face in such a shocked state as he watched your eyes roll back as your body practically shut down in front of him. he sped down to your side quickly and shouted for help, as he tried to shake you awake.

"please please wake up, I'm not sure if you'd wake up at all if you fell asleep so please..."

was the last faint thing you heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

---

beep , beep , beep

your eyes flutter open to reveal that you were in the nurse's office in the same building. to say you were relieved was an understatement, hospitals scared you a lot more since they'd have to call your parents.

looking around the dim room, it still resembled a hospital room, monitor, needles, riki, IV, wait. riki?

your eyes practically shot back to where he sat, head bowed down in an awkward position, closed eyes with phone in hands.

honestly speaking, it was kind of cute. but you knew it was uncomfortable. and you also felt SUPER guilty making him wait for you and practically ruining practice. he stirred a bit, easy to wake up due to the uncomfy position his neck was in.

in a couple of seconds you hear him ask, "___? you're awake?"

"riki.. what happened?"

"the trainer, our choreographer and the building's medical team were all here. they said that you were overworking yourself. not only that, you didn't eat, drink, or sleep enough. which I can only assume is because you're constantly practicing."

"... I'm guessing that has to be true then, if I'm already here. riki, I'm sorry."

"sorry for what?"

"for wasting your time. you didn't have to be tangled up in my mess if I wasn't an idiot and asked them for a different exam. we could'v-"

he cut you off, “you aren't wasting my time, and you need rest. please, ___ this isn’t healthy.” riki pleaded, and he seemed so genuinely concerned for you. “I know we’re labelled as rivals all the time but I want to get to know you better. as someone who ranked 1 consistently, I wanted to meet the one person who managed to achieve the same thing. you didn't disappoint me, you didn't waste my time, in fact, it was fun watching you disagree with the things I said. but then you fainted in front of me. I had no idea what to do, but thankfully Jungwon-hyung came in and helped me. but all that aside, your body needs rest. I've talked too much."

"it's okay, your voice seems to be making me sleepy anyways."

he didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.

you handed him a spare pillow from your bed though, so he'll just take it as a compliment for now.

he didn't know what took over him in the next few seconds but he slowly put his phone in his pocket and reached his hand out to you, his hand resting on the bed right next to your waistline. as if it was beckoning you, your hand gravitated towards his, and the warmth of his hand and his comforting presence was enough to lull you back to sleep.

---

all the trainees in the floor were gathered in practice room #1, awaiting the announcement to see who got rank 1.

of course, they were expecting you and riki, but not together at the same time.

"nishimura riki, ___ ___. rank #1"

you and riki looked at each other in excitement, you could do nothing but listen at the moment, but celebration was in order later.

celebration? oh did you mean cuddles, making sure you're rested well and eating okay, hand holding, and a whole lot of light-hearted teasing? yeah.

[end]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ written by junko

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txdoroki · 3 years

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bookshop

hey this is kinda just a silly thing i had an idea i liked for :P hope y’all like it!! <3

warnings: anGERING BCUZ OF HOW SLOW IT GOES

words: 3k

pairing: bakugou x reader

unedited!!

gn reader

desc: you work at a quaint book shop, and one morning meet an explosive college student. once again it’s so much better than how it sounds T-T i swear it’s so good bYE

no quirks

ik this seems a lot like the overused “meet your lover at a coffee shop” trope but i swear it isn’t like that I SWEAr

A/N: this was so fun to write but it is annoyingly slow </3 also in this bakugou is rich as fuck and for wHAT. he’s loaded as crap

i might make a part 2 but i’m not sure yet considering this was rlly tiring,, would y’all like that or would it be a waste? :/

HERE IT ISSSS @babymilkawa

you groaned as your alarm went off way too early, the sun that shone through your curtains getting into your eyes. you rubbed at your eyes, trying to shake off the sleep that dazed your mind.

the weekend went by too fast, and you wished you could sleep for just another five minutes. you struggled to keep your eyes open, the comfort of your bed willing you to sleep. to skip work for the day.

you were totally exhausted, having spent the weekend helping your co-worker, eijirou, unpack boxes at his apartment, on top of working on your classes. i mean, you loved to help people, but man, was it tiring.

after a few minutes of checking things on your phone, you sleepily walked to your bathroom and ran water over your face, hoping it’d help you wake up. you loved your job, you really did, but the hours? absolute hell. who the crap goes to a book shop at 7 in the morning? no clue.

you pulled one of your friend’s old sweatshirts over your head, taking a moment to fix your bedhead as well. you slipped on some sweatpants, and shrugged at yourself in your full-length mirror. you felt like crap, your entire body heavy and your blinks slow. it’s like your body was trying to put itself to sleep, even while standing.

once you were happy with your appearance for the day, you texted eijirou to let him know you were ready. he usually picked you up drove you both to work, since you had the same shifts.

a few minutes later he knocked on your apartment door, and when you swung it open, he had his signature wide grin on his face. he was holding two coffees, and you couldn’t help but smile as well, your bad mood from lack of sleep disappearing.

“hey eiji,” you smiled, taking one of the coffees from his hands and holding it close to your face, taking a deep breath of the homey scent. the smell made your stomach growl, and you both laughed at the sound.

“hungry, eh? well, i mean i have a granola bar,” kirishima shuffled around in his bag, eventually pulling out two granola bars.

“of course you do,” you smiled, happily chomping the snack. he was the definition of the mom friend, and such a sweetheart.

after you talked with him for a few minutes, you both walked to his car and drove to the shop that was a mile or two away.

you looked out of the window while he drove, and you both were sitting pretty much silently. you appreciated how you could just chill and appreciate each other’s company without communicating a bunch.

when you got there, there was a blonde guy standing in front of the doors.

“hey, bakubro, what’re you doing here?” kirishima and you walked up to him. when he turned to face you, you were confused as to why he looked so pissed off. he looked like he didn’t know how to smile.

“tch, i was going to look for a shitty book to buy, but no one was fucking here,”

“you know that we open at 7:15 right?” you smiled,

“and it’s 7:16 right now, dumbass,” ‘bakubro’ glared at you, “you’re late,”

“by a min-” you started saying, but were interrupted by kirishima.

“you’re right, well you can come look inside now,” he took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door with it, stepping inside of the shop with you and the blonde following.

you took your place behind the counter as kirishima tidied up the shop. he straightened the books and fixed anything that was out of place, while you just stood behind the counter and watched the blonde.

it was like he was entrancing, his spiky blonde hair and his piercing red eyes glaring at the books in front of him.

“sir, do you need help finding what you’re looking for?” you smiled at him when you noticed he was in the shop for nearly half an hour already, staring at the lines and lines of books.

“tch no, i can find it myself,” he grumbled, not even looking your way.

you rolled your eyes and turned to eijirou when you overheard him chuckle. he was standing near gardening books section, flipping through one of the books.

“what is it?” you raised an eyebrow, tapping a made-up rhythm lightly in the wooden counter you were standing behind.

“bakugou, isn’t this the kind of cactus you tried to raise,” he turned the book towards the blonde.

“shut up, shitty hair. quit bringing that up,”

eijirou just smiled and shook his head, turning back towards the shelf and sliding it back to its place.

you yawned, boredom filling the air as bakugou looked through the books and kirishima tended to the shelves.

you wished someone would come in soon, maybe one of your regulars or someone new. you weren’t a fan of there only being one customer in the store in the first place, but him being a bitch wasn’t much of a help either.

“have you seen that really nice green haired regular recently? i feel like he hasn’t came by in a while,” you yelled to kirishima.

“uhh, haha, no, i heard he um... moved?”

“moved?”

“yup,”

“why does it matter what happened to him, deku is a nerd anyways,” bakugou growled as he flipped through one of the many books he had in his arms.

you shrugged in his direction and walked to the back, hoping there’d be something to do that was helpful for the store. you felt like you were wasting time, but didn’t know what you should do. there were no customers, no spills, nothing out of order.

you decided to fix some of the directions, and chose to start on the paintings and vines that covered the wall. the store really was homey, you loved it. you could spend all day there, either as a customer or a worker.

it felt safe and sound, unlike most of the city that surrounded you.

“hey, dingbat, come here,” bakugou was now standing next to the register, and you glared at him, the heaviness of anger starting to gather in your chest.

dingbat? the fuck???

“be nice to y/n, they’re chill,” kirishima swatted at the air, shaking his head.

“nope, anyways, i need to check out, so fucking come here,”

“no, sir, you can choose to be nice and then talk to me,” you smiled at him and turned back to the decorations you were working on. sure you were a worker, but you weren’t going to help out a shithead.

“it’s your fucking job, come here,”

“y/n, i’m sorry, but do you mind checking him out? he’s got class soon,” kirishima smiled at you weakly, his stare basically a plead on its own.

you huffed and walked to the register, silently glaring as you handed bakugou the receipt and the two books he bought.

“took you long enough, damn,”

“what is your damn problem?” you scowled, “i haven’t done shit to you and you’re being an asshole,”

“y/n, don’t-” kirishima held his hand out.

“quit being in the fucking way then, see you later, kirishima,” he grabbed the stuff from your hands and walked out of the store onto the sidewalk, the door slamming behind him.

your decorations that you were putting up fell down, and you sighed. you took a step back and pouted when you realized you’d have to start over.

“i’m sorry, y/n, i know he is really stres-”

“he doesn’t need your excuses, it’s fine, eiji,” you smiled and nodded at him.

the rest of the day was spent with both of you cracking jokes at each other and tending to the customers. every now and then you’d rate their outfits once they left, and it was sort of entertaining to say the least. it was fun to see the little additions people would add to their outfits, not meant for others to specifically notice. like a chain on their pants, or a feather on their hat.

all other people had entire backstories, ones you would never get the pleasure of knowing. this didn’t usually bother you, and it never really has before, but you couldn’t deny the curiosity that seemed to tear at you about bakugou’s.

his couldn’t seem to leave your mind. what was his childhood like? was he always like this? what set the way for his personality? what were his parents like? was he single..?

“i wonder if he’s single,” you muttered to yourself as you swept. your actions stopped for a moment, and you wanted to throw up. did you actually just say that out loud?

“what was that, y/n?” kirishima looked up from his phone, a confused smile on his face. you hoped he didn’t hear you. although he did

“oh nothing, sorry!” you smiled back at him, and went back to sweeping. you turned away from him, hoping the heat that covered your cheeks wasn’t visible.

“alright,”

the rest of your day went by quickly, and by the time you got home, you were exhausted. you snuggled with one of your fluffiest pillows on your couch once you’d changed into your pjs, and you smiled. the smooth fabric of your couch felt calming to your sore joints, and it only added to your comfort.

before you knew it, you had fell asleep, but a knock on your door shook you from your slumber.

“hey, y/n, do you mind if i come in real quick?” you heard the familiar voice of your coworker from outside of your door, and you yelled a sleepy ‘go ahead’ before closing your eyes again.

you slowly opened your eyes when you heard a second pair of footsteps enter your apartment, and you were confused to see the blonde from earlier standing in your doorway.

“are you alright? it’s only six o’clock, and you were asleep?” eijirou walked over to you and sat next to you on your couch for a moment.

“yeah, sorry, i was just... just um sleepy,” you sat up and leaned into one of the arms of your couch for support, rubbing your eyes. you turned back towards the figure in your doorway, “what’s he doing here?”

“am i not allowed to tag along with my fucking friend?” bakugou growled, but neither one of you acknowledged him.

“sorry, was just coming to get some sugar! i ran out, and we are gonna be making cookies! see ya later, y/n!”

you waved as they both left your apartment, and easily went back to sleep. your dreams were nothing but blackness, and none were memorable when you woke up a few hours later.

over the next few weeks, you began to see bakugou more and more. he would come by the show every morning, dropping by to say hello to kirishima before he’d walk out of the door. you weren’t exactly sure why he’d come by every. single. day., sometimes he didn’t even buy something, only caring to say hi to eijirou.

you’d love to say that he went to see you, but you really doubted that was the case. i mean, he rarely ever said hello back whenever you’d greet him back, so it was implied he only cared for seeing kiri.

no matter what he’d say to you or rather what he didn’t say, he still occupied your mind constantly. you wondered about him a lot, not in a creepy way. you just really found him interesting... okay?????

after around three weeks after your first encounter with him, he greeted you back for the first time.

“oh, hey, y/n, right?” he turned to you with a blank face, not very common since he seemed to always be scowling at whoever he was speaking with.

“yep, what do you want?” you nodded towards where bakugou was standing near you next to the baking books, and kirishima raised an eyebrow.

“are you any good at cooking? i need to make cupcakes but kirishima here makes shit ones,”

kirishima chuckled, “he isn’t wrong, go ahead, y/n,”

“um, yeah i like to bake, when are you free?” you tried to hide the blush that covered your face.

“a bit obsessed with me, are ya?” he smirked as you began shouting.

“huh?? am not, you’re the one who-”

“oi shut it, dingbat, i’ll come pick you up from this shit job how’s that work?”

kirishima just stood where he had been, staring at you both with wide eyes. he’d never seen bakugou offer to pick anyone up whatsoever before. especially not to spend time with them.

once he left, it was like time chose to go by slower than ever. you checked the clock that hung above the doorway ever so often, and would quietly groan at how much longer it’d be until you got to make those damned cupcakes.

you decided to keep yourself busy with cleaning up in the back of the store, restocking the shelves and tidying up the stacked up books that sat collecting dust.

“y/n,” kirishima called for you, his voice somewhat muffled by the shut door that separated you both.

you walked to him, and smiled at the man who was standing in the doorway.

“quit staring and c’mon, we don’t have much time, dumbass,” he frowned and beckoned for you to come over, you hurried to grab your purse.

“aren’t we driving kirishima too.?” you cocked your head when he began to take off out of the shop. he paused and rolled his eyes, shaking his head and continuing to walk across the street once more.

the drive to his apartment was filled with you talking about whatever and him finding various ways to insult it, although his gaze wasn’t filled with the same amount of sharpness as usual.

you decided not to say anything about it, not wanting it to cease. you were honestly enjoying yourself, even though he was being sort of a dick. it wasn’t exactly unlike him to be one, though.

after around ten minutes of the conversation flowing like water, he parked in front of a bougie looking tall apartment complex. just from looking outside, you could see the wall-length windows and the impressive chandeliers that hung inside the building. you felt small, your apartment certainly not comparable to this.

he scoffed when he saw your wowed expression, and silently took your hand. this would’ve been romantic if he wasn’t using it to drag you inside. the pace he was leading you both at left you panting by the time you got to his door, and your arm was sore from how harshly he was pulling and swerving you around the hallways.

when you took your first step into his apartment, your entire body began to feel light. his apartment didn’t match his firey personality whatsoever, and it was absolutely stunning. astonishing countertops and a double oven added to his impressively sized kitchen. sparkling crystal animals covered one of the shelves nearby the tv. just by looking at the entry way, you loved his apartment.

his apartment was flawless, and it didn’t even seem like an apartment. it had a generous amount of space, and you wondered how he could afford this as a college student. you decided to let the curiosity drop, it’d be rude to ask about his wealth anyways..

“y/n, quit staring at my shit and hurry the fuck over here,” bakugou grumbled, stirring you from your thoughts.

you nodded and walked over to him, smiling at the ingredients that littered his kitchen island. these were gonna be some good cupcakes.

“what fla-”

“funfetti, duh,”

you chuckled, and examined the extra sprinkles that he had bought. they looked amazing. and expensive.

you both chatted as you started the cupcakes, since he was bossy and so were you, you decided that it’d be better to do separate jobs. he was in charge of making the cupcakes while you were “doing the shitty icing, better not fuck it up” in bakugou’s words.

you worked on the icing and tried to hold back your giggles at bakugou’s cursing when he realized he forgot to add the sugar.

“god fucking damnit now i have to redo these fucking cupcakes,” he groaned, pulling the now scrapped cupcake tray out of the oven with absolutely no care, shooting you a frown when you commented on how he was gonna burn himself if he kept being that reckless.

“shoulda paid attention,” you stuck your tongue out, a wide smile brightening up your face.

“fucking shut it, dingbat,”

“WHY WON’T YOU STOP CALLING ME DINGBAT,” you shouted, although still being careful to stir the icing at the correct pace. you weren’t about to mess up an easy job, hell no!

after a few hours of you both baking in harmony, you flopped down on his leather couch, resting one of your arms over your forehead as you stared up at the ceiling.

“i have a baking night every week with kiri, if you wanna come,” bakugou came up next to you and muttered, and you weren’t sure if he even wanted you to. i mean, you barely could hear him.

he handed you a rag to wipe your hands on, and sat down next to you.

“can i?” you widely smiled at him, hoping he still wanted you to.

“why the fuck would i tell you about it if not,” he scoffed, and you giggled.

you shrugged, and around half an hour later he drove you home for the night.

you had a tupperware of cupcakes resting on the counter next to your fridge when you went to bed that night, although the memories that came with them were seated next to your mind. the small chuckles you would manage to pull from him replaying in your mind as you stared happily at your ceiling.

you sure were looking forward to the next weekend.

taglist: @todoroki-shoto-is-life @frxggie

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #soft bakugou #mha x reader #m.favs #mha bakugou #mha kirishima #baker bakugou #this took so long

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jazy3 · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X11

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

I liked this episode overall even though it wasn’t quite what I was expecting. I thought that in this episode we were going to see Meredith and Derek reunite one last time on the beach and then Meredith was going to wake up in a dramatic fashion and we would get some big dramatic scene. I now think that that's going to happen in next week's episode or the one after. I like that they showed that she was getting better but that the challenge now was to get her to wake up and stay awake. While it wasn't super dramatic it was probably more realistic to how the disease actually works and affects people in real life.

I kept thinking every time Meredith fell back asleep that she was going to appear on the beach, and I was little disappointed that she didn’t. That being said, I really loved Jo's scene with Meredith. I thought it was really sweet and touching and I like that Meredith was supportive and told Richard what Jo had said so that he could help her. Jo was scared that Meredith would yell at her and not understand if she told her so that was nice to see. I also liked that this episode combined with the previous one seems to indicate that the beach exists in Meredith’s head, it’s her happy place, and that she can hear people when they talk to her at her bedside and can potentially hear people when they stand outside her room.

This means that when she does wake up for real, they won’t have to rehash plots that we’ve already seen because Meredith will already know what happened and they can just go from there. I also really liked the scene where Richard came to Jo and she was worried he was angry with her and would try to talk her out of switching specialties, but instead he told her he wanted to help her but he couldn't do that if he was in the dark. That being said, while I’m okay with Jo switching it up, I'm still not sold on Jo switching to OBGYN because I don't think they've done enough to set up the storyline.

We’re 3/4 of the way through the season and all Jo has done is talk about it, but she hasn't done anything to actually make it happen. We got more set up for her switching to Urology and being mentored by Catherine in one episode than we've had all season with Jo wanting to switch to OBGYN. Jo’s had plenty of time to talk to people in the field about her desire to change careers, talk to her superiors, and find a mentor. She’s done none of that. In fact she’s been hiding her desire to switch from everyone who could actually help her with feels a lot like self-sabotage. If she’s really interested, she should have gone to Meredith, Bailey, and Richard in the first half of the season and talked about how she was feeling.

She should have asked Hayes and Carina what working in OBGYN and Pediatrics was really like. She hasn’t done that and right now she seems to have a very rosy picture of what the field is like that just doesn’t match the reality. She keeps talking about how it’s going to be great because it’s all about happy Moms, but that isn’t the reality for everyone. There’s a lot that can go wrong in childbirth, not everyone is happy to be having a baby, some might be placing their children for adoption, they may be fighting with their partner, they may lash out because they are in pain, the list goes on.

If Jo is serious about switching, she should be asking Hayes and Carina a thousand questions and finding someone to mentor her. Instead her and Carina haven’t had a single scene together this season that I can recall, and she spent two whole episodes screaming at Hayes and being super aggressive towards him when he was already terrified about Meredith and Irene. She knows that if she switches specialities she’ll be working with Hayes and people in his Department a lot. Which means she should be super nice to him and being asking for his help. Instead, she’s created this super weird dynamic in which she’s either yelling at him aggressively or they are exchanging polite conversation about work.

Hayes makes it clear to Irene that they are not friends, he is not interested in her, and has no desire to change that which is on Jo because she went from being nice to him and being friendly and teasing him about his feelings for Meredith last season to taking advantage of the fact that they are coworkers to scream at him when he didn’t want to break protocol after what happened to Meredith and was upset after Irene was admitted. She also made that horrible comment comparing his wife’s death to her divorce from Alex and seem to take the fact that he was upset and wanted the best care for Irene as a personal offence and to mean that Hayes think she’s incompetent. None of which is true. It’s all in Jo’s head.

So yeah, I’m not sold on her switching to OBGYN because they haven’t done enough set up and they already tried that with Carina, and it didn’t work. There just isn’t enough material to have a character appear on the show regularly if they are an OBGYN only and can’t perform pediatric, fetal, or neonatal surgery. After they wrote Arizona off, they spent two seasons trying to find stuff for Carina to do before pairing her with Maya and moving her over to Station 19. Several of the current writers were present during seasons 14, 15, and 16 so they were there when that happened, and they were involved. So, I’m confused as to why they think something that failed the first time is going to work with an existing character.

If this is the show’s last season, I feel like this storyline is going to end with Jo re-specializing and adopting Luna. If this isn’t the show’s last season and they’re doing one more I don’t understand how the writers think they are somehow going to get a season’s worth of content out of Jo delivers babies and sleeps with Jackson. We got some good patient storylines this episode and the storyline about the newlywed couple was funny and interesting. I had a feeling as soon as Bailey convinced the guy to talk to his life that it was going to go the opposite way than Bailey intended.

I like that Owen took Bailey’s advice and gentle prodding to heart and apologized to Teddy. I am happy that Owen finally made amends and that he and Teddy seem to be moving forward. I was so sick of them fighting so I’m glad to see that storyline come to an end. It was exhausting and I'm glad that Owen finally got it and that that they are both starting to heal. It was long overdue. I think he heard what Bailey was saying and even though it didn't hold true for the couple they treated it did hold true for him and Teddy and that's what Bailey was trying to share with him.

As for what the future holds for Teddy and Owen, I'd like to see them become friends again and find a way to co-parent peacefully with Amelia and Link for the good of their kids and themselves. I think there's been too much drama and heartbreak for them to work as a couple at this point. I loved seeing Maggie and Hayes work together to treat a patient. I liked the scene where Maggie said it was time to let the patient go and Hayes looked at her and said aren't you some kind of genius or something? Figure it out.

It was nice to see her in a non-romantic storyline with someone that Meredith is interested in. I never liked the “Meredith is dating or interested in someone or they are interested in her, but her sister misunderstands the situation and thinks they are into her or cluelessly asks them out” plots. I love that Hayes is finally getting his moment in the sun. He's played a big role in the second half of the season so far and I'm really happy about that. He's one of my favourite new characters and they really underutilized him in the first half of the season. I loved seeing his interactions with Maggie and watching them find a solution for his young patient. I really loved the scene where they're all in the OR and their idea works. The unfettered joy on their faces was palpable and it filled me with joy!

The scenes where the patient’s father confided his fears to Hayes about his son and how his wife hasn’t been able to get out of bed in weeks and then just before they took him into surgery, he talked to his son about all of the things he wanted to do with him. That made me tear up. I loved how Hayes got the idea for the surgery from Jo being metaphorical and convinced Maggie to do it. I was surprised that Maggie’s engagement wasn’t mentioned, and I got the impression that Maggie hasn't told anyone about her engagement yet as no one commented on it so I'm interested to see when that will come out and people's reactions to it.

I liked that Link’s parents showed up and offered to take the kids out for the day (safely) and that we got to see Link having a happier interaction with his parents and that Amelia and Link got a break. While his parents have come across as selfish and sometimes cruel and irresponsible in the past it was really nice of them to offer to take the kids for the day and I like that they happily offered and accepted Meredith’s kids as family and that Link’s Mom called Amelia her daughter-in-law and said she considered her part of the family.

I really loved the Amelia and Link scenes this episode. They were great! They were emotional and sexy and fun and silly and heartbreaking all at once. I'd like to see them get married, but not because his Mom keeps pushing it or because they find out that Maggie and Winston are engaged, but because they feel it's right for them. Link is at that place, but Amelia isn't and I don't want to see her jump into something because of outside pressure. She's done that before, and it always ends badly.

I really appreciate that the series is actively addressing Amelia's addiction and what it's like to live with that. Addiction is a lifelong battle, a chronic illness of sorts, and it is not a one and done deal. Amelia and Link don't have a lot of story options available to them because of Meredith's COVID storyline this season so I like that they are taking the opportunity to explore that more. I liked the comparison to her relationship with Owen where Link said I love you and I want to marry you, but I'm not Owen so I'm not here for the drama and if us getting married could cause you to relapse then we should wait. Link proposing and Amelia shouting no at him especially when he was shirtless made me laugh! I’m always here for shirtless Link!

I also really Jackson and Mama Ortiz’s storyline. They addressed a real issue in that sometimes people try to help because they feel moved or called to do so, but their band aid fix creates more problems long term than they solve. I like that Jackson got what Ortiz was saying and that he called her at the end of the episode and asked for her ideas for how they could use his money to really help people in their community long term. I love the actress who plays her and I'm excited that she’s getting more screen time.

I loved seeing Tom back in action! His lines in the trauma room were great! Bailey had some great scenes this episode as well. They're focusing more on the characters I really like or find interesting in the second half of the season so I'm really enjoying that. I had a few favourite scenes this episode. I loved the moment where Meredith woke up and Richard said, "Hey there, sleepy head," and Meredith said she was sorry he had to put her on a ventilator because she knows how hard that must have been for him and he said he'd do it again. And then Meredith said, "I'm glad I chose you." I love their father daughter relationship and that scene warmed my heart. I also really liked Teddy's line about the tea. That's a meme waiting to happen.

Onto next week’s promo! We see Jackson running by a Black Lives Matter protest which puts this episode at either the end of May or the beginning of June 2020 as George Floyd, may he rest in peace, was murdered on May, 25, 2020 and protests erupted the next day and grew in size in the following weeks and months. In the promo Richard brings in a wounded protestor and tells Jackson they were marching peacefully, and Jackson appears to be treating Hayes who we know has two black biracial children.

We also see Meredith being taken into the Hyperbaric Chamber by Levi, Maggie talking a distressing phone call, and Teddy doing chest compressions which means she’s back at work. Here’s hoping that Teddy took Amelia’s advice and found a new therapist that works for her. The most intriguing part of the Promo for me is that we see Bailey, dressed in full PPE, duck into a stairwell and scream “What?!?” out loud several times. I’m curious to know what she’s screaming about. Is it good? Is it bad? Is it both? Is it something bewildering? Can’t wait to find out.

Until next time!

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

Text

dirtbags // 2: Lola

Summary: High school AU, 1984, Winter. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new kid starting halfway through Junior year, but slowly Lola seems to be making a few. It’s much easier to have a rumour started about you, especially when you tend to make questionable choices at parties, but that’s much less fun.

A/N: 8173 words. Lola’s dad is the MVP, trust me. i meant to put this out a week ago whoops!! also im allowed to reference my own Queen oc as a treat. @bluehourmotel, @misscharlottelee and again, interludes are A Softer World quotes.

[ m a s t e r p o s t ]

the best revenge is living well. the second best revenge is fire ants.

The fact that after being in town for a total of two weeks, Lola’s closest friend is the gas station attendant a full fifteen minute drive away from her house is kind of sad. Not that she’s disappointed to be Mick’s friend, he’s got a dry sense of humor but a good heart and he’s refreshing honesty, but she’s been at this new school for about a week and a half, has already made out with at least one person, has possibly convinced said-person’s cousin that she’s trying to corrupt him, and started to make a name for herself - whether it’s good or bad is yet to be seen -, and yet Mick Mars, nineteen-year-old gas station attendant, apprentice electrician, and aspiring guitar player is her closest friend.

But she’s always been kind of terrible at making friends her own age.

“You have lost all respect from me,” Mick told her on Monday morning after the party, over the counter of the gas station as he’s ringing her up for her smokes and iced coffee before she went to school, “you could have picked anyone to mack on at that party, and you chose Tommy fuckin’ Lee?”

“He was nice to me, what was I meant to do?” Lola declared, realizing too late that that statement revealed absolutely too much about herself to a near stranger. Mick, however, just gives her a flat look.

“You need higher standards.” He doesn’t seem too phased by her. Lola takes this in stride, and nods, agreeing with a sigh.

“What time do you finish work?” She asks, changing the subjects quickly as she’s pulling out a bill from her back pocket, “dad said he’s happy to let you have a look at that weird light switch that doesn’t do anything that I was telling you about.”

“I finish at ten tonight, I’m working a double,” he groans at the very thought of it. Lola gives him a sympathetic look, and tells him to only come around if he’s up to it, otherwise leaving it for another day.

That’s the day that Lola realises the whole school knows about her and Tommy at the party, that she has Art with Charlotte before lunch, and also that Charlotte can’t look her in the eye.

Tuesday the school realises that she’s not just Lola Who Gives It Up For Free At Parties, but that she’s Lola The New Girl and that they don’t know anything about her beyond that. There’s a guy in her wood working class with long black hair and a dangerous smile that winks at her; she flips him off, knowing all he cared about was knowing if the rumours were true. She’s got AP French last period with that ginger from the party who wouldn’t stop laughing, Eileen; she’s a lot more serious, sober. The cheerleader, Heather, won’t stop giving her these weird, calculating looks.

Wednesday there’s a new rumour, that she was expelled from her last school. The population of the school hasn’t decided what exactly they think she was expelled for yet. Turns out she has English with that guy from her woodworking class, he just hadn’t turned up for their lesson on Monday; he sits at the back like Lola, in the other corner, and the teacher calls him Nikki in a tone like she’s already disappointed. Lola can see why, he fell asleep at his desk. Art last period with Charlotte; she still barely looks at Lola.

Thursday. Heather asks in AP French if Lola’s heard what everyone’s saying about her; her tone is sweet and dangerous in equal measure and Lola doesn’t trust what’s about to come out of her mouth. The new rumour is that Lola was expelled for sleeping with a teacher; something about the glint in Heather’s eye is cruel, and Lola asks her sweetly if she’s more jealous of Lola or the teacher. That shuts Heather up fast, and Eileen’s cough behind them sounds more like she’s trying to hide a laugh. But it still gets to her; Lola focuses so hard on ignoring the girls gossiping loudly about her at their station behind her in Home Economics that she burns the apple danishes she was attempting, and she throws the burnt pastries, and the tray they’d been cooking on, into the bin until she realises her mistake and sulkily fishes the tray out again. Thankfully, the teacher didn’t notice.

Friday, and Lola hasn’t paid much attention to Vince, whose house she’s been to but who she hadn’t properly met until their classes had P.E at the same time; he’s in the year below her, but still manages to sidle up to her while they’re both waiting for their teachers to prepare the field for whatever torture they’re masquerading as physical exercise today. She tells him to fuck off; there’s something about the way he conducts himself that she doesn’t like, like he’s putting on a show of being shallow and vain and the life of the party. Instead, Vince’s voice goes quiet and he tells her that Tommy’s a good kid with a good heart -

“You give this speech to everyone you caught making out at your parties, or just me, ‘cos you think I’m a bitch and I’m gonna hurt one of ‘your bros’?” She snapped, lip curling, and Vince’s brow creases into a frown, “I’m not his fucking girlfriend, we made out a little, you don’t have to act like I’m going to break his heart, so piss off.”

A moment passes, and he appears to don his shallow, playboy mask when he asks her slyly if the rumours are true. She shoves him hard enough that he skitters back a few feet, and Lola earns her first after school detention.

The thing is, she and Tommy are already on the same page about this, it was a what happens while drunk at a party stays at that party. Or at least, it’s meant to. Either way, Charlotte’s protectiveness, and Vince’s... attempt at protectiveness was unwarranted. Maybe it’s because Tommy, for whatever reason, has started hanging around Lola at lunch.

She doesn’t sit in the cafeteria like the rest of them, or even on that little section of the roof the intimidating pack of punks, rockers, and smokers have found a way to get to. Lola sits against the fence near the science building, close to the carpark that’s always open for some stupid reason, as though she’s contemplating bolting.

“Don’t you have friends?” Lola’s tone is kind of hard, and perhaps her words are on the nose, and a little cruel, but it’s Wednesday, and this is the third day in a row he’s found her and spent the entirety of lunch with her. They don’t speak much, Lola smokes and picks apart whatever her dad’s latest cooking experiment is before she eats it, and Tommy practices twirling his drumsticks.

“I have friends, do you?” Tommy responds, more than a little defensive, rubbing at his brow where he’d just managed to hit himself mid-drumstick-twirl, taken aback by her question. Lola gives him a flat look. “Someone told me you were expelled from your last school,” Tommy’s gaze shifts to the carpark, to the last car and it’s telltale rocking and fogged up windows.

“They say why?”

“Nah,” Tommy shakes his head, scowl softening as he gets back to practicing, “it true?” Lola’s picking out and eating the apple chunks from the slice of pie her father had packed for the day, still watching the car with the mildest of interest. She shakes her head. Tommy hums noncommittally. They spend the rest of lunch in silence.

“He keeps hanging out with me!” The following afternoon, Lola gripes to Mick on his smoke break after she gets out of school for the afternoon.

“You keep hanging out with me,” Mick points out, peeling the label off of a bottle of soda.

“And?”

“I don’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Because,” and Mick heaves a heavy sigh, like it pains him to admit, “we’re friends, Lola,” but he pauses and amends, “God knows why.”

“Fuck you, I’m a delight,” Lola huffs, and pulls her oversized denim jacket tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the afternoon breeze. If this were pretty much any other state, they’d be knee-deep in snow; thank God for LA, snow’s pretty for five minutes before it’s a pain.

“Do you tell him to fuck off?” Mick asks pointedly, as if exhausted that he has to spell it out for her. Lola’s quiet, but her answer’s clear. Mick clears his throat with a cough. Lola’s scowl deepens.

She brings it up to her father that night.

“Do you reckon Tommy’s trying to be my friend?” She asked, gaze intense as she focuses on slicing apples into little cubes. Leo, her father, who was kneeding a blend of spices into a ball of dough that would end up being a pie crust, paused.

“The kid who has been hanging out with you at lunch?” He thought for a moment, “the one from the party?”

“I told him it was nothing serious-” Lola tried, exasperatedly cutting the apples a little rougher, but her father’s warm, gentle laugh cut her off.

“Yes, I think he’s trying to be your friend,” he told her, which Lola hadn’t exactly wanted to hear, but the information was easier to digest coming from him than it was coming from Mick, “he obviously likes you -”

“But I told him -”

“I know, you told him it wasn’t serious, but dear, that doesn’t mean he likes you less as a person - you’re a very cool cat, I can see why he’d want to be your friend,” he gives her finger guns, and Lola can’t help but laugh softly at his attempt to be hip.

“Christ, dad,” Lola huffs, smiling fondly, but he’d managed to cheer her spirits considerably.

“I burnt my danishes today,” Lola’s voice goes quiet as she goes back to focusing on her task, and her dad makes a noise of intrigue, “got distracted and crisped the whole tray.”

“You’ll get ‘em next time; just fifteen minutes, remember?”

“Fifteen minutes, no distractions,” Lola agreed, almost by rote, thankful that he doesn’t ask about what had distracted her. She can still hear the whispered gossip and giggles that had come from the cooking station behind her in Home Economics.

Her dad knows that her peers think she was expelled from her last school, but she keeps her mouth shut about the fact that today they’d decided it was because she had relations with a teacher; he knows almost everything about her, but he didn’t need to know about a whole school calling her a slut. He’d blow it out of proportion, and it isn’t getting to her since she knew for a fact it wasn’t true.

They finish the apple pie with it’s rosemary and lemongrass crust in good spirits. The flavours don’t go together as well as Leo had hoped, but it’s another step closer to the perfect apple pie he’d been trying for. Leo packs her two of the leftover slices for lunch, as a not-so-subtle hint.

On Friday, Lola hands Tommy a plastic container with a piece of apple pie, with a rosemary and lemongrass crust in it.

“Is it poison?” He asks. Lola doesn’t look at him, picking the individual apple pieces out and eating them one at a time.

“The crust tastes weird if you eat it with the filling,” Lola’s voice is flat as she explains instead of answering, “but the apples are sweet.” She eats another cube of apple, then breaks off a corner of the golden, perfectly cooked crust, now cold and stiff from spending the night in the refrigerator.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Eat it or don’t, I don’t care,” Lola tells him, hunching further in on herself; like this, she can’t see the way Tommy’s expression has broken out into a smile.

“Thanks Lola,” but the smile is evident in his voice, confirming all of her suspicions at once. Tommy took her at her word when she said the rumours weren’t true, even if the rest of the school believed them, so Lola supposes she’s actually okay with the fact that her second ever friend in the entirety of California is the marching band geek in the year below her who she made out with at a party once.

Also maybe she’s just kind of terrible at making friends.

you and me baby! we are the future! and the future is bleak.

“Wait, you’ve never met Nikki Sixx?” Tommy asked, sitting patiently with his back against the fence, his hand resting on her knee as she fills in the the nails of his left hand with black sharpie, “didn’t you go to his gig the other week?”

“I didn’t know anyone,” Lola pointed out, and Tommy makes a thoughtful noise.

“You’d love him, he’s so fucking cool,” he assured her, which made Lola give pause; Tommy also thinks Vince is fucking cool, and she wants to throw Vince out a window, “he was the one on bass.”

“The one in the leather pants?” Lola couldn’t help but smile at the memory; she’d appreciated it at the time, and could appreciate it now. Tommy, however, rolled his eyes.

“The girls love the leather pants,” he gave a quiet sigh, before adding, almost to himself, “wish I had leather pants.”

“Leather pants would look good on you,” Lola pinches at his thigh for a moment, and goes back to filling in his nails. missing Tommy’s pleased, flustered little smile.

“You know Freddie paints his nails like this,” Tommy says instead, changing the topic of conversation.

“Freddie?”

“Mercury. From Queen; you know Queen, right?” And he sounds kind of skeptical, like if she doesn’t know them, they can’t be friends anymore. Lola pauses again, her hand soft on Tommy’s where she’s filling in around his ring finger’s cuticle.

“I wanna climb John Deacon like a fucking tree,” she mutters, which startles a laugh out of Tommy, his hand jerking up to cover his mouth, making Lola leave a black line against his knee, through the rip in his jeans. When she looks up at him, however, her eyes are shining with mirth, “come on, man, you must have seen the video of them performing in Montreal last year!” And she licks her lips, watching Tommy’s blush grow steadily darker. After a beat, Lola bursts out laughing, shattering the tension and shifting to sit beside him, idly doodling on her own hand with the marker as Tommy shakes his head with amusement.

Lola starts humming Back Chat to herself, and Tommy leans his head back against the wire of the fence, listening for a moment.

“You and Charlie would get along great too,” he considers, and Lola doesn’t stop humming, nor does she look to him, “she likes Roger, but probably just because she thinks he’s pretty.” Lola can hear his eyeroll without even seeing it, and she’s not sure why, but she files that information away in the back of her mind; she’d never gotten an especially shallow vibe from Charlotte, but there was a uncertain undeniable appeal to Roger Taylor’s pretty-boy charm.

“Didn’t his girlfriend leave him for Bowie?” Lola asks mildly, barely pausing to speak between humming notes.

“Rocket Mercury?”

“Her name’s Rocket?” Lola snorts, finally looking at him, and Tommy’s lips twisted into an amused grin.

“Her name’s Ash, but everyone calls her Rocket,” he says, like he’s in the know, and Lola stays quiet, nodding and trying not to laugh, “and yeah, I think so, she’s been with a few people since him I think; Bowie, this girl from this English band Hawkwind, Elton John maybe? Or someone around him I think.” Tommy nods, and Lola’s kind of intrigued as to why he knows so much about Queen’s drummer’s partner, but something else has caught her attention.

“A girl from Hawkwind?” Tommy doesn’t seem to notice the way Lola’s voice has softened, or how her expression has dropped to something carefully neutral. She’s drawing a little flower on the knuckle of her thumb.

“One of their dancers, Stacy, maybe?” Tommy’s own tone is light, like he doesn’t even realise Lola’s hanging onto his every word regarding this one little detail about a woman she doesn’t even know, “was kind of a scandal, but it was years ago; she’s Freddie’s sister after all, maybe it’s genetic.”

“Genetic?”

“Liking girls and guys, you know?” And he pauses. Lola’s frozen beside him, the marker pressed hard against her skin, breath caught in her throat. He throws it out so casually, so easily. Her hands are shaking. The words so kind when he says them, so unlike what she’s used to hearing. Tommy’s already moved on to the next thought. “actually, I’m not sure if Freddie’s like, legit her brother, but anyways, she and Roger are back together; I’m glad.” As if a sixteen-year-old’s opinion on a rock legend’s love life mattered, “he seems happier with her, all his best live shows were when they were together.”

“I’d kill to play half as well as him,” it’s almost wistful when Tommy says it, interrupting Lola’s thoughts, his gaze trained on the sky, as if imagining he’s on stage himself. Lola lets out a long, quiet breath, recentering herself as she looks to him.

“You wanna play drums?”

“I can play drums,” Tommy tells her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but not nearly as good as Roger Fucking Taylor, can you imagine?” But Lola’s more focused on the -

“I thought you just played in the marching band, can you play, like, full -” and she sits forward, gesturing like she’s tapping on a full drumkit, eyes shinning. Suddenly, in the face of her rare, unrestrained smile, Tommy feels himself growing nervous, like he’ll let her down if he’s not actually as good as he thinks he is.

“I’ve got a kit in my garage,” he admits, and Lola pauses, letting her excitement simmer, as though realising it had gotten the best of her, breaking her cool and aloof facade.

“That’s cool as hell,” she does add, however, and Tommy beams.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, all flustered at even the slightest praise, “man, you’d really like Charlie, I know she looks all fancy and intimidating, but she’s a real softie inside.”

“You are really pushing hard for me to be friends with your cousin,” Lola notes, giving him a sidelong glance, and Tommy’s nose scrunches up, caught out.

“She thinks you’re trying to corrupt me,” he grumbles, “but if you guys met she’d know you’re not.”

“I am corrupting you,” Lola smirks, “next week I plan on peer pressuring you into smoking.”

“I’ve smoked before!” Tommy’s up in arms, like the implication that he hasn’t done something as low-level cool as smoking offends him.

“Dude I was kidding, I gave you half my cigarette yesterday,” Lola reminds him, and the bell rings.

While Lola was more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie, it appeared that Charlotte was not, and less than two days after her conversation with Tommy, Lola finds herself sitting by Charlotte’s side in their shared art class.

It’s the last class of the day, and Charlotte’s the one who sits by Lola. There’s no preamble, barely acknowledging the decision, just opening her notebook and focusing on the theory the teacher had already started to jot down on the whiteboard.

When they’re given free time, however, to work on personal projects, Charlotte opens her sketchbook and sharpens her pencil, and without looking at Lola, begins speaking quietly.

“Tommy thinks we’d get along,” Charlotte sounds completely innocent and perfectly harmless, but Lola remember how Charlotte had looked at her, part deer-in-the-headlights startled at the realisation, and knee-jerk protective fury, at Vince’s party when she realised who Lola had been kissing.

“So I’ve heard,” Lola doesn’t look up, but Charlotte’s pencil stills on her paper. After a beat, Lola turns to see Charlotte giving her a curious look. Propping her head up on her hand, Lola gives a thin, amused smile, “he also thinks I’d be good friends with Nikki Sixx; was he the one you yelled at, at the gig?”

Instead of being flustered or going red at the mention of the moment, Charlotte’s expression lights up, as if the idea somehow delights her, and slowly she’s nodding. All her earlier reservations and hostility was quickly leaving her.

“Yeah, actually I told Nikki you reminded me of him, actually -”

“I remind you of Nikki?” Lola’s grin widened, and she shifted to face Charlotte further.

“He’s kind of a tool -” Charlotte blurted after a moment of contemplation, and Lola’s eyebrows raised in amused surprise. Charlotte’s quick to backtrack, “I mean, I’m not saying you are- well, I don’t know you, but I mean, Tommy -” Charlotte frowns at that, expression falling as she considered quietly, “actually, I mean, I love him, but he’s not the greatest judge of character; he thinks Nikki hangs the stars, despite never really speaking to him,” she pauses and heaves a sigh of realisation, “that probably why he thinks so highly of him -”

“I thought they were friends,” Lola’s genuinely surprised, given how kindly Tommy had spoken of him.

“Half the school is terrified of Nikki, half seems to be in love with him; Tommy’s in the second half.”

“And which half are you?”

“I’m the only person who seems to think he’s just kind of a pest,” Charlotte’s response is surprisingly mild, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.

“He’s talented, though,” Lola offers, and Charlotte looks back to her, as if brought from her own thoughts. There’s a pause, a lull. Lola puts down her pen, and turns more fully to Charlotte, stretching her arm out over the desk, and resting her head fully on it, like a particularly smug cat stretching out in the sun. Charlotte is slower to put down her pencil, but does so after another moment, pristine fingernails drumming against her sketchbook for a moment.

“He was talented,” Charlotte agreed, thought it sounds like she doesn’t quite want to, “my ex actually got me into his kind of music, he was a fan of Nikki’s too; I’d tell Nikki I enjoy his music but it’d go straight to his ego,” and she casts Lola a sidelong look, lips stretched into a smirk, which Lola returns.

“I am a little bit of a tool,” Lola finally admits with a self deprecating grin, and Charlotte shakes her head.

“You’d fucking love him,” Charlotte tells her, with a strained, sort of resigned huff of laughter, like the concept of them meeting was a little bit horrifying, and already exhausting.

“You like his kind of music,” Lola circled back around to quickly, “never pictured you as a hard rocker, you’re very...” and she trails down, looking at Charlotte’s pristine cheerleading uniform, and thick, black tights, the only thing protecting her legs from the Winter air. The blonde shifts a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny, brow furrowing.

“I know,” Charlotte says flatly, crossing her ankles, far too self aware in the moment, “you expect me to just be listening to nothing but Abba and Madonna all day?” She sneers, suddenly haughty again, and Lola licks her lips, intrigued; she can tell she’s pushed a button, and debates for a moment if she wants to press it further.

“Not all the time,” Lola said, sitting back up slowly, “but I mean, I’m kind of partial to Does Your Mother Know, there’s no shame in loving Abba,” she shrugs, and Charlotte lets herself visibly relax.

“Never pictured you as an Abba fan,” Charlotte actually grins.

There’s a distinct lack of hostility in the air between the two girls by the time the class ends, after spending the entire class gushing over various bands across a surprising range of genres, and Lola quickly finds she appreciates how wrong her initial impression of Charlotte had been.

As they’re leaving for the day, or well, Lola’s leaving, and Charlotte’s heading to cheer practice, the conversation lulls as Charlotte grows thoughtful.

“Hey, just... Tommy’s kind of a hopeless romantic,” and even as she speaks, she knows Lola’s growing irate at Charlotte’s hesitant tone, “and honestly, the girls he goes for usually don’t... they don’t usually give him the time of day, and he obviously thinks the world of you, I just don’t want you to -”

“I’ve told him that I don’t want to date him; he’s the one who keeps hanging around me,” Lola’s own tone appears to surprise Charlotte, now that she understands the root of the other girl’s protectiveness, “we’re...” and the word catches in Lola’s throat for a moment, knowing that speaking it makes it true, “friends.”

Lola glances at Charlotte out the corner of her eye, and sees the way Charlotte’s lips twist into a pleased little smirk.

“I was just making sure.”

love is stupid. happiness is admitting we aren’t better than stupid.

Leo Fields, thirty-nine years old, owner of soon-to-be-named Leo Diner’s in suburban LA, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, who worked in the luxurious Parker House restaurant in Boston and quit after ten years there, including three years as Sous Chef and one year as Head Chef, only to open his own 50s style diner a mere ten minutes away in Salem, has and will always claim his favourite food is Easy Cheese.

Once, a long time ago, Lola had asked him why.

She’s asked him a lot of things, why he’d left his high-end restaurant to essentially flip burgers, why he kept his hair long, what his tattoos meant -

Lola’s eight, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs while Leo was crushing garlic to add to their dinner, his hair tied back into a large bun atop his head.

“People will try and tell you that just because something is expensive, fancy, or higher class,” Leo had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at that, putting on a voice to make his daughter laugh, “that it’s better; they are wrong. If something brings you joy, it is better than all things that do not bring you joy, no matter how fancy the things you don’t like are,” he’d told her very seriously, “better is not real, better is what you believe; better for you means healthier, and that’s real, but when people use better to mean good, they mean that it’s good in their mind, and maybe you agree, but maybe you won’t.” And he scrapes the garlic into the pan and oil cooking on low as he then began dicing onions.

“I use all my fancy training and knowledge to make foods I think are better, but now I get to also serve them with a smile, and I get to talk to the people I’m giving the food to, get to know them, let them know they’re welcome here,” he tries to smile while his eyes are watering from the onions, almost finished cutting them. “People in my old fancy restaurant didn’t want that, they wanted you to think they were better than you, and if you thought their food wasn’t good, that’s because you’re not fancy enough, and you’re not welcome here.”

“But that’s wrong,” Lola said with a slight frown, looking to her father for confirmation, and after he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, he beamed.

“Exactly,” he nodded and scraped the diced onions into the pan too, moving easily about the kitchen to pull mince from the refrigerator, “people liking something different to you is actually great; if everyone in the world liked Easy Cheese, we’d never be able to buy it!” And Lola laughed at that, the example making it easy for her to understand his point, “but making them feel bad for liking those things, that’s bad; that’s why I have my hair long, why I have my tattoos, they’re part of who I am, they’re part of my family’s history and where I come from, and I like them. If someone else is rude to me because of them, then I know right away that’s not someone I want in my life. People like to think they’re better than other people for stupid reasons sometimes.”

“Like if they’re fancy or not?” Lola asks, and Leo gives her a fond smile and nod.

“Like if they’re fancy or not.”

Leo’s not sure if Lola even remembers this, but he does. So when Lola, seventeen years old, standing in the kitchen, eating a ham and Easy Cheese sandwich after school, tells him that Charlotte, the girl in her art class, Tommy-from-the-party’s cousin, complimented her jacket, the pin-and-patch-covered, black, denim, proto-crust-punk, heirloom he’d loaned to her since she’d asked to wear it when starting a new school, and had barely gone a day without it, he can read into her smile even when it’s hidden behind her sandwich.

“Sounds like she has good taste,” Leo leans his hip against the counter top, legs feeling the warmth of the oven where he’s got a loaf of herb and garlic bread baking away.

Lola spends a full twenty minutes enthusing about Charlotte’s taste in music, eyes bright and tone animated. He only interrupts her to hand her a packet of prosciutto and a bundle of asparagus, so she could help him prepare for dinner, but it doesn’t slow her down, hands working quickly, while Leo boiled potatoes and simmered some garlic in butter on a low heat.

Both Lola and Leo know why Lola’s been so hesitant to make friends since moving, and she knows he’d never push her into friendship, but Lola also knows it hurts him to see her lonely.

“Hey dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lola says after a long pause, finally taking a breath after she’s finished recounting her day to him, “you know Queen, right?”

“Do I know Queen?” Leo jokingly scoffed, “Lola, I’m the one who introduced you to Queen.” He reminded, and Lola gave a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it; she wasn’t usually nervous, but talking about this sort of thing still made her heart race a little. Seeing her hesitant expression, Leo’s own softens, and he turns down the potatoes to turn his full attention to her, “what about Queen?”

“I didn’t know Freddie’s sister was with the drummer,” Lola starts, fiddling with the final piece of asparagus. She’s quick to follow it up before she can chicken out, “and I didn’t know... she’s like Bowie, and Fred, and... and me, you know?” Lola finally wraps up the final vegetable and places it on the glass baking tray with the rest, before she looks to her father who was watching her pensively, hoping he understands what she’s trying to say.

“That’s little Rocket Mercury you’re talking about, isn’t it?” He asked as a smile stretched across his lips, “I heard that about her, I always thought she was so cool, she worked on Spinal Tap, you remember I took you to see Spinal Tap a few months ago?”

Lola’s heart eases in her chest at his words, his warmth, the way he seems to reflect positively on the news. While Lola knew she didn’t have anything to worry about, since the whole reason Leo had taken her and moved across the country was her mother’s less-than-kind reaction to the news of Lola dating a girl, the memory of it all still made her nervous.

Leo’s entire face lights up, and he makes a loud exclamation, like suddenly remembering some vital information, snapping Lola out of her dwelling.

“How have I never played you any Dusty Springfield?” He announces, picking up the glass tray from the table and placing it to the side, “I’ve got some of her records in my collection,” the oven timer goes off and he asks Lola to watch the potatoes so they don’t overboil while he takes out the bread and puts the asparagus in, “Dusty’s like you too; she’s a pop-star from the sixties, lovely voice, told the Evening Standard she liked girls and boys all the way back in nineteen-seventy.” He says as he sets the timer for the asparagus, and Lola wraps her arms around him from behind, if only to hide how wide she’s smiling.

“She pretty?” Lola asked, grinning against his soft, woolen sweater. Leo gently pet her hands where they were wrapped around his middle, giving a warm laugh.

“Very; it’s no wonder girls and boys liked her too.”

Lola had never seen her father flinch in the face of change, and for that she would always be grateful for him. The only time she’d ever seen him lose his cool was when he’d come to her defense against her mother’s bigotted views; apart from that, she’d never known anyone more willing to go with the flow.

Take last week, for instance, Mick had taken Saturday off from the gas station to go look at the fixture Lola had mentioned not seemingly connected to anything. Leo had finally had the red and white, checkered floor installed earlier that week, and the booths had been reupholstered over Thursday and Friday in a shiny, inviting, deep peach, to compliment the warm aesthetic completed by the pleasantly sunny walls.

One of the many things about Lola is that she know when people look at her father, they never expect him to be the embodiment of sunshine; six-foot-something, built like a tank from doing a majority of the manual labor around his diners on his own. His traditional, Hawaiian tattoos were on full display today, across his chest, arms, and legs, wearing a singlet and shorts despite it being the middle of winter, after spending all morning hauling an industrial freezer into the kitchen, with what little help Lola could offer. He wears his long, wavy black hair in a ponytail down his back; the only thing that ever betrayed the warmth of his personality was the crows feet by his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth, and the kindness in his eyes themselves.

Leo Fields, teddy-bear in the body of a GI Joe, took one look at Mick Mars, the weary, rather scrawny teenager with barely any face visible for his long, shaggy, dyed black hair, and gave him a bright smile, ushering him inside. He introduces himself, and immediate asks what kind of music Mick listened to.

“I fucking hate Kiss,” Mick had said immediately, knee-jerk hostility, the way he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other being the only giveaway to how intimidated he felt.

“They can be a lot some times,” Leo had shrugged, gesturing to the jukebox, “I’ve already put a few of my favourites in, you wanna see if anything catches your eye?” Mick moves quietly, as if afraid to make a noise, even stepping in combat boots he barely makes a sound, and Leo makes mention that he’s going to freshen up, and that Lola knows what switch needs to be looked at.

“Hendrix?” Mick says with a hint of pleased surprise, right before Leo leaves, and Lola’s father gives a nod.

“Put it on, man, turn it up loud; it’s Electric Ladyland in there, right?” And at Leo’s question, Mick nods. Leo gives a delighted thumbs up, and heads upstairs to the flat above the diner.

“That’s your dad?” Mick asks, voice low after Leo’s disappeared, hitting play on the Jimi Hendrix record. Lola’s sitting on the counter, swinging her legs; she knows looks like him, same face, same long, dark hair, same copper complexion, it’s usually the staggering difference in their respective physicalities that seemed to trip people up, so his confusion wasn’t a surprise.

“That’s my dad,” Lola agrees, with a slight nod, looking around the warm and inviting diner that still smelled like new vinyl from the seats. She’d light a candle or two later.

Lola knows the rumours going around town about the diner, about how it’s owner was a chef, about how it’s hopefully going to serve better food than the last owners, but also how everyone knew very little about the new owner beyond that. It made her giddy, like she had a secret, to know that her father was capable of blowing their expectations out of the water with his food alone. Back in Salem, Leo’s was known for restaurant-quality food at, well, diner prices. All the fries were hand cut, there was always home made pie or slice or cookies on sale, the beef patties were made with real mince and mixed with Leo’s special blend of herbs and spices, and fish was delivered fresh, daily.

Lola knew her father knew what it was like to be discriminated against based on his looks, and how hard he’d fought to prove his skills as a chef, so in turn, he hired based on attitude and experience, and trying to give those who may not have had a fair shot an opportunity. Leo had always paid well, treated his workers with kindness, and tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. The diner had only ever made a modest profit, despite it’s popularity, but it had never been about the money for her father.

Back at Lola’s old high school, if you were popular, you looked for a job at the mall, but if you were an outcast, a loner, or a stoner, you applied for Leo’s; her dad had the ability to bring out the best in people, no-one wanted to disappoint Leo.

Her dad would never go anything as gauche as brag, but he has always prided himself on the quality of his diner and his food, glad to be putting his years of training and experience to use for people who’s appreciate it.

Mick clears his throat, snapping Lola out of her thoughts.

“Light switch?”

Mick thinks the switch probably connected to an exhaust fan the previous owner had removed, which baffled both Lola and Leo, seeing as how they’d had several exhaust fans installed, and the idea that this place had it’s one removed is unthinkable; how had they ever gotten the smell out?

After, Leo invites Mick up to have a look through his record collection, to recommend some for the jukebox, while he attempted a maple and walnut soufflé.

The moment Mick mentions he wants to join a band, Leo lights up, peppers him with questions, what type of music he likes to play, his influences, what type of band he’d like to form. Seemingly unused to the overwhelming interest and positivity regarding his aspirations, Mick is almost startled into being forthcoming, and quickly warms to Lola’s dad.

While the soufflé’s in the oven, the three of them sit on the roof and smoke, while Leo reminisces about seeing Cream live, a few months after Lola was born, and how he’d swaddled her in his concert shirt, only for her to take a liking to it, and had used it as a blanket up until she started daycare. At hearing this, Lola ducks her head to hide her smile, knowing she still had that shirt, though it was more hole than shirt at this point, hanging in her cupboard.

Occasionally, when she looks to him, Lola sees Mick regarding her with confusion, and okay, maybe she can understand why; he knows her to be reserved and dry, but with Leo, she’s outgoing and talkative and smiles so wide he can see her teeth. There’s barely a hint of her aloof façade around her father, and as Mick spends more time with him, it’s clear he can see why.

“Mick’s cool,” Leo announces with a grin when Mick himself has left, putting foil over the leftover soufflé for later, while Lola washes the few dishes and is more than happy to agree with him.

They spend Sunday decorating the diner, making it look less sparse with photos and hanging and various bits of music and pop culture memorabilia, while the jukebox blared rock and roll. A few people pass by in time to see Lola and Leo in an air guitar competition, but neither of them really care. Leo’s looks more like home by the time the sun goes down.

there will always be someone better than you. but on the bright side, who cares?

Eileen sits next to her in AP French during the entire last week of school for the semester. Everything she does seems so perfectly calculated, this change in seating included, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Heather clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed that Eileen had taken the seat she had previously vacated the day Lola staked her own next to it, and judging by Eileen’s innocent little smile, that alone made it worth it.

Lola tries not to pay too much attention to Heather, pretty, mean, and popular, almost the exact stereotype Lola had assumed Charlotte to be before she’d actually befriended her. They only have French together, but Heather keeps watching her, Lola sees it out of the corner of her eye, but her glare has become more speculative, more thoughtful as the weeks have passed, and Lola’s not quite sure what to make of it. Whatever scathing personal attack Heather’s probably working on is her business, she doesn’t know shit about Lola, so Lola tries not to care.

Once Eileen sits next to Lola, the glare comes back in full force anyhow.

On Thursday, the last AP French lesson for the semester, Eileen offers Lola a stick of spearmint gum, and it feels kind of like a test. Lola takes the gum anyways, and Eileen smiles at her, surprisingly genuine.

“You’re Charlotte’s friend,” Lola says, and Eileen’s smile widens.

“You’re the girl who kissed her cousin,” she says. Lola’s whole expression falls, mouth flattening into a thin, unamused line, ready to go on the defensive.

“And?”

Eileen shrugs, says nothing more on the subject, instead, glancing at Lola’s hands.

“My mom would kill me for wearing black nail polish, but it looks so cool on you,” She says, and Lola bites back a jaded response about her own mother, looking to her own hands, and the fresh and shiny coat of polished she’d applied the night before.

“Your mom kind of sounds like an asshole, if black nail polish is enough to get her riled up,” Lola says, without even thinking about how harsh the words sounded, but once the words are out, she adds, “and I know from asshole moms,” for good measure. Internally, she’s berating herself; if she talks about her mom, she’s terrified that she’s eventually going to answer questions about her mom, like where she was, and why Lola hates her.

“She’s just a perfectionist, and I don’t think black would suit me anyhow, so it’s not really an issue,” Eileen responds, as if she barely cares that Lola implied her mother was an asshole, and Lola lets herself relax a little, “I’m partial to a french tip,” Eileen holds out her hands to show her own manicure, the pale pink and white practically gleaming, obviously salon done.

“I coloured Tommy’s nails with sharpie,” Lola says while looking at Eileen’s elegant fingers, and Eileen actually huffs a laugh at that.

“I saw; he’s very proud of them.”

Something in Lola’s chest tightens at that; Charlotte seemed to be a good enough judge of character, and she liked Eileen well enough, so that, for now, was good enough for Lola.

Perhaps that’s why Lola had taken so long to actually speak to Nikki Sixx, despite both Charlotte and Tommy being adamant they’d get along, Charlotte’s proclamation that Nikki was kind of a tool held her back.

It’s not that she doesn’t know who he is; she’s figured out the guy who sleeps through her English classes, is trying to make an acoustic guitar in shop, and who is part of her music classes - once she’d decided to show up to those - is the same person she’d seen on stage in leather pants back at the pub. The guy who Charlotte had yelled at. A tool. Apart from the week the rumours had started circulating about her, he never paid her much attention, so she never felt the need to introduce herself. If he was a tool, she could leave him well enough alone.

Until the first day of the Winter break, apparently. Though for the record, he was the one who spoke to her.

There were technically two music shops in the local mall, a ten minute walk from Lola’s flat above the diner; she’s glad to be close to the CBD, but it also means she can’t justify asking her dad for a ride when it would take her less time to walk than it would for him to find parking.

But Monday, December 27th, was absolutely fucking freezing.

The mall itself is teeming with people looking to spend the money they’d gotten over the holiday period, and the workers had already taken down the gaudy Christmas Tree that had sat in the middle of the food court.

Lola was there at her father’s behest, sticking up and handing out flyers announcing New Year’s Day as Leo’s grand opening, and that they were hiring. She gives everyone at the food court a flyer, sticks up several in various locations, and thinks about heading back to the food court for a second round, to catch any newcomers, or anyone she may have missed, when she spots the music shops.

Bass and Treble were owned by the same people, however Treble seemed to be geared towards more classical music, with pianos and violins and flutes and all manor of orchestra-esque instruments available, while Bass seemed to be committed to rock and roll.

Nikki Sixx finds Lola crouched in front of the display of sheet music on sale in Bass.

“Lola, right?”

Lola stands so fast at his voice that her head spins, but she tries not to let it show. She’s on alert when she looks at him, tense, already scowling, which only deepens when she sees who it is.

“Nikki Sixx,” his name is not a question when it leaves her lips, but he seems pleased rather than concerned, that his reputation apparently preceded him. He nods, and looks over at what she’d been examining.

“Anything good?” He asked, and Lola looks over her shoulder at the display. She’d been seriously considering a book of Elton John’s hits for piano before he’d come along.

“Still deciding; why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, taking his time to look nonchalantly at the various amps nearby, “you look like you’d be into this sort of thing,” he notes, acting all smug and coy and weird; Lola rolled her eyes, but didn’t answer.

“You were at my gig, we’re you? Hanging out with that guy from the gas station, right? Mick?” Something about his tone had Lola on edge and defensive.

“You guys were okay,” she says flatly, making it clear as she can that that’s barely a compliment; Nikki, however, smile widely.

“Glowing review, I’ll add it to our poster,” he smirks, before he finally looks her over, gaze zeroing in on the flyers in her hands, “speaking of -” and he snatches one, not that she’s protesting, that’s another one she doesn’t have to get rid of. Nikki’s reading the flyer and frowning, while Lola lets her attention wander to the various keyboards they have on display.

“Where’s this?” Nikki pipes up, sounding genuinely interested, while Lola’s idly playing scales with one hand on the closest, off keyboard.

“A few blocks away,” Lola still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the town’s geography, “across the road from The Kings Hotel, where I saw you play -”

“The old MacCready place?”

“It’s Leo’s now,” Lola says, arms crossed, sitting low in her hips as she regards Nikki, and the way he’s going over every little detail of the poster, “Charlotte says you’re a tool.”

“Charlotte just hates that she likes me so much,” Nikki doesn’t even miss a beat before answering, and when he looks up to catch Lola’s reaction, his grin is all teeth. Lola can’t help the slight smile she wears as she takes in his response.

“I can see why,” Lola’s not quite sure what she’s going for with her own response, but it comes out more teasing than cutting, and there’s something in Nikki’s eye, or in his smile, or maybe it’s in his easy laughter, that has her heart beating weird in her chest.

A moment passes between them, a shift in the tone, the energy of the interaction as Lola drops her immediate hostility; she’s been doing that a lot lately, but she tries not to dwell on it. It’s now she gets a proper look at him, at his ripped jeans and all black, leather jacket, hair sprayed to high heavens like he’s about to join Poison; he looks unkempt and mean, and Lola’s kind of really into it.

They’re checking each other out, sizing each other up, and they both seem to find something in the other they like, because Nikki’s grinning at Lola when gaze meets hers again, and she’s smirking right back.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she tells him, hip cocked for a moment before she saunters past him, knocking into him with her shoulder purposefully. When Nikki stumbles back, he huffs a laugh, and Lola calls over her shoulder, “Leo’s is hiring by the way, Leo himself would probably love a fucker like you.”

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx imagine #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee & oc #the pack #lola&charlotte #charlotte & lola

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Fifteen)

Tony planning for the inevitable and finally finding some answers. *cue the music and make it pearl clutchingly dramatic*. I have about a thousand reasons why I love this chapter, but I’ll put those in the notes at the bottom!

Super brief mention of past drug use in this one, as well as verse typical anxiety/mania

MASTERLIST

****************

64%

“JARVIS.” Tony tossed the monitor into the desk drawer and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Where’d we get with the facial recognition program for James with the addition of the Pierce angle?”

“Nowhere at all, sir.”

“Right. Right I knew that.” Tony did know that, he remembered having this discussion yesterday-- the day before?-- and being just as frustrated as he was right now. “Okay listen, scrap that search and start another.”

“Parameters?”

“Narrow it down to the Tri-State area, specifically Brooklyn.” Dum-E beeped over with one of his shakes in a horrifying seventy-two ounce amount, and Tony sighed and patted the robot in a fond-if-not-begrudging thank you. “Get out of the military branches and start searching for family members. I’m not looking for James anymore, I’m looking for someone related to James. Next of kin, anything like that.”

“Yes sir.”

“Expand it outside of male, let’s find a sister, maybe his mom.” Tony unscrewed the lid and gulped at the horrible stuff. “I’d settle for a cousin and a long lost Auntie. Dial back the points on the recognition software so it’s not quite so specific. Sometimes siblings look a lot alike, sometimes they don’t. If it’s a half sibling, they might only share a common nose or both got Dad’s unfortunate ears.”

“You consider James’s ears unfortunate, sir?”

“Nothing about that man is unfortunate.”

JARVIS did one of those purposefully long silences followed by an almost impatient sounding click, and Tony smiled. He’d done the right thing modeling the AI after the unflappably loyal butler/driver/body guard that had been his constant childhood companion. The real Jarvis would have responded exactly the same-- a purposefully long silence, and then a click of his tongue before changing the subject and suddenly Tony missed the old butler enough to make his chest hurt.

“Run program for James and while you’re at it, look up Edwin Jarvis relatives and let me know if they’re doing okay. If he’s got a direct grandkid going to college or something, let’s make it happen. Pretty sure Jarvis is the only reason I survived long enough to make it to college, least I could do is return the favor.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you.” Tony drummed his fingers on the desk absentmindedly. “Did we ever get bank accounts created for James?”

“Ms. Potts saw to their creation when you first arrived back in Malibu from D.C.”

“Run the Ghost Protocol file list and double check everything.” Tony held up his hand towards Dum-E and the robot rushed forward to bump into him affectionately, nearly pushing Tony right out of chair. “How are you simultaneously the worst robot and funniest dog in the world?” he asked the machine and Dum-E only beeped and waved at him. “Right. My fault cos I programmed you. What was I thinking?”

“Ghost Protocol file list ready, sir.”

“Set up recurring payments into James’s account from one of my trust funds.” Tony instructed. “I don’t care which fund it comes from, just make it irrevocable. We also need to make sure he’s on the company insurance plan so he has access to our doctors.”

“Of course.”

“Did we give Happy a raise?” Tony grit his teeth and took another drink. “What about his pension plan? Is it set up okay?”

“Both Mr. Hogan and Ms. Potts have a pension plan even the president would be jealous of.”

“That’s good.” Tony smiled again. “No, that’s-- that’s good. I want to make sure they’re taken care of. Rhodey too? What about Mama Rhodes, have we been keeping up on her money in case anything happens to him?”

“Within the files of Ghost Protocol, you have taken the necessary steps to ensure each of your loved ones are well taken care of in the event of anything catastrophic.”

“I won’t let this be catastrophic.” Tony muttered grimly, pushing at the reactor where it sat heavy in his chest. “I’m not going to let this thing be catastrophic.”

“And how do you plan to do ensure that, sir?”

“You let me worry about that.” He pulled up the specs of James’s new arm so he had something to look at while drinking the green sludge. “Close Ghost Protocol. Open new file. Have you been running continuous diagnostics on James’s arm?”

“Honestly, sometimes I think you doubt the abilities you hand coded into my system.”

“Right yeah that’s--” Tony scrubbed at his face wearily. “Of course you’re on it. Wish I could write you a retirement plan, J. You deserve something good after all this. Maybe I’ll download you into NASA, wouldn’t that be fun? Controlling space ships and all that sort of thing?”

“The only reason for me to go to space would be to guide you on your way, sir and it would be an honor to do so.”

“...Thanks, J.”

************

Tony didn’t mean to fall asleep on the desk. It was certainly the least comfortable spot he’d fallen asleep at recently, the cold metal was no match for James’s arms or even the solid line of the soldier’s chest. His neck would hurt when he woke up, his back would twinge from being slumped over in the chair and his face would no doubt have unattractive creases from his shirt sleeve but Tony fell asleep all the same.

He was exhausted. Always always exhausted. The whirlwind round of sight seeing he’d done with James over the last week or so had been physically as well as mentally taxing, the nagging feeling that he was ignoring more important things like world peace and suit upgrades was wearing on his mind. The numbers on the monitor certainly didn’t help anything and neither did the increasingly often, increasingly intense rounds of...of making love...

...there it was. No other word for it. Far past hooking up, far past just sex. The way they moved together was making love, the way James held him close and gasped his name was making love. The way Tony felt afterwards when James pressed soft kisses to his scars and he did the same to the mottled skin where prosthesis met flesh…

Christ, Tony hadn’t known it would ever be like this.

He hadn’t known it could be like this.

Twenty five years Tony had been waiting to find the courage to even try and now every step forward with James was a step closer to running out of time.

So he slept, hunched over and uncomfortable and exhausted on the desk in the lab because all the best things he’d been doing lately were more than likely killing him faster.

C’est la vie.

Que sera, sera.

It was quiet in the house.

James was out with Happy cos somehow the ex soldier and driver/bodyguard had struck up something of a friendship that revolved around food and Happy cheating at mini golf. James had tipped Tony’s chin up and smiled down at him before leaving, “I could ditch Happy and you and me could go get lost together, sugar.” and Tony had wrapped his hand around the immovable left wrist and forced back a plea to stay and joked instead, “Getting lost with you sounds fun, but you do not want Happy coming after you with a putt-putt nine iron for standing him up.”

James’s goodbye kiss had been soft and sweet and packed full of promises Tony desperately wished he would have time to cash in on, but even as he waved his soldier and Happy down the driveway, the kiss faded from his lips and just left him cold. He was getting worse and he knew it, if the numbers on the monitor didn’t prove it, the increasing fatigue and bone deep pain certainly did. God Tony would love to get lost with James and see all the things they could find together, but he had things to check off his list before it was too late and that’s why he was in the lab alone working on the Ghost Protocol.

He had to finish before it was too late.

Besides, the quiet was sort of nice.

Pepper was out doing whatever she did that made sure Stark Industries didn’t collapse, being powerful and beautiful and so much more competent than Tony had ever been simply because she cared. Tony knew what they were saying about Pepper, about how she wasn’t qualified to run Stark Industries and how there could only be one reason why she got the job... and yes, there was only one reason why Pepper got the job. She was the only person in the entire world Tony knew could do it perfectly.

Plus, she deserved it. Pepper deserved the company and all the money and prestige that came along with it because she had helped carry him through some of the darkest moments possible and that was something Tony could never repay her for.

Just like he could never repay Rhodey, who was off being the world’s greatest hero, or Happy who had been Tony’s confidant on many many drunken nights when all his walls came down and he sobbed his heartbreak out all over the backseat of the limo.

Tony couldn’t repay the people he loved so much, but he could make sure they were okay after he was gone and that’s what Ghost Protocol was all about.

So Tony drifted while the world went on around him, dozed in the quiet while JARVIS uploaded the most recent design changes to what would be Rhodey’s suit while simultaneously running programs to see if there was any hope of finding even a distant relative of James so he wouldn’t be left alone.

Tony didn’t want James to ever be alone, not again, not after they’d found--

*beep beep*

“JARVIS.” Tony's head jerked up, mind skittering and scrambling trying to land on exactly what the noise meant. There were so many noises and alarms set in his lab. Was a project done? Was it time to check his blood? To take another drink? What was he supposed to be doing?

It felt like the times he’d done coke in his college days, where everyone else swore the drug focused them but all it did to Tony’s already high functioning mind was crash and burn and scatter his most basic thought processes. It was like a train wreck and Tony was wavering between tired enough to pass out and edging towards manic with the need to keep going keep going keep going and it just wasn’t working.

“What is that--that is-- we are--the noise--- fuck!” Tony crashed his hand down on the desk and swore out loud. “Damn it, JARVIS. Please tell me what’s going on. I can’t--” he forced out a breath. “I can’t do it. Help me.”

“Allow me, sir.” JARVIS interrupted smoothly, and Tony rubbed at his eyes in frustration because he just couldn’t concentrate. “It would seem we have found a match within our search for James’s identity.”

“Wait.” That certainly brought his mind into laser sharp focus. “What? Already?”

“Apparently the new parameters proved far more fruitful than our original endeavors.”

A picture popped up on the fold down screen of a young man with glasses, a neatly trimmed beard and a pair of unmistakably piercing, pale eyes that were all the more startling against his olive skin.

“Oh my god.” Tony zoomed in on the picture, stared deep into the same gaze he saw every morning. “Find a lineage. Mom, Dad, I don’t care. Trace it until we find James.”

“Searching, sir.”

*ping* “Last name Adams, first name Scott. Maternal name leads to a divorce, maiden name Proctor.”

“Proctor.” Tony repeated. “Switch to a new screen and search under Scott Proctor. He looks the right age to be James’s brother or cousin.”

*ping* “Proctor, Scott, age twenty seven. Maternal line leads to Ramon, paternal line continues Proctor.”

“Continue searching Proctor, we should be getting close.” Tony’s skin was nearly crawling with anticipation, his mind stuttering as it leapt from fact to conclusion, fact to conclusion. Finding someone who was so clearly related to James-- no way those eyes belonged to anyone else-- and was the right age to only be a sibling or a cousin. They were getting close.

This was good, this was good because now there would be family, someone to help James after Tony was gone, someone to soften the blow of loss.

--if it was loss, that is. If James considered not having Tony anymore to be a loss and Tony wasn’t-- he wasn’t entirely sure. Yes, he’d gotten to the point where he couldn’t kid himself about his own feelings anymore. And yes, he and James had been working on being vulnerable and being open but Tony knew he’d never be vulnerable and open enough to ask for love.

Not-- not love. Not for him. Not after only a few months, not when asking for love when James barely knew himself would almost be cruel, not when Tony would always wonder if James would say yes because it was true or because he knew something was wrong with Tony and figured he wouldn’t have to make good on that particular promise.

No, not love. Tony couldn’t ask for that.

He wasn’t brave enough for that.

And he knew James knew something was wrong and that Tony was lying every time he said “It’s okay.” James knew he was lying just like Pepper and Rhodey and Happy knew he was lying but that was okay. It was. Tony wasn’t going to let goodbye be awful for them, wasn’t going to let it be catastrophic, so he would keep right on lying and right on not asking for love up until everyone figured out the real truth.

I won’t let this be catastrophic.

*ping* “Proctor, James--”

“Holy shit, here we go.”

“-- deceased. Passed away of natural causes in 1991, survived by his ex wife and his son, Scott Proctor.”

“What?” Tony frowned and shook his head. “No, that’s not right. Okay, James isn’t immediate family with the Proctors. Keep expanding the search but keep them up on this screen, there has to be something here. No way that kid looks so much like James for no good reason.”

*ping* Proctor James, child of Rebecca P. Proctor nee Barnes, deceased--”

“--that’s going back too far, J. I need something from this century please.”

“--1964, survived by her son James and an unnamed daughter, grandson Scott Proctor. Also of note--”

“J, this is a waste of time!” Tony threw up his hands in exasperation. “I don’t want to hear about people who died before I was born! I said expand the search not deepen the search! Maybe it’s an adoption or a couple divorces down the line but please keep it with in the last forty years, I need something concrete! I need something real! James can’t be left alone after I--”

“--Rebecca Proctor Barnes was ALSO assumed survived by her brother, former Sergeant in the United States Army James Buchanan Barnes, who went missing in action--”

“-- in March of 1945 after he fell off a Hydra owned train while on a mission with Captain Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. Sergeant Barnes is the only one of the Howling Commandos to not return home at the end of the war and is listed as missing, presumed killed in action.”

Tony recited the fact before he caught himself, the information rattling off his tongue like it had done so many times before when he’d visited the Smithsonian as a kid and learned all about the Howling Commandos and Captain America and the intrepid...Sergeant… Barnes…

...too late, Tony’s mind finally caught up, crashed into a wall of facts and splintered into an unbelievable realization.

No no no.

“J?” No. “A picture of Sergeant Barnes please?”

An enlistment photo of mid twenties James Buchanan Barnes, blue eyes and dark hair and the hint of a devilish smirk that promised the soon to be Sergeant was going to change the world.

“Christ.” Tony’s mouth went dry, his fingers white on the table. “And-- and up against a picture of James?”

Another photo, one from the redwoods where Tony had caught James looking up at the trees in awe. The soldier had turned at the last minute to stare into the camera, striking blue eyes and shoulder length dark hair and the hint of a devilish smirk that promised he was going to change Tony’s world.

No.

It wasn’t possible.

“The footage from my racing helmet in Monaco. Give me anything from the dash cam as well and from the suit. CC TV, anything possible. Compile it all, now.”

It came in pieces as JARVIS tapped the Grand Prix security footage, as he searched the vault of Iron Man helmet recordings and the downloaded information from the car’s camera and each image went up besides the photo of Sergeant Barnes for comparison.

-- James vaulting the twelve foot fence like it was nothing and denting the concrete when he landed.

--James racing down the road almost too fast to be tracked as he ran to save Tony.

--James taking the brunt of Vanko’s rage and pushing Tony behind him.

--James taking an electrified whip to his left arm and shaking with the pain.

--James grabbing the whip with his right hand and yanking Vanko towards him for a nose shattering punch.

--James later in the crowd with no marks or scars or burns to be seen.

James.

Sergeant Barnes.

Bucky.

“Search my Dad’s files, anything I’ve uploaded, all the server dumps I did when we moved the last of it from the New York apartment.”

For the first time in months, Tony’s mind was operating at lightning speed, data snapping together click click click even if he couldn’t quite comprehend it all yet. Almost manic, almost overwhelming but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, had to know everything right now.

“I want everything about Project Rebirth, everything about the illegal mission Dad flew to Azzano to drop Big Blonde and Stupid off behind enemy lines. Everything.”

“Downloading, sir.”

Page after page flitted across the screens, the official reports of Project Rebirth, the confidential mostly redacted pages and the un official reports of anyone gathered that fateful day Steven Grant Rogers went from a scrawny Brooklyn punk to the red white and gorgeous hunk of patriotism they turned him into.

Official reports of the Azzano rescue detailing soldiers lost and wounded, the number returned home, how many days it had taken to bring them back. A furious letter from Colonel Phillips about the sheer disrespect of the man in tights had shown him and the Army in general.

A note from Auntie Peggy about how it had been entirely her fault to steal the plane and not Stark’s no matter how he bragged, and honestly how could she expected to say no to someone with a smile like Captain Rogers?

Howard’s admission of guilt for helping take the plane and dropping the Captain off behind enemy lines and yes, he’d tried to also take the plane somewhere to get fondue.

The unofficial report of Azzano written in Captain Rogers’ own hand about how he’d found Sergeant Barnes strapped down to a table in a rudimentary lab. About the empty vials and the puncture marks in Bucky’s skin. How he was positive Sergeant Barnes had snapped a rifle in half in his hands but in the heat of the moment he couldn't be sure, he highly recommended they run additional tests to see if the Sergeant had been injected with anything. Johann Schmidt had access to the super soldier serum, was there any possible they were using a version to experiment on prisoners of war...?

“Jesus.”

It was too much information.

Mission dossiers, the incredible feats the Commandos had accomplished with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes leading them into battle. Victories attributed to the super soldier serum that made Steve Rogers Captain America, but at second glance maybe it wasn’t just Captain America.

The Sergeant racked up an incredible amount of kills-- sniper shots made with nothing more than a simple rifle that professional snipers today had trouble matching. Hand to hand combat where he was bested only by the Captain. The ability to seemingly go for days without rest and that’s why the Commandos were an unstoppable force. Who needed sleep? Not Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers apparently.

Too much information.

The fateful fall from the Schnellzug EB912 train and how Captain Rogers had searched for days for a sign of Bucky only to find nothing but blood and drag marks. Then the Valkyrie had gone under and the world had moved on…

….and somehow Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes had ended up in a diner in Washington D.C. eating breakfast on the same day Tony had been mid-nervous breakdown.

Click click click.

Too much information.

Monaco. The bruises James left even when he was careful. The way the metal arm had been calibrated to some insane number to match strength with the other one. The old timey music and dancing. The Brooklyn accent. The quick shift to violent and the lightning fast reflexes. The way James had to catalogue everything in a room before he could breathe. The PTSD and memory issues.

“James said Iron Man wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever seen.” Tony whispered woodenly. “No shit, his best friend was Captain America”

Click click click.

Too much information.

Tony had seen so many little pieces that he’d missed the whole picture, he’d been so overwhelmed by the unimportant details like being called sweet thing that he never remembered to care about James not knowing even basic history or understanding every day things that wouldn’t have been affected by trauma induced amnesia.

“JARVIS.” Tony had memorized his Dad’s notes long ago. As a child he’d been angry Howard focused so much on the near mythical Captain Rogers and tragic Sergeant Barnes. As a teenager, Tony had studied and focused on the stories as well just so he had something to talk to Howard about. After graduating college, he’d packed everything away in storage and hadn’t thought about it again because if summe cum laude didn’t make Howard proud, nothing would.

And then December 1991 had happened and Tony stopped thinking about anything other than his next drink for a long long time.

But now it was all coming back.

Click click click.

Too much information.

“JARVIS. In the files of Howard’s journals there are some notes from the early seventies. He was chasing down a theory that made sure he wasn’t at the hospital the day I was born. Someone died, some Prince from Saudi, not the royal family but someone lower. It was a quiet kill, didn’t make the newspapers but Dad had piles of notes about it for some reason. Find those.”

“Searching, sir.”

Tony drained the last of the smoothie, then leaned his head back down on the cool table and tried to corral his thoughts. There was something something something right there at the back of his mind, something he wasn’t putting together. There was too much information and he was too exhausted to process it, a year ago he’d have this done already but today he was moving slow and taking more time, and good God was this what normal people felt their whole lives? Slow and tired and unable to focus on a single thing at a time?

“J?” Something else peeking through the fog of weariness and the sting of growing shock Tony was trying and failing to keep away. Now was not the time to break down, not when he was so close to answers, not when he was about to find out something big, he knew it was going to be something big--

--and it would ruin James’s life but then again maybe it wouldn’t, maybe this would be the perfect thing to do, if Tony was out the picture but there was someone else there to walk James--Bucky-- Sergeant Barnes--through it all.

“J, my Auntie Peggy’s notes from around the same time when she was stationed at Lehigh. There was a thing--” he snapped his fingers impatiently. “--A thing about how it had been twenty five years since Captain Rogers went into the ice and then a thing about how they’d re-doubled their efforts searching for him and while they were at it, they looked back into the information about Sergeant Barnes for some reason. Find those.”

“Found, sir. Shall I read them to you?” JARVIS didn’t wait for answer, the AI’s systems registering Tony’s alarmingly raised vitals and clear frustration. “As per Ms. Carter’s personal writings, dated April 7, 1970.”

“When we lost Sgt Barnes off the train, we told the world he was missing presumed killed in action, but among ourselves and those who had been at Azzano, it was widely accepted that if he hadn’t died, Stg Barnes had been taken by Hydra’s men to continue whatever they had done to him at Azzano. Captain Rogers always worried there was a spy among us, not in the Commandos itself but among the ranks of the very beginning of SHIELD and the seemingly instant disappearance of the Sgt lends itself to the fact that someone knew the Commandos were coming, knew where they would be, and were poised and in place to take prisoners.”

“Yeah, I know all that.” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and pursed his lips. “Keep going. Past that.”

“There have been rumours of a master assassin in Eastern Europe, though we have yet to find evidence of him here in the West. Reports come in of superhuman speed and reflexes, the bearing of a soldier but movement like a ghost and shining silver in the light as if he is half man, half robot. They call him the Winter Soldier and Howard is afraid--”

“It’s Captain Rogers.” Tony finished, because he did know all this. He remembered finding these notes when he was fourteen and taking them to Howard and Maria to ask if Captain America had really escaped the ice and gone on to be a master assassin. Howard had got up and left the room, Maria had only smiled sadly and taken the journal away and nothing else had ever been said. “Dad was afraid it was Captain Rogers exacting some sort of over patriotic brand of super soldier revenge. Keep reading.”

“However, I am afraid the answer may be worse than we feared. I am sure Captain Rogers went into the ice and never made it home, a fella wouldn’t stand me up for a dance for no good reason.”

“Jesus, Auntie.” Tony closed his eyes tight, heart breaking for his sweet Auntie who had loved exactly one man her entire life.

“I am afraid we are looking at the newest generation of super soldiers, a project taken from Schmidt’s attempts at the serum and handed over to the wrong people, perhaps the same work done on Sgt Barnes at Azzano and maybe even perfected if Hydra managed to take him again after the train. I cannot fathom the horror of a soldier changed into a monster and used for unspeakable deeds, but I suppose our work with Captain Rogers looks the same to the other side-- an innocent boy turned into a killing machine. The prospect is much scarier when it is we who are unprepared and facing a super-human we have no hope of stopping.”

“Howard has been given the task of recreating the super soldier serum we used on Captain Rogers, but it has been twenty five years since we lost the original formula so he will have to start from scratch. It may well take another twenty years to finalize it and I’m not sure if we should even try. The sins of the war should stay buried where they lay in the ground, and beneath the ice.”

“Half man, half robot.” Tony’s gaze cut over to the schematics for the new arm he’d built James. “This cannot be happening. How did I not put this together?”

“To be fair, sir. No one could have possibly drawn a connection between a soldier of legend in American history from seventy years ago, to a few shadowy accounts of an assassin detailed in Ms. Carter’s notes over forty years ago, to a modern day former soldier. Even if your most alert form, there is no possible way to have achieved this conclusion.”

“This cannot be happening.” Tony ignored JARVIS’s well meaning and entirely correct comfort and asked, “Alright, if Sergeant Barnes really was taken by Hydra again and used as an assassin for decades, how would they have accomplished that? The super serum slowed down aging by the process of speeding up healing, but seventy years would age anyone. James doesn’t look more than a couple of years older than his enlistment photo.”

“Cryogenic freeze, perhaps?” Several articles pulled up and across Tony’s screens. “Scientists have been aware of the process since the eighteen hundreds, and it is not a stretch to assume the same scientists that could create a super human could also master ways with which to preserve the specimen.”

“The specimen.” Tony muttered. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Alright, cryo-freeze. Fine. If I can believe in a tiny kid from Brooklyn lifting motorcycles over his head while wearing tights and punching out Adolf, I can get on board with cryo freeze. But after the war, Hydra was dismantled. We took the best scientists and killed everyone else. Who would have the money and power necessary to not only keep a super soldier on ice undetected, but also to thaw him out and unleash him on the world every so often?”

Later, later Tony would be sick to his stomach thinking about what James might have gone through at the hands of some insane Nazi scientist. Later he would deal with the head splitting migraine because out of all the things he knew, he never thought he’d ever know a century old super soldier who didn’t remember anything other than his name. Later Tony would break down and let himself cry because the closest thing he’d ever found to love wasn’t meant for him at all, a resurrected and re-found American Hero and long term Prisoner of War Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes wasn’t meant for him.

Tony would do that later.

Right now he needed know only one thing-- “Who, J?”

“Ms. Carter feared a spy in the organization that became SHIELD. Perhaps you should start there.”

-- and then he needed to make a call.

******************

Ring-ring.

Tony’s heart sank even as he listened to the waiting tone. He’d been hoping to find someone for James, but he hadn’t thought it would be this soon. He hadn’t thought it would be someone so perfect for James that Tony’s inevitable leaving wouldn’t even register with the soldier.

He hadn’t wanted good-bye to be catastrophic, but he knew when the phone picked up and the call connected that this was only the first step in James moving on from him completely. A couple months was nothing in the face of years of history, shared trauma nothing in the path of entwined lives.

He hadn’t wanted good-bye to be catastrophic, but hell Tony had thought he’d have more time before he broke his own heart trying to do the right thing.

Ring-ring.

And this was the right thing. It was the right thing. For James and for everyone else involved. Tony couldn’t in good conscience hide what he knew, he couldn’t even store it away for later after he’d had just a little more time with James because what if later was too late?

What if his numbers climbed too high, too fast and he never made it to later and good-bye came without James knowing?

This was the right thing to do, the first step in Ghost Protocol and really the most important step because Tony knew Happy and Rhodey and Pepper would be okay with out him and now he knew James would be okay.

It was the right thing to do, the first step in the Protocol Tony had began working on the day he came home from Afghanistan so why did it feel like it was the first step off a cliff?

Ring-ring.

I’m not ready to say goodbye.

I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do--

Ring-ring-click.

“Hello.”

“Director Fury.” Tony closed his eyes tight and forced himself to breathe. “This is Tony Stark.”

“Well well well, it’s not every day I get a billionaire calling my personal cell phone number that is in no way available without some high tech and definitely illegal hacking of sealed files. What can I do for you Mr. Stark?”

“...You know that thing that you think you’re keeping secret, but I definitely have been aware of since you pulled it from the ice three years ago?”

“Nope. No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right, because you’ve got entire libraries full of secrets, I guess I’ll have to be a little more specific.” Tony pried his eyes open so he could look up at the picture of Sergeant Barnes and Captain Steve Rogers on his screens, the famous one the Smithsonian always kept up at their Howling Commandos display. “Let’s talk about Project Resurrection. I’d like to meet the star of the show.”

“Absolutely not. Not an option.”

“Director Fury, I want to meet him.” Tony set his jaw and straightened his shoulders and let a layer of that Stark iron harden his voice. “And based on the lack of surprise in your voice, I’m assuming you know what this is about and we can talk later about how tired I am of people keeping secrets from me.”

Something bitter like betrayal in the back of Tony’s throat-- would he ever get used to people keeping things from him? How long had Fury known about James?

“So Director Fury, this will be the only time I ask nicely. I want to meet him.”

Silence.

“...How soon can you get to D.C.?”

**************************

Chapter Notes:

I really really love Tony’s mind set here. He is all over the place and unable to concentrate but still, his priorities are fully in line-- taking care of the people he loves and still trying to find answers for James and when he finds those answers, he forces himself to do the right thing.

The picture J brings up of Scott Proctor is actually a reference to that one tumblr post about how Michael Pena (Luis, Ant Man) sort of looks like Seb Stan in some pictures? Like if Luis was Rebecca Barnes’s grandson? I can’t find the exact post but look HERE and HERE and I love the similarities so much!

If you’ve read my ‘Time Falls Away’ time travel series, you might recognize some of the conspiracy theories in this chapter! And ever since writing that fic I always want Auntie Peggy Carter to save the day for Tony. Love her.

April 7, 1970 is the day Stony goes to Lehigh in Endgame.

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

***************************

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche @actual-demon-belial

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #nick fury

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rosy-wooyoung · 4 years

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Husband series [8/8] | Jongho

Word count: 4.3k Pairing: ex-husband! San x single mom! reader x boyfriend! Jongho Genre: fluff, another make out session yeet A/N: aaaand that’s the last one of the “series” !! I hope it wasn’t too repetitive and that you enjoyed it, feedbacks are appreciated! Thank you for reading!! (Jongho is bby tho 🥺)

You had met San when you were in college. You were a business student, and he was working as a graphic designer in a company near your university. Meeting through a mutual friend one night at a dinner out with the so-called friend, you instantly clicked as good friend. Your friendship soon grew into a romantic one, becoming almost inseparable. Even with your busy schedules, you still managed to make everything work, sometimes going out for lunch or FaceTiming each other late at night, right when you had finished studying. Three years later, your relationship with San was going strong, and you’ve never felt so pretty and happy. He was treating you the way you had dreamt to be treated, fulfilling every aspect that you were looking for in a man. San loved you with his entire heart, being called a simp by his friends and co-workers didn’t prevent him from loving you unconditionally. (people can be mean sometimes let just people love each other ffs)

He understood your mood swings, your constant tired state, but he didn’t mind. He knew that being at university was exhausting, so we let you have your space yet still had opened arms for you if you needed it. Since you were a teenager, you had an idea of a job that you wanted to do, so you did everything to make it work and study for it. Though one day, someone from a company came to one of your lectures to talk about his work and you immediately fell in love with his job. It was a job that you didn’t even know that existed, and you suddenly craved to reach this work in your career. However, there’s been a hiccup. You needed a master’s degree to reach this post. That meant moving to another city, going to grad school and start everything. And studying even more crazily that you were currently doing. And that’s what you did. You were getting busier and busier, to the point of almost not being able to handle your relationship with San anymore. You could already barely make your friendships work, let alone a romantic one.

There was another dilemma to all of that.

You had gotten married to San a few months after your bachelor graduation. Of course, you had celebrated it with a honeymoon over the Summer in Hawaii. And we all know what happens most of the time during a honeymoon… During your second month of grad school, you started feeling nauseous and dizzy several times during the day, starting right after you woke up. Worried, you went to the doctor to check if you were healthy, but it turned out that you were just pregnant.

Married and pregnant, you could say goodbye to your master’s degree.

You felt like you could do it at first, that nothing could bring you down, not even a baby or your health. You gave birth to a wonderful daughter seven months later, one of the happiest moments in your life. However, a few weeks later, it came to a point where taking care of your daughter, your master and husband became way too overwhelming for you to control. One night, you sat in your bed as you breastfeed your daughter, San lying dead asleep next to you. He was curled up in the covers, softly dreaming as your mind was rushing. Trains of thoughts, anxieties, worries invaded your mind, preventing you from doing your activity with your daughter calmly. She whined as you sighed, probably feeling your anxiety through your feeding, so you tried to take deep breaths and calm down a bit.

You were becoming irritable and quite aggressive, stress and exhaustion taking over your body. San taking care of you was sometimes suffocating when he just wanted to take care of you and your daughter. He was simply trying to help. But to you, he was in the way. You hated to admit it, but it was falling apart. San accused you from taking too much time for your master’s degree and Youngsoon, feeling left aside and abandoned as you privileged something and someone else more. San was always at work since he was the only source of income, sad and disappointed that everything had turned out that way.

“San, I want a divorce,” you said one night, and your husband dropped his fork in his plate. “No, Y/N, we’re going to make things work out, I promise.” “I don’t want to do it anymore, I’m tired,” you said, emotionless as you drank a sip of water, grimacing as it was lukewarm because of the candle standing next to it. “You’re just saying that because you’re under stress, I know you don’t mean it,” he said as he grabbed your hand across the table, but you took it away from him. Even when you were mad or angry at him, you didn’t act like that. He knew when you retracted your hand, it was serious. You fought for days, watching your relationship fall apart. San took the couch a few nights in a row, and so did you. There were nights where San went out, probably drinking or doing something else and you didn’t even get to see him in the mornings. No more post-it notes left on the counter, no more texts from him, just cold and bitter answers as you told him that you were going to bed.

[You] : I’m going to bed, your dinner is in the oven. [Sannie] : Ok.

This was the last text that you sent him. He came from work one day and displayed a stack of paper in front of you, as well with a pen.

“Have fun,” he said as he went out the door without looking back, his blazer in his grip. Divorce papers were scattered in front of you, reading each line of it during the entire night, pondering if it was a great decision or not. He had finally accepted your decision, yet he still felt miserable and in love. San had great manners, so he helped you move out when it was time. He was cold when he was talking to you, but you knew that you deserve it, but you also knew that it was his way of shielding himself. He waved at you one last time from his porch and sighed, letting his tears roll down as you drove away. After a few days, he was still sending you messages, but you ended up blocking him because you needed to focus on something else. It was a hard decision but move on was your key point.

Your master’s was doing quite well, you managed to get through the first two years. It was getting tougher yet more interesting, and you successfully ended your second year. Your third year consisted of you staying abroad or a semester or more and completing your thesis. Your grad school didn’t really allow this, but due to your condition, they agreed on letting you take your daughter. When you arrived in South Korea, you, fortunately, knew the basics, living your life independently as you tried to learn a bit of Korean every day, getting more and more comfortable in the language as the weeks went by. The company you were working at was filled with nice people, welcoming you in their life as if you were an old friend. You've been hit on by co-workers, but you politely declined, too immersed into your job and daughter to even care about dating.

A handsome man named Jongho worked in the company you were doing your stay in, and you grew to have a crush on him. I mean, who couldn’t. A lot of women in the company were cooing over him, he wasn’t the eldest, yet he acted more maturely than some of the eldest crocodiles in the company. He was courteous, gentle and a very smiley man, warming you up on a cold way only by his smile. You had talked to him a few times, but nothing crazy. You had unexpectedly met him on your way at the park, and he was coming back from the gym, still sweaty and muscles rolling around. He was wearing quite tight shorts and a tank top, offering you a nice view of his body. You were walking your daughter to make her fall asleep, so you hid at a street corner to avoid him and got out of your spot as he walked past you, never seeing you. One night, you had a company meal and had to decline it, even if you really wanted to go. You had to take care of your daughter, plus you needed to start writing your thesis, and you didn’t really like the fact that someone you didn’t know would take care of her while you were out, drinking and eating with friends. You were more reassured to be with your daughter, comfortably sat at home with a cup of tea, lo-fi music in the background, hard-working as you’ve been doing for the past five years.

The following day, Jongho intercepted you and asked why you weren’t there last night. Panicking, you tried to explain that you were busy with your thesis, but he wasn’t really convinced.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Do you wanna grab lunch with me today?” He changed the subject, and you almost dropped the folders you had in hand. “I planned on cooking at home, I’m sorry.” “Alright,” he said with a thin disappointed smile, and you sheepishly smiled at him before going back to work. You hated declining opportunities to talk to him, but you needed to feed your daughter since the day-care centre had to unexpectedly close doors for this afternoon. Coming home from work, one evening, you noticed that you didn’t have any food left in the fridge. You started to think about ordering takeout, but you suddenly remembered that your daughter still had a fragile stomach and capricious stomach, making you sigh. You quickly dressed your daughter and put her in her pushchair, making your way out to the local convenience store.

And you happened to run into Jongho. Again. He was coming back from the gym, hair still wet from his shower, his sports bag loosely hanging from his shoulder. “Oh, hi, Jongho—” you didn’t even have the time to cross the street or hide that he appeared in front of you, almost crashing onto each other. “H-hi Y/N,” he stuttered, his eyes widening at your daughter, who was tugging on his pants. “Youngsoon, no!” You shushed her since Jongho didn’t move, almost seeing gears working next to his head as he thought about everything you had told him by the past. And it clicked. He quickly excused himself from you and paced the other way, as pale as if he had seen a ghost. That’s when you understood that he wanted to be more than just co-workers and you had no longer a chance with him. You had done your best to avoid him with your daughter, but it needed to happen one night.

The following day at work, you avoided each other like the plague, sending each other glares, but immediately looking away when you were caught red-handed in the act. It came to a habit for the following week, and you started to move on. It wasn’t the first time that you needed to move on, so you were kind of numb and used to it. At a lunch break, you prepared yourself to go home and felt someone touch your shoulder. It was Jongho, and your heart started beating faster. It had been a while that you hadn’t seen him this close and his hand on your shoulder sent electricity in your veins.

“Wanna grab lunch with me?” “Jongho, I can’t.” you sighed and kept on packing. “Take her along.” He winked as he placed a small piece of paper in your free hand before walking away. You opened it and discovered a restaurant address, making you dash and rush at home. Your daughter was slightly confused, but she clapped when you told her that you’d have lunch with the man that wore sweatpants the other night. When you arrived at the address, Jongho was already waiting for you at a table. You entered the restaurant, and he smiled, waving at you from his spot. You smiled, your heart banged louder when you noticed the highchair near yours. It was a small gesture, yet it was something meaningful to you; he cared about your daughter well-being.

“Thank you for the invitation,” you said as you sat your daughter in her chair. She was quite shy around Jongho, she couldn’t look at him in the eyes. She seemed impressed, which made Jongho smile. “It’s nothing,” he swayed his hand in front of him with a smile and bit back a laugh when your daughter harshly played with your hand. “Don’t hurt Mommy,” he said, and Youngsoon looked at him, pink appearing on her cheeks as she stopped pulling on your fingers. You grabbed your ring from her hold and replaced it on your finger, smiling as Jongho offered to play with his hand instead. “So how have you been?” you asked as you slightly smiled at the waiter, who was placing a bottle of sparkling water between you two. Jongho thanked the waiter with a nod and looked up, slightly leaning towards you. You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the discomfort that took place between the two of you. “Honestly, not that good,” he finally answered after sighing. Your eyebrows furrowed, worried that someone bad happened to him. “Do you wanna talk about it?” you offered before taking a sip of the bubbly liquid, hitching your throat as you swallowed it.

“I missed you,” he blurted, and you almost choked. You certainly weren’t expecting this, but you weren’t nonetheless disappointed. “What?” you asked as you wiped your mouth with your napkin. “Yeah, I’ve missed you quite badly. Those past couples of days without daring to look at you, smile at you or talk to you made me realise that, yeah, I really liked you. I know I disappeared like a coward when I saw you with this little one,” he admitted as he shook his finger, which was still in your daughter’s hold since she was whining for affection. “I shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t expecting that you had a past like yours. I’m sorry, I realised I messed up the second I ran away, and I couldn’t see myself coming to you as if nothing happened. I hope you’ll forgive me because I really want things to work out together. I think we can go pretty far if you’re alright with it,” the last parts of his sentence sounded a bit unsure, which gave him an endearing appearance. “Okay, you're lucky that you're handsome,” you admitted with a smile and Jongho’s eyes almost bugged out, a shock expression on his face. “I forgive you, but I still need a moment to process everything. I haven’t dated anyone in a while,” you said with a nervous smile, which immediately reassures Jongho. “Of course, take the time you need,” he winked, and the remaining of the lunch went by without any trouble.

Time flew by, and it soon became the end of your stay in Seoul. You had to go back to your home country, leaving friends and co-workers behind. After that particular lunch date with Jongho, he invited you over his place the following night, cooking and spending the night together, as well as with your daughter. A memory of that night was still quite vivid in your mind, remembering your daughter sitting on Jongho’s belly, legs dangling off his body and Jongho softly played with her as you watched the film displayed on the TV. You smiled as you heard her fits of giggles and Jongho’s babbling. Your first kiss happened that night as well, right after putting your daughter to bed. He had waited for you to come back to the living room and sprung to his feet, almost knocking you to the floor. He held your waist and made you both fall on the couch, him underneath you. You were straddling him, a position that you didn't get to experience for years. You sat on his lap, and he cupped your cheek with his hand, the other clutching your waist, dragging you closer to him.

Everything went almost too naturally, Jongho did everything to make it happen that way. He stretched his neck, and you leant in, your lips meeting halfway through. As you were exchanging your first kiss, you hoped that your daughter wouldn’t interrupt this precious moment. Jongho groaned in the kiss and roughly grabbed you by the neck to deepen your languid exchange, which made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Years that you spent every day without getting kissed on the lips, you hadn’t realised how much you missed this. Jongho was the one to wake Youngsoon up the next morning, leaving you to sleep in as you were tired from your activities from the night before.

They had a great bond together, it was endearing to see them getting along so well. He came a few nights in a row at your place, your daughter almost taking him as her dad. She always ran to him when he showed up at the day-care centre with you, rushing in his arms, giving him only a few seconds to scoop her in his arms and hug her. She held onto him very tightly, small hands grabbing at the hair on the back of his head. You stroked her head, and she finally noticed you, making grabby hands as she tried to escape from Jongho’s arms to come into yours. You were her mother, after all, she preferred to be in your arms than being into someone else’s. She was your cherished daughter, and you were her cherished mother. Other people at the day-care centre mistook you too many times as married young parents. At first, you were embarrassed and nervous that people thought you had your child together, but you quickly got used to it. Having someone as Jongho by your side made you realise how lucky you were that he chose you because there was no shortage of beautiful women in the company you worked at.

Today was the day that you all felt extremely sad. You had to leave all the great memories behind, as well as Jongho. You had tried to make him come along, but he had his family and friends there as well. You were exhausted, your daughter almost crying every night as you tried to put her to sleep, but the thought of leaving your boyfriend was near unbearable for her. The ride to the airport was silent. You barely greeted Jongho as you opened the door. He faintly smiled as he took your suitcases, stuffing them in his truck as you directly went to the passenger seat after installing your daughter in the backseat. She was pouting all the time, trying to turn around to look at Jongho for the last time.

Once you arrived at the airport, you happened to run into Yunho, one of Jongho’s friends, who was also getting ready to take the plane to go on a holiday. You tried to keep your composure as much as possible, but your eyes welled up with tears when you heard the call for your flight. You were about to go for a hug, but Jongho did a handshake to his friend, Yunho passing him his backpack, as well as his suitcases. You looked at them, confused, but when Jongho smiled at you, it clicked.

He was coming with you.

“Are- are you serious?” your voice wavered as you felt your eyes burning. He nodded with a smile, and you swore that you could’ve yelled in happiness. Which you did. You screamed and ran to Jongho’s arms, dropping your daughter’s hand in the way. She didn’t understand why you yelled, so she cried, interrupting your euphoria. You let go of Jongho to stare at your daughter and took her in your arms. “Honey, Jongho is coming with us,” she immediately stopped crying and sniffled, looking at you. She then looked at Jongho, who had the brightest smile on his face, caressing your daughter’s cheek with his knuckle. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, before capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. You felt someone taking your daughter off your arms and mumbled something. “Oh time to come with me pretty girl, I won’t let you see that,” you smiled in the kiss as you heard Yunho’s comment and took the opportunity to wrap your arms around your lover’s neck. The kiss got quickly abrupted as you heard the last call for your flight, taking your daughter back and waving at Yunho with a big smile as you rushed to your departure gate. Jongho had managed to find a seat right behind you and your daughter, comforting and playing with your daughter when you fell asleep. You were relieved that she wasn’t too loud, shyly looking at the man sitting next to you. You put your index finger on your lips to signal her to stay quiet, to which she slowly nodded. Her big eyes got distracted by a hand coming between the seats to scratch her belly, softly giggling at the tickles.

When you arrived in your home country, you were exhausted. You barely recognised yourself when you entered the bathroom, brushing your hair back into place as you yawned. Your daughter was barely standing up, you couldn’t wait to go home and call it a day. Jongho was waiting for you with your suitcases, ready to go and hail a taxi for a drive home. Reality struck you right in the face; you didn’t have a place to stay since you sold everything when you went to live abroad. The only place you knew was your parents’ house. After a call with your father, Jongho stopped a taxi and put the suitcases in the truck. Youngsoon was dead asleep in your arms, keeping her against your chest as you sat in the backseat. The journey to your parents’ house wasn’t that long, so it should be good enough to keep her like that.

You wanted to sleep for the next week, but your thesis needed you, as much as you needed sleep. Fortunately, Jongho was working in the same field as you did, so he could keep on writing your paper when you were exhausted. He and your parents were taking turns to take care of your daughter when you were doing your thesis or sleeping, barely making it alive when you put a full stop to your work.

“Y/N! There’s someone at the door for you!” Your mom screamed from downstairs and, from the tone of her voice, she wasn’t the happiest. You frowned and ran downstairs, almost stumbling on the last steps as you recognised the silhouette in the doorway.

San.

He was standing there, hair longer and body slimmer than the last time you saw him. You swallowed thickly as you had wished to look more presentable, but, to your defence, you weren’t expecting him to knock at your door a whole year and a half after your divorce. You clenched your teeth as you stared at him, whereas he had the softest smile decorating his lips. “You haven’t ch—” “Don’t you dare to finish your sentence,” you spat, looking at him dead in the eyes, “No.” you sternly said, pushing your hair back. “Okay,” he said as he widened his eyes, putting his hands in his jeans pockets. “What do you want?” you asked, starting to get impatient at the sight of your ex-husband. “To have you back,” he said, and your breath got stuck in your throat. “Of course, but you know that’s impossible,” you stated as you crossed your arms on your chest, only to hear San sighing. “But I know that we can make it work! You’re back from your year abroad, we can start again from where we left. I’ve been waiting for you to come back, I was hopeful that you’d come back, and you did. I promise to give you my everything to make things work, I’m even ready to propo—” “Darling, who is this?” you heard Jongho said and you turned around, only to find him with Youngsoon in his arms. The former stared at your ex-husband with a suspicious look. You looked at San, who was already looking at you. “Honey, this is San,” you answered, your eyes never leaving his, “my ex-husband.” Your words stayed stuck in San’s throat, who struggled to swallow. He looked at your daughter with teary eyes, hopeful that she’d recognise him, but she didn’t. Instead, she cuddled further into Jongho’s chest, her head turning away from her dad. Jongho still had the courtesy of extending his hand towards San, but the latter shook his head. He looked at you one last time, slowly moving backwards until his back came into contact with his car. You saw him clench his jaw and looked away, walking around his car, and entering it as quickly as possible before squealing your tires and taking off like a rocket. You sighed and closed the door, looking at your boyfriend.

“Was it her father?” you nodded, and he held your hip, kissing it with such delicacy that you faintly smiled. “I thought that he had moved on,” you mumbled, and Jongho dragged you close to him by the forearm. “Don’t worry about it, he’ll do it soon,” he said against your temple as you caressed your daughter’s back, “you don’t have to feel bad because he still hasn’t moved on and you did, people move at their own pace, remember that,” he kissed your temple and tightened your hold around his waist, humming his shirt. You closed your eyes and felt at peace, the memory of San slowly fading away in your brain. You couldn’t help but feel terrible, but deep down, you knew that he’d move on someday. It wasn’t just meant to be now.

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aweirdkindofyellow · 3 years

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The Royal Invitation, Pt.15

Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester might seem like a very long name, but it definitely is not for a royal in the Kingdom of Dalewin.

After her grandfather, the beloved king, passed away, Aerowyn (also known as Winny) is called back from her art school in New York. She’s thrown back into her royal duties, expected to know what to do.

But with the Royal advisor on tour with the new king, Winny is left to figure things out with his stepson. The only problem, he has no idea what he’s doing, after all he’s only the lead singer in a band.

Co-written story with @scream-tears.

Chapter 15

Winny’s POV:

I stared at Alex for a while. His eyes were shut and he looked asleep, I just needed to be sure that he actually was. When he didn’t even twitch after a few more minutes, I carefully slipped out of my bunk. As soon as I was standing on the floor, I checked up on Alex again, gladly seeing that he still hadn’t moved. I tiptoed over and gently closed the curtain so he could no longer be distrubed by anything that happened in the corridor.

I turned around and went to the next bottom bunk, squatting down so I was face to face with its curtain. As I learned to do, I softly knocked on the plastic board to get the attention of whoever was on the other side. However, I got no response. I rolled my eyes a little and knocked again, a bit louder, but still trying my best not to wake up anybody else around.

When I still didn’t get a response, I sighed and just yanked open the curtain a little. Jack stared back at me like a deer caught in headlights. The only light illuminating his face was coming from his laptop and he was wearing huge headphones. I raised an eyebrow at him, still waiting to get some kind of reaction. When his initial shock wore off, he moved his headphones to free one ear to listen to me.

“Everybody’s asleep!” I whispered.

He didn’t make a sound when he put away his laptop and headphones, only to poke his head out of the bunk and look left and right to see if I was correct. When he saw that I was indeed not lying, he pulled me into his bunk. I was immediately straddling him and I quickly closed the curtain before anybody would wake up and walk past.

“Come here,” he groaned and pulled me down to start a fiery kiss, immediately already tugging at my shirt.

We did our best to be as silent as possible. However, it was inevitable that occasionally a limb or another body part smacked into a wall. That bunk was barely big enough for two people to squish in, let alone to people to get it on. We managed to make it work. And it seemed like nobody had noticed anything. Or at least nobody said anything or gave us any weird looks. Not even Alex seemed to suspect a thing. He just showed up excitedly for our morning walks every day, always expecting me in my bunk.

I couldn’t believe I was saying it, but it was quite a difficult and tiring secret to keep up. Staying up late with Jack just to have to leave before I fell asleep only to have to wake up early-ish in the morning for Alex? Exhausting.

But I was having fun. I was still forever grateful that Alex had made the decision to let me come with him. Even if I was alone for a little while. There were no pressures on me here. I got to do anything I wanted. Rather than jobs being piled on jobs, I now had to actively seek if I could help out anywhere. It was absolutely magnificent.

I was wandering around the backstage area of the arena for the night while world famous rock stars All Time Low were busy doing a whole list of different interviews. You’d be surprised how many interesting things you can find in the deep dark crevices of arenas. Or they were just plain boring. There really wasn’t much of an in between.

I was walking through a hallway and past one of the dressing rooms when my name was called out. “Aerowyn!”

Without thinking twice, I turned around and entered the room, looking up to see Mark Hoppus staring right back at me. It seemed like I had just randomly and rudely walked in. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard my name.”

“Aerowyn,” he repeated.

I shook my head, realising just how big my mistake had been. I tried to act oblivious, like he was saying a word that I didn’t know. “I’m sorry, what?

“You might have been able to fool the others, but you can’t fool me,” he laughed lightly and warmly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I continued to try and play it off.

If my identity came out, things could go horribly wrong. Maybe not necessarily in the circle of the bands on tour. But it was bound to get out. And if my behaviour or drinking and casually sleeping with Jack came out, it would be a scandal. They were pretty chill in Dalewin, but that didn’t mean everything was suddenly acceptable.

“Oh, come on, I’m not an idiot!” Mark rebutted. “A quick google search into Dalewin was all I needed. I hear about a country I never knew existed, I take time to learn about it.”

He pulled out his phone from his back pocket and tapped a few times on the screen before handing it to me. I looked down at it in my hands and saw a photo of ‘The Royal Family of The Kingdom of Dalewin’. It was a relatively old picture. I was about 16 and looked a lot younger. It was taken for my grandfather’s birthday that year. There was also a picture of the entire family, but this one was just my grandpa, my parents, Gus-Gus, and me. I was wearing some light pink dress that I could still remember to this day. My mom had refused to let me wear it, but my grandpa somehow managed to change her mind. Everybody else was wearing much more sophisticated colours.

I shrugged and went to give the phone back. “I look a bit like her, but that isn’t me.”

“Swipe to the next photo.”

I did as instructed and went to the next photo he had prepared for me. It was one of the photos taken for my dad’s coronation. Specifically one that consisted of just me and Augustus. I couldn’t even try to hide behind the fact that it just looked like me. This was a close up of us. Even the birthmark on my neck was visible.

“Okay…” I nodded. I couldn’t deny it anymore. “That is me.”

“Pretty foolproof cover,” he chuckled as I defeatedly handed his phone back.

“Well, usually it works better when I’m just Matilde George from New York with a funny accent, not Matilde from Dalewin.”

“So hiding your identity is a common occurrence, then?”

“Only when I’m in New York,” I explained and looked behind me when I heard footsteps, but it was just somebody walking past. “It makes studying there just a little easier. Nobody constantly reporting on my every move, or hoping to blackmail me.”

“You seem pretty serious about keeping it a secret.” He frowned, also briefly glancing at the door.

“If Alex were to know that you knew, he’d start forcing me to act normal again.” I sighed and tugged on my hair. “I was hoping to get away from that.”

“Normal?” He raised an eyebrow at me in amusement. “You mean to tell me you don’t usually chug beer after beer?”

“Art student Matilde does, Princess Aerowyn does not.”

“I’m assuming Aerowyn also can’t have that thing going on with Jack and Alex.”

“Thing going on?” I questioned with confusion.

“Don’t act oblivious again.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” I laughed awkwardly.

I didn’t consider whatever I was doing with Jack a ‘thing’. A ‘thing’ sounded way more serious. Jack and I were only having sex when it suited us, nothing else. And Alex? There definitely wasn’t anything going on there. He was one of the only good friends I had made as Aerowyn in ages. All my friends back in New York loved fun Matilde, not responsible Aerowyn.

“Alright… if you say so.” Mark gave me a very suspicious look.

Before I could assure him there was really nothing going on, Alex came rushing into the room.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over the place for you!!” He exclaimed in relief, coming up behind me.

I looked at Mark with a hint of fear. He had the power in his hands. With just a word, he could ruin it all. Usually, my fate didn’t depend on one person so much. I was very used to having at least a little control. People did help me make choices, and I often did follow them, but I did always have the last word. Unless it was towards my parents or higher ranking royals, of course.

“Matilde and I were just discussing gardening tips with each other,” Mark quickly made up.

“Gardening tips?” Alex looked as puzzled as I tried to be earlier.

“Yep, you know, since she works with horses and stuff…”

“Ah! Right, yes.” He nodded in understanding before directing his next part to me. “I was going to go out for coffee and you’re coming with me!”

“I’m coming with you?” I challenged.

“Yeah, live a little,” he scoffed and pulled on my arm to drag me out of the room.

I made eye contact with Mark one more time and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him. He responded with a wink and a smile as Alex continued to force me to join him.

#all time low fanfiction #Alex Gaskarth fanfiction #jack barakat fanfiction #all time low imagines #alex gaskarth imagine #jack barakat imagine #The Royal Invitation #fanfiction

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pocket-luv101 · 4 years

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Summary: After a fire destroys his apartment, Mahiru stays at Kuro’s home. (KuroMahi, Firefighter AU)

A/N: This is a small gift to Damucochan’s bday.

Mahiru wanted nothing more than to collapse on his bed and sleep for a week. He covered a few shifts for his co-worker and he was tired after the long day. He was a nurse and his legs felt sore after caring for so many patients. As his taxi approached his apartment building, he noticed a crowd gathered in the parking lot. His eyes widened when he saw that the building was on fire.

“Oh God!” Mahiru gasped. He blindly handed a few bills to the taxi driver before he jumped out of the car. His earlier exhaustion disappeared and his training as a nurse overtook him. If there were people injured, he needed to help them. Adrenaline fueled him but he forced himself to stay calm amidst the chaos the fire caused. Firefighters were already on the scene and Mahiru searched for their captain.

In the corner of his eyes, he saw a child huddled on a balcony and he realized he must’ve been trapped by the fire. The boy started to climb over the bar to escape the fire and Mahiru screamed for him to stop. He was on the second floor but he could be hurt if he fell. Mahiru ran to help him without thinking of the danger. He was able to feel the heat of the fire and he did his best to not inhale smoke.

“Takashi, please stay calm. Go back to the other side of the rail or else you’ll fall. The firefighters will be here with a ladder to rescue you soon.” Mahiru spoke in a soothing voice and prayed that the child wouldn’t do anything reckless. He stood beneath the balcony to catch him.

“Mr. Shirota, I’m scared. Catch me.” The boy let go of the bar and Mahiru’s heart dropped to his stomach. He rushed to position himself beneath the child so he would be able to save him. While he managed to catch him, his weight and momentum knocked him off his feet. Mahiru winced when his hands scraped against the dirt as he hit the ground.

He looked up and saw burning debris falling towards them. Mahiru silently screamed to his body to run but his legs became stiff with fear. He suddenly felt himself being lifted off the ground and he was carried away from the building. A firefighter had rescued him. He knew firemen were strong but he was surprised by the man’s strength. He carried Mahiru to the firetruck and placed him on the ground.

“Thank you, Sir.” Mahiru said to him but he didn’t know if he could hear him. Before the fireman could run back into the burning building, Mahiru grabbed his arm. “I’m a nurse. Is anyone injured? I can perform first aid on them after I tend to Takashi. I also live in the building so I can talk to people and help you find if anyone is still inside.”

“… Mahiru?” The fireman’s voice was muffled so he thought he misheard him at first. He took off his helmet and Mahiru immediately recognized him. Kuro was his best friend since they were kids but they grew apart after they choose different careers. The subtle smile he had was still able to make his heart jump. “You still have that troublesome habit of running into danger.”

“That’s not polite, Kuro.” Mahiru pouted at him.

“You can lecture me about it later. I have to go put out the fire. The captain is over there and you can talk to him about giving people first aid.” Kuro told him and Mahiru nodded to him. He watched him put on his helmet again and join the other firefighters. He prayed that Kuro would stay safe.

“Thanks for your help, Mahiru. I’m sorry that we had to meet like this though.” After the fire was put out, Kuro stayed behind to speak with Mahiru. He had seen how difficult losing a home to a fire could be. He was worried that Mahiru so he asked his brother to cover the rest of his shift while he checked on him. They sat on a bench with tea Mahiru had bought. “Do you have a place to stay? A friend or boyfriend?”

“I’m not dating anyone. My job as a nurse has kept me busy. Tsurugi and Licht are out of the country so I can’t stay with them. They travel for their job. I tried to call my uncle but he hasn’t picked up. He must be in a business call. I keep telling him to not stay up late with work.” Mahiru sighed. Most people wouldn’t see the loneliness in his brown eyes but Kuro did. “It looks like I’ll have to stay in a hotel.”

Kuro took off his firefighter jacket and draped it over his shoulders. Mahiru wasn’t cold but he hugged the jacket around him. “The fire didn’t damage the structure of the building so the landlord can have your place repaired. You’ll be able to move back into your home soon. You can make an appointment with the fire department to recover your belongings. It’s dangerous to try to go inside on your own so you’ll need an escort. I’ll give you the number to call.”

“I have to call my renter’s insurance as well. I wanted to sleep in for once but it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to.” He sighed. Mahiru was tempted to rest his head against Kuro’s shoulder like he would when they were teenagers. He stopped himself with the reminder that they hadn’t spoken in years. His presence was so familiar and comforting that Mahiru naturally wanted to lean against him.

“I don’t know if this is much but I was able to save it for you.” Kuro took out a framed photo from the pocket of his firefighter jacket and handed it to Mahiru. While it was dark, Mahiru recognized the picture immediately. His mother smiled back at him and he felt his heart tighten. “I saw it and I thought you would be sad to lose it. I grabbed it for you.”

“Thank you, Kuro.” Mahiru said and wiped a stray tear from his eyes. His mother died when he was young so he didn’t have many pictures of her. He was grateful that Kuro managed to save one for him and he hugged it to his chest. The night had been stressful but the thoughtful act made it a little better. “It’s late so we should both head home. Well, I’m heading to a hotel. Do you want to share a cab?”

“You can stay at my place instead of a hotel.” Kuro offered and he hoped the darkness would hide his shy blush. Since they were kids, Mahiru would often think about others before himself. His actions that night showed Kuro that he hadn’t changed. Mahiru had helped everyone in the apartment without a thought to himself even though they were in the same situation. His rare kindness made Kuro feel protective of him.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you.” Mahiru said but he was excited for the opportunity to spend time with Kuro again. They both had busy and stressful jobs so it was difficult to spend time together and they eventually drifted apart. In school, he had a crush on Kuro and Mahiru regretted that he hadn’t been able to confess before they graduated. “If I stay, you have to let me cook breakfast to repay you.”

“You also have to promise not to faint when you see how dirty my house is. I don’t have housewife since you moved out.” The old nickname and his teasing made Mahiru giggle with nostalgia. He lightly slapped Kuro’s arm and he was able to feel his strong muscles through his shirt. He had a lean body so it surprised him how strong he became. Mahiru couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to be held by him.

Kuro stood and held out his hand to Mahiru to help him up. “I need to return my uniform to the fire station before we can go home. The trip shouldn’t be too long though.”

“Can I wear the jacket until we reach the station?” Mahiru asked. The only thing Kuro could do was nod in answer. He couldn’t say no to him when he looked up at him with such eager eyes. Kuro wondered if he knew how he affected him even after years apart. The jacket was a little big for Mahiru but Kuro thought it was attractive on him. “We have a lot to catch up on. You said that you don’t have a housewife. Are you single?”

“I haven’t met someone I would spend my life with.” Kuro told him and Mahiru felt hopeful.

Kuro heard the door open behind him and he looked back to see Mahiru stepping out of the bathroom. His hair was a little damp from his shower. After the stressful night with the fire, the warm shower and Kuro’s presence helped him relax. They had already eaten dinner together and Mahiru knew he should go to bed. However, he wanted to talk with Kuro more.

“Thank you for the clothes, Kuro.” Since he didn’t have clean clothes to wear, he let Mahiru borrow his pajamas. The shirt was a little big on him though. Mahiru ran his hand over the shirt that reached his thighs. Mahiru sat next to him on the couch. “I put my dirty clothes in the hamper and it looks very full. I’m guessing you haven’t done your laundry in three weeks.”

“Guilty.” He nodded. Mahiru started to laugh and Kuro was confused for a moment. He thought he would lecture him for being lazy. He must’ve seen the confusion on his face since he explained.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Kuro.” Nostalgia softened Mahiru’s smile yet the memories also made him realize how much he missed Kuro. They had a lot of fun together when they were roommates. He had been busy with his job and he didn’t have a chance to simply relax with a friend. “We should hang out like this again.”

“That would be nice.” Kuro agreed. His answer made Mahiru’s smile brighten and he took out his phone to exchange numbers. “I’m watching old re-runs. Do you want to watch with me or go to sleep? You must be tired. You can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. I know you’re going to insist that you should sleep on the couch but—”

“And I already guessed that you would offer to sleep out here so I would be comfortable. I thought of a compromise for us.” Mahiru told him. “We can camp on the floor in front of the television and watch movies until we fall asleep. It’ll be a good way to catch up as well. I don’t have work tomorrow so we can stay up late.”

“I’ll get the blankets from the closet. Can you make some snacks for our movie marathon?” He started to stand but then Mahiru placed his hand on his shoulder. When he looked down at him, he noticed that there was a blush on his face. Before he could ask him why his face was red, Mahiru kissed his cheek lightly.

“Thank you for everything, Kuro. I’ll get started on those snacks.” Mahiru stood and walked to the kitchen a few feet from them. He didn’t know how Kuro would react to the kiss and he suddenly felt shy. His curiosity got the better of him and he looked back to him. Kuro continued to sit in his shock and his cheeks were burning. He giggled and called back to him. “Where do you keep your popcorn, Kuro?”

“Bed.” Kuro said and then he groaned at himself. “Sorry, I meant to say the cupboard next to the fridge.”

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction

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keepingupwithfundies · 4 years

Text

CO 1109: Meet Gracie Duggar!

Abbie and John welcome their baby, and John makes a special surprise for his wife and daughter. The Seewalds make birdhouses and bird feeders. Jinger makes playdough for Felicity.

-T

Abbie is 38 and a half weeks, and she says she feels pretty good but she is really tired. In their home, John David is making a video for the baby. It will feature John and Abbie as well as some family members. John hasn't told Abbie too much, but he did interview Abbie for the video. John then goes to Joe & Kendra's to interview them for the video. Joe talks about growing up with John, and how romantic he became when he met Abbie. John then interviews his parents, and he asks them about when they knew Abbie was the one. John then interviews Jana, some of the other siblings, and he plans to edit it with old photos and put it together for after the baby's born.

At the Seewalds, the family is making and decorating bird houses and pine cone bird feeders. Spurgeon got a bird book, and the boys are interested in birds. Jessa and Ben guide the boys through the bird house construction process. The boys then set to painting. Jessa paints and says "H for Henry!" and Henry says "E then n and r and y." and Jessa is thrilled that he is suddenly spelling his name. The boys finish their painting. Next, Jessa covers pine cones in peanut butter for the boys to cover in seeds. "We made them so the bird wouldn't die," Spurgeon explains. Then, they go outside to hang the feeders in a tree. Overall, Ben says they'll be seeing a lot more birds around here.

At John & Abbie's, John is giving Abbie a pedicure since she can no longer reach her toes. The other guys talk about what they do for their wives, and it is very sweet but not a lot of pedicures. Abbie asks John if he'll paint their daughter's nails, and he agrees. Abbie says she will think the world of him. They talk a bit about their birth plan- stay at home as long as they can, then go to the hospital, and include both moms. John finishes the pedicure and says it could be any day now.

At the Vuolos', Jinger is making homemade playdough for Felicity to make it fun and memorable. Felicity is copying them, which is very sweet. Jeremy is busy with work and school, so Jinger works hard to keep Felicity entertained. Other moms talk about keeping their kids entertained. Jeremy talks about how his mom kept them entertained, and says he once fell asleep in playdough and got it stuck in his hair. Jessa says her kids have to keep it at the table. Felicity likes the playdough, but does put it in her mouth of course. Felicity takes a cute picture, and then Jinger lets her out to go roam.

Back at John & Abbie's, it's 2:30am and Abbie is in labor, and has been since 4:30pm. They call the moms, and they head over to be there with Abbie. Abbie says she thinks it is time to head in to the hospital, so they prepare to make their way in. John and Abbie arrive in the hospital, and Abbie is disappointed to learn that it might be false labor, she's only at 1cm, and the contractions stalled out. They head home. They labor at home with the moms and Abbie's dad. Abbie's contractions are getting more intense and close together. Abbie reads scriptures written for her at the baby shower. Abbie's dad also reads scripture to her- and Abbie said he didn't imagine having her dad at her labor, but he was a calming presence and she was glad he was there. Around 2:30, they head to the doctors office, and Abbie is at 3cm- some progress, but not much. The doctors sends them to the hospital to see if that can help progress. Abbie is a bit disappointed with the slow progress so far. Abbie and John are at the hospital, but they're exhausted.

Back at the main house, Jana takes the younger girls to the store to get provisions for John and Abbie. They end up filling a cart up, and heading into the hospital. Michelle meets them at the hospital as Abbie is in the tub. The family departs, worried about the slow progress. At 10pm, Abbie was only dilated until 5cm. Abbie gets an epidural and pitocin at that point. Between 11 and midnight, they moved rooms, got the epidural and pitocin. Abbie then slept for a couple of hours. Abbie progressed in her sleep, and at 2:15 Abbie is at 10cm dilated, and it is time to start pushing. Abbie pushed for 30 to 45 minutes, and at 3:21am, their daughter was born. Abbie and John are ecstatic to hold her for the first time. A card announces her name: Grace Annette Duggar.

Back home, John says they named their daughter Grace after Abbie's middle name and Annette after his mother's middle name. The family is coming over to meet her, and they are worried about fitting everyone in their tiny house. Everyone jokes about being stuck in together, but everyone is excited to meet Gracie. They take a picture of the girl cousins- Ivy, Addison, Bella and Gracie- and Jessa says they will all be best friends. Jim Bob notes that he correctly guessed the weight- 7lbs 11oz. John says he is looking forward to hanging out by themselves, and Abbie says it feels great to be a family of 3.

Two weeks later, John and Abbie are enjoying life as a family of 3. John calls her over to show her the finished video. John is excited to get to show Abbie the finished video. It is a very cute video showing their wedding, the pregnancy reveal at the photoshoot, and the well wishes from the families. It is a very cute video, and Abbie is so surprised. They are excited to show it to Gracie again when she is older.

#CO season 11 #recap #counting on

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that-writer-who-never-posts · 5 years

Text

You know what it's like

Another Jealous Tom (This time, 2k words of angst and 400 of a fluff smut.) - Special guest: Jake Gyllenhaal

This is a mix of the request by @schizophrenicstoryteller (who I can NEVER tag, thanks, tumblr...) and the beautiful idea by @elinesama (thank you so much for sending me it!❤)

Prompt: You're an actress and Tom gets jealous of your good relationship with your co-star Jake.

Warnings: there's a tiiiiny smut in the end. Couldn't help myself.

---

"Ladies and gentlemen..." The tv host announced. "Let's welcome the stars of the most awaited romcom of the year: Jake Gyllenhaal and Y/N Y/L/N!"

Everyone clapped and screamed as you and Jake entered the studio. Maybe that was the movie you loved to promote the most in your career, since you were doing it with one of your best friends ever.

Now you were sitting down for an interview on live tv, while your boyfriend, Tom, was watching it from the house you shared. When you walked in, he couldn't help but smile. He was so proud of you.

"It's so good to have you here." The interviewer said smiling as the two of you sat on the couch. "It wasn't easy."

"Yes." Jake laughed. "We've been traveling a lot."

"But we're not complaining!" You interrupted him. "We're grateful for this project."

"And you must be having a lot of fun on those travels." The host said, making the crowd giggle.

You looked around confused.

"True." You replied. "We've become great friends. The whole crew did."

"But isn't it harder having to do those make out scenes when they are with a good friend?"

"I think it's always hard." Jake admited. "Nothing personal, Y/N, you're great."

Tom was watching all that with an annoyed expression. Since the host suggested you and Jake were having fun and the crowd reacted like that, he started to feel weird. But that was... a little too much. You're great, Y/N. Great at what? Tom was an actor himself, he knew that actors don't rate their make out scenes, unless they really enjoy it. But it wouldn't be a scene if they did.

"Well... I hope I didn't suck that much." You laugh at him, and the audience goes wild.

Oh, so she's worried he didn't enjoy it?, Tom thought. Because looks like she did.

"Let's change the subject." Jake laughed too.

"Oh, no." The interviewer grabbed his water mug and pretended he was watching some great drama. "We're going to be on all gossip blogs tomorrow. Give us more information."

"What are you talking about?" You rolled your eyes.

"Yes..." Jake looked at him confused. "If they want gossip, I have a few things to say about Y/N."

You playfully punched him in the arm.

Too much. Tom stood up angrily and turned the tv off. He started to walk around the living room thinking about the last time he visited you on set. You and Jake didn't seem to have all that chemistry then. Maybe because it was in front of him. You really were a great actress.

The interview lasted a few more minutes, in which you finally got to talk about the movie, and not yourselves. The begining was a little annoying, the host probably didn't know you were engaged and kept trying to find something between you and your co-star that clearly wasn't there. But you were used to those childish things. After you were done, all you could think about was Tom... Getting home to him, getting to cuddle him a little before sleeping... It was so late, and he was probably as exhausted as you, but he always waited for you to come home.

---

You got out of the cab so quickly, you almost forgot to pay for it.

But when you opened the front door, you frowned a little. All the lights of the house were off. You walked towards your bedroom, afraid Tom would be hiding somewhere, ready to scare you. But you found him in bed, sleeping peacefully. To be honest, you felt a little disappointed... But when you saw your bed, the tiredness hit you, and you could totally understand him.

After a quick shower, you joined his side, laying down carefully to not wake him up.

Little did you know that he was awake. He wished he wasn't, because feeling your warmt close made him feel worse. But he didn't want to start a discussion that late, so he decided to pretend he wasn't laying down there overthinking for hours.

---

On the next morning, you woke up first, since you fell asleep a lot before him. So you watched him with a smile on your face, hoping he would wake up soon.

Didn't take too long for him to do so. When his eyes opened, the first thing he saw was your smile. His brain wasn't working correctly yet, so he tried to convince himself that it was nothing but a dream, that you weren't fooling him. But he eventually remembered everything.

"Good morning, babe." You said excitedly, approaching him for a kiss.

"Good morning." He replied coldly, pretending he didn't see that you tried to kiss him.

After rubbing his eyes a few times, he got up.

"Where are you going?" You asked sadly. "It's early, we can stay in a bed a little more. I missed you."

"Sorry." He didn't see you missing him while you were out there in public with your lover. "I have to solve a few things."

"Can we have breakfast together, at least?" You offer.

"Sure." He replied unamused.

---

You were sitting by the table quietly. Quietly for too long. There surely was something wrong, you thought maybe he got bad news yesterday and didn't want to tell you, but you needed to know.

"Are you okay?" You asked carefully.

"Yes." He replied almost automatically.

"Are you sure?"

He didn't even reply or look at you.

"How was your night yesterday?" You insisted.

"I don't know, how was yours?" His smile almost scared you.

"It was normal..." You were so confused. "I finished the interview and..."

"Oh, I know." He kept the weird smile on. "I watched the interview. Well, not all of it, only as far as my stomach could take."

"What?"

"The limit was when you started to get handsy." He finally looked at you. "To be more specific, cause it probably happened in many moments, it was right after he admited you shared your secrets with him."

"Stop." You couldn't believe what he was saying. "I know that host forced us into some awkward situations... But you should know how it is. You're an actor, and everyone always starts to ship you with your movie partner and..."

"The difference is that I don't play their game, like you did last night."

"I wasn't playing a game I..."

"So was it all real?" Tom raised his voice a little, making you unable to reply. "That's what I thought. But deep down, never wanted to believe."

"You're being ridiculous." You felt tears starting to form. "Jake and I are just friends. You know that. You've been around us many times, did you see anything between us?"

"Don't cry, I just..." He didn't say that in a comforting tone, it was an angry tone.

"You don't trust me." You cut him.

There was a long silence after that.

"I have to go." He said after a while.

He stood up and went to the bedroom, but you didn't move. You sat on the chair looking at nothing. At some point, he started to walk around the house looking like an absolute mess. He tried to organize his things, but his head was too far away to thing straight. He just walked in circles, buttoning his shirt up, tucking it inside his pants, looking for a jacket somewhere. Anyone who saw that would think he was on a hurry. But no, the things he had to do would start in about two hours, he was only on a hurry to get out of that house, hoping that being away from you would calm him down.

He walked towards the front door and stopped a few centimeters away from it. He took a deep breath and went back to the kitchen. When you saw him approaching you, you felt a little hope growing inside you. He seemed to be coming in slow motion. He got closer and closer and...

He kissed the top of your head, turned his back to you and left the house.

You were in shock for a moment. But the second you heard his car leaving the garage, you broke down in tears. How could he believe that you were cheating on him? How could he leave with nothing but an emotionless kiss?

That stupid interview. You wanted to sue that channel. You wanted to punch Jake, for real this time, because he played along. But you knew none of that would work... What you really needed to do was prove Tom that he was the only one for you. But how? If he wouldn't even look at you...

---

Tom was sitting alone on a bench. He was right, being away from the situation did make him see clearer. It made him see that he was clearly an idiot.

He was never a possessive person... Of course he was a little jealous of you sometimes, because he was afraid of losing you. But he never imagined one day his jealousy could be the actual guilty of a break up. Did he truly believe in what the media wanted the people to believe? Him, who was also a victim on those kind situations all the time...

He just wanted to throw everything away and run back home. He would apologize and beg you to not leave. But his watch warned him that he had 15 minutes to get in the theater for his play.

It was the hardest decision of his life. He loved his fans, he loved his job... He wouldn't want to risk his career for anything. But with you, it was different.

He got into his car and called the director. Told him he was very sick and couldn't make it. He told him to rearrange today's sessions to any other day, at any other time. The future didn't matter, you would only be part of his if he fixed the mistakes he made in the past.

---

You heard a car stopping in front of your house, but didn't pay attention. Not until you heard the door being unlocked, which made you jump from the sofa and look towards the house's entrance, to find Tom looking more like a mess than he did becore he left.

"Tom?" You said, sitting straight. "Shouldn't you be at..."

"No." He said walking towards you and kneeling in front of couch, so your eyes were on the same height. "There's nothing I should be doing right now other than apologizing. I'm so sorry, my love... Of course I trust you. I just tend to think that all this happiness I found by your side is too much for me... And I can't live without it anymore."

"Tom..." You cupped his face with your hands. "You don't have to worry about that. This is not too much for you, this is what you deserve... I was so angry because the idea of leaving you for anyone else seems ridiculous. You're the only one for me. You'll always be."

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a passionate kiss. You always shared what people call "movie kisses", but that one was more than that. It was needy, it meant 'I'm sorry', it meant 'I can't afford to lose you'.

He needed to get you as close as possible, so he pulled you, making you fall on your knees in front of him, but that didn't break your kiss. Nothing in the world would break that kiss. You kept your mouths almost glued to each other's whenever you had to stop to catch a breath.

Your heavy breathing mixed to his was driving you crazy. You needed to be his in every possible way at that moment. He seemed to think the same way, because he naturally helped you to remove his shirt and did the same to yours before you could realize. Pants, underwears, all flying around the room without excitation.

When you were completely naked, Tom sat down and pulled you to sit on his lap, and you could feel his hardness against your belly. Your eyes met and you felt something knew. You didn't find lust or darkness in his eyes, neither of you looked for pleasure more than you looked for belonging to each other.

You lifted your hips so he could place himself at your entrance and, as soon as he did, you lowered your hips slowly, focused on the feeling him stretching you. At first, he kept both hands on your lower back, forcing you to move painfully slowly. But your hearts still beated fast, because of the previous rush. So as soon as Tom was sure it wouldn't hurt you, that you were ready, he removed his hands from your back, which allowed you to go harder and harder, and you started immediatly.

You began to kiss again, like your lips had missed each other for centuries. His hands traveled your entire body, caressing some spots, squeezing others, adding pressure here, barely brushing there...

While your hands never left his tense shoulders, holding to them while your hips found the perfect angle and pace. Suddently, his hands stopped, one of each of your thighs, squeezing them hard enough to leave a mark, and his moans got louder and more frequent.

When he spilled himself inside you, you moaned loudly and came too. Tom let go of your thighs and placed his hands protectively on your back, pulling you to lay on his chest, and you stood like that for a while. On the floor, him still inside you.

"Please..." You almost whispered against his chest. "Don't leave like that ever again."

"I promise." He held you tighter. "As you could see, I didn't last a few hours away from you."

---

Taglist:

@spidey-holland7

@theoneanna

@inlovewith3

@too-cold-for-youhere

@princetale

@drakesfiance

@kcd15

@hiddlestylesbaby

@yzssie

@crescent-night

@thepowerofawkwardcompelsyou

@hiddlesbitch1

@schizophrenicstoryteller

@damyzzzzz

@scorpionchild81

@purplerain85

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melyaliz · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2 Enter the SandMan

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel / X-men

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x OC

Summary: No matter when she goes to bed Gemma always feels exhausted when she wakes up.

Notes: special thank you to all the support I have gotten so far on this fic. Gemma has been an OC I have had for some time now but always seem to struggle to tell her story (for some reason)

Also, I feel like not a lot of happening but I promise it will pick up.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

--------

They had been dealing with these mutants for over a year now. Not consistently but every once in a while they would pop back up. Only stealing weird stuff from power cells. Once they had stolen a whole truck full of household batteries (like AA and stuff). Another time they had broken into a string of car dealerships but only took the engines

Regardless they would strike and then disappear just as quickly.

Xavier had said that it was possible they had been causing crimes for longer but the X-men had only come upon them recently.

Because of their mutant powers he had been worried they would ruin all the hard work he was doing to build a better world where Mutants and Humans could co-exist. They weren’t shy about using their powers both in a fight and when they were busy taking whatever they wanted.

Peter had never really thought much about it.

They were just more baddies they needed to fight.

Until he met one of them on the bus.

Gemma

-----------

Gemma yawned again rubbing her eyes as she turned on her boombox letting the music pulse through the room. James Hetfield’s gravelly voice filled her small bedroom as she changed from her work clothes into something more comfortable for bed.

It was soothing, the energy pulsing from her speakers. Not that many people would call the tunes of Metallic soothing but she wasn't many people. Sitting down in front of the boombox she hummed along letting the manic sounds flow through her like sparks from a current. As weird as it was to say the fast-paced rhythm was calming she couldn’t explain it any other way.

Getting up she threw herself down onto her bed letting out a low moan as she buried her head in her pillow. Closing her eyes letting sleep overcome her. Praying it would be a peaceful night. That her body would just rest. Just let her have one good night’s sleep.

Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently

Her dreams were filled with weird lights flashing behind her eyelids. Yelling and screaming. Flickers of energy flashing like lighting across her face as monsters with human faces she didn’t recognize danced around her. Their deformed bodies flickering back and forth as if the lighting itself was summoning them.

And a silver-haired boy.

Running around her faster and faster. Her headphones on his head.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

Gemma found herself laying flat on her back on the hard floor of her bedroom, her body unable to move as she looked up at her ceiling blinking a few times. Reality slowly seeped into her consciousness images from her dreams fading.

All but one, a silver-haired boy.

Well man really, but you know.

“Maybe I need to stop playing music before I go to bed” she muttered sitting up rubbing temples trying to bring some feeling back into her body. It felt so numb and exhausting. As if she had just run for miles. Getting up she turned off the buzzing alarm on her clock before dragging herself into the bathroom to try and get herself ready for the day.

“Morning!” Drew said as his older sister stumbled down into the kitchen looking like death itself. He would never say it to his sister but later she really didn’t seem… herself. “I made coffee,” the 12-year-old said, holding out a mug.

Gemma smiled gratefully taking it in her hands letting the warmth fill her body before taking a sip. “Ok but why are you the coolest brother ever?”

Drew shrugged “It’s my gift.”

“Oh, if only I could be as cool.”

“Maybe someday my young padawan”

“Teach me your ways yoda” Gamma chuckled already feeling the effects of the caffeine bringing her back to life.

“Speaking of the best movie that has ever been made, are we still on for marathoning tomorrow?”

“Don’t you have like, cool friends you want to hang out with?”

“Yeah but my sister said she would make her sugar popcorn and I got a bunch of star wars themed snacks with that money you gave me.” As he said this he pulled out a box of C-3PO's cereal out of the cabinet. “I mean look at this,”

“I mean, I know I want to hang out with you and quote Star Wars ad nauseam until our sweet dear parents make us turn it off or at least speak with inside voices but I assumed you had like… you know kids your own age you wanted to hang with.”

“It’s the summer we hung out all week. Weekends are our time.”

“Sounds perfect to me. I literally can’t wait.”

After a hearty breakfast of sugary themed cereal and coffee Gemma grabbed her bag and rushed off to the bus stop while Led Zeppelin cheered her on through her new headphones.

Normally Gemma wasn’t one to really pay attention to the other patients on the bus. Keeping her head down and enjoying whatever mixed tape she had made that week. But as she walked onto the bus that morning she couldn’t help but notice a silver-haired boy sitting at the back.

Was he stalking her?

Naw probably just had the same route.

---

Peter was stalking her. All night he had rushed around unnoticed by the small family that resided in the house Gemma had entered.They were your classic American family. Two kids, a boy and a girl (if not a bit of an age gap) with loving parents. They said grace and talked about their days over a roast.

Picture perfect.

Besides the constant yawning, Gemma seemed happy. Smiling and engaging with them. Very polite and even seemed to care about the work story her father had to say or what drama Karen was causing in her mom’s sewing circle.

Shit that Peter would have bashed his head in if he had to listen too.

Shit, a villain like the woman he had fought wouldn’t sit through. Or at least with a genuine smile like the one Gemma wore. It was like she actually enjoyed family time.

After dinner, they all watched some TV but Gemma had chosen to rest early. Going to her room where she blasted some music from her stereo turning around letting her hands hover just a few inches from the speaker. This was the first time he noticed any non-normal action from her. Just her standing there, eyes closed, head tilted back, mouth open slightly letting the music wash over her with her hands so close to the sound it was as if they craved it.

After a few moments she removed her hands then walked toward her bed face-planting on the bed and promptly fell asleep.

Which was his cue to leave. Yes, he was stalking her but he wasn’t a creeper. Time to find out who this weird girl was.

A quick break-in and a couple photo books later and he learned she was a VERY average girl. Normal grades, all comments in her yearbook generic like “good luck” “rock on” with a few quotes from songs, all heavy rock and metal. (At least she had a good taste in music)

There was one thing though, it looked like in her early years she had dark brown hair and eyes which slowly through her teens faded into the white hair and bright blue that she had now. Probably had something to do with her mutation.

This also confirmed she was one of the four mutants.

Which was almost impossible to believe considering how generic and bland this girl’s life seemed.

It was a puzzle.

---------

Their eyes met in that awkward “so should we act like we know each other or not’ look. In the light of day and (in the loosest term possible) rest, the silver-haired boy wasn’t bad looking. Large brown eyes and that laid back “whatever” attitude that Gemma had always fallen for in high school.

But she wasn’t in high school anymore and he was just some weird guy on the bus.

Deciding to not engage she flashed him a half-smile before taking a seat in the middle of the bus. Ok, maybe she shouldn’t have smiled. But it was that christen upbringing engaged in her.

Be kind to others.

Or some bullshit like that.

“You forgot your headphones yesterday.”

Gemma basically jumped out of her skin when the boy appeared out of nowhere now sitting next to her in the empty seat. Holding out small headphones in one hand for her to take.

“I…” she checked behind her to confirm that the seat he had been in was empty, it was. “I didn’t forget them,” she said, turning her attention back to him. He smelled good, was that bad for her to think? But he did so maybe it was just more of a fact. Kind of like fun. He smelled like fun. Which shouldn’t have a smell… but if it did it would be how this boy smelled.

He was still sitting there holding out the headphones for her, a look of confusion on his face.

“I gave them to you.” she clarified, “So you could listen to some better music than Pink Floyd.”

“Outch, what do you have against Floyd?”

She chuckled, shrugging, “Honestly I don’t, I just felt like razzing you.”

The boy shrugged fighting back a smile, (was it ok to like this girl if she was a bad guy?) “Fair.”

Both of them sat in an awkward silence for a while.

“Well this is my stop” the boy said as the bus slowed.

“Cool, bye”

And like that he was gone.

Weirdo.

Cute, but still a weirdo.

Not that she was really one to talk. She was VERY far from being normal.

Turing up her music she leaned back in her chair letting it play as she held the cassette player in her lap trying to make sure she didn’t touch it with her hands. Sometimes her powers would drain electronics when she wasn’t paying attention, especially when she was tired.

Tired.

Why was she always so tired?

Music playing through her head and thoughts of a silver-haired boy played around in her mind as the world rushed past her.

And that was the last thing she remembered.

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hdgaywriting · 4 years

Text

Eighth Year - Drarry Fic Part 4

The weeks crept on at Hogwarts and before you knew it, quidditch season was upon them. Harry was filled with new excitement at the prospect of having an uninterrupted quidditch season. He was sure to help Gryffindor fly to the top and secure the cup. He and Ginny were co-captains this year, and tryouts had gone brilliant. Ron even made the team again! Another great thing about quidditch is that it was something Harry and Draco actually had in common. The two boys would wake up together and get ready for practice, trudging through morning dew on the pitch. Draco had even lent Harry his broom polish, and in return Harry had given him some tips on broom stabilization.

It was after a particularly fun scrimmage that the two Seekers had a profound moment. They were in their room, changing out of their sweaty uniforms that Harry again noticed Draco’s silvery scars. In the spirit of their new-founded familiarity with each other (friendship was still a strong word) he decided to ask Draco about it.

“Malfoy, how’d you get those scars on your chest?” The grey eyes looked up at him and Draco’s face turned tense and cold. Harry thought he was going to get ignored, but to his surprise Draco opened his mouth to speak.

“My house was broken into over the Summer. Crazed half-bloods who were mad at my parents. Said they were fans of the Order of the Phoenix and I should rot. It was some sort of spell I’d never heard of.” Draco paused and Harry saw his face contort in pain, making his sharp features more vicious. “Something similar to sectumsempra.” Draco stared harshly at the floor, unwilling to meet Harry’s gaze.

On the inside, Harry’s stomach lurched. Sectumsempra was the spell he cruelly used on Draco their sixth year. It had nearly killed him. It quite literally slashed him all over. He knew he couldn’t take it back, but his heart wanted to fix it. He walked forward, closer to his roommate. Draco stood still, statuesque. Harry impulsively cupped Draco’s chin in his hand. He heard Malfoy’s sharp intake of breath, a sound Harry knew was out of surprise. He made Draco look him in the eyes.

“I was wrong to use that spell.” Harry said. He meant it with every part of him. Draco’s face didn’t move a muscle. He continued to stare at Harry with a blank gaze. He was unreadable, like every trace of humanity was stuck under the surface. Harry dropped his hand and left the room with his broom in his hands. He needed to be in the sky for a while.

Draco ran his hand through his tidy blonde hair as soon as Harry left the room. He could have leaned forward and kissed Potter right there. Draco sat on the edge of his bed, whole body tense. His hand absentmindedly traced the long scars on his chest. If these things are what end up bringing Potter to me, I guess they were worth it, he thought.

Draco had been falling in love with Harry for weeks now. All the animosity had melted away. Living with Harry showed a different side of him. He wasn’t obnoxious and pompous like Draco thought. He was damaged goods, and his broken matched Draco’s. For the first time in eight years, Harry Potter wasn’t unattainable.

Draco thought back to the night Harry had his nightmare. He had rubbed Harry’s shoulder, then back, trying to soothe him. Harry had even placed his head on Draco’s shoulder and fell asleep. Poor thing was too exhausted to lay back down himself. It hurt Draco to see Harry hurting that much. It hurt him even more to realize he had feelings for the boy, as he fell asleep in Harry’s bed. Draco tried to refuse them. He tried being mean, lasing out, and avoiding the room. But he felt off. Nobody else at Hogwarts wanted much to do with him. The pure blood families were disappointed in him, the half-bloods hated him, Snape wasn’t around to protect him anymore, and he’d even lost Crabbe and Goyle, as moronic as they were. Draco realized he couldn’t afford to be mean to Potter. If he pushed the Golden Trio away, he was really all alone. So, he stopped. And he waited. And then the feelings came back. The more Draco stopped pretending they weren’t there, the happier he became. He didn’t put his energy into hating Potter, he put his energy into loving him.

Draco had gone from helping Potter out once by waking him up, to falling asleep in his bed, to opening up to Harry about his feelings. Even now, Harry cared about the things that happened to Draco. He had even apologized for hurting him. Draco knew in that moment that he was in love with Harry Potter. The problem was, though, that Harry was in love with Ginny Weasley, and probably wouldn’t ever speak to Draco again after they graduated.

Harry flew in loops around the castle. He was supposed to stay near the quidditch pitch, but quite frankly, he didn’t care. Flying had always been his favorite way to clear his mind, but now that he was of legal age, drinking wasn’t half bad either. Once his feet were firmly on the ground, he marched to Ron and Hermione’s room.

“Need a drink.” Ron and Hermione blinked at his demand. Ron shrugged and got up, dusting off his trousers.

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked. “What’s wrong?” Harry briefly explained some tale of how he was having a hard time adjusting. What he couldn’t bring himself to say is that he couldn’t get Draco off his mind and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to be around him. More than he wanted to be around his girlfriend, which made him feel even worse. Hermione gave in pretty easily.

“I’m just going to grab some money,” Harry declared as he was walking through the bathroom to his suite. Draco was looking at him bustling around the room collecting his things to go out. Harry looked at his roommate, and before he realized he’d said it, he invited Draco drinking with him and his friends.

The youngest Malfoy paused, mostly in shock. “Sure,” he replied, apprehensive.

“Alright then,” Harry said, and scurried through the bathroom again. He told Ron and Hermione about their guest, and only got minimal hesitation. This term Draco hadn’t been so typically horrid to be around. He and Hermione actually got on quite well. Once Draco got over the whole muggle-born thing, that is.

The four students were down at the bar soon after, enjoying the ambiance (and their mugs of alcohol). Ron got a sipping whiskey, Hermione a rum and coke, Harry a strong gin and tonic, and Draco a vodka martini, all of which were on Harry’s dime. The gang laughed at Draco’s order, calling it quite prissy. To their surprise, Draco, in an attempt to shut them up, ordered them a round of dragon’s fire. Four shot glasses of clear, bubbling and steaming liquid were soon at their disposal.

“Drink up,” Draco said, tossing it back. His face squinched up a bit, but otherwise he seemed mild mannered, and motioned for the group to take it. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, apprehensive, but enjoying the prospect of a challenge.

“Fine,” Ron said. He smelled the drink and gagged. “That’s awful!” he said.

“It’s quality” Draco emphasized. “Not so Irish anymore, are you, Weasley?”

“Oh, you’re going to eat your words, Malfoy.” Ron said, taking the shot. A moment after, Ron was howling, jumping up and down and Draco was hysterical. Hermione and Harry were also doubled over, laughing deeply from the belly. Once he calmed down, Ron was warning Harry and Hermione how awful it was.

“It can’t be that bad,” Hermione said. Ron gave her a look. “C’mon, Harry,” Hermione said, picking up her drink and pinching her nostrils closed. Harry laughed and picked his up as well.

“Can we have a chaser?” he asked Draco.

“Of course not,” he said and folded his arms across his chest. Harry shrugged.

“3…2…” Hermione counted, looking paler as she went. “1!” The two tossed back the drink. The taste was horrendous. It was so dry and so acidic. The putrid burn coated their throats. Hermione was gagging and Harry was trying his best not to. It felt like their ears were smoking. Harry could barely hear Ron and Draco laughing maniacally at them.

“She’s going to be sick!” Ron howled. Hermione had her hand clasped tight on her mouth. “Be right back!” Ron said, still grinning cheekily. He helped hoist Hermione up and led her to the bathroom, already working on scooping her hair back.

Harry had composed himself (mostly) and was gulping down his gin. Draco was smirking at him when he looked up. “How did you do that?” Harry asked.

“Aunt Bella always had it around. Was her drink of choice. Said only tough blokes could handle it, and Merlin did she want me to be a tough bloke…”

“Did she want to torture you?!” Harry asked, before realizing he had better get more respectful of the deceased.

“Maybe!” Draco said with a laugh. “She was so mean!” Harry was unsure why Draco was speaking so poorly of his dead aunt, but all that alcohol was hitting him.

“Maybe she’s where you got it from,” Harry said cautiously. Draco looked at him with a blank face. A knot tied in Harry’s stomach. He’d gone too far. “I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly.

“Don’t be,” Draco said. “My family sucks. The only halfway decent one was my mum and she left me, so what’s the point in standing up for that lot?” Harry was taken aback. He was starting to think Draco was more drunk that Harry initially thought. He went to sip his gin and tonic, but was met with only ice and air.

“A lager,” Harry said to the bar witch, a few yards down. She nodded at him.

“One for me as well,” Draco said. He pulled on his shirt, straightening it out and fixed his blonde hair. “I’m not sloshed, Potter,” he said when he noticed Harry’s worried look. A martini and a shot, and I’m not even done with the martini yet. I just didn’t want to get up to bother the bar witch again.”

Hermione and Ron came back, just then. Hermione looked sheepish and Ron looked very smug. Harry raised his bottle at the pair and took a swig. Hermione ordered a gilly water for herself and sat down.

“Feeling alright, Granger?” Malfoy asked.

“Just peachy,” Hermione said. “Not sure how much longer we’ll stay.” And she had meant it. Ron and Hermione only stayed another half hour before Hermione demanded they go home. You can have a boy’s night and drink yourselves sick without me another night, she had yelled. So, it was just Harry and Draco, who were both giggly and drunk by the time they were left alone.

“Do you hate me?” Harry said out of the blue. His drunk brain had severely lowered his inhibitions.

“Do I look like I hate you?” Draco retorted. “We’ve been schoolmates for eight years, Potter. If I’d hated you I’d’ve transferred,” he slurred.

“But you were watching me for You Know Who. You had to be there.”

“What?!” Draco said. “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t watching you for him, I was watching you ‘cause I liked watching you.” Draco said. “Don’t be such a prat!”

Harry was stunned. In his brain, Draco had always been out to get him. “No, you hate me!” Harry insisted.

“No, Harry, I don’t.” Draco said. He had put on his best sober voice, trying to make Harry believe him. Harry was focused on how calm his old nemesis could be. “Harry, I could never have been your friend. My family hated Dumbledore, and you by proxy. Voldemort lived in my house!” he said in a much more hushed tone, “couldn’t very well be your best mate, but if he had wanted me to go after you, you would have known. Besides, I knew Snape was a spy.” He sat up again. Harry hadn’t realized that Draco had moved so close to him. The recollection of his hot breath coming out in plumes on Harry’s skin struck him.

“Were you scared?” Harry said after a moment. He pushed his empty bottle out of the way and leaned in close, subconsciously wanting to shut the gap between him and Draco.

“No,” Draco said, automatically. Harry kept looking at him, not falling for it. Draco clenched his jaw before continuing, “Yes. Everyday. Scared out of my mind. Scared my family would die, scared they’d kill me for not murdering anyone. Scared for you…” he stopped in his tracks.

“I didn’t know you cared,” Harry said.

“I didn’t know you thought I was really a monster,” Draco said back. Harry sat straight up again. Draco was looking down. “When you’re told you’re a monster, and later asked to play the part of a monster, I guess it makes sense that people think you are one.” He explained.

“Who called you a monster?” Harry asked. Draco looked up.

“Aunt Bella. We were close when I was young. I came out to her when I was little. She was the first one. She told me that was awful. Only horrid monsters were gay. I shut down then and there. Never told anyone else.”

Harry was angry, now. “She’s wrong,” he spat. “Wrong.” Draco said nothing, so Harry flagged down the bar witch and ordered another round of those putrid shots. He thought about how Draco had just said he was gay. Did this change anything? He didn’t think so, at least not in a bad way. It actually explained a lot. Meanwhile, Draco was convincing himself that he actually had just come out (again), to none other than Harry Potter. Harry Potter was now the only living person besides Draco to know he was gay. The shots were placed in front of the boys.

“Go on,” Harry said. “Show off for me.” That was the last thing he remembered.

Much of the night was foggy, for both of the boys, but their blackout faded when they were back in their suite. Harry came-to on his bathroom floor, arms folded over the toilet seat. Draco wasn’t far away from him, sitting and leaning against the counter and holding a glass of water.

“More water?” he asked Harry. His black hair flopped over his eyes as he shook his head no. The thought of anything going down his throat made him dry heave over the toilet. In an instant Draco was rubbing Harry’s back. “It’s okay,” he said.

“When did we get here?” Harry asked. Draco blinked back at him.

“An hour or two ago? Don’t you remember?”

“No,” Harry said. “I don’t remember much after that second dragon shot.”

“We drank ourselves stupid,” Draco said. “We got kicked out of the bar. I threw up on the way home, and you started throwing up right outside the castle. I got Weasley to help me get you up here because you are SO difficult, and we’ve been sat here ever since.” Harry smiled tiredly.

“Did Ron go back to bed?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head yes.

“I had to convince him I wasn’t going to throw you off the turret, first.” Harry laughed.

“You and I don’t have the best track record,” Harry said. Draco laughed bitterly. Harry liked the sound. It was like Draco wanted to laugh but didn’t want to let himself go. The reservation was endearing.

“We’re changing that.” Draco’s statement wasn’t optional. He firmly meant that he and Harry were going to stop hating each other. Harry shook his head yes too quickly, giving himself another round of the spins. He cupped his head in his hands. Draco was at his side again.

Harry looked up, peering at the blonde boy through strands of black hair. He thought about how kind Draco was. How smart. How complex. How did he ever hate him? Harry felt butterflies in his stomach.

“I want to kiss you,” Harry said. Draco’s eyes widened.

“Potter…” he said. Harry’s gaze didn’t falter. Draco’s mind was going a thousand miles an hour.

“Never mind,” Harry said. Draco felt the pit of his stomach drop and disappointment cloud his vision. “I must smell awful,” Harry laughed.

“I don’t give a damn,” Draco said. He gripped Harry’s shirt collar and brought their faces together. It was so easy, kissing Harry Potter. It was so natural. Harry pushed Draco down onto his elbows and tucked one hand in the blonde hair. He grabbed Draco tightly and kissed him fiercely. Once he backed off Draco was dumbfounded. He couldn’t speak.

“Fuck,” Harry said, more to himself than anyone. “Ginny…” he muttered, and left the room.

__________________________________________________

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