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gainingexjock · 4 years ago

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THE EX JOCK

Harry had been a great athlete in high school, the typical jock type. He did football, wrestling, basketball and occasionally a bit of soccer. He always had a love for food but his activities meant he still had a trim and athletic physic. As he began his final year in high school he found exam stress and work meant he had to stop doing so much sport, in fact he decided to stop altogether until his exams were out of the way. But he hadn’t altered his diet to match his new found laziness, and so the weight began to pile on

Harry came home after school in September after a long day and revision after school, the first thing he did was head to the fridge and cupboards . He grabbed some coke, a bag of share Doritos, two chocolate bars and a bad of haribos. He ran upstairs quick and closed the sort to his room, he removed his clothes until he was just in his boxers and sat in his gaming chair snacking away while playing Xbox with some friends. Half a hour passed and he had finished all the food so headed downstairs to grab some more, as he was rumadging through the fridge his mum came through the door. “Hey bby sweetie, what are you doing?”

“Just grabbing some snacks mum”

“Well don’t eat too much cause I am making lasagne for tea”

Harry nodded and headed back upstairs to finish his snacks, 1 hour passed and he could hear his mum call from downstairs that dinner was ready. He chucked on some joggers and made his way downstairs his belly having a slight jiggle to it, his mum was a good cook but didn’t eat a lot herself. Instead she made a nice big lasagne for Harry with garlic bread and pizza on the side, while she had a salad. Harry finished the whole dish as well as the rest of the food. He sat back in his chair to let his belly hang out, it was firm and stuffed to the brim with food.

“Oh darling, I am glad you have a good appetite”

“Me too mum *burrppp, oh sorry pardon me”

“Why don’t u go sit down and I will bring you some dessert”

Harry took his plate to the dishwasher and went to sit in the couch, he found it discomforting to find a comfy position. He was too full and his belly to firm, his mum came over with some chocolate cake and ice cream.

“Here u go sweetpea”

“Thanks mum but I think I am too full to eat anymore”

“How about I rub your tummy while you have it hmm I don’t want to see you go hungry”

Harry obliged knowing he did want that cake, so he sat there scoffing his face while he felt his mums warm hands massage his stomach. The peace didn’t last long as his mum had something she needed to say

“Hun, I didn’t want to say anything and I have fed u up tonight so u didn’t feel bad but I think stopping your sports was a bad idea, you have gained a lot of weight scince”

“I know mum but tbh I am too busy for sports and plus it’s kind of nice not having to do it anymore”

“But you were so good at it, I don’t mind you gaining weight in fact you were maybe too skinny but I don’t want u to fell unhappy in your body”

“I don’t mum, in fact the size is nice. I feel more comfortable and we haven’t had nice moments like this for years while I did sports”

“Yes I guess you are right, it’s nice to spend more time with you”

“I want to tell you something, I actually want to get bigger and I hope you will help me do that mum”

“Ofc I will Harry, if that’s what u want sugarplum”

Harry was quite surprised his mum had agreed so easily, but he knew she was a feeder, she always had made big meals for everyone that came round and he knew she wouldn’t deny him what he wanted.

-January-

All the parents stared as an obese Harry came waddling out the school doors. The last few months had been endless food and laziness for Harry, his mum had definitely pulled through and was helping him gain weight. When he told his mum about his want to gain he was about 230 pounds but now he was edging 350. It wasn’t long till all the parent and kids saw Harry’s mum pull up in her big suv, she got out and helped Harry into the back giving him some snacks to eat on the way home. They where driving the way home and Harry noticed they had pulled into a drive thru, his mum ordered and passed the three bags into the back

“Here u go darling, u look stressed so here is some food to make u feel better”

Harry gobbles it all up before they got home, his belly popping out from under his small t shirt every time they went over a pothole or speedbump. They pulled up onto the drive but there was another car there, to Harry’s surprise his dad get out. Harry’s dad left home four years ago and was again a typical high school jock kinda guy, Harry hadn’t seen him for just over a year

Harry’s mum helped him out the car, his dads face turned to a look of anger and surprise

“Wth happened to you Harry !!”

“Don’t shout at him please james”

“Last time I saw you, you were a successful sports player and now look at you, a huge butterball who probably can’t run across the playing field ! You are a disgace”

Harry could feel his tears beginning to form in his eyes, he ran as fast as his fat legs could carry him to his room where he stripped down and lay on his bed. He could hear his mum shouting and then his dad slamming the car door and driving away

There was a knock at the bedroom door and his mum came in, he was completely naked but his new belly hid his private parts so he wasn’t too fussed. His mum sat down on the bed next to him and passed him a Swiss role she had brought from the store.

“I’m sorry hun, you know I love you and I think you still look as good as ever”

Harry felt better feeling the support from his mum and embraced her with a big hug. The months that passed were great, he continued school but as soon as he got home his mum would feed him whatever he wanted and he got bigger and bigger every day. He started getting comments at school from his older jock friends but he was soon gonna be leaving so he didn’t care too much. That day when he got home from school, he saw a furniture moval van pulled up on his neighbours driveway, he knew their house had been up for sale but had no idea it had sold. He went inside to see his mum had just finished baking a nice big chocolate cake, he dropped his bag on the floor and headed over to lick the icing

“ no Harry, this isn’t for you. It’s a moving in present for the couple next door. We are taking it over in a bit, I hear they have a son about your age maybe you two could become friends hmm”

Harry was annoyed at being denied the cake so just nodded, grabbed some Doritos from the cupboard and headed upstairs. He didn’t particularly want to meet this new kid as he would probably take the mick out of Harry and his ballooning size which was now over 400. So he was anxious to hear his mum shout from downstairs that it was time to go welcome them

Harry quickly chucked some joggers and a white tee on and headed downstairs, him and his mum walked round to the neighbours house which looked a lot less chaotic than earlier. Harry was puffing from the walk over and was really not liking the idea of meeting this kid. His mum knocked on the door and after a few seconds it was opened my a big man, with a large beard and a even larger stomach. Harry guessed he must have been around 300 pounds, he was quickly joined by a smaller more petite lady with brown hair.

“Hi, sorry to disturb you cause I know you must be busy unpacking. But we live next door and wanted to bring this cake as a welcome gift. This is my son harry”

“Well that’s very kind of you, it looks delicious” the man said

“Sorry my husband is forgetting his manors, I am Julie and this is my husband Charles, our son Sam is around. Why don’t you come in and I shall grab him”

Harry and his mum came in and sat on the couch by the kitchen, as Harry sat down his shirt rode up leaving the softest part of his belly exposed. He quickly tugged it down hoping no one saw. In the hall he could see Julie come down the stairs, and following her at a much slower pace came Sam. Well Sam’s belly, Harry couldn’t quite see his face yet. Harry was in awe , sam must have been around the same size as him but with blonde curly hair and a huge double chin. He was wearing shorts that let his big wobbly thighs loose and a black tee that stood no chance of slimming the big belly down. He smiled and sat down next to his parents

“ so how long have you and Harry lived here?” Julie asked

“About 7 years now, Harry goes to the local school which I presume sam will be joining ?”

“Oh no, same finished his exams before we moved so idk what he is gonna do yet, perhaps get a job somewhere local. In fact sam why don’t you take Harry to your room you two can get to know each other better”

Sam agreed and signalled Harry to follow him, it took a couple of tries for both of the boys to get off the couch. Harry couldn’t help but look at Sam’s big jiggly ass as they walked up the stairs, it really was very plump

“Here is my room, it’s nicer than my last one a lot bigger”

“It’s really nice” Harry replied

“Take a seat”

The two boys sat on the bean bags sam had in his room, Harry knew it was a bad idea as it would be hard for him to get back up again after.

“Do u wanna play some Xbox” Sam asked

“Yeah defo”

“Let me just grab some snacks, why don’t u put a game in”

Sam soon came back up with two big bowls of crisps, chocolate and some coke for them both. They spent a good hour eating and playing some video games, Harry reached back into the bowl to grab some crisps to find it was empty

“Oh sorry mate, I have quite a big appetite I shall grab some more” Sam said as he patted his belly

He tried to get up, getting a bit flustered in the process. He pushed himself up with his left arm trying to get onto his feet, but his weight betrayed him and he came crashing to the floor again with a huge thud, spilling his coke all over his t shirt in the process

“You okay mate?” Harry said while quickly supporting sam back onto the bean bag

“Yeh thank you, I dunno why I couldn’t get up”

Harry could see sam was getting upset

“Don’t worry, listen I probs will struggle to get out this seat as well. U ain’t the only one with a big belly in the way haha”

Sam smiled a little

“Haha thanks, yeh I guess we are both big boys. I need to change my top though”

Sam slowly made his way over to the dresser, deciding to just shuffle over as he couldnt quite get the energy to push himself off the bean bag

He opened the drawer and grabbed a t shirt

“Sorry this too is a bit small but I haven’t unpacked the rest of my clothes yet”

“Don’t worry mate”

Same heaved himself up and slowly removed the soaking t shirt exposing his stretch marked belly to Harry. Harry didn’t quite know why he was so attracted to Sam, perhaps it was because they were so similar in size or maybe Harry had never seen such a big boy before apart from himself. Sam had a beautiful body, a big belly that hanged over the waistline of his shorts and moobs that dropped either side, he slid the new top over his large belly but it didn’t quite cover it

“I figured as we are both big it didn’t matter if I took my top off in front of u haha”

“It’s fine”

Sam came over and lowered himself again

“Listen, I wanna speak big guy to big guy. What’s it like for you? I have been big for a long time and I can’t really remeber a time I wasn’t overweight. I hope you don’t think me rude but you are a big guy and honestly man you look great” Sam said

“ well tbh sam I love it, I have really plumped up this year after stopping football and all my other sports. Mate you look great as well, I don’t really know what to say but the belly suits you”

“Thanks man, shall we get some more food, I bet my parents won’t mind if we order pizza”

“Sure let’s do it”

The boys pigged out massively that evening, not moving from the bean bags on Sam’s bedroom floor, in fact Harry stayed there that night as they where both too full to even try and get up. They both slept there in their briefs with their belly on show.

The boys became good friends over the next few months, Sam had gained a lot as he didn’t get the job his parents were hoping he would. So he lived a life of laziness and eating. Harry had just finished his exams and began his holidays, his mum fed him well when she got home from work and during the day he did the same as Sam

One day Harry was laying on his bed now weighing a colossal 500 pounds, he was watching netlix in his briefs while stuffing his favourite, a chocolate Swiss role. Suddenly Sam came bursting through the bedroom door

“Oh shit sorry man, your mum said to come up I had no idea”

Harry quickly tried to adjust himself but he hadn’t moved for a good few days and was weighed down by his belly

“It’s okay mate”

“I just , ugh he grunted” he began to sweat and his breath quickened

“ I can’t get up”

Sam came over

“Oh shit mate, let me help you”

Harry pushed and pushed while sam pulled and eventually he was now sat up right, his huge belly hanging between his legs. Sam sat next to him making the bed creak so much they thought it would break.

“Thanks man” Harry panted

“ no worries dude I mean you have seen me in this situation before haha”

“I am such a disgrace, you must think me such a slob”

“No Ofc not, I do the exact same thing when I am home. In fact let me be a slob too”

Sam stood up and began to remove his tight joggers and top that barley covered his belly anyway, Harry couldn’t believe the sight, Sam looked amazing so huge and obese. His briefs cutting into his huge thighs. He came and sat next to him, their bellies pushing together as they where both now released from the constraints of clothing.

“See we are the same” Sam said

“Listen mate, I don’t want you to think me disgusting but you look amazing and honestly I just wanna fuck that big ass of yours right now”

“I thought u would never ask”Sam said

Harry turned laying down next to Sam, they pushed their bellies together each helping the other to remove their tight briefs from their body.

It was amazing, they laid there next to each other after having the best sex in their life, both panting and tired from the exercise. The door opened, Harry’s mum had never looked so shocked in her life !

“Boys what, what are you doing?!”

“Mum, me and Sam we love each other and we want to grow big and old together. We want to grow fat together”

His mum called round Sam’s parents and they explained it all. They all agreed, both parents already knew their boys love for food it was just now they would be doing it together. The boys where brought food by their parents as they lay in bed together and grew in size.

Years later the bed was reinforced with steel to take the weight of the two boys, growing fatter by the day. Harry a colossal 900 pounds and sam a huge 850, they where both now 23 and had been living their dream life. They planned to keep on growing with the help of their parents

#fat kink #fat #obese #belly #getting fatter #male feedee #weight gain story #weight gain #bhm

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buckleyirondad · 4 years ago

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No. 12. I Think I've Broken Something "Broken Trust/Bones”

Morgan is secretly a vigilante, she is angry when Peter tells her parents, what she is getting up to, behind their backs.

AO3 Link

Morgan knew, from a young age, that she wanted to be a superhero.

Like her parents, her brother, and her uncle.

With her wit and puppy dog's eyes, she was able to convince Peter, to let her use his lab to build her own Iron Man suit, without informing her parents. He’d laid down multiple ground rules, that she had to agree with, but it didn’t stop her from ignoring a few.

Using the suit and going out to fight crime, was Peter’s strictest rule.

She was allowed to build a suit, ‘yes.’

Using it, however, was a strong ‘no.’

She couldn’t use it, in his mind, until she told her parents what they’d been doing, behind their backs.

The closer Morgan got to that day, the more scared she became.

Which was why she decided to go behind Peter’s back.

A double imposter, like her Aunt Nat, before her.

Morgan was clever, she could easily cover up her actions, by telling her family she was spending hours at the library, after school, when she was actually fighting crime.

She was only covering petty crime, and she never went out when Spider-Man was on active patrol.

She made sure she avoided populated areas or places covered with extensive security.

So far, a week in, she’d done well.

She was merely a mumble, on the streets, that went unnoticed.

There were new superheroes every other week, and her dad only concentrated on those who could potentially pose a threat, to others or themselves, like Peter, in the beginning.

Morgan had forgotten about injuries. She’d grown up, alongside Peter, who healed from superficial wounds, overnight, and she’d forgotten that she couldn’t do the same.

A black eye wasn’t too bad.

It was coverable and somewhat explainable.

She needed to rush past her parents, without creating a fuss.

Through the porch windows, she could see that her parents were in the kitchen.

She clicked open the front door, keeping her face turned to the walk opposite, “I’m home!"

Pepper sang, “Hey, honey.”

Tony chipped in, “If you haven’t got any homework, we could use some help with this lasagne.”

“Umm, I’m actually quite tired…” She placed her backpack onto the couch, “Can you save me some for later?”

Her mum spoke, “Sure.”

“Are you feeling all right, Morguna?” Her dad asked, worry present, in his voice, “Need some of your grandma’s famous soup?"

“No, no…” Morgan stammered, with a false laugh, “I’m good, just tired, you know?”

She sucked in a deep breath, when she turned the corner, to the stairs.

Peter was sitting, on the bottom step, his elbows rested on his raised knees, he shot her a stern look.

“What—"

He cleared his throat, “Tell them the truth.”

Morgan widened her eyes, sending out a silent plea: please don’t do this.

Her dad raised his voice, but kept calm, “Tell us what?”

Her mum stepped over, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Morgan walked forward, closer to the stairs, she glared down at him, “Move.”

Peter shook his head, unfazed, “No.”

“What are you doing here?” She barked, “It’s Tuesday.”

“MJ’s out with her friends, so I asked if I could bunk over tonight.” Peter straightened his back, “Where’ve you been?”

She answered, quick, “At school.”

Peter hung his head, “Looks like it.”

Morgan’s mum laid a hand on her back, “Honey, turn around.”

Morgan hesitated, taking a slow breath.

“Morgan,” Tony breathed, “Please take that hood off and turn around.”

Morgan reached up, pulled her hoodie down and spun, to meet her parents’ gaze, “What now?”

Her dad flinched, swaying back a couple of steps like his life flashed before his eyes.

Her mum moved, pressing a hand to Morgan's cheek, “What happened?”

Morgan moved away, “Nothing.”

Her dad’s eyes found Peter, “You know, don’t you?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah.”

Morgan, for as long as she could remember, kept secrets for Peter.

Some big and some small.

“Shut up!” She spat, throwing out an arm, “You promised you wouldn’t say anything!”

“I know, I did, but I can’t stick to it,” Peter remained calm, “Not if you’re getting hurt.”

Peter Parker, forever a hypocrite.

Morgan sneered, with a frown, “That’s fucking rich, coming from you.”

Her mum turned, her jaw dropped, “Morgan!”

Morgan ignored her, she kept her eyes locked onto Peter, “You only just got out of a coma!”

Peter’s face burned red, with anger, “I’d rather not see you, in the same situation!”

Morgan’s dad held up his hands, stepping in front of Morgan, “Okay, okay, what is going on here?”

“Morgan is building a suit, in my workshop,” Peter nervously rubbed his palms together, “She’s nowhere near the testing stage though.”

Her dad’s face drained, of all color, “An Iron Man suit?”

Peter lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, “Basically.”

Rage quickened in Morgan, as she mindlessly stepped back, “I hate you."

Her mum twisted to face her, “Morgan H—”

Morgan screamed, “I hate you so much!”

Peter swallowed, with his head lowered to his chest, “You can hate me all you like.”

Morgan shook her head, frantically, with tears in her eyes, “I’ll never forgive you.”

“I promised, not to say anything,” He looked at her, “But you promised never to use it, without telling them first.”

“You ruin everything,” Morgan’s lower lip trembled, as her sorrow and anger collided, “Why is it one thing for you, and then one thing for me?!”

Her dad spoke, with a softened tone, “Morgan—"

Morgan screamed out, without even thinking, “Life would be so much easier if you never came back!”

Tears welled in Peter’s eyes, he turned his face away, towards the wall.

Morgan drew in a long breath, realizing what she'd said.

Her mum rested her hands on her hips, “Morgan—"

“No!” Tony snapped, “No, that’s too far.” He pointed, down at Peter, “Apologise now.”

Morgan shuffled back, “No.”

Her dad’s eyebrows knitted together, “Don’t—"

“Peter was fourteen when he became Spider-Man,” Morgan pointed out, “This is no different!”

“Peter has powers, honey,” Pepper said softly, “And they allow him to heal.”

“Uhhh,” Morgan clenched her fists, “I knew you’d never let me do this!”

Her dad crossed his arms, “The fact you didn’t tell us, shows me that you’re not ready.”

Morgan darted her eyes around, not knowing what to do.

She swiftly spun on her heel and headed for the front door.

Pepper called after her, “Where are you going?”

Morgan pulled her hood up, “Anywhere, but here.”

She fumbled for the handle, pulling it open.

Tony yelled, “It’s raining!”

When Morgan was walking home it was raining, but it had turned torrential.

There was a rumble of thunder, in the distance, and the clouds had covered the afternoon sun.

Morgan leaned out, “I don’t care.”

She rushed onto the porch, down the steps.

“Morgan, Morgan—” Her mum ran out, “Come back inside and talk about this,” She leaned over the banister, “You can’t walk in this.”

“Yes, I can!” Morgan’s temper spiked, “You’re never gonna let me do this.”

“If we talk about it,” Her dad stepped close, “We can work something out.”

Morgan shouted, over the sound of the storm around her, “You’re just saying that!”

“No, sweetheart,” Pepper argued, “We knew you’d want to do something like this, but there’s a right way.”

Tony called over, “We have to take it slow.”

Morgan clenched her jaw, “Did you take it slow, Dad?”

He motioned back to himself, “I’m not a prime example, kiddo.”

Morgan dug her nails, into her palm, “What about Peter?”

Peter was hovering behind her parents, his eyes were on the sky.

Her dad motioned to him, “I had protocols in place, for your brother.”

Morgan stomped her foot, “Why do you have an answer for everything?!”

“Because I’m your dad.”

Peter stepped down, “Morgan...”

She moved back, “I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“No…” He sped down the remaining steps, “Morgan—"

She shouted, “Peter, go away—"

Peter’s eyes were glued to the clouds above, he sprinted over, with an arm held out.

Morgan frowned, “What—”

Peter wrapped an arm around her, momentarily lifting her up, and then pulling her down, to the ground, using himself as a crash mat.

Lightning flashed, striking the pine tree beside them.

Morgan’s eyes widened, “Holy shit—”

Peter brought up his hand, tangling it, in her hair, protecting her head as he scrambled back.

The top half of the tree collapsed, landing with a heavy thump.

Peter leaned his head into the dirt, “Jesus.”

Morgan darted her eyes over to the tree, “How—”

Without Peter, she would have been flattened by it.

She sunk into his hold, curling her head under his chin.

He combed a hand through her hair, “You okay?”

She breathed, “Yeah.”

“Morgan!” Pepper shrieked, “Peter!”

“Fucking hell,” Tony leaned beside them, “You both okay?”

Peter panted a laugh, “We can add lightening to things I can sense.”

Morgan sat up, brushing leaves off her hoodie.

The rains started to calm, and the thunder sounded distant.

Peter sat up, scrunching his eyes, as he flinched, “Ow.”

She turned, her voice small, “Are you okay?”

He held up his left arm, his wrist was swollen, “I think it’s broken.”

Her parents hissed, sympathetically.

Her dad rested a hand on Peter’s back.

Morgan’s stomach leapt into her throat, “It’s my fault.”

Peter shook his head, “No, it’s not.”

“But I was—” She stammered, “I was the one out here.”

Peter smiled, “I’ve had worse.”

Her dad raised his eyebrows, “Yeah, he has.”

It slowly dawned on Morgan, that the entire time she’d known Peter, all he’d ever done, was keep her safe, and that was exactly, what he was doing, when he told her parents, what she’d been getting up to behind their backs.

She pulled him into a hug, laying her head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry,” She whispered, “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” He kissed her forehead, “It’s okay, we all have days like this.”

“Peter’s involved a Ferry chopped in half,” Tony joked, “Ha.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “How funny.”

Morgan's dad squeezed their shoulders, he pointed to the sky, “Obviously your Uncle Thor doesn’t like seeing you two fight.”

Morgan’s parents helped the duo, to their feet.

“We better get you to the infirmary, kiddo,” Tony said, studying Peter’s broken wrist, “Another week, in a cast.”

Peter nodded, “I’ve had every color now.”

Morgan chipped in, “Maybe Cho can do a multi-colored one?”

“Oh…” Peter’s eyes sparkled, “Like one with the bi flag?”

Tony grinned, “That’d be cool.”

“Well, let’s get wrapped up and dried first,” Pepper mused, “A broken arm and a black eye, is enough, for today, we don’t need to add hypothermia to the list.”

#whumptober2020 #no.12 #i think i've broken something #broken trust #broken bones #morgan stark #peter parker #tony stark #pepper potts #irondad #irondad fanfiction #iron family #ironfam #liberty's writing

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jamesmaddiscnx · 4 years ago

Note

Mason mount meeting the parents

request prompt: mason mount meeting the parents

word count: 617

warnings: none

category: soft, fluff

request status: open

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You and Mason had been dating for a few months now. The relationship had been going well with you both feeling comfortable with each other and after a successful meeting with his parents, you had both decided that now was the time for him to meet your parents.

Mason was perfect boyfriend material, everyone knew that. He was sweet, caring and very attentitive. If you had had a bad day, he was the first person to notice and would do everything in his power to make sure that you felt better. He was polite and you knew that he would win your parents over instantly.

The day had finally come. Mason was struggling to hide his nerves. He was nervous, not because he doubted himself, but because it was a big occasion and a big milestone in your relationship. He was desperate to impress.

"You alright, babe?" You questioned as you were driving the two of you towards your home where your parents were awaiting your arrival.

You had noticed Mason's knee continously bouncing up and down and his fingers fidgeting with the hem of the dress shirt that he was wearing. It didn't take a genius to realise that these were nervous tics.

"Just a bit nervous is all." He spoke with a sheepish smile on his face. He didn't really want to admit to his girlfriend that he was beginning to feel nauseous because of his nerves, especially when he had spent the whole of last weekend telling you that you had no reason to be nervous.

"Like you told me, you'll be fine." You gave him a reassuring smile and continued on your drive to your parents' house.

***

You stood with Mason on the front doorstep of the house that you grew up in after knocking on the door and waited for it to be opened.

You noticed Mason's foot continually tapping on the ground and so you grabbed a hold of his hand and gave it a small squeeze, an attempt to reassure him.

Without so much as a second for Mason to give thanks to you, the door was opening and he then came to face to face with your parents.

"Y/N, Mason, it's so good to see you!" Your mother exclaimed excitedly, pulling you both inside the house.

The both of you removed your shoes so as not to mess up the house that your parents had so obviously cleaned until it was spick and span.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mr and Mrs Y/LN." Mason politely stuck his hand out for your parents to shake but they both shook their heads and instead pulled him into a tight hug. The gesture took Mason by surprise and his eyes going wide made you giggle slightly.

"Let's go through for dinner. Is Lasagne alright?" Your Mum asked your boyfriend, resting her hand on his shoulder. Your Dad walked on the other side of Mason and you could tell that he was getting ready to ask Mason all about his football.

***

Needless to say, the night was a success. Between the four of you, you had had a few glasses of wine each and several laughs.

As you lay in bed with Mason that night, you smiled in contentment, feeling his arms wrap themselves around your waist tightly.

"I love you." He mumbled, sleep beginning to take over him. The day had been a roller-coaster of emotions for him and you understood that since it was you who had been in that situation just last week.

"I love you too." You smiled to yourself, tangling your fingers in his hair and eventually falling asleep, glad that the day had gone well.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

here we have it! my very first football imagine. thank you to whoever it was that sent this in. i had so much fun writing this! i have another request to get through but if any of you guys want one, please feel free to send me an ask. i hope you enjoyed. lots of love, e x

#football imagines #footballerimagines #footballer #football #mason mount #chelsea football club #chelsea fc #imagine #imagines #blurb #writing #fanfic

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beautifulletdownfics · 5 years ago

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Twenty Good Reasons :: Part Nine

I woke to hands running up and down the back of my thighs.

"There she is," Harry croaked softly, the duvet falling moving off me as he rose up, so his chest pressed against my shoulder while his mouth traced the line of my jaw, "G' morning."

"Hi," I sucked in my tummy when Harry pressed one hand into my stomach, and the other rose up the small of my back, "This is nice.”

"Hmm," Harry agreed, his lips vibrating against the skin of my neck, "Arms," He said quietly, drawing my t-shirt up with his hands and moving back to pull it up over my shoulders and then off my head, "That's better, lemme see you.”

I lay beneath him naked, but yawned and stretched my arms up above my head to push away the tightness in my muscles from sleep. Harry's eyes greedily took me in, and I could feel him hardening against my thigh. We'd not gone to bed until around 3am the night before, and after a quick fuck in the shower had collapsed into bed without the tender reunion I had been craving.

This was more like it.

"You're beautiful," He said, pressed a warm kiss to the skin under my left breast.

My hands came down to tangle in his hair, holding him in place for a moment before Harry raised his mouth and licked up and over my nipple. His face appeared in front of mine, wearing an expression that told me he was planning on driving me absolutely insane.

His dimples popped in a glinting smirk, and he gave me a sweet, chaste kiss, "What time did you want to leave for Bath?”

"You're coming?" I asked hesitatingly, he'd not given me an answer last night.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I am. Sent Dan an email, might have to take a few calls but they should be fine without me."

I wound my arms around his neck and pulled him down, pressing my smiling lips against his, "Thank you. Thank you," I kissed his mouth over and over, "I think this is a good idea."

"Me too. Now, how much time do we have?" His fingers pressed into the skin of my hips and pulled me back to the moment.

"We can go whenever," I replied, distracted when Harry's hands slipped under my thighs, and he started hitching my legs up around his waist, "Whenever you want."

His head tilted to the side, amused that he was flustering me, "Whenever?"

"Don't be a tease, Harry," I breathed.

Harry rocked his hips against mine, and sucked in a breath when his cock slipped between my legs and pressed into me there, "M'not teasing," He muttered, "M'being sexy."

I clamped my hips together to try to hold him in place, and Harry's sucked in a breath, "Be sexier if you were inside me."

I knew I'd won because he groaned and cursed, dropped his forehead to my shoulder and swiftly slipped inside me. Harry held himself still for a moment, watching the ecstasy play out on my face before he pulled out and started pumping. Watching Harry like this never got old. He bumped his nose against mine and covered my mouth with his, only halting a moment when I scraped my nails down his back and held onto his backside, urging him on.

With a satisfying gleam to his skin, Harry brought us both to orgasm, letting us come down from them slowly. When he pulled out and away, he laced his fingers through mine and pulled me up on shaky legs for a shower.

Under the spray, Harry held me tightly against his chest, and we stood together for a long time, not speaking. I watched the water bouncing off his shoulders and running down the front of his chest while his fingers mindlessly sorted out the tangles in my hair.

"We're gonna be alright," He murmured so quietly I almost missed it. "Promise we are."

Harry drove to Bath, and for the first little bit Dan, his manager, was on speakerphone giving an update on the meetings he missed that morning.

I didn't mind. I put my headphones on and worked on my laptop.

After an hour, Harry's hand landed on my thigh, and I pulled the headphones off, "How's it coming along?"

I saved the program I was working in and shut the lid, "It's going okay, actually. Struggling with the strings, but I always do."

"Hmm," Harry hums, knowing the tears that I've shed over violas and cellos over the years, "Maybe your dad could help over the next few days."

"I'm hoping he will … He's got an exciting announcement to make tonight at dinner," I grinned at Harry when he looked over at me, "I'm sworn to secrecy though, so you have to wait. Not even my mum knows."

"Tell me," Harry states plainly, shaking his head at me, "You have to now that you've said that!"

"I can't," I propped my knee up to my chest and held Harry's hand up to my cheek, "But we should stop somewhere on the way and get some champagne."

Harry rolled his eyes at me but agreed if there was one thing I knew about him it was that he didn't shy away from a celebration that warranted champagne.

By the time we were rolling into the driveway of the sweet AirBnB my parents had booked for the week, it was nearing 4pm. We had stopped on the way for lunch and for Harry to spend nearly forty minutes deciding what celebratory drink everyone would want for a celebration he had no idea of the details of. I'd already called my mum to let her know Harry was coming back with me, and part of Harry's extreme detail orientation I decided might be down to him being unsure of how much my family knew about our last few rocky weeks.

My parents were standing on the front step when we walked up to the house, "Hello!"

"Hiya," Harry smiled up at them both, "Nice digs!"

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" My mum responded, taking a bag from my hands and going back through the door. "Laykn's putting the kettle on for a brew."

We all walked through to the kitchen, Harry put our bags near the stairs up to the bedrooms. He walked around, sticking his nose into every room to check them all out then eventually found his way to my side at the breakfast bar.

"What have you all been up to here," Harry asked, taking a sip of the tea my dad handed him.

Almost an hour later, between Harry and Laykn, nearly all the afternoon tea baking my mother had prepared had been devoured. Everyone slowly retreated and left the kitchen—Harry and Laykn went for a run, and my dad went back to finish some work—but I stayed watching my mum prepare the lasagne for dinner. After a few minutes, she started bringing out items for a salad and held the knife up to me, inviting me to help if I wanted to.

"How are you?" She asked quietly once I was settled chopping the celery.

The worried look on her face was warranted.

When I arrived in Bath by myself the night before last, the moment I saw my parents, I burst into tears. I spent the night on the sofa with my mum pouring my heart out about Harry and I, and how scared I was we were going to break up. I still hadn't completely let go of the fear, but at least Harry and I had gotten somewhere since he landed in London.

"Better than I was," I told her simply, "Still worried about Harry. Maybe more so now … But … I think we'll be okay."

"Relationships are hard," Mum told me, repeating the line she'd used multiple times two nights ago. She was waiting for me to offer more. I knew she wouldn't push me if I didn't want to, but I was surprised by how much offloading it all on her had helped, and I knew nothing good came from any of us bottling things up.

"The first hour or so with him last night was awful," I started slowly, "He's so wrapped up in work at the moment, and I've never seen him so angry about anything as he is about this leak. I think …" I shook my head, "I don't know. He bottles things up, which scares me. When it comes out there's stuff bothering him we haven't spoken about, and I just feel blind-sighted or like I've failed on something I never had the chance to help with in the first place."

Mum didn't say anything for a little while, "You know … When your dad and I got married, it was normal to do marriage counselling before your wedding. Maybe you and Harry should consider some kind of couples therapy … It might help iron out any kinks or bad habits you don't want to take further into the relationship."

Both Harry and I had separately spoken to people over the years. Harry had a therapist in L.A. I knew he liked and often used to talk to when he was touring. I hadn't heard him mention them in a long time though. And I had my own monthly check-ins with my own psychologist.

I'd never considered seeing anyone together. That felt like a last resort, anomy gut reaction was that Harry and I weren't at last resort.

Maybe this was how to avoid that, though.

"I'm not trying to suggest anything—

"I know you're not," I cut her off, "I was thinking … It's probably not a bad idea. It's just …"

"Tricky to bring up," She finished for me.

"Yeah."

My mother, in her wisdom, left me to think about it and we spent the rest of the time together cooking chatting back and forth about what we could all do as a group the following day. Harry and Laykn returned from their run, traipsing right through the kitchen to see how long dinner was. As he passed me, Harry pressed a sweet kiss to my cheek and went up to shower. I wondered if his head was swirling like mine was, a hundred little fixes and doses of care our relationship needed running ragged in my thoughts.

Over dinner, my dad shared his exciting news. We popped the bottles of champagne as the letter he received was readout. The letter detailed his being awarded an Order of the British Empire for contributions to Music and the Arts. Dad managed to keep it a secret from my mum, so her reaction was the one I waited to see. Tears instantly rimmed her eyes, and she snatched the precious letter from him, having to read it herself.

"Dad's a bloody knight!" Laykn cried out.

"And a Sir," Dad laughed, "Don't forget that, son."

"It's incredible!" Harry added happily, "Congratulations! That's … I mean it's … So well deserved. Cheers!"

Our glasses all chinked together again as everyone cheered, and it was impossible not to be swept into the celebration.

I caught my dad's eye, and he gave me a wink.

After dinner, Harry and I ended up curled up on the small outdoor sofa on the patio. Harry lit the fire pit, and we put on extra layers of clothing and stole a blanket. With legs tangled together and Harry's arm around my shoulder, we watched the flames quietly.

I coughed into my hand and dropped my head to Harry's chest, "Harry?

"Yeah."

"I think we need to move."

"Move … Like houses? In London?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I do. I love our house … So much but …"

Harry rubbed his hand up and down my arm when I started getting choked up, "I know. I love that house too. But I don't know how we can make it more secure. We should look for something more secure."

I pulled his hand out from under the blanket and settled his fingers through mine, "And maybe we just have to think of it as like, a new start for when we get married? Something with a garden big enough for the dog that you'll convince me to get someday."

Harry's chest moved behind me as he chuckled, "I'm getting close to convincing you, hey?"

I only nodded in response.

"I'll ask around for a good agent in London," Harry continued slowly, "We can start looking together when I'm back."

Harry had just three weeks left of this half of his tour. Then, there would be a whole month until he started again in Europe and the U.K. Thankfully the second half of the tour was shorter, the countries were closer together, and I'd be able to see him more often. The Asian and U.S. legs always dragged on.

"There's something else," I said before I could back out of it.

"Hmm?" Harry took a sip of what would now be a cold tea. He leant forward to put it on the ground near our feet. "What?"

I bit my lip, not sure how Harry was going to react. I was terrified it wouldn't go well.

"I …"

"You?" Harry squeezed my arm lightly, "Spit it out, you're starting to freak me out, love."

He wasn't going to take this well. I knew he wasn't.

I took in a deep breath and tried to say it as best I could, "The last couple of weeks really scared me, Harry … And I wonder if when you're home, maybe it could be worthwhile going to see someone together?"

My words hung in the air, no reply came from Harry for long enough that I craned my head around to look up at him. He was frowning harshly at the fire, jaw clicked in and eyes set. I watched his nostrils flare slightly and then looked away, waiting.

"I think it could be useful to …" I thought of my mother's words from earlier, "Sort out things we don't want to become habits."

Harry looked out to the garden, "So that's it then, you've decided?"

"No," I shook my head, "I just wanted to talk to you about what you thought. Whether you think it's something we should do."

"Well, obviously I look like a wanker if I say no," He retorted quickly.

"I didn't mean to make you feel trapped in it," I said, "Twenty four hours ago I thought we were going to break up, Harry! I don't want to get to that point again. You didn't feel like you could talk to me about what was going on and I hate that, I need to get better at that."

"So you go see someone then," Harry said, standing up abruptly, "I'm going to bed," He mumbled out, leaving me alone in the with only the sound of the door to the kitchen closing a little too hard.

I'm not sure what I had expected. Not from Harry at the moment. Not when he had everything else going on. I piled onto it and ruined the tiny island of peace we'd managed to construct in the midst of it all.

"Shit," I whispered into the night, unable to stop the tears that arrived almost immediately.

My first instinct was to go upstairs after Harry straight away. I decided to stay put though, deciding going now with my emotions pouring out of me wouldn't be helpful. My instinct was what got me here in the first place. So I spent my second night in Bath with tears falling down my face, worried about Harry and I.

It was such a strange landscape to be in. I could honestly say in all of our relationship I'd spent hardly any time doubting it or worrying we weren't working. Even when the first break-in happened, and we had time apart, I never arrived at the thought Harry and I weren't suited. We broke then because fear and anxiety and trauma sullied the water and my depressive episode had me completely self-destructing.

I wiped my face with the sleeves of my jumper, not wanting to go back to that place. Right now, it wasn't about me. Harry was struggling, and it would serve us both well if I remembered that and didn't get caught up in my own mind.

"I'm going to bed," I said to my parents as I walked passed the living room, "Dad, can you put the fire out?"

"Sure thing," He nodded.

"Sleep well," My mum said, smiling warmly at me. I was glad for the darkness hiding my red, puffy face.

"G'night," I waved before making my way to the stairs.

The bedroom was dark when I slipped through the door, trying not to let too much light from the hallway in. Harry was just a lump on his side of the bed. A few of his belongings were around the room. I turned on the light in the ensuite and then mostly shut the door, giving off just enough light for me to find what I needed in the dark.

A few minutes later, in complete darkness, I sided up to the bed and slipped under the covers. I held my breath, hoping I hadn't disturbed Harry or woken him if he was asleep. I was fully expecting him to pretend to be asleep or rollover to face away from me. But after a long time of lying on my back, starring into the dark, I started easing my shoulders into the mattress, beginning to relax.

I woke with a start to the bed, shifting around me, in sleep, I had rolled into the middle. My eyes opened to see Harry's back rising above me as he got out from under the sheets. I listened to him move around the room for a few minutes before the door opened and clicked shut behind him.

I turned back for my phone and read the time, 5:27am.

My mind naturally compared this morning to the one before it, when I woke up to Harry running his hands all over my body. Now, it seemed he couldn't face lying next to me a minute longer than necessary.

I let out a long sigh and tried to stop the tears, instead of rolling back into the middle of the bed and willing myself to go back to sleep for a few more hours. Harry probably took his laptop down to the kitchen to do some work with a coffee. Or he was figuring out a way to get an earlier flight back to where the tour was picking up again. I squeezed my eyes shut and banished the thought.

For the second time that morning, the bed moved around and woke me from sleep.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, his hair wet from the shower as he sat on top of the covers watching me. A drop fell on my exposed shoulder, and his eye followed it before he lent down to press a gentle kiss there, "I was a jerk. Again."

Barely awake, I blinked at him and wondered where the softness in him was coming from, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know," He smiled sadly, standing up and joining me under the covers, "I got defensive. Felt angry about it for some reason."

"Where did you go?" I asked, taking in his freshly showered state and the pink on his cheeks from the cold outside.

"For a run with Laykn."

I felt my eyebrows rise, "Another one?"

"He's got girl troubles," Harry supplied carefully with a look that told me not to pry, "Helped me clear my head too. I'm … I'm scared about the thought of us needing help, Nina. I hate feeling like we're failing at this somehow. It's shit. I … I just want things to feel … Not like this."

"Me too."

He pushed some hair off my cheek and left his hand, resting comfortably on my neck, "I know. And I think seeing someone … It definitely can't hurt, can it?"

I swallowed, "I'd rather go see someone now than two years down the track when it's too late, and we've hurt each other too much."

Harry nodded against the pillow and gave me a strained smile, "I figured that out at about mile four."

There was something about the security of being in bed that was both calming and somehow propelling. I reached for Harry's hand and slowly brought his knuckles up to my lips. After a few soft kisses, I pulled back and rested my chin against the back of his hand, "I love you."

"I love you," Harry returned, "You're my favourite soul on earth, always."

"What's all this?" I stood in the kitchen door, emerging after working on my compositions for much of the afternoon.

Harry frowned and pressed his wrists to his hips, mucky fingers sticking out in a deliberate attempt to keep his sweater clean, "Well, it's a …" He waved one hand around over the kitchen bench, searching for his words, "It's ravioli. Mushroom ravioli with truffle oil and sage." Harry gave his handiwork a decisive nod.

"Oh."

"It's got truffle oil in," Laykn piped up from where he was crouched in front of the oven.

I frowned at my brother, "Ravioli goes in the oven?"

Harry's frown line got more profound as he looked up at me, "We've never made it before! Don't be rude."

I held up both hands and shuffled into the kitchen, laughing, "I'm not rude! It was a genuine question."

"You were judging us, I could hear it," He accused, flour coating the wine glass he brought up to his lips. Harry and my brother were quite a pair.

"I wasn't, you know I couldn't do any better, but at least I can follow a recipe … You never do which sometimes ends up great but often ends up … Interestingly."

"You really are being rude today, aren't you," Harry narrowed his eyes at me, "And you've stolen my clothes again!"

I shrugged, "They're comfier. And they're clean."

"You could wash your clothes, you know," Harry grumbled, but it wasn't genuine. He was grinning at me.

"Okay," I rounded the bench to Harry and slotted my arms around his middle, "Conversation do-over, I love you, and I love that you've made us pasta for tea. It smells delicious, and the cook never does the cleanup, I'll wash up after."

"I helped you know!" Laykn yelped behind us, "Why does he get all the credit."

I turned to my brother, "Because you're a pathetic cook and Harry's a fantastic one. It's not hard to figure; he did all the heavy lifting."

"Thank you," Harry nods, "I am a bloody fantastic chef."

"Cook," I corrected teasingly, "I didn't call you a chef."

"Finally," Laykn grinned at Harry, "M'glad to see her giving you shit for once. Picks on me all the time but the sun shines straight out of your arse."

I was dying to ask about what Harry had diagnosed as Laykn's 'girl trouble' but didn't. I hoped that with their time running and cooking together, my brother had been able to find a dependable friend in Harry. I wondered if it was reciprocal but figured it probably was only to a degree. My big sister urge to step in and demand an emotional declaration from my brother itched.

"Have you made a dessert?" I asked them instead.

Laykn tutted at me dramatically, and Harry sighed heavily, pushing me away gently, "She's got no bloody faith in us, Layk."

"None at all," Laykn returned, pulling a dish from the fridge and holding it out in front of me.

"Honeycomb mousse?"

"The Anne Styles Classic," Harry confirmed, "Rang her for the recipe and everything."

"Could we skip the ravioli and go straight to the second course?" I asked cheekily, knowing Anne's mousse was absolutely to die for.

Harry flicked me with the tea towel I hadn't noticed was right next to him on the counter, "Alright, that's enough out of you, out. Out! Go away until we say dinner's ready."

I skipped out of the kitchen happily, holding my bottom where he'd managed to whip me multiple times. The day had settled nicely. Harry and I went for a long walk after breakfast. We talked more about the process of buying a new place in London and listing the old one for sale. Harry wanted to discuss budgets and money, but I managed to get him to agree to wait until we properly started looking. I wasn't keen on going all out with something luxurious, I wanted something that felt like a home.

We spoke about our wedding as well, and by the end of that conversation, I felt a weight lifted I hadn't realised was there. I was exhausted by people asking—all well-meaning, of course—about details Harry and I just didn't have yet. They were decisions I didn't want to be making on my own.

A lot was going to have to fit into the month break Harry had coming up.

"Can you tell me what's going on with my brother?"

"No," Harry replied, eyes on the road.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Harry confirmed.

I sat back in my seat, Bach playing through the car speakers as we drove back to London for Harry to catch his flight, "Is he okay?"

Harry's head turned to me quickly, "Of course he is. I wouldn't keep anything severe from you. He'll share when he's ready. I think he's going to go on a trip somewhere though, just a heads up. Getaway, out of his own head, you know?"

"Like overseas?" I asked with a frown, "Why didn't you just invite him to tour with you for a bit."

Harry smiled, "That was the first thing I did, love. But he needs to get out into nature for a bit or go explore someplace he's never been. I've told him before he can come to meet me anytime, he knows that."

"Did Layk get his heart broken?" I guessed sadly.

"Something like that," Harry provided carefully. "Stop asking me about it though, he asked me not to share it."

"Okay," I gave in finally, accepting Harry's hand when he offered it to me, "How are you feeling? Excited to get back to it?"

"A little," He began, "Gets harder leaving you every time, though, doesn't it?"

My heart sank a little, I felt the same but didn't want to bring Harry down or contribute to the feeling, "We'll be better this time. We've got a plan, right?"

"Right." Harry nodded.

I desperately wanted to suggest that Harry contact his therapist and start-up that habit during touring but didn't want to push him. It felt like something I should let Harry come to himself. I didn't want to over insert myself, which was hard when I knew without a doubt, it was what would be best for him.

"And you need a few weeks of performances before I come for the last one anyway," I tried lightening the mood, "You need practice, so my show is the best one."

Oh boy are you guys ready for this?

#1dff #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #fic: twenty good reasons #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles stories

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mycupoffanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

His Favourite Gal: Part 5 A Bucky x Reader Mobster AU Fic

A mob!Bucky x Reader fic

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

The reader begins working as a waitress at Bucky Barnes’ favourite club in town. Little does she realise that working on mob territory owned by the infamous King of New York, Bucky Barnes, comes with it’s quirks as the reader is slowly pulled into the mobster life. Warnings: Smut, fluff, a bit of violence, language, one mention of drugs (in relation to trafficking).

Word count: Approx 6700

Hi! Part 5 is here! Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all for the lovely feedback about part 4, dunno what I was getting myself worked up about 😅 Enjoy! 💕

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��Okay good, try to breath slowly and steadily.” Steve spoke quietly to you. “Whenever you’re ready.” He said, stepping away from you. Firing a shot, your hands tingled with the recoil of the gun you held. Looking over at the target, you’d not done too badly, it wasn’t in the middle of the target by any means, but it wasn’t too far off. Imagine what mum and dad would think of all of this. You shake your head in an effort to get rid of your thoughts and reposition yourself, aiming and firing a second time. You were ready for the recoil this time, keeping your hands much steadier than the first try. “Damn, not bad!” Steve exclaimed, observing from behind. “Try one more time.” Steve says, waiting for you to aim. You take the third shot, a bit closer to the middle this time and Steve reaches forward, taking the pistol from your hands. “Great job, with some more training you could be a great shot.” He encourages you and you beam up at him. Steve’s phone buzzes and he looks down at it. “Buck wants you up in his office.” He informs you. “Alright, I’ll head up. Thanks for the training.” You smile at him. “Wait, uh, before you go.” Steve steps back, approaching his duffle bag he brought with him and rummages about. “I know Bucky had to take it from you the other night, but since you were quite pleased with it’s effectiveness, I got you a new one.” Steve pulls out a box. You step up to his side and take the box from him. Taking off the lid, you peer inside and there’s a brand new fibre wire inside. The handles are made from steel and they are beautifully polished, glinting with the overhead lights. “Thank you.” You breath, reaching in to take it in your hand. “Keep it concealed, I know Buck is more than happy with you having weapons on you, but you don’t want to freak people out.” Steve chuckles, pulling his duffle bag onto his shoulder.

You and Steve part ways and you make your way up to Bucky’s office. You were inside of Bucky’s office building where he ran his business out of. It was a huge modern structure and while it mostly had offices, it was the perfect place for a base of operations. Since you’d been promoted from your job of waitress to girlfriend, you no longer had a job, but Bucky had insisted on paying you a salary none the less. You weren’t too keen on not having an actual job for yourself, but you appreciated Bucky’s insistence to make sure you were well cared for.

You exited the elevator, passing a few of Bucky’s employees on the way. His office was on the top floor, naturally. You knocked on the door to his office before poking your head in, Bucky was sat behind his desk with a woman sat opposite. She had red shoulder length hair and wore a leather jacket, from what you could see. “Hey, sugar.” Bucky waved you into the room. Closing the door behind you, you pulled out the chair next to the red haired woman and when you shifted in your seat to look at her you realised it was Nat. “Holy- Nat, what are you doing here?” You ask, the two of you reaching over your chairs to share a quick hug. “Missed you too.” She laughed, pulling away. “(Y/n), I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier.” Bucky began, resting his hands on his desk. “Nat was never a bartender, was she? Were you?” You asked, beating him to the punch and looking between Bucky and Natasha. Bucky huffed out a laugh, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t think you two exactly need me for this.” He joked, watching you and Nat interact. “Well I technically was a bartender, but also trained intelligence.” Nat nods her head from side to side, a smirk playing on her lips.

“I invited you in here, doll, to offer you something.” Bucky finds a gap in your conversation, turning the attention back to him. Both you and Nat fall silent and you sit up straight, ready for what he was about to say. “I spoke to Natasha about your observational skills, your fast reactions, the behaviour you exhibited every time you’ve been in the face of danger.” Bucky explains, keeping his eyes locked firmly on you. “We’d like to offer you a position as an intelligence agent. Nat will train you and I’ll have a reason to pay you, since you were quite stubborn about that and this way I’ll feel a lot better about taking you with me to meetings.” Bucky didn’t even have to give you reasons, god you would snap that up as soon as. If he’d asked you to be intelligence for him without the promise of Nat or money, you’d do it anyway. “Yes.” You responded, coming out of your thoughts. “What? I wasn’t done with my whole speech.” Bucky pauses, his hands still poised from talking with them. “Yes, I’ll do it.” You smile. Nat looked at you with amusement, sharing a glance with Bucky. Bucky let out a chuckle and relaxed in his seat. “I’m glad it didn’t take much convincing.” He laughs to himself, looking down at his hands. “Nat, a moment with my girl, please.” Nat nods, patting you on the shoulder before vacating the office.

“Did Stevie give you your new fibre wire?” He asks, leaning back and letting his chair recline. You pull it out of your inner jacket pocket and flash it at him before smoothing your fingers over the handles again. “Thank you, for all of this Bucky.” You lean on the desk, putting the fibre wire back in your jacket. “Sweetheart, I’d do anything for you. I just want to make sure you can handle yourself even more than you already can.” He grins at you. “I was afraid after all the shit you went through that it would scare you off, I feel like I’m corrupting you.” Bucky says, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m here to stay, Bucky.” You smile up at him. There’s a pause in conversation as Bucky takes in your features.

“Any news on the boys?” You ask. “Yeah, Scott’s back at work, can’t drive yet though and Clint is at home recovering, broken bones make it a bit hard for him to be your bodyguard.” Bucky chuckles. “He was my bodyguard?” You puzzle. “Yeah, unofficially I suppose, although the first time he had to protect you he got himself knocked out.” Bucky jokes as he gets up from his seat and walks to your side. “Dinner tonight?” You ask. “I wanted to wanted to make you lasagne, you could come to my place.” You suggest. “I know it’s a bit of a crap apartment but-.” You suddenly become nervous after Bucky’s critical analysis of your apartment the first time he had visited, but he interrupts you. “Crap apartment or not, I’d love to, (Y/n).” Bucky leans on the desk in front of you, grabbing your hand. “Great!” You beam. “I’ll drop by at seven? Until then I’ll have Sam drive you home.” Bucky holds your hand still, gently pulling you up from your seated position. “Try not to get into more danger, gorgeous.” Bucky leans in and you reach up on your toes for your lips to meet.

Bucky’s hand rests on your lower back, his metal hand sliding up to tangle itself into your hair and you whimper into his lips as he scratches your scalp gently. Your delicate hands run under his shirt collar, caressing the soft skin hidden underneath as you snake your hands around the back of his neck. Bucky deepens the kiss and you pant slightly as his hand plays with the hem of your top, running his fingers on the soft skin of your lower back. Parting slowly, Bucky looks down at you with hooded eyes, and in that moment, you see all of the adoration and love he has for you in those piercingly blue eyes of his. “I love you, (Y/n).” Bucky breaks the silence and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sound of those three words. He loves you. Bucky Barnes loves you. “I love you too Bucky.” You smile uncontrollably. “I can’t wait to see you later sweetheart.” Bucky says, planting one last gentle kiss on your cheek before he backs away from your hold. You feel your cheeks burn red as you step towards the door. “I’ll see you later, Buck.” You say quietly before ducking out of the room.

A sharp rapping at your door tells you that Bucky has arrived and you drop your tea towel to answer the door. You had both decided it was going to be a casual one tonight, so neither of you dressed up too much, although you did still put some effort in because you loved getting dolled up for Bucky. Swinging the door open, Bucky looks down at you with his signature smirk while he leans against the doorway. “Hey sugar.” He drawls, placing his hands on your hips and leaning in you kiss you on the lips. He moves against your lips hungrily as he slowly backs you into your apartment, shutting the door with his foot. You only part when the timer goes off and you have to rush off to tend to your lasagne. “You’re just on time.” You smile, pulling the homemade dish out of the oven. Bucky peers over your shoulder at your creation and hums. “Looks delicious, doll.” He says, looking directly at you, eliciting a sweet giggle to pass through your lips.

Bucky moves out of your way when you stop him from helping and he takes a seat at your dining table. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart.” Bucky makes conversation as you cut him a portion of your meal. “I didn’t do anything exciting after I came home, I just tidied up the place, went to see Clint for a while.” You shrug, plating up his lasagne and moving it to the side. “How is he?” Bucky relaxes against the back of his chair, making it creak a bit. “He’s alright, he’s pretty immobile at the moment with a broken leg and a broken arm.” You sigh. “He complained nearly the whole time that he has to use a wheelchair. His wife is mad at me because she thinks its my fault he’s hurt. I guess it kind of is.” You sound slightly dejected. “S’not your fault, sweetheart. If it’s going to be anyone’s fault, it might as well be mine. You can’t help that you got wrapped up in the middle of my business.” Bucky leans on the table, but immediately sits up straight when you bring the plates of food over. “It’s not like you knew it was going to happen.” You shrug, sitting down opposite him. Bucky takes a bite eagerly but breathes out heavily when he realises it’s still too hot. You let out a breathy laugh and shake your head affectionately at him while he fans his mouth a bit. “That’s hot.” He remarks, looking you in the eyes. You know he’s not really talking about the food and you give him a sweet smile. How is someone so intimidating and big, so damn sweet?

“Well that was hands down the best lasagne I’ve ever had.” Bucky says matter-of-factly as he drops his cutlery onto his plate. “Sure you’re not just saying that?” You ask, leaning forward. “Absolutely, I could get used to homemade lasagne more often.” He nods enthusiastically and you stifle a laugh when you see how serious he is. “I’ll have to ask you very nicely to make one for me and the guys sometime.” Bucky smiles. “All you have to do is ask.” You respond, collecting the plates together.

Lounging on the sofa in a semi-comatose state, you’re cuddled up to Bucky as the late night television plays softly in the background. “Do you think we’ll ever have a normal life?” Bucky asks, glancing down at you. “This isn’t normal to you?” You frown. “No, no, I mean with less of the mob. I mean if things get more serious between us and you want to take further steps into our relationship, won’t my work get in the way?” Bucky thinks out loud. “We’ll work around it, I’m not ready to think about dropping my day job of intelligence agent just to have a white picket fence life.” You smile. “I mean, unless that’s what you want.” You shrug. “No, I mean I could live with a life like that, I just thought that’s what you wanted.” Bucky shakes his head and you feel the loose strands of his hair tickle your forehead. “No, I didn’t get involved with you to pull you into a domestic life.” Yawning, you lean into him more and trail your hand up his thigh. “Although there is one step I’d like to take.” You say in the most sultry voice you can muster.

Bucky quickly understands your meaning and he grips at your waist, gently pushing you so you’re laying down on the sofa and his soft lips gently move against yours. You move your hands down his sides and you can feel him shiver when you invite yourself under his shirt, making contact with the soft skin there. Bucky hovers above you as he works against your lips, and his tongue gently plays with yours. The only thing you can hear are laboured breaths as you slide your hand further up his shirt, your fingers brushing over what felt like scarred skin. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Bucky asks breaking away slightly and coming back in for another kiss. “There’s no one I’d rather do it with.” You whimper and Bucky hums into your lips, satisfied with your answer. He pulls back a bit, snaking his arms around you and pulling you up with him, resting you on his lap in a seated position as your kisses start to become more hungry and less delicate.

Grabbing at your thighs, Bucky lifts you as he gets up from the couch, carrying you across your apartment to your bedroom. He gently and carefully lays you down on your bed and he parts from your lips, leaving you breathing heavily as his fingers pass over your clothed torso, the sensation of his fingers brushing over you makes you whine and he looks up, locking eyes with you as you watch him. He hooks his fingers under the hem of your shirt and began to pull it up painfully slowly. You wiggle your hips a little as you lift your arms up, prompting him to move a little faster and he pulls your top over your head, revealing your lacey red bra. Bucky catches his breath in his throat as his gaze trails over you, looking at you with such awe in his eyes. You hum as he reaches down and plants gentle kisses across your stomach, the contrast of his scratchy stubble and his soft kisses makes you shiver. He moves further up, skirting over your bra and pressing his lips to yours again. His hands are playing with the button on your jeans and he pops it open while he moves against you. Shimmying them down your hips while never leaving the gentle touch of your lips, he pushes your jeans down before you use your feet to kick them off.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky moves away, sitting up slightly to get a good look at you and he gapes at your almost naked body. “You are so beautiful.” Bucky whispers. “So goddamn beautiful.” He breathes, his hand smoothing over your hip and clutching at your waist. You reach up and grip the bottom of his black t-shirt. “I want to see you, Bucky.” You sound breathless as you tug at his top. “You sure, sweetheart? I ain’t as pretty as you.” He sounds sad and you get up on your knees to be closer to his height and press a few kisses up his neck. “I don’t care.” You assure him, sucking at the delicate skin. “I want you, scars or not.” You breathe hot air onto his neck and you hear him moan softly. You slowly pull his shirt up revealing his stomach and then his chest until he eventually pulls the top over his head. The marred flesh where metal meets skin looks pink and sensitive, it’s swirled in odd patterns where the skin had scarred and it looked almost unreal. You gently slid your hand over his chest, brushing over his pecs and sliding down his huge metal arm, letting your fingers feel every groove beneath them as the plates shifted against your touch. He was no less handsome to you than when he had his shirt on and you let yourself smile with satisfaction as you gazed at his scarred skin. He was a warrior; he had survived awful things and his scars were like badges of honour. “You should wear your scars with pride.” You break the silence. “They make you so strong.” You add, kissing up his left shoulder where the metal met his skin. “You don’t hate them?” He asks, surprised. “No, I love them, I love you, all of you, scars and metal arm included.” You speak softly against the shell of his ear and you hear his breathing hitch.

Bucky grabs at your sides and pushes you down back onto the bed. “I want you so bad, (Y/n).” Bucky breathes out as he undoes his jeans. “I’m all yours.” You whisper as you eye his bulge, now that his jeans are out of the way. His underwear is straining over him and you enjoy the sight, seeing how much you turned him on. “All mine.” Bucky breathes as he lowers himself closer to you, winding his hand around your back to undo your bra in one swift motion. Pulling the piece of clothing from your arms, it’s thrown somewhere into the room and your on full display for him. Bucky breathes out a wow and you giggle at his reaction. Bucky doesn’t even give you time to play with him a bit before he latches onto your breast, nibbling, licking and sucking on them. Tugging your nipple between his teeth, he rolls the other between his metal fingers and the cold sensation makes you moan.

Bucky holds you in place with his mouth, sending waves of pleasure through you as he pushes your panties down, revealing your wet core and Bucky is quick to slide his fingers between your lips as he works you with his mouth. You let out a shaky moan as he toys with you, circling his metal finger around your clitoris, the coldness of the metal intensifying the pleasure. Without giving you time to react, Bucky moves down between your legs, looking up at you and you lock eyes. He’s waiting for permission and you silently nod. He smirks and holds your legs open with his hands, working you with his tongue. God you feel like you could scream from the pleasure, the way he focusses on your clitoris, swirling his tongue around in circles and creating patterns with it. You writhe underneath him as he increases his intensity, working you harder and faster as you pant, gripping at anything you can find within arm’s reach. Grabbing his free hand, you clutch it as you moan out in pleasure and he speeds up even more, sending you over the edge, pleasure washing through you like a wave. You shudder and twitch as he rides you through your orgasm, drawing gentle circles on your thigh with his thumb, his flesh hand gripping yours and you slowly release your grip on him as you come down from your high.

“I need you.” You pant, watching Bucky wipe his mouth. “Please, Bucky.” You reach forward, palming his bulge and he lets out a low groan. “You taste so good.” He whispers, leaning over you and pressing his lips to yours, sharing the flavour of your pleasure with you. Bucky slowly slides his boxers down as he kisses you gently and you feel him spring free against your leg. “Are you ready?” He asks, gripping his shaft and sliding the head up and down your entrance. You nod frantically, bucking your hips into him. Bucky chuckles and cups your cheek gently as he slowly slides into you. He moves in excruciatingly slowly, allowing you to adjust to the feeling before he starts moving.

Bucky starts of slow and gentle, his eyes locked on yours as he gauges your reactions, repositioning himself now and again to reach the spots that make you moan and cry out the most. Thrusting with more energy, Bucky pushes into you, his length pressing against your g-spot and you breath out heavily, a moan riding on your lips as he thrusts and you feel an orgasm shudder through you, clenching your walls around him. Moving with a stronger pace and with more force, the slapping of skin against skin fills the room as well as your panting breaths, before he speeds up, looking you in the eyes as he starts to tense up, his large muscular shoulders and arms bulge and it’s a beautiful sight. Bucky lets out a throaty groan, vibrating through you as he reaches his peak, his orgasm rushing through him as he thrusts through it, slowly decreasing in speed until he can’t take the sensation anymore and pulls out, collapsing onto the bed beside you.

After you both recover, Bucky helps to clean you up, wiping you down with a clean cloth and trailing kisses over your bare skin. “That was amazing, you’re amazing, sugar.” Bucky whispers in your ear. Before long, you’ve fallen asleep against Bucky’s chest, and you revel in his warm, protective embrace.

You woke with a start hours later, the bed is empty and when you run your hand across the space next to you, you feel Bucky’s warmth still there. As you start to wake up a bit more, you realise you can hear shuffling in your apartment and a muffled voice. Sliding out of bed, you pad across the floor to the door, still completely naked. You assume Bucky’s on the phone, so when you open the door, you’re not expecting Steve to be stood in the middle of your apartment. “God, Jesus Christ!” You shriek, shrinking back behind the door. You knew Steve hadn’t really seen you, but he definitely knew you were naked. You throw on Bucky’s shirt that was left discarded on the floor and your underwear before opening the door again. Both men turn to look at you and you shoot them a confused glare. “What are you doing in my flat at,” You pause to look at your microwave clock across the room. “Three in the morning?” You finish, your voice still raspy from sleep. Steve sighs and runs his hand down his face. “Fucking hell, what have I gotten you into?” Bucky says under his breath as you walk slowly into the room. “What’s going on?” You ask. “(Y/n), we need to leave.” Bucky strides towards you. You can hear sirens in the distance, lots of them. “Why, what’s happening?” Your voice peaks as panic starts to fill your chest. “Get dressed, we’re leaving.” Bucky guides you back into your bedroom.

He comes in with you and you pull of his shirt, throwing it to him while you rush to get yourself some new clothes. “Tell me what’s happening, Bucky.” You frown, pulling out a black crop top. He sighs as he pulls on his jeans. You’re about to press him again as you pull on your top when a loud explosion interrupts you, making you jump and turn to look at the flash of light through your curtains, the building shook with the force of the explosion. You freeze up completely and Bucky rushes to your side. “Come on sweetheart, we need to go.” He breathes into your ear as he pulls out a pair of leggings, helping you put them on as you stand there in shock. “(Y/n), come on, it’s alright, we just need to move quickly.” He snaps you out of your panic and you pull up your leggings. You finish getting dressed and step into your black boots. Throwing on your jacket, you collect together a few of your valuables, chucking them into your backpack and slinging it over your shoulders.

On your way out, you glance back at your apartment one last time, wondering if you’ll ever see it intact again. Bucky takes your hand, racing down the corridor with you, Steve slightly ahead of you both. Steve reaches out and triggers the fire alarm on your way out and you rush behind both men through the downstairs lobby. The pop of gunfire becomes apparent as you pass through the threshold into the cold night time air. Sam is waiting in an SUV outside and you all pile into the car. Buckling yourself in next to Bucky on the back seat you look out of the window, clutching your bag anxiously.

Another explosion goes off behind you at the end of the street and you see the glowing clouds of orange burst out of the windows of the building. “What the fuck is going on?!” You scream. Sam floors the accelerator. “Sam will take you to a safehouse, we have to sort this out.” Steve answers you with a stern voice. “What? No! I’m not going to a safehouse.” You protest. “(Y/n), Hydra is attacking your neighbourhood.” Bucky clutches your hand. “I didn’t tell you this, but the day they attacked us in front of that restaurant was my fault. I refused a deal to give up this district to them. That’s why they’re attacking.” Bucky rushes to explain as Sam turns a corner, reaching the edge of the neighbourhood as police cars whizz by at high speed. “What?” You shriek. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry, Christ, I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Bucky clutches his cheeks in his hands and you calm yourself. “God, no it’s not your fault Bucky.” You grab at his arm squeezing it gently and he turns to face you, letting out a little sigh. “We can fix this, right?” You ask. “There’s gotta be a way to fix this.” You ponder. “Why did they want the district in the first place?” You ask. “This isn’t really the time, (Y/n)!” Steve shouts, holding onto the handle above his door for dear life as Sam tears through the city roads. “(Y/n), doll there’s a lot I haven’t told you and I’m sorry.” Bucky holds your hands in his. “I don’t care what it is, I mean unless you intend on breaking up with me, which I absolutely refuse to allow you to over this.” You say sternly, peering out of the back window at the empty street behind you.

Sam drives you for a few more minutes and you’re starting to calm down from the situation. You take a deep breath but just as you’re starting to relax, a booming explosion shakes the car and you take in a sharp, gasping breath, clouds of smoke billowing up into the sky and you draw in a long, slow breath. “What haven’t you told me?” You ask, looking over at Bucky. Steve looks over his shoulder with a questioning look at Bucky. Bucky takes in a slow breath and closes his eyes. “I swear I didn’t know until a few days ago, I swear (Y/n).” Bucky looks at you with sad eyes, it almost breaks your heart seeing him so worked up. “Your parents died in a car crash, right?” He speaks quietly, like he’s afraid to even say the words. You nod, your heart speeding up rapidly. “Your father was involved with the mob, he got caught up in Hydra. They killed your parents, (Y/n).” Bucky grips your shoulder as you look at him in complete shock. You swallow thickly, a lump in your throat as you feel your lip quiver. “That’s why they tried to take me.” You breath out. Bucky nods, sliding his hands down to yours and you take hold of his. “Oh god.” Is all you can manage, forcing back tears. “The district you lived in was owned by them, after they died, it was passed to my father, everything they owned got passed to him.” Bucky explained, his voice was a lot calmer now.

Sam slowed the car as you neared Bucky’s office building. “You’re not taking me to a safehouse. I’m going in with you.” You state, your tone strong and even now that you’ve composed yourself. Everything Bucky said is swirling around in your head. It’s not his fault, even though he’s acting like it is, but you know it isn’t. How the hell had your parents kept that secret from you? This entire time, you were from a mob family of your own and you didn’t even know it. Getting involved with Bucky probably bought enough attention to you for Hydra to realise who you really were. Bucky didn’t even try to argue with you as he got out of the car, holding the door open for you and letting you grab his hand to help you slide out of his side of the car.

Sam drove the car around the corner to park it underground while you, Steve and Bucky made your way inside. “How are we going to deal with this?” Steve asked, not specifically aiming the question at anyone as you all filed into the elevator. “I haven’t worked that out yet.” Bucky sighed, jabbing the button for the top floor. “Can the police even handle Hydra?” You question, wondering out loud. Steve looks down at you and shrugs. “They’ve never had to deal with a mob blowing up a whole district before.” Steve responds as you watch the floor numbers increase above the door. The elevator stops and the doors slide open, Natasha and Scott are already waiting in the corridor outside of Bucky’s office and the three of you pace towards them.

Piling into Bucky’s office, you all stand around the desk, Bucky standing in front of his chair. “Hydra nearly have total control over the district. There have been four explosions and the casualty count is high. The hospitals are completely overrun, the fire department is stretched thin and the police are barely managing to control things.” Nat reports. “Fuck.” Steve breathes out. “Can’t we just send out reinforcements? You work the police, right?” You question. Bucky nods and scratches his stubble. “It won’t be enough though.” Steve sighs. “They are killing innocent people and you don’t want to send your men out there because you’re afraid it won’t be enough?” You raise your voice, frowning a bit. “Steve, people are dying!” You shout. Bucky looks at you sympathetically and nods. “(Y/n)’s right, we can’t just stand by and not do anything.” Bucky speaks up. “Call out the reinforcements to join the police.” Bucky instructs. Nat is scrolling through photos of the attack on the news on her phone and you look over her shoulder at them, seeing how they resemble a war like attack with enemy lines against the police. “Get your men to flank them, if they don’t see them coming you can take out more of them by surprise.” You instruct, not even caring that you’re not the boss, but everyone listens to you anyway. “Do as she says.” Bucky nods, glancing over at Steve who gives you an agreeing look before taking out his phone to make the call.

Everyone disperses from the room, Steve heads down the corridor on the phone, keeping his distance. Nat leans against the edge of the sky bridge that leads from the elevator to Bucky’s office and you join her side. “This wasn’t exactly how I pictured my Friday night to go.” She sighed. “Tell me about it.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Fuck, I should be out there, I can’t just stand around in here while this is going on.” Nat snaps, pushing away from barrier and paces to the other side to look down into the offices below. “Nat.” Bucky speaks softly, moving to join her with you on the other side of her. “I can’t, Bucky.” She shakes her head. “It’s so dangerous out there, you could die.” He tries to convince her otherwise. “Sorry Bucky, but I have to fight. If I die, at least I die fighting for what’s right.” She huffed out, looking between you both. Bucky gives her a nod and rests his hands on the railing. “I understand.” He closes his eyes as Natasha pulls you into a hug. “Stay safe, alright?” She whispers in your ear as you squeeze her tightly. “You too, Nat.” You respond shakily. She moves away from you and you keep your eyes locked on Bucky as she walks away.

You’re not sure how much time passes but you spend a while anxiously waiting. You don’t even know what you’re waiting for, but you start to grow restless and impatient. You let out a groan as you move away from the railing. “Fuck, I can’t just keep waiting, I need to help somehow.” You heave out a sigh. “Sugar, please.” Bucky instantly takes your hands in his. “I can’t lose you.” He grips you tightly. “I didn’t say anything about fighting, Buck.” You look up at him. “I’m going to see if I can dig up who’s running things. If we can find out who it is and take them out, the rest of them will fall like flies.” You theorise. “How are you going to do that?” Bucky frowns, shifting in his step a little. “It’s easy to dig up dirt on people, just gotta know how.” You give him a half hearted smile. “Where do you keep your records?” You ask. “Downstairs in the archive room.” Bucky answers simply. You nod your head in the direction of the elevator and Bucky walks with you.

The doors slide open and Bucky walks hand in hand with you, leading you through the corridors to the archive. Pushing open the large double doors, he flicks on the lights and you inspect the rows of free standing shelves filled with boxes on documents. “Bloody hell.” You whisper, taking in the vastness of the room. Bucky follows you to the computer desk and waits for you to boot up the PC. You type in several keywords into the database, writing down the row and box numbers for each one until you’re sufficiently pleased with the data. “We need to find these boxes.” You hand Bucky the paper. “I’ll get the first one, you stay here.” He stops you from getting up and you nod, shifting things about on the desk to make space for the boxes.

Bucky drops the first box onto the desk and you pull out the files, thumbing through the papers for any source of information. You huff when you don’t find what you’re looking for. You both go through several more boxes until you stop. Pushing away the papers and putting them back into the boxes, you go back to the database, typing in a different keyword this time. You don’t give Bucky a chance to get the box for you, since you rush off to find it yourself and you leave Bucky standing, staring at the screen, glancing over at you disappearing between the shelving units.

You return with a box, slamming it down onto the table. “(Y/n), that’s-.” Bucky begins but you cut him off. “I know, Buck.” You sound almost sad as you pull the lid off the box. Reaching in, you take out the file, thumbing through the papers, your eyes scan for what you’re looking for. Right as you’re about to admit defeat, you peer into the box and at the bottom are some jumbled up photographs.

You reach in and pull them out, going through each one, taking in the features of the people in the photos. You stop when you reach one of a man and woman shaking hands with two men. One of which you were familiar with, Rumlow, you weren’t sure who the second man was, but he looked important. Shaking his hand was none other than your father and next to him stood your mother. “(Y/n).” Bucky whispers. You don’t say anything as you look at more of the photos. There’s another one with that unknown man again with your father. They both face the camera and you notice the similarities in their features. They look like brothers. “My dad told me I had an uncle but I never met him.” You point out to Bucky, passing him the photo. He frowns down at it, looking at the two men. “You know who he is?” He asks. “Not a clue.” You shake your head. You shuffle the photos about, looking at a few more before you stop on the last one. It’s a photo of your father accepting a business award from the same man. “Wait.” You murmur, setting the photo down and picking the file back up. Flicking through the pages, you stop when you come to the documentation about your father’s business. “Received business award of excellence from partner and brother Alexander Pierce.” You read out. Bucky freezes. “What?” He frowns. “You know that name?” You ask. “I’ve heard it before, no idea where from though.” Bucky massages his forehead with his hand as you mull over the document. “This guy is in all of my father’s business contracts. He’s got major cuts in all of his payments, all of his deals.” You say, flicking through the papers. “But.” You stop, pulling out the documentation for his will. “Alexander Pierce received nothing when he died.” You point out on the paper. “You think he could be behind all of this?” Bucky asked. “He could be.” You nod slowly, putting the papers back into the folder. “You got any information about Pierce?” You ask. “M’not sure.” Bucky types out the name into the database, coming up empty. “Nothing, sorry sweetheart.” Bucky sighs. You put all of the papers and photos back and you rub your eyes.

You gently brush Bucky’s hands away from the keyboard and you bring up a search engine, typing in Pierce’s name. “Pierce was a successful businessman but was jailed in 2015 when he was found to be involved with arms dealing and again in 2016 when his accomplices for a case about trafficked drugs admitted to being partnered with him and Pierce’s sentence was extended by ten years. He escaped early last year and has never been seen since.” You read out. Bucky’s phone rings and he pushes away from the desk to answer it. You hear him talking, but don’t really pay attention to what he’s saying while you pack up the boxes again. “I’ve gotta go, sugar.” Bucky announces, walking towards you. “What? Where are you going?” You frown up at him. “Things have gone sideways with Steve; I have to go and help him.” He explains briefly. “What do you mean?” You question but Bucky just gives you a tight hug and a gentle kiss to the forehead before rushing out. “Be careful!” You shout after him. “You too, sweetheart!” You hear his voice echo through the doorway and you’re left in complete silence.

You look down at the photo of Pierce with your father you sigh. Looking into the eyes of Pierce, you feel cold when you stare at him. A shiver creeps up your back. You start to feel nervous and uncomfortable. The light above you flickers slightly and you let out a shaky breath. You start to feel anxious and jumpy. The odd sound here and there make you look around sceptically.

And then it dawns on you. You’re not alone.

__________________________

Tags:

@panic-naran @just-a-littlebit-of-everything@stupendousshepherdloverpony @scuzmunkie @sweet-peas-serpent @ its-a-disappointment-thaaanks @ thedoctorisweirdlyepic @fairislesheets @thejestersgesture @silent-loucidity @cryingismyhobbie @saharzek @that-girl-named-alex@founding-fuck-bois @veganfangirl5 @sebbystanlover-vk @the-omni-princess @pawunclebrother @paintballkid711

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catchester · 5 years ago

Text

12 Days of Christmas

Title: Epiphany

Authors: @evieplease and @catchester

Which character: Actor!Tom and OFC Rocky

Genre: Humour/Explicit

Fic Summary: Tom and Rocky spend their first Christmas as a couple and Rocky meets Tom’s Mum for the first time. Expect 12 gifts, too much boozy, bad puns and lots of fun!

Rating: Mature

Previous Chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138390/chapters/40304798

Epiphany

I’m not much of a cook. I mean, I can feed myself but that cordon bleu shit is way out of my wheelhouse. I don’t really have the time or patience for it anyway. Tom beats me like a drum in the cooking stakes, but if there’s one thing I can cook perfectly, it’s a steak.

I also make wonderful, fat chips—twice cooked so they’re lovely and crispy outside, but fluffy inside. And I’ve mastered a couple of sauces, but creamy pepper is Tom’s favourite, so we’ll be having that.

I’d also bought a little bit of broccoli to ‘show willing’, as my gran used to say. It was an afterthought, but it looks pretty on the plate, so. . .

Normally I’d cook a ribeye but tonight I was going all out and had bought three, fat, juicy sirloin steaks. I was salivating just thinking about them.

I’d even bought a new dress, a little red dress—a nice companion for my overworked little black dress. I kind of love it. It’s figure hugging, but with a little flirty flare at the hem, and an almost exact match for my crimson Sephora lip stain. Looks great with my boots too. And I know that Tom will appreciate the back view. Just wearing the thing made me want to wiggle my arse for him!

I’d spent much of the day in my workshop, which is just a fancy way of saying the garage I rent near my flat that I store my spares and heavier equipment in. I knew I was pushing things time wise, but I was nervous, okay?

The fresh layer of snow didn't help matters, snarling up traffic and meaning my errand took twice as long as it should have.

I ended up having to leave my chips boiling while I got ready, and kept darting back to poke them with a knife. I was damn lucky I didn't overcook them and end up with mash, but somehow I didn’t.

I had just slid into my new dress when the buzzer went, and I scrambled to do the zip up before Tom and Diana reached my front door.

I didn’t quite make it, and had to greet Diana with my bra strap hanging out. Luckily Tom spotted my predicament and zipped me up the rest of the way, but not before Diana commented on how chilly I must be! But I got a kiss on the back of my neck from Tom, so it’s all good.

My flat might only be two bedrooms, but it was pretty spacious. I’d improved it a lot over the last five years and it was worth a small fortune thanks to London prices. I would never have been able to afford a flat in London if not for my Dad. Growing up, we’d lived in a council house, which Dad bought at a vastly reduced rate back in the 80s when Right to Buy came in. As such, his small mortgage was long paid off, and the prices had skyrocketed over the years, so when all three of his kids had flown the coop, he sold the four bedroom place and bought two flats in the same estate, but different blocks.

We’d drawn up a contract and when I reached what he’d paid for it, he’d transfer ownership to me, or it would come to me on his death, whichever came first. My brothers would get his larger flat to share between them. Good luck to ‘em! Those boys haven’t agreed on anything but the MCU since they were ten and twelve, and I can just about predict the rows they’ll have deciding to renovate or sell Dad’s place. I plan on sitting back and enjoying the show.

One of my improvements to my place was to knock down the wall between the living room and kitchen. Where the wall used to be I kept a narrow, oblong table that folded out into one that could comfortably seat four. My extra folding chairs were kept in a cupboard. In my defence, they’re very nice folding chairs and I have cushions I can tie on…

How naff. I’d hang my head in shame, but I know Diana will appreciate the irony.

Thank god I hadn't had time to worry like this earlier, or they’d likely have arrived to find me sloshed again! Speaking of which...

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked, my stomach swooping, suddenly realising I should have picked up an extra bottle of wine! Bollocks! Wait, didn’t I have a nice one Tom bought as a gift a few months ago lurking at the back of a cupboard somewhere? I’d have to get it in the fridge ASAP.

“I don't have any red wine, I’m afraid, only rosé.” I worried my lip. I’m not really a fan of red wine, but red meat goes with red wine, and Diana would know that!

“Oh lovely, I like a nice rosé.” Diana to the rescue! God, I love that woman. She’s so polite.

I did find the bottle Tom had brought around before. It too was pink, but it was prosecco, not wine. Aah well, maybe that would work better as a dessert wine. Or, with luck, a fizzy celebration wine. I put it in the top of the fridge and opened the cold bottle of rosé.

“Here you go.” I handed them each a glass, but decided to have a beer myself so the wine would go further. I did decant my bottle contents into a tall glass for a change though because I’m at least attempting to be civilised tonight.

“You have a lovely home,” Diana said as I sat down on my L-shaped unit. It was a bargain I’d found on freecycle then re-upholstered, but it was a quality piece and looked expensive.

It’s not that I can’t afford a new sofa, even an expensive one—my business does well and my rent to my Dad is whatever I want to pay him. I pay quite a lot because I want him to get his investment in the flat back quickly, but he wouldn't mind at all if I took a whole year off payments because he trusts me. Plus, he’s semi retired now so all he does is answer the phones and do the books, for which he claims 30% of the profits. He started the business so I don’t begrudge him, and it means he isn't desperate for my rent as his income.

The real reason I upcycled my sofa is that she had such lovely bones, and I love crafty activities. After the renovations on the flat were done, I’d set about finding pieces I could give new life to. My bed mattress was brand new, but the headboard was second hand and recovered in a print to compliment the aqua and white paint in there. I’d stripped the old varnish off the wood parts and stained it new.

I asked Diana about the exhibition she was going to see and she explained it was actually a workshop where she’d be learning something called blackwork embroidery. I’d gathered from looking around her home that she was quite arty, but I hadn’t realised she enjoyed crafting too. It was nice to know we had something in common and I told her about a couple of my projects in the flat. I even told her the story of stapling my finger to the sofa she was sitting on, the very first time I used an upholstery gun, and she told me about some of her past projects.

After topping up their glasses, I began preparing the meal, but I could still chat to them as I worked. They wanted their steaks medium, which everyone defines differently but after some probing I determined that they liked it red inside, but not bloody cold, which was my preference too. Okay, maybe I like mine a little bloody, but it went on the skillet only 60 seconds after theirs.

I served my very fat chips in a sort of jenga tower with the middle bricks missing, being very careful not to wipe my greasy fingers on my red dress, then the steaks, a very healthy dollop of peppercorn sauce, and the broccoli topped with a knob of butter on the side.

“You led me to believe you weren’t a very good cook,” Diana gently chided me as we ate.

“I’m not,” I assured her. “I know how to cook, like, three things really well, this, lasagne, and a cheesecake, which we’re having for desert. Everything else falls somewhere between okay and inedible.”

“Do not ask her to cook fish,” Tom winked at me conspiratorially.

I laughed. He’d once said something about liking salmon, so I got a recipe and tried to cook it for him. It was all new to me, the only fish Dad or the boys would eat came from the fish and chips shop down the corner. Unfortunately no matter what I did the stuff tasted like dirt! Very fishy dirt! I ended up over seasoning, then overcooking it so much that it dried out and it really was inedible.

And it still tasted like dirt!

We’d ordered a curry instead.

“Well, these potatoes are amazing, you must give me the recipe,” Diana told me, smiling warmly at me.

It wasn't hard, so I explained it to her as we ate.

As well as complimenting me, Diana ooh’d and ah’d as she ate. Tom just ate steadily as if afraid someone might nick his plate if he slowed down, glancing up at me with a warm appreciative smile now and then, so I think they genuinely liked it.

Good, Diana would probably not like it if I poisoned her boy.

Talk of the salmon disaster naturally led onto other food related disasters, and I quickly learned I was in good company.

“Do you remember when you left some steaks out to defrost?” Tom asked his mum.

Apparently their neighbour’s cat had neatly chewed away all but the rind of fat while they were in the garden. Then there was the story of a time they’d been visiting a friend, and another friend’s dog had eaten the shepherd’s pie they were to be served!

The Guinness pie was my favourite story though. It was apparently a steak pie made with Guinness gravy, that Diana loved as a child. It was her father’s recipe, basically the only thing he cooked, and then only once or twice a year, on special occasions. She swore she followed the recipe her father gave her to the letter but it was awful.

“Turned my stomach, honestly,” she admitted, turning pink even after all these years.

Tom was grinning. “She served us all first, then she realised she’d forgotten the pot of English mustard and told us to all tuck in. Well we did, and there’s me, my sisters and my dad just looking at each other. We all knew she’d spent all day on this and was really looking forward to it. None of us had the heart to tell her we couldn't eat it. She came back and we all plastered smiles on and told her how wonderful it was, while helping ourselves to carrots.”

“That should have been my first clue,” Diana laughed. “Honestly, you’d have thought this one was allergic to vegetables, given how hard he tried to avoid them, and there he was larding his plate with carrots!”

“Then she took one mouthful and her face just turned grey,” Tom laughed. Diana reached out and playfully smacked his shoulder.

“I still tried it a second and third time, in case I’d made a mistake, although I didn't make the family try it. I thought that perhaps the stout needed to marinate longer, or be cooked at a higher temperature so it burned off, but each attempt was just as inedible as my first bite. My father was adamant that he’d given me the exact recipe he used. I gave up in the end and concluded that he must have substituted something else for the stout, possibly something like cider. I’ve tried other recipes with cider gravy over the years but never quite managed to replicate the same taste.”

I cleared the plates from the table but everyone wanted a little break before desert, which was fine with me.

“Has Tom told you about our 12 days gifts?” I asked Diana as I grabbed a box from a kitchen drawer.

Suddenly I had a sort of out of body experience where I was watching myself sit with Tom and his mum, I must be mad for even considering what I was about to do...

“He’s told me all about it,” she grinned. “What a lark! It sounds like you had great fun.”

“We did, but more than that, those gifts, specifically the thought Tom had put into his, had really brought home how much he cares for me.”

I handed Diana a gift box, about 6 inches by four, and maybe two deep. It wasn't wrapped but I had done it up in a fancy ribbon. Eventually she freed it from it’s ribbon prison and opened the lid.

There in the middle, nestling among some tissue paper (which was hiding some printer paper because I didn't have enough tissue paper, and I wasn’t using bog paper) sat a ring box.

“This looks interesting,” she murmured, reaching for the ring box.

I could hardly hear her over the hammering of my heart, and I couldn’t look at Tom. My hands were sweating, and my leg was jittering under the table.

As I got off my chair, my knees were trembling but I managed to move beside Diana’s chair before I collapsed to my knees. I barely made eye contact with Tom, who looked curious.

“It’s a. . . a ring?”

I had found an incredible rose gold, tungsten ring with a gorgeous burl wood inlay for Tom. I thought it would look warm and elegant on his left hand. It’s unusual, but once I saw it, I couldn’t even look at any bog standard men’s wedding bands. I hope he likes it. Diana’s finger traced thoughtfully over the design, so I think she liked it.

Diana looked up at me, eyebrows up and questions in her eyes. I shuffled around, less gracefully than I’d like until I was on one knee before her, in the traditional pose of a proposer.

I desperately wanted to look at Tom to see his reaction but I didn’t dare. I’d lose my bottle, if I did...

I took the ring box from her, but I was shaking so much I had to hold it with both hands. I cleared my throat, and sternly ordered myself not to tear up out of sheer nerves.

“This last year taught me a lot about Tom and our relationship, and I suppose you could say I’d had an epiphany about how much your son has come to mean to me. With that in mind, Diana, I..” My voice cracked and I had to clear it and try again. “I wonder if you would do me the honour of becoming my Mother-in-Law?

The next three seconds seemed to last an hour. Diana’s mouth opened in surprise as she stared down at the ring. Not unpleasantly surprised, but, oh god, she also wasn't answering me...

I shouldn't have done it this way, I shouldn't have brought Diana into this. I’d just thought it was a funny and quirky way to include her, but of course, she couldn't answer for Tom. This was such a stupid idea!

I saw Diana’s gaze flick in Tom’s direction and still couldn’t look at him. I kept my eyes steady on hers and wished the ground would open up to swallow me whole. Hell, it could take my whole apartment, as long as this nightmare stopped!

I could feel my eyes pricking with tears of humiliation. I should have got drunk again, then I’d probably be passed out and unable to make a fool of myself. Again. I lifted my chin and grabbed courage with both hands, waiting for the verdict.

Suddenly there was an arm around my shoulder and I realised Tom was kneeling beside me.

“Please, Mum, say yes!”

I’ve never felt so much relief as when I heard him say that. I swayed on my knees and my surroundings spun briefly as all the air seemed to rush back into the room.

Diana’s hand moved to her chest, patting it as if she’d had heart palpitations, her eyes twinkling down at me.

“Well I don’t know…” she deliberately drew out her response, the tease! “Don’t you think this is... awfully sudden, dear?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. What was she on about? She looked just exactly like Tom when he was about to spring a horrible pun on me, the same sly little smile lurking about her lips.

“I’m trying to think what those vows would be... ‘Do you, Rocky, take this woman, Diana, as your Awful Wedded Mother-in-Law? To poke and to prod, to stick her nose in where it isn’t wanted, and to generally make herself a pain in your arse? So help you baby Jesus?’

I grinned. Yep, I definitely wanted her! Tom choked beside me, laughing.

“Diana, that is exactly what I had in mind!” I nodded my head hard, my hair bouncing wildly around my head. “So, um, will you?”

Diana reached down and carefully pulled a strand of hair from my mouth, tenderly tucking it behind my ear, her eyes softened into the exact shade Tom’s get. Her hand cupped my cheek gently.

“Yes Rocky, I’d be delighted to be your Mother-in-Law.” she said softly. I heard Tom’s breath gust out in relief beside me. I knelt up, throwing my arms around her and squeezing hard. “Thank you,” I whispered into her hair. I cleared my throat, because I was not going to cry on Tom’s mum.

Diana put her hands on my arms, gently pushing me away, her eyes going behind me.

“I think there’s someone who wants his turn…”

Before I could even look his way, Tom had pulled me onto his thighs, wrapping his arms around me tightly and hugging me hard. One hand went into my hair and pulled my face up to his. There were tears in his eyes, and a crooked smile on his lips.

“Yes please, Rocky.”

Then he was kissing me fiercely, and by god, I was giving back, my hands clutching his shirt.

“Ahem…” Diana cleared her throat. I pulled away from Tom long enough to glance round at her.

“But you said I could have him!” I grumbled at her, hiding my elated laugh. Her eyes laughed right back at me.

“Yes dear, but not right now, if you please! I believe I was promised cheesecake!”

***

We put Diana in a cab back to Tom’s for the night, hugs and kisses all around. She even pinched my cheek! Tom and I stood, arms around each other’s waists, waving goodbye to her as she drove off

“What would you have done if she’d said ‘no’?” Tom’s tone was slyly curious as we made our way back up the stairs to my second floor flat. I blanched.

“Died of humiliation?” Even thinking of the possibility gave me cold shivers. But Tom had slid to his knees next to me.

“What would you have done?” I turned my face up to his, wondering if he’d have gone along with his mum. Tom scowled.

“Rocky, you know I love my mum. But I’d have told her to…” Tom stalled out as he considered his words. I cocked my head, waiting.

“I’d have told her to bugger off,” said the very civilised, posh idiot. I gasped, only then realising that I’d been holding my breath.

“But Rocky,” Tom stopped before the door to my flat and raised my chin to look into my eyes. “That was never going to happen, my love. Because Mum loves me, and she knows I love you. Also,” he grinned, “Mum likes you. And now she finds you very engaging.”

Well shit. My eyes teared up at least as much from the sentiment as from the pun. I stood on my toes and kissed him.

Tom opened my door and ushered me in, turning to close the door behind us. When he turned back, I pushed him against it, holding him there with a hand in the center of his chest.

My other hand slid down his torso to the waistband of his trousers, flicking the button open and sliding the zip down, ratcheting slowly.

I stared into his eyes, watching them darken from their Caribbean blue to steel, the creases at the corners of his eyes tightening.

“Rocky…” he breathed.

“Shhh…” I replied, slipping my hand into his trousers to grasp him. The posh idiot never wore pants, which was calculated to make me rethink the ‘posh’ part. Somehow, knowing that he was bare behind that zipper made me hard.

When my hand encountered all that hard, silky steel. Practically leaping into my hand, I could feel my pussy clench in sheer anticipation. I wanted that hard cock inside me, like, yesterday!

Oh wait. It was inside me yesterday!

I wrapped my hand carefully and firmly around his shaft, my thumb extending over his bell end to protect him from any chance zip or harsh denim scraping against that tender, sensitive tip.

I like that cock. I wasn’t going to allow it to be hurt on my watch! Besides, if it was going to be mine for the rest of my natural life, forsaking all others, it was in my best interest to see to its proper care and feeding!

My hand tightened around him, just thinking what I wanted to feed it into. Tom lifted a hand and set it onto the column of my throat. I swallowed, feeling my throat move against his palm.

Tom’s head was tilted down watching me as I blindly explored his cock with my hand, palming his length and running my fingertips up his shaft, all the way to the edge of his foreskin. I ran my finger around the rim, gently pushing it down and freeing the vulnerable, delicate bit of skin right beneath his cock head.

I lifted my forefinger, dipping it into the drop of precome waiting there for me, dropping down and letting my finger glide around the edge of his foreskin on the slick fluid, being sure to slide over the tender skin of his bell. How can something so soft be so hard?

I think of myself as hard, but I’m soft for Tom. Really, the only thing to do is to make him mine. Thank god he said yes. Or…

“Um…” I cleared my throat as I continued to glide my finger over him. “You did say yes, didn’t you? I mean, you get that having your mum as my mother-in-law actually entails you marrying me, right?” I lifted my eyes and searched his.

The blue of his eyes softened. His nose nuzzled below my ear.

“I do, Rocky. And yes, I will.”

All the air left my body and my fingers clenched on him, one hand on his chest, my nails digging into his skin, the other around his cock.

Tom hissed, and his hips shot forward into my fist, forcing his cock through the tight ring of my fingers.

“God, Rocky…” he groaned, his hands moving into my hair, thumbs on my jaw as he leaned down to kiss me roughly.

I stroked that silky smooth, incredibly hard length against my palm. Tom tore his mouth away, breaking our kiss and breathing hard. I took my opportunity to slip to my knees in front of him.

“Rocky...you don’t have-” He gasped.

“Tom,” I said sharply, “if you finish that sentence with ‘don’t have to suck my cock’, I might do you an injury!”

I squeezed his shaft, just to be clear what part might be injured.

“Right,” Tom gasped, “carry on, then.” He swallowed audibly hard, his hands clenching in my hair.

I grinned cheekily at him. “Don’t mind if I do!”

I dragged my free hand down his torso, firmly pushing his back against the door. I took a quick swipe at him with my tongue from stalk to tip and grinned up at him.

“I do what I want!”

I wrapped my lips around the head and gave a suck, swirling my tongue tip over and around the head.

I felt Tom’s deep throated groan vibrate through his body and onto my tongue. Stopping for a second, I looked up at him, for once with no quip on the tip of my tongue.

“I love you, Tom.”

Tom’s eyes completely dilated and he thrust into my fist, his cockhead pushing between my lips, and suddenly he was coming against my mouth.

My hand pumped over his cock, squeezing and pulling his climax from him, licking his come from around my lips and working the rest out in hot ropes onto my neck and chest.

Tom made a tortured noise, his hands clenching in my hair and hips thrusting helplessly. I gentled my hand, holding it still and warm over his softening shaft as he panted above me.

“Rocky…”

I tore my eyes away from the sight softening in my hand and looked up.

“You undo me, my love.”

His hands moved to my arms and lifted me to stand, wrapping his arms and body around me like a loving cloak.

I nuzzled my nose into the patch of hair in the center of his chest.

“Love you, Tom,” I murmured into his skin, speaking directly to his thumping heart. The arms around me tightened.

“Come along. I have something for you.”

“I hope it’s a hot flannel!”

Tom snickered and trod across the room into the kitchen, dragging me to the sink and wetting a tea towel. He wiped us both clean, and tossed the towel on the side.

He’d left his tablet on the table. Pulling a chair out, he sat, tugging me down onto his lap. He reached for the tablet.

I was wondering if he planned to treat me to porn, or puppies. I never know with Tom, which is of course, one of the things I love about him. He swiftly swiped through a few screens and brought up a file.

“Here, what do you think?” He pushed the tablet into my hands and set his chin on my shoulder, looking over me at the screen.

My hand flew to my mouth, fingers trembling over it as I stared down at a page of gorgeous, conflict free, diamond engagement rings.

“I didn’t want to choose one without you, and I honestly didn’t know what sort you’d like, since you never wear rings or other jewelry,” Tom murmured.

My hand dropped down to the partridge in a pear tree necklace Tom had given me on the First Day of Christmas.

“Except your partridge,” he acknowledged. “But I chose that, so I really have no idea what your taste in jewelry is.

I was speechless as Tom slowly scrolled through several pages of rings, all sorts, my eyes filling as it finally dawned on me that Tom had been planning to ask me, or was at least thinking about it, when a teardrop landed on the screen. His arm stole around my waist as he turned his head and kissed my neck.

I sniffled, slightly embarrassed, and let out a watery laugh.

“What’s funny, love?”

I sniffled again. “I got engaged today, and here you are, making me cry.”

Tom chuckled.

“Though it might just be PMS.”

Tom lifted his head with a great shout of laughter. “Oh darling, with you it’s probably the entire alphabet!” Tom teased.

He brought up another page, this time with rubies and sapphires and such. My breath caught at a dark red, square cut stone with two smaller, smokey coloured square cut stones set on either side, all swirled about in a fanciful gold setting. It was stunning,

I reached out a finger and touched it. The image changed, showing other angles of the ring.

“Ooh, I like that one!” Tom wriggled a bit under me in his enthusiasm. “You like coloured stones? Unusual settings? So much better than boring old diamonds, don’t you think? Bloody marvelous, aren’t they?”

I nodded, my throat tight. I hadn’t even given any thought to a ring for me, yet.

“Tom, I must tell you though, it’s unlikely that I’ll wear it much. With my job, my hands are in and out of all sorts of muck…”

“That’s alright then.” Tom hugged me. “There are plenty of times that I can’t wear jewelry on my job, too. On stage or filming, and so forth. We’ll just have to work out a routine for taking them off before going to work, and putting them back on when we get home. Think of it as putting on and taking off your shoes, only in reverse!”

My head spun with all the things that we haven’t talked about. Oh my god, I don’t know how to throw a wedding! Budget, guest list, venue, flowers, bridesmaids, grooms men, catering, open or closed bar, the dress… the list seemed endless and I knew I was probably forgetting a dozen other things.

“I guess there’s still loads of things to work out before we do this thing, right?”

“We can take as long as we need,” he soothed, sensing my unease. “And if we want, there are people we can hire who take care of the organisation.”

“Okay,” I took a deep breath and tried to relax. “As long as you don’t expect me to look like some giant, frothy meringue.”

“Never,” he laughed. “And if you get one of those dresses with a thousand pearly buttons down the back, expect them to get torn off on the wedding night.”

The idea of being torn out of my wedding dress actually turned me on a little. Is that bad?

“Oh, you like that idea,” Tom purred.

“It’s not the worst idea I’ve heard.”

“Well I’ll have to practice,” he told me, his face the picture of sincerity. “We’ll start easy, maybe try ripping a robe off, then we’ll graduate to t-shirts and shirt-shirts and before you know it’ I’ll be ready to destroy your wedding dress in my haste to get to you.”

“Or,” I said, holding a finger up as I presented my counter argument, “You could just destroy me right now and I’ll wear a white string bikini on the wedding day.”

“Only if I get to wear white speedos.”

“Fine, but you also need a white bow tie.”

Imagining literally the worst of the worst white trash wedding was kind of fun.

“And white flip-flops,” Tom added.

“What about if we want a winter wedding?” I asked.

“White wet suits,” he answered without missing a beat. “I’ll draw a string bikini on yours in Sharpie marker pen.”

“And I’ll be sure to outline your English countryside. Very much looking forward to shading in your arse crack.”

That was the remark that made us lose it and we laughed until our sides hurt.

Eventually we calmed down, with just the occasional giggle reemerging as we lay there.

“Now correct me if I’m wrong,” Tom purred, “but I believe there was some mention of me destroying you?”

“Well yes. I’d hate for you to be embarrassed on the wedding night because we hadn’t practised.”

I swear I heard him growl as he pounced on me, his smile positively wolfish.

Oh dear, I had awoken the beast and now I was doing to pay.

I shivered in anticipation.

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Not Nineteen Forever (12) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: hey friends! here’s chapter 12 of Not Nineteen Forever, i’m sorry it’s so late but i want to thank everyone who waited patiently and was so polite and encouraging while waiting. it really made me smile! remember i always love and am so grateful for sweet comments either on AQ, through reblog, or on my blog, so keep them coming bc they motivate me no end!! hope u all enjoy this chapter (p.s. finally accepted the ninex in this fic is not in any way background any more xo) xxxxxxx

trigger warning: alcohol n naughty texts xo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Monet and Nina continued to be adorable, Yvie and Scarlet continued to be cute, but Brooke wasn’t sure if she wanted the same for her and Vanessa.

this chapter: there’s library woes, a flat party, a lilac-haired, tattooed bombshell, and Yvie confides in Scarlet.

***

Scarlet let a long puff of air out of her cheeks and blinked at her laptop, bored. She’d been so eager for Uni to start back again, so excited to get back to the city and see her friends that she slightly forgot about the whole academic aspect of everything. Lectures had started that week and in between trying to force four different modules’ worth of information into her head she had caught up with Vanjie, chatting before, after and in between lectures when they could. It was interesting, Scarlet thought. Before Christmas she could never get her to shut up about Brooke and how things were going with her but ever since the holidays it seemed as if Brooke was a subject to be avoided. Scarlet knew something must have changed but she didn’t want to push Vanjie for information if she wasn’t ready to share it. They still seemed to be together, anyway, even if things seemed a little strained.

At least she could say that wasn’t the case for her and Yvie. After many long evening Skype sessions during the holidays, the pair of them had decided that they couldn’t bear to be apart a moment longer and so Scarlet had taken the six hour train to go and stay with her girlfriend at her family home for a few days. She had been a bag of nerves at the thought of meeting Yvie’s family, but her Mum had been lovely (and seemingly just relieved that her daughter had settled down), her Dad had been welcoming, if a little quiet (“He’s under strict instructions not to speak because every time he opens his mouth he embarrasses me”), and the brothers and sisters that were still at home and not out somewhere or back to uni themselves were kind and friendly. In the three days they spent together, Scarlet and Yvie went for cold, crisp walks along the beach, curled up on Yvie’s old battered leather sofa the family had had since she was small and watched Disney films, gone ice skating, and looked out over Yvie’s city on a rickety ferris wheel that had looked as if it would take one good sneeze to knock it down.

But all that movie-screen romance was behind her now, as the most romantic Scarlet had been with Yvie in the week since they’d been back at uni was a Tesco Finest £10 meal deal cooked in Yvie’s flat and then watched in front of the TV as a perfect accompaniment to Coronation Street. They were both busy and waiting for their academic life to slow down a little again. The same could be said for their whole friendship group, really. The whole gang hadn’t done anything all together since their Christmas dinner, and Scarlet was itching for a night out where she could get absolutely off her face and forget that she was working towards the degree that would define the rest of her life. Sighing again and feeling the words on her laptop merge into a big blur, Scarlet looked up at the big clock on the wall. Five o'clock. She turned to Akeria who was sat at the desk beside her. She and Silky had come to join her mid-study, the latter having been dragged into the library by her flatmate because she still hadn’t handed in an essay that had been due since before Christmas and Akeria was quite frankly concerned.

“Akeria,” Scarlet whispered, the other girl quickly finishing a sentence she was working on, turning away from her laptop towards Scarlet and pushing her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I want a night out. This is shit.”

“This is what we signed up for, baby,” Akeria gave a small laugh and shrugged, turning back to her laptop. Akeria’s dissertation wasn’t due until May but she had already started writing it, which struck the fear of God into the majority of their friendship group and made them all feel like slackers. “This is uni. This is our fuckin’ degree, girl.”

“You’re really making me feel better,” Scarlet rolled her eyes, Akeria giving another laugh under her breath.

“Hey,” Silky said from her position at the desk across from them, her voice entirely at speaking-pitch and causing a few heads to turn their way. “What’re you hoes talkin’ about? I want in.”

“We’re bitching about you,” Akeria deadpanned, tapping away at her keyboard.

“Fuck off, Kiki.”

“I want a night out,” Scarlet hissed over to her as quietly as she could. “But Little Miss Law Degree wants to stay in the library from dusk til dawn every evening until she graduates.”

Scarlet’s face lit up as Silky bellowed a laugh so loud it caused the girl beside her to put a set of earphones in. Looking at Akeria and hoping she hadn’t been offended, she was relieved to see the other girl giving her a wry smile.

“This bitch can be so savage when she wants to be, Jesus. Ouch. No, I’m just sayin’! This was what we chose to do, so quit complaining,” Akeria rolled her eyes, leaned back in her chair and stretched. “That being said…I do think I’ve earned a night out.”

“Well me fuckin’ too, bitch!” Silky exclaimed incredulously, Scarlet laughing in spite of herself.

“How much have you written, Silk?” she asked, the girl opposite looking down at her laptop, clicking a few times, then looking back up to the girls in front of her.

“You know what…it don’t matter how many words I’ve done, it’s the level of mental energy I have needed to use in order to-”

“Silky, how many words,” Akeria demanded, fixing her with a stare that looked as if it could slice her in half.

“Ninety-four.”

“Jesus Christ on a crystal meth binge,” Akeria sighed, Scarlet letting out a splutter beside her. Silky looked at them both pleadingly.

“Hey, now don’t make me feel bad! We only been in here-”

“An hour and a quarter,” Akeria stared at her.

Silky threw her hands up. “Well I been doing readings an’ shit! Do you know how hard it is to get any articles that have the exact quote ‘Boris Johnston is a piece of dog shit’? Fuckin’ hard!”

“Why the hell are you looking for that?” Akeria blurted out, unable to keep herself from laughing. Scarlet was laughing so hard she thought she would pass out.

“Because, bitch! I want to use that exact wording in my essay but I need some academic shit to back me up.”

“Fuck me.”

“To be fair, that is the worst,” Scarlet shrugged, not wanting Silky to feel too demoralised. “Searching for three hours to find one reference that can back up one of your points. Like, why can’t you just make the point because you want to? You know? Why is your opinion only valid if it’s been previously thought up by a white man in a suit?"

"Very profound,” Silky nodded emphatically. “Anyway, this bitch needs to get her drink on. I’m going to ask the girls."

As she watched Silky pick up her phone, Scarlet was reminded to check her own. She’d deliberately sat on it and put it on flight mode in an attempt to force herself to do work. Now, she felt as if she could excuse a small break. Turning off flight mode, she watched as a small flood of notifications came through. There had been fifteen new group chat messages, Nina had tagged them all in a meme, and she had two messages from Yvie. She checked the latter first, wondering if she would ever get tired of the feeling of her heart soaring like a balloon every time she saw, heard or spoke Yvie’s name.

Y: if i told u i was considering buying a set of faux-leather underwear would that be weird or a turn-on

Y: also that lasagne is even better on the second day u need to have some of it when ur round

S: Sorry this took me so long!!!!!! I turned my phone on flight mode in an attempt to get some work done

S: No such luck

S: Leather look underwear is a yes from me but i’m inclined to ask for pics first xoxoxoxoxo

S: Also yes i want lasagne

S: That’s not a euphemism btw i actually really do want some lasagne

Y: 😈

As Scarlet gave a soft laugh to herself, she checked what had been going on on the group chat since she’d been studying. She wondered what exciting plans could have been made, or what drama could have happened, or if anyone had any exciting or interesting news.

Okay Then: oh my god

Kim Kardashian-West: ??????

Okay Then: has anyone seen the state of Simon Cowell’s face

Scarlet gave a colossal roll of her eyes. She should have known that, at times, the groupchat could become one massive shitpost.

Kim Kardashian-West: No??? What’s he done to it?? Has he been in a crash?

Okay Then: he might as fucking well have been

What followed was a picture of what seemed to be a man whose face had been partially melted with a blowtorch, until Scarlet looked closer and realised that it was indeed the TV talent show judge.

mose: Jesus Fucking Christ what’s he done to himself

Scarlet’s bitch: that’s frightening

Okay Then: RIGHT???

Scarlet’s bitch: that’s what i see in the corner of my room when i have sleep paralysis

Kim Kardashian-West: That is TRULY the stuff of nightmares!!!!

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Fucking hell Plastique don’t fucking frighten us like that!!!

mose: He must surely see that he looks like shit? Like how could you not?

Okay Then: how can he see anything when his eyebrows are now entirely obscuring his eyes

Kim Kardashian-West: I am actually quite frightened guys

At this point, Scarlet caught up to the current conversation.

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: AS TERRIFYING AS SIMON COWELL’S FACE IS

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: CAN WE TALK BUSINESS FOR A SECOND?

Kim Kardashian-West: Of course!

mose: I’m all business

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Sure you are baby xxxxxxx

Scarlet’s Bitch: that is fucking vile keep that shit off the groupchat u big gays

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YA FAV BITCHES ARE IN THE LIBRARY AND WE ARE GAGGING FOR A NIGHT OUT

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: WE AIN’T HAD ONE IN AGES

Okay Then: yaaaaaaaaaas bitches let’s do it

Okay Then: thursday night fever

Kim Kardashian-West: Well Monet invited me to this flat party she’s hosting tonight

Kim Kardashian-West: I could ask her if you guys could come too?

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Omg yes I’m down!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YES BITCH FLAT PARTY!!!!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: AND IF SHE SAYS NO JUST SAY SHE AIN’T GETTIN ANY PUSS FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE

Kim Kardashian-West: SILKY!!!!!!!! THAT IS DISGUSTING!!!

Yvie’s Bitch: We were all thinking it xoxo

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: AHAHAHAHAHA SILK

Okay Then: YES Scarlet

Kim Kardashian-West: You’re all horrible. And uninvited.

mose: Ninaaaaaa

Okay Then: Nina pls

Scarlet’s Bitch: fuck i’m not even sure i can do tonight ladies

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YVIE DONT YOU DARE

Scarlet’s Bitch: i’ve got a 9am tomorrow and i want to get that first u know

mose: Yvieeee the last time we were all together was literally over a month ago

Scarlet pouted to herself, disappointed at the thought of Yvie being the only one not out. Suddenly, an idea began to form in her head. Biting back a smile, she took to her chat with Yvie.

S: Yvieeeee

Y: Scarleeeeet

S: Please come to the flat party :(((((((

S: I’ll do anything you want

Y: anything i want?

S: Yesssss

Y: that sounds like a challenge princess

Scarlet crossed her legs and felt herself squeezing her thighs together. Looking around at the rows of silent people, she turned her phone brightness down to make extra sure nobody could see her messages, just in case the conversation turned the way Scarlet thought it was about to.

S: Well it depends on what you want me to do x

Y: wellllll

Y: i’ve been wondering if u can take a strap like a good girl

Scarlet felt briefly as if she’d been shocked by a defibrillator. Yvie always seemed to go from 0 to 100 real fucking quick, and Scarlet couldn’t help but love it.

S: You know I could baby

Y: i know you could, you’re such a good girl

Y: so how about if i come to this party i get to watch u bounce on my dick until u cum all over it

Scarlet could feel her face growing red. She and Yvie had messaged like this before, when they had been at home and miles away from each other and alone and very much not-in-a-public-place, but this was so fucking different.

S: Christ Yves I’m in the library!!!!

Y: shut up u started all this!!

S: Yeah I kinda did

Y: deliberately getting me to tell u what i want to do to u later when ur sitting in public in a fucking silent building

Y: jesus fucking christ Scarlet that’s so hot

Scarlet felt an urgent pulse of heat between her legs and she squirmed in her seat.

S: Where are you just now?

Y: i’m in bed

Y: touching myself at the thought of u sitting absolutely soaking wet and being able to do fuck all about it

S: So you’re coming to the party baby?

Y: how about

Y: if u can get to the flat before i cum i’ll fuck u into the mattress and i’ll come to this party or whatever

Scarlet nearly jammed her fingers in her laptop in her haste to get it shut, wrenched her charger out of its socket so hard it almost broke, and muttered a near-breathless goodbye to a confused Akeria and Silky all in the space of about twenty seconds as she struggled into her coat and sped out into the stairwell.

Five hours later Scarlet had managed to fit a lot in. She’d hurried round to Yvie’s to find her in bed in the black lace underwear she knew drove Scarlet crazy, and they’d fucked twice (fast, rough and passionate then sweet, tender and gentle) before Scarlet had reluctantly dragged herself out of Yvie’s bed to head back to her own flat and get ready for the party. Nobody seemed to know what the dress code was, least of all Nina who had sent about nine different outfit options to the group chat for opinions, so Scarlet settled on a tight black bandage dress that stopped at her calves, with trainers to dress it down a bit. She’d hurriedly munched down a bowl of pasta a la whatever-was-left-in-the-fridge, then set off across town to meet the girls at the edge of the park, where they had decided they would all meet then walk together to Monet’s flat.

Scarlet heard her friends before she saw them, Vanjie’s distinctive laugh ricocheting off trees and mixing with Yvie’s Bond-villan one letting Scarlet know she was heading in the right direction. Finally reaching the group, Scarlet gave them all a hug in turn and took in each of their outfits. It was still icy and cold, so most of them had opted for trainers over heels- save for Plastique, who always wore them for any night out and Vanjie, who was wearing chunky heeled boots. Much of their clothes clashed with the weather, though. Plastique and Akeria were in tight dresses, Brooke and Silky were in short skirts and tops. Vanjie had chosen some loose-fitting ripped denim jeans and a tiny bodysuit which left little to the imagination. Nina had gone for a light blue t-shirt dress and a chunky pair of trainers, her nerves palpable even in the group dynamic. Scarlet thought Yvie looked the best though in her burnt orange velvet skirt and tight black long-sleeved bodysuit, her unruly hair tamed and brushed into two huge bunches.

"You look nice, Nina!” Scarlet complimented her in an attempt to calm her down.

“Aww, Scarlet! Do I actually?” Nina smiled brightly, then cringed at herself. “Fuck! Why can’t I just take a fucking compliment like a goddamn normal person? I do this with Monet all the time!”

“Because you got a big-ass crush,” Silky shrugged. “It’s almost as big as Akeria’s ass. Not quite, though.”

“Shut up,” Akeria rolled her eyes and shoved her friend.

“Does it even count as a crush if you’re seeing the person in question?” Scarlet wondered out loud. Plastique shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Don’t know. Ask Brooke or Vanjie.”

The group exploded into laughter, something about it not quite meeting Brooke or Vanessa’s eyes. They were both standing close together, hands entwined, but Scarlet didn’t know. There seemed as if there was something off. Forced, even.

“Okay, let’s go, motherfuckers. I’m freezing my vagina off,” Vanjie said decisively, Nina moving first and making to lead the way.

“Right, a few things before we arrive,” Nina began speaking at a mile a minute before Scarlet could even compliment Yvie on her outfit. “Monet has somehow got it into her head that you guys are cool enough to be invited to this party. She doesn’t know the truth yet, so just try to act like a group of normal fucking human beings?”

“The truth? What the hell is that meant to mean?!” Brooke let out a laugh.

“That you’re all fucking weirdos! And she, for some reason, still likes me, so I am not having you all put that in jeopardy, capiche?” Nina snapped back, only half-joking.

“Jeez, thanks,” Akeria rolled her eyes, Nina instantly protesting.

“I’m joking! I’m joking. But not really. Like Silk, please try not to overdo it tonight?”

Silky raised her eyebrows and sucked her cheeks in. “I’m making no promises, girl.”

“Akeria, please don’t accidentally make out with anyone’s boyfriends?”

“Oh my God Nina! That happened ONCE!” Akeria cried out incredulously.

“And Vanjie, don’t-”

“Nina. We’re not going to embarrass you. Chill the fuck out,” Yvie rolled her eyes and squeezed the shoulder of the girl in front of her.

The girls all finally reached Monet’s old, red-brick building and her front door, and Nina pressed the buzzer nervously. There came a crackly screech of mayhem through the intercom which contained unintelligible speech, and then the girls were all quickly buzzed in. Scarlet looked to Yvie questioningly as she wondered if she’d heard any words, but she also appeared to be as clueless as she was. It didn’t seem to faze any of the other girls though, as Vanjie was already bounding up the stairs with Akeria as fast as her chunky heels could carry her. They didn’t have to walk far, as Monet’s flat was on the first floor. Vanjie moved to open the door first when it was suddenly wrenched open from the other side to reveal a tiny, skinny blonde girl with her hair curled and loose on her shoulders. Her pink dress was as tiny as she was, but regardless of her size she looked ready to fight.

“Who the fuck are you?” she addressed Akeria, barely acknowledging the others. “You here to sell us girl scout cookies, or an Avon catalogue, check our meter readings maybe?"

Just as Akeria looked as if she would instigate a full-scale fight, Nina poked her head out from behind Brooke’s tall frame. "Cracker, don’t be a dick!”

The girl’s face immediately relaxed into a wide, shameless smile. “Nina! Oh my God, you bitch, I never saw you! Come in, God!”

Akeria still bristling and Vanjie not too dissimilar, the girls all trooped into the flat which immediately struck Scarlet as something out of an American teen Netflix special. The hall was dark with the occasional string of fairy lights, and was packed full of people. Scarlet instinctively reached for Yvie’s hand in the crowd and got a squeeze back without even having to look at her. Nina and the girl, Cracker apparently, led them through to a huge bedroom which had obviously once been a living room but had been repurposed by a money-hungry landlord. The room was quieter but still had its fair share of people dotted about in amongst the Morrocan market wall-coverings, tiny elephant incense stick holders, and swathes of printed photos and posters that covered the walls like tiles. A huge bed sat to one side where Monet sat sprawled out with her shoes kicked off, chatting to a black girl with a huge afro that otherwise looked so identical to her Scarlet assumed they must be sisters. Cracker flung herself down on top of the mattress and joined them, gesturing vaguely to the girls.

“Neens!!” Monet suddenly squealed as she looked up, throwing her arms out as Nina launched herself half on the bed and half on top of her. Monet continued, muffled, as the rest of the girls awkwardly lingered. “I’m so happy you came, oh my God, this is so amazing!”

“I brought everyone too. Is that still okay? They can leave if not,” Nina instantly reeled off, Brooke bellowing out a laugh. Monet’s face lit up.

“Oh my God of course not! Brooke! Scarlet! Yvie!! Oh my God, come and hug me,” Monet beamed, her intoxication showing ever so slightly as Brooke graciously leaned down and hugged the other girl them got instantly pulled onto the bed. Monet gestured for everyone to come closer. “Guys! It’s so good to see you all, thanks so much for coming! There’s, like. Endless booze in the kitchen. Feel free to just drink us out of house and home.”

Silky’s face lit up and she immediately grabbed Akeria and Plastique, making to drag them through. “Vanj, you comin’?”

“Get me something? I'mma stay here with my girl,” Vanessa shouted back, giving a smile back to Brooke but finding the other girl looking down at her phone instead. Scarlet frowned involuntarily and then was suddenly distracted by a squeeze of her hand from Yvie (who still hadn’t let go).

“I’m going to go make sure Silky doesn’t give herself alcohol poisoning. You want me to bring you back a drink?” she offered, Scarlet unable to help the smile that spread across her face.

“You’re a sweetheart. Surprise me.”

“A pint glass of tequila it is,” Yvie deadpanned as she walked away, too quick for Scarlet’s hand that swatted at her in response. Scarlet tuned into the conversation that the girls were all having on the bed. It was big, but it was still a bed in a student flat, and so Brooke had her elbows resting on the mattress and her lower body on the floor and Scarlet had had to squeeze up to make room for Vanjie to sit beside her.

“She was guarding the place like fort fuckin’ knox,” Vanessa was saying, a playful side eye being cast to the blonde girl, who let out a laugh.

“You’re an animal,” Monet’s potential sister rolled her eyes. “A living guard dog. We should put a collar on you. One of those ones with spikes.”

“Nah. That’s only reserved for people who want to fuck me. Do you want to fuck me, Bob?” the girl asked easily, before taking a swig of the cider bottle she was holding. Monet hooted a laugh and the other girl didn’t even break her expression.

“I wouldn’t eat your pussy if it was made of chocolate fuckin’ fudge cake. Get the fuck out,” she retorted, Nina looking up at them all from her position on Monet’s tummy.

“Is that not that Lana Del Ray lyric? My pussy tastes like chocolate fudge cake…”

Scarlet let out a laugh that was more like a scream, the others on the bed doing much the same thing. Monet wiped her eyes and took in a deep breath.

“Oh my God, okay. For those of you that haven’t met before- this is Cracker and Bob. Two out of the three girls I have the blessing or curse of living with, I haven’t figured out yet,” she gestured to the two girls in turn and then turned to Scarlet. “And this is Scarlet, Vanjie and Brooke Lynn. They’re Nina’s friends, so they’re obviously amazing.”

“Nina could throw up on your bed and you’d say it was amazing,” Cracker looked pointedly at Monet. Monet shrugged and threw her arms around Nina.

“And what?"

"Nice to meet you guys. Are you two sisters?” Scarlet asked, curiosity getting the better of her as she pointed between Bob and Monet. Monet laughed and Bob rolled her eyes.

“Are you saying that all black people look the same?” Bob asked her with a piercing stare, Scarlet’s entire stomach dropping at the thought of having offended her.

“Oh my God, no! No no no, I just thought-”

“She’s kidding, Scarlet. Being a dick, as usual,” Monet cut off Scarlet’s frantic protests and immediately calming her down. “No, we’re not related. We just look spookily alike.”

“You fuckin’ wish you looked even a tenth as good as me. Hey, where the fuck is Monique?” Bob asked suddenly, both Cracker and Monet shrugging.

“Flatmate number four,” Monet quickly cut in to explain.

“Away making some chaotic cocktail, probably,” Cracker shrugged. Bob gave another roll of her eyes, then turned and smiled at Brooke, Scarlet and Vanessa.

“Nice to meet you anyway. Are you all flatmates too?” Bob asked politely, ignoring the position of the slit on her long skirt as she crossed her legs.

“Not us three exactly. Brooke lives with Nina and Yvie, that’s my girlfriend,” Scarlet explained, her stomach full of fizzy fireworks at being able to say that for real. “Vanj lives with Silky and Akeria over on Antigua Road.”

“They’re the best hoes in the world. They’re through in the other room getting drunk, but you’d love them,” Vanjie cut in. Cracker let out a laugh.

“Oh yeah, shit. Sorry I was so mean to you.”

Vanessa smiled easily, the free alcohol that the flatmates were providing clearly making up for any perceived slight. “Don’ worry about it, girl. We’d probably do the same if some hoes we didn’t know turned up at our party.”

“What about you, Scarlet?” Bob asked politely, instantly seeming far less intimidating.

“I’m over on the South Side. Kinda far out. I found this girl on SpareRooms to live with, but she’s a bit of a dick,” Scarlet explained awkwardly. Cracker leaned in, her eyes shining excitedly.

“What’s her name?”

“Fuck, I don’t want to say in case any of you are friends with her!” Scarlet laughed, but no protestations came. She lowered her voice as she continued. “It’s Ra'Jah? Ra'Jah O'Hara?”

“Oh, FUCK!” Bob cried out, holding onto Cracker for support as she almost fell off the bed. “I know who that is! She’s in my Econ tutorials! Oh my God, she’s an actual fucking moron. I had a group project with her once and she did literally nothing but talk about drugs and bitch about people on our course.”

As Scarlet was about to launch into how horrifically messy a flatmate she was, Yvie came back from the kitchen with two bottles of beer and a tall black girl with a shock of lilac hair swept up into a ponytail and a matching straight fringe. She was wearing a black pair of jeans and a tiny black cropped t shirt which showed off her many tattoos, and in her hand looked to be an elaborate mojito-style concoction.

“I made a friend!” she cried, before slumping herself down beside Vanjie, Scarlet growing ever more squashed up against the bedpost.

“Oh, the wanderer returns,” Cracker deadpanned. “What did you make?”

“Margarita mojito,” the girl shrugged, sipping her drink to punctuate her sentence. “It’s basically a mojito with a big-ass shot of tequila in it. Guys, this is Yvie! She’s Nina’s friend!”

“Oh, you’re Scarlet’s girlfriend!” Bob smiled at her in recognition, Yvie clambering into a tiny space on the middle of the bed, handing one of the beers to Scarlet, and casting her a look through narrowed eyes.

“What have you been saying about me, bitch?” Yvie smiled playfully, the look she was fixing her causing a sudden flash of heat to strike between Scarlet’s legs.

“All good things, baby,” Scarlet smiled innocently, Yvie relaxing and leaning back against Scarlet’s chest.

“This is Bob and Cracker. They’re my other flatmates. You’ve already met Monique, then?” Monet introduced the girls to Yvie.

“Yeah, we bonded over watching Akeria flirt with people. The bitch is a fucking mastermind. She walked into the kitchen and had a guy talking to her within, like, one minute.”

“Introduce me, introduce me!” Monique bounced on the mattress excitedly. Vanjie came dangerously close to falling off the bed and Monique quickly noticed, reaching a hand out to her and pulling her up with it. “Shit, sorry girl!”

Scarlet watched as Vanessa swept some hair out of her face and cast a quick appreciative glance to Monique’s toned arm. “Holy mother of Jesus, I gotta start goin’ to the gym.”

Monique let out a bark of a laugh. Cracker caught her other arm and held it steady, the tequila/rum combo threatening to fly out of its glass.

“Brooke, Scarlet and Vanjie, meet Monique.

Monique, this is Brooke, Scarlet and Vanjie,” Cracker pointed to each of them in turn, finishing with Vanjie who still seemed to be casting her eyes over Monique.

“Well, Vanessa. But these girls call me Vanjie. Or Vanj. You choose, really,” Vanjie explained to Monique, the girl’s ponytail swishing as she cocked her head.

“You ever get called baby?” she asked, feigning innocence. Scarlet couldn’t help her eyes shooting wide and her brain almost went into meltdown trying to register everyone’s expressions at once. Vanjie was laughing, but her face had flushed pink, clearly flattered. Cracker was screeching a laugh, Bob looked long-suffering. Nina and Monet were looking at each other urgently, and Brooke was properly looking at Vanessa with interest for the first time since they all sat down on the bed. Scarlet couldn’t see Yvie’s face, but she’d felt her tense up, and she couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah. By Brooke Lynn over there,” Vanessa finally said through her laughter, Monique not seeming fazed as she cast a glance to Brooke, who was smiling patiently but inwardly seething if the red tips of her ears were anything to go by.

“Oh, sorry girl! I didn’t know she was taken,” Monique laughed pleasantly.

“Yeah, we’re a thing,” Brooke opened her mouth, breaking her silence. Vanessa was smiling at her from across the bed, and Brooke met her eyes and smiled back.

“A thing?” Monique let out a short laugh, spilling a little of her drink. “A thing is, like, a noun. Not a relationship.”

“Technically a girlfriend is a noun too. Thing, place, person,” Nina piped up, presumably in an attempt to diffuse the increasingly awkward vibe.

“Are you a primary teacher, Nina?!” Cracker asked, clutching her chest in faux-surprise. Nina sighed.

“If I could reach a pillow, I’d thump you."

"Monet, you hearing this? Your girlfriend is practically chatting me up,” Cracker laughed, then stopped suddenly as her face became a mix of horrified and regretful, Bob giving her a not-so-subtle thump on the arm. In lieu of gauging Monet and Nina’s facial expressions, Scarlet whispered her thoughts to Yvie.

“When the hell are they actually going to become official? It’s been ages!” she hissed into her ear, Yvie craning her head round to reply.

“Nina would have to be on a cocktail mixer of cocaine, Es and alcohol to gain even half the confidence it would take her to ask Monet, so she’s waiting on Monet to do it for her. The thing is, I think Monet’s not as confident as we all like to think either. Maybe sometimes Nina’s panic can present itself as disinterest.”

“So Monet’s maybe waiting until she knows where she stands with her?” Scarlet nodded in realisation.

Yvie sipped her drink and took Scarlet’s hand, tracing round her fingers absent-mindedly. “I think so. I mean, we all know Nina’s absolutely ass-over-tit in love with her because we’re her friends, but she’s not going to let that show to Monet until she’s ready.”

Scarlet watched as Yvie played with a large turquoise ring on her finger. Her brow was furrowed as she thought about the situation, and Scarlet’s heart felt like an enormous water balloon- incredibly fragile and full and feeling as if it was about to burst. She thought back to Yvie’s words on Christmas dinner night, the ones she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since she’d said them.

Suddenly, she was pulled out of her thoughts by a screech from Vanjie, who was looking at Monique with enrapture as she told a story. Admittedly, most of the other girls were looking at her too, but Scarlet didn’t miss the sparkle in Vanjie’s eyes as she listened.

“And there it was, I swear by almighty God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…a whole baggie of weed, in the bin, covered in Cracker’s vomit.”

It was an odd moment for Scarlet to tune into the story but judging by the roar the girls on the bed gave, it seemed to be over. Vanjie had doubled over laughing and was clinging to Monique’s arm for support, the girl in question smiling down at her as if her reaction was the only one that mattered. Scarlet frowned and leaned into Yvie once more.

“Hey. What the hell is the deal with Brooke and Vanjie?” she whispered, making sure to keep her voice extra low. She instantly felt Yvie tense up in her lap.

“What do you mean? They seem fine to me?” Yvie murmured back. Luckily for Scarlet, she knew that Yvie lied so rarely that it was easy to spot when she was telling one.

“You know something. What is it?” Scarlet hissed urgently in Yvie’s ear. Hearing her give a big sigh, Yvie shifted and then rose on the bed.

“Me and Scarlet are just getting another drink, save our seats,” Yvie announced to the circle, receiving a cheer from Nina.

“Enjoy your sex!” she cried after them, and Scarlet, confused, simply followed Yvie to another room. The hall was quieter now, but the same could not be said of the kitchen, where as they walked in they saw Silky, Akeria and Plastique ringleading a game of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Ignoring their friends, Yvie turned to Scarlet urgently, concern covering her face.

“Okay, Brooke told me this in confidence but you’re my girlfriend so I kind of can’t really keep anything from you, right?” she began, Scarlet nodding quickly and desperate to hear what Yvie knew. “But you CAN’T tell anyone about this, babe. Honestly, it needs to stay between us. Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Scarlet said instantly, her mind in overdrive. Yvie pulled a pained face for a moment, seemingly incredibly conflicted, and then looked to the floor.

“Brooke is having second thoughts about being with Vanjie.”

Scarlet’s face dropped. “What?!”

“Brooke told me that she felt everything was getting too intense, and that Vanj wanted more than Brooke felt she could give her. She’s sticking it out to see if it’s just a blip, but…yeah. Now you know why they’ve both been so weird,” Yvie explained, biting her lip and looking at Scarlet with concern.

Scarlet didn’t know what to think. It all made so much sense, the oddly distant vibes between them both, the strained atmosphere, Vanjie flirting with Monique. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Scarlet. “Does Vanessa know?”

Yvie rolled her eyes. “Yes absolutely, Scarlet, Vanjie is very happy staying with someone who isn’t even sure if she wants things to go further with her, Brooke’s told her everything!"

Scarlet’s mind seemed to fuse. "She needs to know.”

Yvie’s expression dropped. “Oh my fucking Christ, you literally just promised not to tell anyone.”

“Well I didn’t know what it was you were going to tell me! I mean shit, Yvie, imagine that was me and you and I was having second thoughts! Would you want to be kept in the dark?”

Yvie bit her lip and looked to the floor. Scarlet gave a snort. “Exactly, bitch. I’m going to go find her right now-”

“Scarlet, please,” Yvie stopped her quickly, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “Brooke would be fuckin’ raging at me. I told you this shit in confidence. I know it’s hard because you’re close with Vanjie, but can you please…I mean hold off at least. If she asks you about it then, fine. You can tell her. But don’t run through there just now.”

Scarlet’s head felt as if it was a mess. She tapped her foot against the linoleum floor. “Who’s she told?”

“Just me,” Yvie said sincerely, looking into Scarlet’s eyes. “Nina doesn’t know. It’s just us.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m pinning all the fucking blame on you if she finds out I know, you know that?”

Yvie nodded understandingly. Scarlet let out a big sigh. The silence between them hung heavy in the air, at odds with the party happening around them. Suddenly, Plastique tottered into their line of vision, her eyes glazed and drunk.

“Oh my God guys! I haven’t seen you like all night! Selfie!!” she cried, sticking her phone in the air. Scarlet felt herself smile weakly but luckily the photo seemed to be too blurry for anyone to notice. Plastique immediately walked off again.

“Okay bye, nice seeing you,” Yvie deadpanned after her. Scarlet pressed her lips together to stop a laugh escaping them. Yvie caught her eye and snorted, and Scarlet couldn’t help but let out the laugh she’d been holding in. The tension had been diffused by a drunk Plastique, and Scarlet was relieved. She ran her hand down Yvie’s arm and squeezed her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just kept the fucking secret,” Yvie sighed, lacing her fingers through Scarlet’s own. She smiled at Scarlet, showing the little gap in her teeth, and Scarlet felt her heart jump. “Hey, I kind of want to go get chips, cheese and gravy and then head back to the flat and watch the Scooby Doo movie. You down?”

Scarlet smiled. She was kind of over the party. She’d been so eager for a night out, but all she wanted right now was a night in with her girlfriend. “Sounds amazing. Let’s go.”

The two headed back through to the bedroom to grab their jackets and say goodbye to the rest of the girls. Notably absent from the room were Brooke and Vanessa, and Scarlet was about to mention this to Yvie when they walked back out into the hall and spotted a tall, blonde girl and a small brunette kissing furiously in a darker, quieter corner. As Yvie opened the front door, she turned to Scarlet.

“I feel like they won’t be far behind us. Brooke must have sorted her shit out, then.”

As Scarlet grabbed one last look at the two girls against the wall, she desperately hoped Yvie was right.

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nooneelsecomesclose17 · 5 years ago

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If you knew how lonely my life has been - final part

I’m going to end it here because it feels about right and I’m starting to struggle with it which is usually good sign that I’m done. I hope this lives up to the rest.

Aaron looked round briefly as he walked into the pub. He was early so he didn’t expect Robert to be there. He’d hoped his Mum would be off but he’s not in luck as she’s behind the bar, they didn’t need her staring at them all through lunch, especially after the night before.

Robert’s in the far corner booth, keeping himself to himself, and he can tell he’s trying to make himself unnoticed. He can also see the stares from everyone else in the pub. It’s hardly surprising but having experienced it himself he knows how it feels.

“See you’re giving them something to talk about.” He jokes as he sits across from him, pint already waiting.

“I try my best.” He won’t meet Aaron’s gaze.

“Robert…about last night.” He fiddles with the beer mat in front of him. It’s not really the best place to be having this discussion but Robert had legged it out the door so fast the night before he was taking any chance he got.

“It’s fine.”

“The least you can do is give me a chance to explain.”

“You were pretty clear.”

“I wasn’t though, was I? You heard no, and that was it, you were gone. You didn’t wait for me to explain.”

“Go on then.”

“You’re infuriating you know. You come back and…did you expect it all to just go back to normal? I said no because I can’t…not yet.”

“I thought…we had fun yesterday.”

“Yeah, we did. It was like it used to be, but I’m not the same person I was then, I doubt you are either. You’ve only been back a few days Robert, we can’t just ignore what’s happened. What if he gets off and comes back looking for you?”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that! How do I know there isn’t someone else out there, one of his associates or something who can turn up whenever?”

“Aaron…I can’t do any more. The police are getting them, they’ll be locked up. I’m not going anywhere.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, staring at the table, trying to get his thoughts in order.

“So…it wasn’t a no, no?” He looks up, startled. “Last night?”

“More, a not yet.” He can’t help but smile at him, fully aware his Mum is watching everything. “But like I said it’s only been two days. I’m still expecting to wake up and find out this is just a dream, or someone will come and take you from me, or worse.”

“So we take it slow? If that’s what you want? Wait until we know what’s happening or whatever?” He nods. “Can I still pick Seb up this afternoon?”

“Yeah, of course. He’s looking forward to it, and I’ve called the school. I thought…maybe I can cook tea for us all. That alright?”

“Yeah, sounds nice.” He looks over at Chas. “She doesn’t look too happy to see me.”

“You’re not scared of her, are you?”

“Terrified.” He’s laughing though and he pushes himself up to his feet. “Guess I should get it over with.”

He watches as Robert approaches the bar, surprised that he seems nervous. He’s always been able to match his Mum barb for barb before. He’s only noticing now just how much he’s changed in the five years he’s been away. Somehow softer, less arrogance coming through. It’s not a bad change, just not one he’d expected.

He’d lied to Robert, the night before, turning him down. He’d wanted him so much but something stopped him. The niggling doubt, the last embers of anger still there, so he’d done what he always did and pushed him away.

He was right though, it had only been two days and it wasn’t just him to consider, there was Seb to think about too. He’d taken everything so well, almost too well, and Aaron was expecting a reaction to hit at some point. They had to think of him first.

“…he was in danger Chas!”

He swivels his head round to Robert and his Mum whose scowl is in full force so he gets to his feet. Not that he thinks Robert needs rescuing but he knows what she’s like.

“Mum, leave him alone.” He orders as he leans on the bar.

“I’m just telling him what he did to you.”

“He knows.” She looks surprised at that. It wasn’t strictly true, he hadn’t gone into detail and unless Robert asked he wouldn’t. It was over and done with now. “So leave it.”

“She’s allowed to be angry with me.”

“I’m beginning to think you’ve been replaced by a pod person up there in Scotland. You’ve never been slow in pushing back on her before.”

“But this time she’s right.”

“Hmm. That’s between you and me though, isn’t it. Anyway you need to get going if you’re fetching Seb, and I need to go shopping. Be back by 5 yeah?” Robert nods, looks at Chas again and then he’s gone. “What?”

“He’s fetching Seb?”

“Yeah. He asked, so I switched Diane’s day. That alright?”

“You told the school?” He rolled his eyes at her.

“No I thought I’d let him pick him up and get arrested for kidnapping. Brighten up a Monday afternoon.”

“Alright there’s no need for sarcasm.”

“There is when you’re being like this.” He relents a little because he knows without her he’d never have managed when Seb came back into his life. “I know you’re looking out for me, but it’s fine. Seb idolises him already.”

“I’m more worried about you. What if Al gets off, hmm? Comes back after Robert again, and he does the same thing.”

“He won’t. I’m in a better place now than I was then, what with Billy turning up. Robert panicked and did what he thought was best. Like most of his plans it didn’t quite work.”

“Could still happen, and then what?”

“Then, me and Seb, we’ll go with him. Whatever it takes. I’m not losing him again.” She seems satisfied. As much as she ever is when it comes to him so he decides to get out while the going is good. “Anyway I’m off, said I’d cook.”

“Alright love. Just…be sure, that’s all I’m saying.”

*****

“Daddy! Jenny has a new puppy and I got to stroke him first out of everyone! He licked my hand and everything. Can we get a puppy? A spotty one?” He’s in the middle of making dinner when the door bursts open and he hears the thud of Seb’s backpack before he lets out a grunt as the little boy runs into him.

“Careful bug. What did you do with Daddy Robert?” He was avoiding the puppy conversation, it wasn’t the first time he’d done it, he was becoming quite an expert.

“He’s talkin’ to someone outside.” Aaron frowned, unable to think of anyone he could be chatting to that wouldn’t come inside.

“Right. Go take your bag upstairs and wash your hands. I’ll be back in a minute.” He wanders outside, frowning when he sees Robert shaking someone’s hand that he doesn’t know. “Who was that?”

“The officer in charge of Al’s case. Came to give me an update.” His face is giving nothing away at all.

“And?” In the few seconds it takes Robert to give him an answer he’s mentally packing their bags and working out the best place to go. “Robert just tell me.”

“They’ve charged him and he’s been refused bail. He can’t say for sure but he doesn’t expect him to be causing any more problems for anyone. They’ve picked up as many of his people that they can, the rest are hiding. It’s over.”

“They’re sure?” He nods and Aaron doesn’t know what to say, just let’s Robert hold onto him.

“It’s over Aaron. I’m not leaving you ever again.” He nods against his shoulder, can’t make the words come out. “I love you Aaron.”

“Love you too.”

“Daddy! Something smells funny in the kitchen!”

“Shit.” He mumbles, pushing himself away from Robert, feeling him start to laugh. “The lasagne.”

“It’s good to know some things never change at least. Come on, let’s go rescue it.”

#robron fic

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marymccartneyphotos · 5 years ago

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Paul McCartney's Meat Free Monday Mission

June 25, 2009 -- The Telegraph

Sir Paul, Mary and Stella McCartney are leading the Meat Free Monday campaign to persuade people to avoid meat once a week. It is not an attempt to turn the world vegetarian, one day at a time, but a crucial step in the fight against climate change.

There is a charming, seemingly random video on YouTube of Paul McCartney demonstrating how to make mashed potatoes. It's a recipe from Linda McCartney's On Tour book (he is following the instructions from his own well-thumbed copy) and there is something quite endearing about the way he shows you Linda's tip of how to chop an onion, as he hacks away with the knife the way no professional chef would. He is no Jamie Oliver. Obviously, Sir Paul has many other talents and his guide to making mash the Macca way, a video he made as president of the Vegetarian Society, is just a bit of fun – the perfect accompaniment to a couple of Linda McCartney's vegetarian sausages.

Food was a key part of Paul and Linda's relationship and when they decided to go vegetarian in the seventies, it was a spontaneous and joint decision. "Linda and I, we were on the farm and we saw lambs gambolling and we were eating leg of lamb…so it was a compassionate thing. That seems to be the least important thing to people these days. It seems to have gone right out of the window, the whole idea, unfortunately, because it's rather a nice thing, a bit of compassion."

What was it that made this man hate us? These days, Linda's food still brings the family together. They are actively involved in Linda McCartney Foods, which recently had a bit of a dust off and a rebrand. The family all taste and approve any new recipes, and I imagine, their freezers are well stocked with Linda's burgers and sausages. It is important to them, their way of keeping Linda's legacy alive. So when Paul decided to launch a new campaign, Meat Free Monday, it was the perfect opportunity to get together for a rare public group hug.

As he muses over a suitable recipe for another cookery video to promote the new campaign, he remembers one of his father's favourite recipes. "Pea sandwiches," he recalls. "I remember my dad making one for John once." But his daughters groan. "It has to be mum's lasagne," says Mary.

While Mary prepares to take the photographs for this story, Paul takes a tiny mouth organ from his pocket and plays as Stella sings along. "This is why Bob Dylan wants to write songs with you," she laughs. It's a family joke. Despite the news reports that the two musicians are about to record together, Paul tells me later that the rumour is totally unfounded. "No, that's a newspaper thing. He just said some very complimentary things about me in some interviews and I love him. I think he's a great poet and writer so I've always admired him. I don't rule it out and I admire him. But we're not the kind of people who would ring each other up." Mary takes her place in the picture, arranges her dad's hair which is blowing in the wind, and presses the shutter.

The family is famously vegetarian, but Stella says for this particular debate, she wishes they weren't. This is not an evangelical mission to make the world a veggie but an attempt to do their bit to slow climate change. "It's an environmental conversation, not a vegetarian one," says Stella. "It's ok to just give up meat for one day, it doesn't make you a vegetarian if you hate vegetarians, it doesn't make you cranky, hemp wearing pot smoker. It's alright, it's allowed - it doesn't make you a kind of the person you don't want to be. It just means you are doing something positive."

Paul read about the campaign in America and decided he needed to get involved. Over the past year, he has been talking about it, writing letters to celebrities and chefs, talking to schools, and galvanising support from as many people as he can, including Woody Harrelson, Doris Day, and Ricky Gervais. Two weeks ago [Monday 15 June], he held a press conference to launch the campaign at Oliver Peyton's restaurant Inn the Park. Peyton himself – a fully fledged bone marrow sucking carnivore - has agreed to promote meat free dishes every Monday at the restaurant.

The campaign has some weighty research behind it, not least from the UN. "Dad got the report," says Mary, who is softly spoken but has a cool air of authority about her. "You were sent the report weren't you?" She looks at Paul who has joined us round the table at the Portobello Hotel in west London, quietly whistling to himself. "Yeah, I was originally sent it. Livestock's Long Shadow it was called. The UN, who are our appointed global watchdog, said 'hey, cattle rearing is more harmful than ALL transport.' That is the statistic I thought was shocking because until then I thought it was aeroplanes, cars and trucks…"

According to the report, livestock are responsible for 18 percent of the world's greenhouse gas emissions, which is indeed a bigger share than that of transport which accounts for 13 per cent. "We're not just talking about a few cows," says Paul. "We're talking billions. I took a drive from Santa Fe down to El Paso, a road trip I was on, and you go past I think about 15-20 miles of cattle as you drive down the motorway and it's the same cow; it's a brown and white cow. There are billions of them! And that's where it comes home. That's where the methane is coming from, this is the problem, not just a couple of cows on a farm. It's not just Daisy and Buttercup any more."

It seems the world is coming round to the Macca point of view and this is too good an opportunity to miss. It's the first time not eating meat is being promoted by scientists – 'traditional eaters,' as Paul calls them, not vegetarians with a vested interest. For Stella and Mary, following their father's lead is perfectly natural. Linda would certainly have been there, waving her placard. She was already talking about the relationship between food and the environment long before the UN decided it was time to act. This is part of the family's way of keeping Linda's legacy alive. "Ideally yes, be vegetarian," says Mary. "But if not, just reduce your meat intake to make it fun do a meat free Monday."

Listening to them running through the arguments and the statistics backing up their campaign, you feel this is a typical discussion that would happen over a family nut roast. Occasionally, they talk over each other and finish each other's sentences. "It can be so overwhelming," admits Stella. "And you can feel so …oh god, but I've got to get that plane there and I've got to drive my car with my three kids here. You are led to believe that transport is the main problem, but actually it's diet. To be honest we could sit and bang on about it…"

Paul: "But we don't want to bang on, we don't want to say to you look, you have to go veggie. The idea of this is for the environment, for your children's future, would you consider just one day a week changing your habits? And then if you decide to do two days, three, four, then so much the better, but if people would do it, it would have a huge impact."

Stella: "If everyone gave it up on a Monday it would be more effective than everyone stopping driving their car on a Monday. We are not perfect. It's so important to get that across because it's like oh, those bloody Maccas, talking again about not killing cows! It is boring. But the reality is, I like to think I am trying to do my little bit. I will turn off the lights when I leave a room; I will turn off a socket if I don't want to be using the socket. And those are tiny little things."

Paul: "Even President Obama tells you to do that."

It is a small thing they are asking us all to do. Very few of us eat meat every day of the week, but by cutting back on what we eat, we can make a difference. On average we are eating twice the amount of meat we ate in 1961, the year the Beatles first performed at the Cavern club in Liverpool. "The idea of having one type of meat for your breakfast and another type of meat for your lunch, and then another type for your dinner, and in between having your sandwiches with another kind of meat, we really do eat too much of it," says Paul. To produce a single kilogram of beef, farmers have to feed a cow 15 kg of grain and 30 kg of forage. It is a highly intensive business that is ultimately not sustainable. Livestock production is responsible for 70 per cent of the deforestation of the Amazon jungle and by 2050, the world's livestock population is expected to rise from 60 billion farm animals to 120 billion. It is a scary fact when you consider that a single cow can produce 500 litres of methane per day, which has around 25 times the global warming impact of CO2.

"I think we forget more and more that we are animals," says Stella, "and we are part of a planetary system where all of the animals are on this planet together and you are made to feel like a hippy dippy jerk that should go and live in a tipi for even making a point of remembering."

Despite the fact that she rarely gives interviews, Stella is the most vocal of the three, passionately backing up her father, shaking her head, saying 'it's all money, money, money!' about the projected growth of the meat industry (world demand for meat is estimated to double by 2050) and butting in with the odd comment like: 'Greed is not a good look. I was brought up to think this was not a good look. Everything in moderation.' And she knows her stuff. She urges me (and you) to watch a film called Home that was made by the aerial photographer, Yann Arthus-Bertrand, and launched the previous week on World Environment Day. You can link to it from her website.

As she says, she tries to do her bit. Although she already incorporates sustainable and organic fabrics in her mainline collection, she also designs a capsule Green Collection which is as purely ethical and sustainable as she can make it and is sold at Barneys in New York and Harvey Nichols in London. On her website, in between pictures of models looking supremely cool and confident in her clothes, if you click on the 'Green me' button, you can read Stella's eco tips – small things we can all do to help slow down global warming. Her London shop is powered by Ecotricity. Her skincare range, Care, is made using 100 percent organic active ingredients and is Ecocert –certified. And of course, she tells her celebrity friends off for wearing fur and doesn't use leather.

"In my industry, there is no alternative in people's minds to leather shoes. Now I'm not making a leather shoe. I'm doing alright. We can get by. Things change. Humans are the best animals - the best adapters on the planet. We adapt quicker than a tree does in the rainforest. We adapt, that's what we do."

In March, she was given an award by the Natural Resources Defence Council (which works to protect wildlife and wild places) in New York. "I was lucky enough to present that to her," says Paul. "I said that when she joined the fashion world, she first of all was employed by Gucci and my first thought, and Linda's, was uh-oh Gucci is leather city. When you think of Gucci, you think of leather. We thought about how long is it going to be before she caves in on her principles? And we waited, and we waited, and we waited, and she never did. That is a fantastic achievement… and that's what's great about new ideas, different ideas, people catch the fire, they get excited with the stuff. It's just thinking about it instead of just becoming a Gucci slave. Took a little bit of guts to do that."

Despite the fact that Stella feels she has been pilloried for her beliefs and principles, it seems to have paid off. Just as the fashion world has finally come round to her big idea of wearing jumpsuits and your boyfriend's jacket, we seem to have arrived at a moment when having principles – and a bit of compassion – is not such a bad thing. It is perhaps no coincidence that she is the only fashion person to be included in Time magazine's annual 100 most influential people list this year, an achievement she is obviously proud of, giving me a high five when I mention it. Just as any father would, Paul admits to having the magazine on his kitchen table, open at the relevant page – a tribute written by Stella's mate, Gwyneth Paltrow. "Even if you are not vegetarian somehow Stella gets you to believe," she writes. "She manages to convince you (never sanctimoniously from a soapbox) that killing animals is needless and cruel and bad for the environment."

Paul says she didn't have to be that way. "She could have caved in and we almost would have forgiven her. The pressures were so huge but the fact that she did not…" Stella cuts in. "I'm very lucky. I don't think that I am magnificent, I just think I've been very lucky. I think I've been brought up in a certain way. Mary's like that, my brother [James, a musician] and sisters [Heather from Linda's first marriage, and Beatrice from her father's second] are like that. My husband's like that. I think that you do stand out if you stand out against things. It was very hard in my industry especially to have those kind of principles and I did have the mickey taken out of me probably up to about a year ago. And people will probably read this and chuck it on their barbie and cook beef on it but the reality is I'm more impressed by people who take a risk and who stand up to good beliefs and I think in this day and age…"

Paul: "It's how the world changes."

Stella: 'The main thing is not to bang on about it too much. We don't generally bang on about it, I try to keep my head down and get on with it and design pretty frocks, that's my job. And dad makes pretty good records when he's given half an hour in between his potato mashing, and Mary's a fantastic photographer. But I don't think we want to come across as forcing people to think a certain way, I think it's just a very valid issue and life's too short to not do something you believe in. You've only got a short period on the planet to make something of your life."

With all of this passion and desire for change, I wonder if Paul will be writing a Dylan style protest song to promote their cause. "I do have a few sort of animal awareness songs, but they are very difficult to write. I wrote one called Looking For Changes that was applauded by PETA, which started off with 'I saw a cat with a machine in its brain', you know that picture? A hardcore picture. That made me write that, but it's very very hard to do and it's not my forte. I wish it was, that would be kind of nice to be driven in that direction. Songs aren't always what you are passionate about. You'd like to think that they all were but sometimes it's just about I love you, or you're great."

And with that, our time is up. Stella's phone has been ringing non-stop. "We're going to get a bit of flack for this," says Paul, who can't resist singing into my Dictaphone before turning it off. "Why do we feel we need to do it? You know what, because Meat Free Monday is a damn good idea. I mean, what are you going to tell your kids? That we can do something about it. This is one of those things that you can do."

#article #meat free Monday #vegetarian #mary McCartney #environment #Paul McCartney #stella mccartney #family #Heather McCartney #Beatrice McCartney #James McCartney #charity

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maximows · 6 years ago

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Against the Odds - Chapter I

We could drink to first impressions!

MASTERLIST (mobile) AO3

"You know, I left my home country when I was 18. To be honest, I didn't get to spend much time with my family before that, because I attended boarding schools..." I explained and took a sip from the water cup next to me.

"So, boarding schools are still a thing in the UK?" the interviewer asked. Oh, so she’s that kind of a person.

"Well, yes. I mean, it was quite a few years ago, but I think they provide you with a friendly environment which allows you to both make friendships and study very hard. My parents didn't force me to go there, I really enjoyed that experience."

She nodded at me and moved on to the nest question, as if my answer was boring. I have no idea what kind of exciting answer she was expecting. "So how do you feel about joining a huge franchise like Marvel?"

"Well, I do love comic books and superhero movies, so it was like a dream come true. Not many actors get to experience something like that at such a young age and I'm grateful for the opportunity." I answered, hoping we were nearing the end of our little interview. She continued asking about Marvel, my future, living in the U.S., which brought us to the end.

"So, today is also February 13th. Do you have any plans for tomorrow? A special someone to spend Valentine's Day with." She inquired.

I sighed. "Not really, I'll probably just spend it with my cat or something." I don’t have a cat, by the way.

Half an hour later I was at JFK, waiting at the end of the line to get on a plane to LA. Hannah has just phoned me about a party that’s organized right after my meeting at the studios. She said it was being thrown by one of the actors, but she couldn’t remember which one. “I’ll send you the email. Text me the answer before you board.”

“Sure, so should I take some other clothes for the party? What should I wear for the meeting anyway? Should I do formal or more cas...”

Before I could end my sentence, some guy bumped into me. I almost fell onto the next person in line, but the stranger grabbed me in a nearly theatrical gesture. “I am so sorry, ma'am... I should stop rushing like that.”

“Hannah, let me call you back in a second.” I said and hung up immediately. The guy was wearing a cap and sunglasses. Indoors. “Well, I’m sure these accessories are not helping with your awareness of your surroundings, are they.” I snapped. “There’s still plenty of time before the take off, no need to rush like that.” I already was in a bad mood because of the early interview and the interviewer, so this guy just kind of made it worse. Maybe I shouldn’t have snapped like that, but he was the one who pushed me. Instead of calling Hannah, I just texted her.

Sorry, some guy in line bumped into me. I’ll go to the party. Could you just prepare something for me to wear, so I can go to the studios straight from the airport?

I knew she’d text me right back, so I just put my phone in my handbag.

After I settled in my seat, I heard the now familiar voice talking on the phone, in the seat behind me. “Can you get red cups? And cold snacks? I want it to be like a real frat house... Dodger will be fine, he’s used to it...”

“Sir, I’ve got to ask you to switch your phone off.” A stewardess asked. “Our Wi-fi connection will be available after take off.”

“I’m so sorry.” He apologized. “Already switched off.”

“Thank you.”

What a twat, I thought. I’d rather spend the whole flight with crying twins flying couch than hear him again in first class. I found my earphones and sunk into my chair. My heaven...

We landed in no time and I quickly found Hannah, waiting for me by the car. I hugged her. “Hi.” I whispered. “I had the worst day and it’s only 3 o'clock.”

“I got you hot chocolate and a chocolate fudge cupcake.” She smiled.

“I love youuu.” I whined. I looked over to my left and noticed the line guy entering a SUV car similar to mine. “That idiot made my day worse.”

I changed my clothes in the backseat while on the way to Burbank. “How long do you think the meeting will be?

“You'll have enough time to eat something before you go to that party.”

“Yesss, I'm already starving,” I said. “Who's gonna be there?”

Hannah pulled out her phone and found the message. “Its organized by Chris Evans...”

“The radio host?” I asked.

“No, the actor who portrays Captain America, Anthony Mackie with his wife, Sebastian Stan...”

“Oh, he’s cute.” I noted, midway through my cupcake.

“Emily VanCamp, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Scarlett Johansson, Cobie Smulders, Hayley Atwell. And some other people.”

The meeting at Marvel Studios was about discussing Wanda's costumes, movements and overall some aspects of the character. I also scheduled some appointments with trainers, voice coaches and such. I had some fittings of prototypes, make up tests and hair styles. After 2 hours of talking, signing and scheduling, we finally got out and went to get something to eat. “I’d really love a hamburger now, but I'm afraid of an acne break out. Hannah, why is acne such a bitch?”

Hannah's is my agent. She’s nearly 40 years old, but also my best friend. We’ve been working together since I moved here and she’s been like a mum to me, when my actual mum couldn't be. And it also helps, that my mum actually likes her. So I have a Mom and a Mum. “You should eat something before the party, though. You can’t drink on an empty stomach.” She suggested.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Who said I'm even going to drink?”

She gave me that really? look. “No, I’m serious. Do I really drink so often that you have to point that out? I can have fun without alcohol, you know. I’m not going to drink tonight.”She just laughed at me and pulled towards a small Italian place, where I ordered a lasagne and lemonade. “Do you think I'm reckless?”

Hannah sighed. “Emily, I really didn’t mean it. I mean that you might not like the food at the party or that they might even not have anything sustaining. You are one of the most responsible people I know. And you’re 22.”

“Still 21.” I corrected her. I hate the thought of becoming older and older, so since my 18th birthday every birthday has become just more and more depressing.

I didn’t get too dressed up for the party. I thought that a black off shoulder top and jeans would do. I did wear high heels and some make up, but that’s just to make sure I look my best around my new cast mates.

The only other invited guest I knew was Aaron, with whom I’ve already had the pleasure to film a post-credits scene for Captain America: The Winter Soldier. I was hoping he was there already, so I would have someone to talk to.

I texted him, when my car went through the gate, and told him to meet me outside.

“Got a little shy, all of a sudden?” he grinned as I escaped the car.

“Look, I’m not about to enter a house full of movie stars in their mid-thirties by myself, ok?” I laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Do you think it was a good idea to bring a gift for the host?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“A pretty expensive scotch. Straight from actual Scotland.” I held up the bottle, wrapped in a Captain America gift wrapping paper.

“Perfect. Hope he'll open it tonight.” Aaron smiled. “Let's go, love.” He opened the door for me and I immediately heard music, chatter and laughter. “Guys, look who I found!” he yelled through the noise.

All of the people turned around to look at us. I was grateful for the little research I did, because I didn’t have to awkwardly ask who everyone was. “Finally, our newest addition!” Evans cheered and I immediately recognized his voice. I also noticed the backwards cap on his head and red cups around me.

“Oh my God, are you the guy who almost tackled me down in New York today?” I asked, completely stunned.

To be honest, now that I’ve taken a better look at him, I wouldn’t have minded him tackling me down. Even in public.

“He was just telling me that he was hoping you wouldn’t recognize him.” Sebastian laughed.

“I did say sorry.” He held his hands in defeat. “And I was in rush. Anyway, I’m Chris.”

“Well, you can’t rush a plane to a earlier take off. I’m Emily.” I shook his hand and smiled. God, he’s handsome. I held out the whisky bottle. “I brought it as a gift for the host, but I’m not sure you deserve it now that I know who you are.”

He smirked. “That’s a shame, I thought we could drink to first impressions.”

It took me about an hour to get to know most of the people here. I spent most of the time with Hayley and Aaron, which was pointed out to us. “You three here are forming some sort of British alliance, aren’t ya?” Anthony yelled. He was quite tipsy at the very least. I didn’t mind that. It was probably the first “Hollywood” house party I’ve been to and it was much better than stuck up events I’ve been to.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, so I checked the caller. Mum. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

I decided to go outside and sat on the furniture on the terrace. “Hi, Mum. What’s up?”

“Honey, I’m sorry. I know you’re out, but... I have to talk to you.” She sighed. “You know your dad and I haven’t been in the best place lately and...”

I did and I knew where this was going. “Mum, I know what you’re about to say. And I you really want to say it right now, please don’t. Please, I can’t talk about this right now. It’s not the place nor the time. Can I call you tomorrow?”

She agreed. They always do that. I love my parents, but their timing is terrible.

“Mind if I join you?” I heard Chris' voice behind me. “Is everything alright?”

I looked up from my phone. “It’s just family business, you know. Nothing unusual.” I shrugged and let out a nervous laugh.

I’ve gotten really good at holding up tears. During my first year here I missed my family so much I cried every time I saw something family-related around me. I had to learn how to not show everything that’s going on inside my head. “My mum's just called me and she wanted to tell me that they’re divorcing, but it’s... nothing I haven’t noticed.”

“Families can be tough, I get that.” He agreed. “Maybe you want me to get you a ride home?”

“No, thank you. Being around people will help me forget about it.” I smiled faintly.

“Then how about I fix you that drink after all?” he suggested, stood up and held out his hand for me.

I nodded.

He guided me to the kitchen, where I sat on the counter, while Chris prepared a drink for me. “I can make something with that Scotch you brought, if you want.”

“Had my dad heard that you wanted to make a drink out of his favourite alcohol he would be livid. And should I add that bit about harassing his youngest daughter...”

He laughed. “Again, I am so sorry.” He apologized. “I feel like you’re just going to torture me till the end of time. What can I do to make this right?”

“I don’t know, you have to think of something.” I shrugged and took the drink he made me.

Chris smiled and leaned on the counter next to me. I couldn’t not look at his bicep as he brought the glass to his lips. “What would you say to a date?”

I looked at his face, as Chris turned to face me. He seemed a little bit nervous. “I mean... Only if you promise to keep your balance.” I smiled.

“Great,” he grinned. “How about tomorrow?”

I did remember that tomorrow was Valentine's Day. “You know that it’s February the 14th tomorrow, right?”

Chris shrugged. “Well, isn’t it the best day for a date?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Whatcha doing, my little lovebirds?” I heard Scott's voice.

“Just chillin...” I said, taking a sip of my drink. “Getting to know my fellow Avenger.”

Scott stayed with me while Chris left to say goodbye to some of the guests. We chatted for some time and went to the living room, where a few of the remaining guests were sitting on the sofas. “I really don’t wanna go, because the next time we see each other is gonna be in May or June…” Scarlett said. “And it was incredibly nice meeting you, Emily.” She turned to me and we hugged. I walked her to the door and we discussed when we’d get to film together. “Emily, I can bet you a weekend in SPA that by the time we see each other again, you will be a few months into dating Evans.” She smiled. “I’ve known him for so long, I know it’s gonna happen.”

I looked over at Chris, who was now laughing at something with Sebastian and Anthony. “I mean, we are going out tomorrow...”

“You can book that weekend for me already,” she grinned. “Look, he’s mostly dated women his age and it didn’t work out. I mean, that last girl... He went through so much with her and they broke up just 2 months ago. In my opinion, he should have ended it years ago.” She sighed. “Anyway, if you’re ok with it, then...”

“ScarJoooo,” Chris’ voice. “Are you leaving me already!?”

“You know I hate it, when people call me that. And yes, I’m leaving, because my husband is waiting for me.”

“You’re no fun.” He complained and put his arm around my shoulders. I think he was a little bit tipsy now and a bit more confident since I’ve already agreed to the date. “I’ve got a new friend now.”

“I told you he would be snuggling against poor Emily before the night ends.” Anthony yelled as he was us. “Evans, keep it in your pants or she will run away!”

“God, I hate them.”

An hour later it was just me, Chris, Scott, Sebastian and Anthony. We were sitting around the coffee table. They asked me a lot of questions since I was new, British and the only girl there. Sebastian was drunk enough to ask me if child birth is really more painful than a kick in the balls. Dodger, Chris' dog joined us after a while and chose to lay down next to me, which made Chris a bit upset. “I knew he would leave me for a girl someday. Not cool, buddy, not cool.” I stroked the dog's incredibly soft, ginger fur and listened to their conversations. I really didn't want to leave – Hannah couldn't stay with me tonight, so the moment I'd step into my empty flat I'd momentarily think about my partners’ break up.

We all stood up when Sebastian, Scott and Anthony said they’d be leaving. I got kind of anxious and hoped they’d want to stay longer. “Hey, how about we take Dodger for a walk and then come back to watch a movie?” Chris said quietly as the others were chatting in the doorway. “It's still early.”

“I don’t know, Chris... I...”

He bent down right next to his pup and said. “How could you say no to those eyes?”

Well, I couldn’t say no to neither Chris' nor Dodgers eyes, so it was an easy decision to make. “Fine.”

I tried to avoid questions from the guys by saying that my agent is picking me up and she’s running late. They made some jokes, but bought it and we were walking around the neighbourhood in no time. “So do you want to talk about your parents now?” Chris inquired.

“Well, to be honest, it shouldn’t be a big deal for me. I’m a grown woman,” I started. “A year ago I noticed that my parents started to act different. They used to be very expressive in feelings towards each other and then it just stopped. So I asked them if everything was alright and they’d say that everything’s fine. Multiple times, so I dropped it.” I sighed. “When she called me today I knew why. I told her I’d be out and she never calls me when I tell her that.”

I shivered a little bit, when we turned right to the park. Chris immediately took off his sweater and handed it to me. “Look, I went through the same thing. My parents got divorced when I was 18. It didn’t get ugly and messy, but it was still hard for the family. You know, me and my sisters were already a bit more independent, they were in New York, I was about to graduate high school. But Scott had a hard time processing all of this.”

I pulled his sweater over my head and discreetly inhaled his scent. Sweet heavens. “I'm gonna be the Scott I’m my family.” I sighed and watched Dodger play around with a ball. “I’ve got two older brothers and they’ve always been overprotective of me, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a million text messages on my phone right now.” I pulled it out. “I switched it off after mum called.”

“You know, you got me a bit scared with those two overprotective brothers of yours.” Chris chuckled and whistled at Dodger.

“I won’t tell on you if you let me choose the movie.” I said. “I feel like watching Scary Movie.”

“I was gonna let you choose anyway, but if that gets me out of trouble.”

Back at his house, Chris let Dodger off the leash and the dog claimed his spot on the sofa immediately. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat?”

I sat on the stool by the kitchen island. “Do you have hot chocolate?”

Chris looked up at me and smiled. “And a pizza?”

He’s perfect, I thought and nodded.

We were bringing snacks and drinks to the living room when I realized, “You know, we discussed divorces and our parents, but we still know nothing about each other.” So we played 21 questions, while the movie played in the background. We started off with some safe questions.

“What is the best movie you've filmed?” Chris asked.

“Well, I filmed Cinderella last year, so...”

“You're Cinderella!?” he didn’t even let me finish.

“Yeah, the movie comes out in 2015.”

It turned out that Chris is a big fan of Disney and was incredibly excited to be going on a date with an actual Disney princess. “Oh my God, that is surreal. I’m finally gonna be a hero to my niece.”

“How many nephews do you have?” I asked.

“I have two nephews and one niece. They’re all under 5 years old, so when we’re all together with other members of the family, it gets incredibly messy.” He scrolled though his gallery to show me a photo of his laying on the floor with three children laid all over him, with Dodger standing next to them.

He had so many photos of them I got kind of scared. What if he wants to have children soon? I mean, I’ve known him or a few hours, but is it worth wasting my time if he asks me to have his child in a year? I definitely won’t want one in a year. Or in two years. Or three.

“I have two nephews. Both by my oldest brother. And they’re just too spoiled for me. I like children in general, but they are a pure nightmare.” I smiled. It was a small test. If he says they might not me as bad as I think they are, we will have a problem.

“I get it. Some kids are just real dicks.” He shrugged. “Worst breakup?”

I finished my drink and pretended to give it a thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever had one. I’ve never been in a relationship serious enough to consider the breakup ‘ugly'.” I sighed. “What about you?”

“Last year. We had some different approach to how we wanted to live our lives and had difficulties synching our schedules.” He explained.

“Live your lives?”

“She would call paps on us and stuff. She hasn’t been very successful as an actress, so this was the most publicity she could get.”

“Oh, ok.” I felt a bit bad for inquiring. “How about your first kiss?”

“Oh my God. I was 16 and I’m still shocked that the girl didn't just kick me in the balls. Too. Much. Tongue. I was awful.”

I couldn’t imagine Chris being bad at something. He’s definitely a pro now. “Mine was when I was 19. I was already in acting, but came back to my parents’ house for some time off. I threw a party for a few of my friends, but my former best friend brought her boyfriend’s friends. One of them was incredibly nice to me throughout the evening and we ended up making out the couch after everyone left. One thing he failed to mention was that the girl, who left 20 minutes before was his girlfriend.”

Chris was shocked. “What a dick.” He said. “Men are pigs.”

“Yeah, can’t believe I wasted my first kiss on him.” Well, I didn’t only waste my first kiss on him, but that’s not a conversation were going to have right now. “If you have bad experiences from dating actresses, why won’t you try dating outside of business?”

He smiled. “Well, only people from the business can understand moving to a filming location for a few weeks, kissing other people or rubbing yourselves against them.”

I nodded. “True. I get that it’s hard to understand, but that’s the job.”

I never thought I’d be able to talk so comfortably with someone 11 years older than me. I always thought it’s just different life experiences, different life phases, but it hasn’t been the case so far.

At some point we finally started to pay attention to the movie, but turned out I wasn’t interested at all and passed out on Chris' shoulder.

Imagine my shock, when I woke up, still on the couch, with my arms tangled around Chris' torso, with a blanket over us. Oh my God.

I lifted my head to see that Chris was still asleep. As slowly as I could, I sat up to see Dodger sitting by his leash, waving his tail enthusiastically with his mouth open. It must be way past his morning walk time. I looked at Chris as he just readjusted his sleeping position.

Well, I guess I have a dog now. I went to the bathroom to check if my make up wasn’t smudged. I found the cap Chris wore at the airport yesterday, put it on and let Dodger out. I had no problem hooking the leash to his collar and we went out to the street. He was at my side all the time, until I let him off the leash in the park and sat on the bench.

I was a little bit worried that someone would recognize Dodger and let the media know that a new girl I walking Chris’ dog. And she’s definitely not a dog walker, because no professional dog walker would wear high heels while on the job. I felt like I should be embarrassed, but I wasn’t. Should I be? I mean, we didn’t do anything wrong, my make up wasn't touched at all and my clothes were all in order. We just fell asleep on the sofa together.

Dodger brought me a stick he found. I took it from him and threw it as far as I could. I played with him for a little and decided to go back.

Chris was already up, showered and changed. “I thought you were mad at me and stole my dog.” He joked. “You want coffee?”

“No, thank you. I don’t drink coffee.” I smiled. “You thought I stole your dog, but left my bag?”

He's just noticed it on a chair. “Oh, right.” He handed me a glass of water. “Ok, so I can make you a breakfast or... I can drive you to yours, you’ll get ready and then I can take you out.

“You don’t want people to see you with me wearing yesterday’s outfit and barely there make up?” I lifted my eyebrow.

“You look incredible and being seen with you in any state will be an honour to me, but I know where we're going and you wouldn't want to go there in these shoes on.” He grinned.

“Chris, if this is something sport's related, I’m leaving now. With my bag and Dodger.”

“It's not sports related, there might be a bit of walking involved.” He teased.

I chose the second option and we were on the road in no time. I gave Chris directions to my flat. He lived in Studio City while I had a place in the centre.

“So you live in LA?” Chris asked, when a red light stopped him.

“No, I just come here for work and meetings. I also have a place in New York and I’m there most of the time.” I explained. “I don’t really like LA, to be honest. I haven’t been around for too long, but I get recognized a lot all the time here, especially since it’s been announced that I’m joining the MCU. It’s nice, but sometimes you just need a little more privacy in public.”

“I get that. I mean, I got used to it, but I still wear the cap and sunglasses and hope less people recognize me.” He sighed. “Do you think people recognize you less in New York?”

“Well, out of three cities I’ve lived in, the least people come up to me in New York. It’s the worst in London, because I was on both The Tudors and Downton Abbey. In LA, people are more forward and demanding. In NY, people are just too busy minding their own business to stop and ask for a photograph.”

We reached my flat and I immediately went to the shower while Chris sat on the sofa and turned the TV on.

After the shower I stood in front of the mirror for a while. It’s a date. What should I wear then? Should I wear make up? I should follow his lead and copy his outfit.

So I wore jeans, a yellow sweater and a denim jacket just in case. I dug also out my cleanest Adidas trainers. After deciding that the shadows under my eyes weren’t that visible today, I only put on some mascara and brushed my eyebrows. Done.

I went back to the living room where Chris was looking through a comic book. He noticed me and smiled. “You look great. That huge bag isn’t necessary, though.” He pointed at my handbag.

“I’m gonna leave it in your boot, if that’s ok.” I said and moved towards the door.

“In my what?” he stood up, confused.

“In your trunk, Yankee.” I smirked.

I didn’t know much of Los Angeles, so I couldn’t work out where we were going and Chris refused to tell me. “It's a surprise, you’re gonna love it.”

“You’ve known me for less than 24 hours, how do you know I’m gonna love it?” I raised my eyebrow.

“Actually, it’s more than 24 hours now. I bumped into you 26 hours ago.” He corrected me.

“Creep.” I laughed. “Oh my God, we're going to Disneyland.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at me. “Ok, how did you know that?”

“You said I’m gonna love it, probably because I loved playing Cinderella. You love Disney, I do too. There’s gonna be a lot of walking. Also, there was a sign, we’re 5 minutes away.” I explained and smiled.

“Outrageous...” He sighed. “ Way to ruin a surprise.”

As Chris parked I put on my sunglasses and he followed me by doing the same thing a adding a cap. “Just in case, it’s the middle of the week, barely after 12pm, it just can’t be crowded.”

Well, it was. Who would've thought that Disneyland is an excellent destination on a Valentine’s Day? I didn’t want to say anything out loud, because I knew Chris was very excited. It turned out that he bought tickets while I was taking a shower. I'm surprised he doesn't have an annual pass.

I couldn't believe how a 32 year old man turned into an 8 year old so fast. He literally took my hand the moment we got in and pulled towards the nearest ride. To be honest, I was more focused on the fact, that his hand was gripping mine even when we were in the queue. I didn’t mind it, but someone has already given us a second look when they saw Chris. His strategy was to ignore everyone until they actually approach him.

Chris started to talk about all the rides we were gonna go to. “Do you remember the names of all rides?” I laughed.

“Probably, I come here all the time with my nephews.” He explained. “I’m not just some creep who hangs around Disneyland alone.”

“No, you’re more than that.” I joked.

“When was the last time you went to Disneyland?” he asked.

“I think it was like 10 years ago, but in Paris.”

“10 years without the happiest place on the planet. Oh my God. We're here until they’re closed.”

I hope he was only joking, because I was a bit nauseous only after three rides. “Can we go on the less speedy ones now?” I asked.

“I mean, I should just say you’re weak, at this point.” He laughed. “But I don’t want you to throw up on me during our first date.”

“Oh, that would be fun.” I grinned.

“Definitely, “ Chris looked around. “How about we go eat something now?”

I nodded and followed him to a restaurant. We seemed to be a little underdressed there, but a waiter soon walked us to a secluded area, where we would have some privacy and no one else would see us.

“There you go, Ms. Dawson.” He handed me menu. “Mr. Evans. I’ll be back soon to take your orders.”

“Thank you,” I smiled. “How does he know our names?” I asked Chris.

“Well, the reservation is under my name, but I didn’t give him yours, so I guess he’s a fan.” He shrugged.

I scanned the card, hoping to find something with chicken or with no meat at all. “I fell like you had to make that reservation like a month ago.” I said. The other, less intimate, part of the restaurant was packed.

He smiled. “I do come here a lot, so they may have made an exception for me. And I always take a selfie with their manager. Anyway, if I may suggest – they make excellent fish and orecchiette pasta.”

I ordered whatever Chris recommended me. He ordered a lot of side dishes and it had me think whether he thought I could eat that much or it was only for him. “May I suggest some wine?”

“Well, I’m driving,” Chris answered. “Emily?”

“Something semi sweet, perhaps.” I smiled and gave him my card back. “I’ll trust you on this one.”

“Thank you, I’ll choose something suitable.”

Chris kept looking at me as the waiter left our table. “Is there something on my face?” I asked.

He grinned. “No, you just ordered what I recommended you and relayed on him to get you a good wine.”

“I’m not very problematic or sophisticated. Just two or three years ago I was still drinking wine drinks from the nearest grocery shop instead of actual wine, because I saw no difference. Besides, I’ve seen their prices per bottle and it just can’t be bad.” I shrugged. “Oh, and don’t you dare think that you’ll pay for all of this. You paid for the entrance, I’m paying for food.”

Chris raised his eyebrow. “We'll see about that.”

“Christopher...” I started. “Wait, are you Chris or Christopher? Do you have middle name? I wanted to say your full name, but I don’t know it.”

He just shrugged, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Guess you’re gonna have to Google me or something.”

I didn’t give up. I pulled my phone out just to discover it was still switched off. “Oh my God.” I froze.

“What's wrong?” Chris asked, a worried look on his face.

“I switched my phone off after talking to my mum yesterday and I haven’t turned it on since.” I answered, horrified. “They’re gonna kill me.”

After the screen light up I got a countless number of notifications: missed calls, texts, FaceTime calls, Skype calls, Facebook messages, WhatsApp messages. Everything. “They’re gonna strangle me. Wait... it’s 4:30 here, so it's 12:30am in London.”

“Go, call them.” Chris said. “They’re probably worried.”

I looked up at him. He’s such a good guy. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just text my brother. He’s definitely still up.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t picked up your calls, I switched my phone off and forgot to switch it on again until just now. I don’t feel like talking to neither Mum or Dad. I’ll book a flight back to the UK and come later this week. I wish they had decided to tell me about the divorce last month, when I was there and not when I’m on the other side of the globe, at a party.”

“Done, it’s been dealt with. I’m gonna get the shit beaten out of me when they see me.” I smiled. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.” He assured me.

We decided not to talk about anything negative right now and moved on to talking about filming Avengers: Age of Ultron. After we realized that we haven’t even swapped numbers and had no way of sharing each other’s calendars, we did so. I also friended him on Facebook. You know, just in case.

Our food arrived and we dug into our plates. The food was delicious and the wine was very well selected. I couldn’t stop eating until I’ve finished my meal. Then Chris told me to eat the sides and suggested what goes well with what. He moved to sit right next to me and we talked about comics and movies. I had no idea that a movie he directed could premiere at TIFF this year.

“Yeah, if I'm honest I'm scared shitless, but it's all sealed already.” He admitted and ate a shrimp.

“I'm sure they will choose it and it will do well.” I said and, without reconsidering, took his hand. It was that moment. We started to lean each other’s ways. As our noses brushed against each other, Chris whispered: “Emily, I’ve been waiting for this for the whole day.”

“Mhm...” I murmured.

“And while I’d like nothing more but to just move those 2 inches and kiss you... I wanted to do this at a certain point this evening.” He explained. “You’ll know when.”

“Ok.” I’m gonna die.

Somehow, he managed to pay for the meal without even leaving the table. Because we decided we should have a picnic now, I went to buy sweets and a blanket, which featured Mickey and Minnie. We found a quiet spot, behind most people in the park. “Are we waiting for something?” I asked.

“I’m waiting for you to eat all these cupcakes.” He joked, looking at my stuffed mouth.

“I hope that’s not a bet, because you will loose.” I snapped back.

It was getting completely dark. I laid down and looked at the stars that started to appear on the sky. More people gathered on the grass around us as well as on the benches. I was sure that something was supposed to happen here, but I also knew Chris wouldn’t tell me if I asked. He laid down next to me, took my hand and brought it to his lips. I felt shivers on my arm as he pressed his lips against my skin.

“I really enjoyed today,” he whispered. “And yesterday.”

I turned to face him. “Me too,” I smiled. “But it might just be this place...”

A moment later I realized why Chris wanted to wait for the kiss and why people were gathering around us. It was time for a special Valentine’s Day firework display. “Oh my God...”

I turned to Chris, who almost immediately pressed his lips against mine. After the initial shock, I open my mouth slightly. Chris' tongue slips inside my mouth gently as his hand cups my cheek. Our tongues tangled together is like nothing I've ever experienced. I move my fingers to run through his hair, as Chris gently pushes me to lay down. We’re making out, laying on a Mickey Mouse blanket in Disneyland. “Chris, they’re going to arrest us for public indecency or something...” I whispered, breaking the kiss for a second. Our lips connected again almost with hunger.

“I really don’t give a fuck right now.” he answered breathing heavily against my lips. “I don’ even know if it’s the fireworks or my heart.”

I’m sure the firework display was incredible. I didn’t get to see much of it, but I'm sure it was.

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torestoreamends · 5 years ago

Text

Mine to Make: Chapter 2

Scorpius is ready to take on the league, and Albus is ready to face someone from his dad’s department. What neither of them are ready for, however, is to see each other for the first time in seven years...

Beta’d by @abradystrix.

N.B. This fic is complete on AO3, so binge read away if you want! Here on tumblr I’ll be posting a chapter every day until it’s all done.

Read it on AO3

II Home

“Hello.”

Albus jumps at the sound of the voice and looks up. There’s a girl standing in the entrance to the shed, grinning at him. She has bright silver hair that shines in the setting sun, and her coat is made of a myriad of glossy feathers that aren’t really black, but a thousand other colours – turquoise and midnight blue and emerald and deep purple.

He frowns at her. “Um... hello?”

She gives a slightly awkward little wave that reminds him a tiny bit of Scorpius, then she laughs and gestures around. “I saw you sitting here,” she says. “I wanted to know if you’re okay.”

Albus looks around at the broom shed and shrugs. Right now he’s fine; he’s out here, but he gets the point. Okay people don’t hide in broom sheds in their parents’ yard.

“I’m alright,” he says. “I like sitting out here. It’s quiet.”

She nods. “Okay. That’s good.” She hangs in the doorway for a second, then she steps forward and reaches out a hand. “I’m Delphi,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Albus takes her hand and shakes it. “Albus,” he says.

Her eyes go wide and she releases his hand, stumbling back a step. “Albus Potter? So Harry is your dad.”

Albus hugs his knees to his chest and nods. “Unfortunately.”

“Oh.” Delphi’s face falls as she looks at Albus. “Is that not a good thing?”

“Not really,” Albus mutters.

She pauses for a second, looking uncertain. She twists her hands together and seems to consider what to say, then she takes a step back toward Albus and sits opposite him on the floor, crossing her legs. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t really like my family either. But I always think that the family you make for yourself is more important than the family you’re born with.”

Albus looks at her for a moment, considering. He thinks about Scorpius, the only person he’d choose to be his family if he could. “I suppose so.”

“You can choose,” she says. “The people you want in your life. If your dad is difficult then... maybe you don’t need him. Maybe you just deserve better.”

Albus frowns, processing that. “Do you actually think that’s true?”

Delphi nods. “Of course it is.”

A slow smile spreads across Albus’s face and he leans toward her. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Accio keys.” Albus directs his wand into the top of his backpack and waits. Nothing. “Accio keys,” he repeats, this time with considerably more force. A faint rattle can be heard somewhere in the depths of the bag, but still no keys come flying out. He sighs, closes his eyes for a moment to try and get rid of some of his frustration, then tries one last time, giving his words as much authority as he can. “Accio keys.” This time, a set of four silver keys come shooting out of the bag, miss his hand by inches, smack him hard on the forehead, and fall with a clatter onto the garden path.

“Ow,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. “Stupid things.” He snatches them up, finds his front door key, and stuffs it into the lock. It’s difficult in the dark, but even after a year away he hasn’t lost the knack, and a moment later his front door swings open to welcome him home.

He picks his bags up and steps over the threshold. There’s a freshness to the air when he inhales. It smells of home. After so long away it’s pure relief, and he closes and locks the door behind himself, shoulders relaxing as he does, because he’s here. He’s safe. He can be entirely himself for a couple of hours.

He kicks his shoes off and pads down the hall to the kitchen, feet sinking into the carpet.

It doesn’t feel uninhabited in here. There’s not a speck of dust anywhere, but that’s not unexpected. His amazing housekeeper, Mrs Peters, has been in twice a week while he’s been away, and it feels like he’s barely been gone. There’s a note on the kitchen table, and he leaves his bags by the door and goes across to read it.

Welcome home.

There are some bits and pieces in the fridge.

It’s good to have you back.

Mrs Peters really is an absolute hero, he thinks as his stomach rumbles at the thought of food. It’s been such a long and busy day – it always is in the lead up to a race – and he hasn’t even had time to think about food until now. If it had been left up to him he’d have had nothing to eat, but now... He opens the fridge and discovers two bowls of pasta salad and a whole lasagne sitting on the shelves among milk and butter and fresh apples. Now he has lasagne, and if that isn’t the perfect homecoming gift then he doesn’t know what is.

If he tried to do magic now he’d burn the house down, so he sticks a slice of lasagne in the oven and leans against the worktop while it heats up, rubbing his shoulder and enjoying the familiarity of his surroundings.

It’s not really a homely space. There are no photos or objects to remind him of the past. There are no memories here. But that’s a good thing. That’s the way he likes it, clean and clinical, with its ruby red (definitely not scarlet) doors on all his kitchen units, the glittering black granite of the work surfaces, all the kitchen utensils perfectly ordered and hanging from hooks on the walls where he can grab them, the Mimbulus Mimbletonia thrumming happily to itself on the window ledge, and his potion-making area set up and stocked with fuel and little bottles of ingredients. It may not be homely, but it’s home, and what’s more, it’s his home.

When his dinner is ready he wolfs it down as fast as he can, far too fast to properly savour it, then he grabs his bags and traipses upstairs. With his hunger attended to, his mind turns to his current biggest problem: tomorrow.

If there was one downside to coming home, back to the UK, then it’s this. When he’s here he’s in far greater danger than he is anywhere else in the world. Here his family have an all-consuming level of fame.

He hasn’t read a newspaper since he got back, but he’s seen the headlines in shop windows and on street corners and he knows his dad is mentioned in almost every single one. The chance of running into his family, or someone who knows them, or even worse, someone who recognises him despite all his attempts to disguise himself, is exponentially greater here, and that sits on him like a dead weight. It’s that jeopardy, that fear, that’s allowed him to stay out of the country for as long as he has. But he doesn’t regret coming home; he really has missed it, and occasionally, somewhere inside the bit of his heart that he tries to forget exists, he does wonder if being found wouldn’t be so bad after all.

One of his favourite things to fantasise about while he was lying awake at night during those long days touring Europe, was what would happen if someone one day did find him. He’s imagined his dad or one of the Aurors hunting him down, or running into his mum out shopping one day. If he closes his eyes he can summon up visions of a tearful reunion, full of hugs and apologies and forgiveness. It’s stupid, he knows, because it would never go like that, especially with his dad, but on his lowest, loneliest days it’s something to hold onto.

He nudges his bedroom door open, drops his bags on the bed, and crosses to the window. Night is falling outside, and the city lights sparkle in the river down the hillside below his house. He’s set high up here, with a view out towards more rolling hills and countryside. Flying almost non-stop for the last seven years has given him a good head for heights, and it’s hard to imagine living somewhere low down, but that’s not why he bought this house on the hillside. He bought it because, even though he can’t see it from here, he knows that somewhere across those rolling hills is Ottery St Catchpole, and if he flew in a straight line from this window, he would reach his parents’ house.

He leans his forehead on the cool glass for a moment and closes his eyes. When he opens them, past the mist of his breath on the window pane, he sees the state of his hair. If there’s one thing that’ll give him away faster than anything else, it’s his hair. The Aurors must have been given his description; everyone in the country probably has his description, and that description will include the words ‘hair like Harry Potter’.

With a heavy sigh he drags himself out to the bathroom. Tomorrow he has to face someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and if any Ministry official is likely to recognise him then it’ll be one of the people from his dad’s department. He can’t put a foot wrong tomorrow, especially where his appearance is concerned. That is, if he even decides to face the person from the Ministry. They could just run. That’s what Delphi wants to do.

He bows his head over the sink and draws his wand, starting to scythe away the overlong strands of hair, trying to get the shave as close to his scalp as he can without cutting himself.

Facing the Ministry would be reckless, he knows it would, but at the same time... If he does this and gets through it he’ll know for sure that his disguise works. Plus he likes it here, he wants to be home, and he can’t stay if there’s no league to race in. Helping to defend it is in his and Delphi’s interest. This is how they make their living after all. If the money doesn’t convince her, nothing will.

Running a hand over his now prickly scalp, he lifts his head to look at himself in the mirror. His hair is a disaster, it always is when he cuts it all off. Every bit of him is a disaster really, so at least the hair matches now.

The potion that changes his eyes to a deep, mahogany brown is starting to wear off, and they’re in the weird, hazel transition stage where his vision is a tiny bit blurred as the effects fade. Then there’s his shoulder, which is prickling again, like it almost always is. He strips his shirt off so he can inspect it, revealing the long, dark, curling tattoos down his arms – from shoulder to mid-forearm on the left and from shoulder to elbow on the right. They’re meant to obscure the scars he’s picked up from two separate accidents while he’s been racing, but he’s learned over the years that Fiendfyre burn scars don’t like to be hidden, and the one on his left arm is standing out as a particularly ugly, ferocious shade of red today.

He sighs and scrubs the heel of his hand against his eyes, then he opens the bathroom cupboard and takes out one of the many jars of burn salve he keeps in there, which he smears across his left shoulder and down his arm. It’s not instant relief, but it helps soothe the prickling pain a little bit, and he exhales as the salve starts to spread a gentle cooling sensation across his skin. He spreads more salve down his right arm, then he puts the jar away, closes the cupboard, and faces himself in the mirror once again.

His exhausted self, with the roughly shaved hair, tired hazel eyes, pierced ears, and scars that are beginning to fade from angry red to pink, stares back at him, and he blinks a couple of times. Things may not be perfect – things are never perfect – but being here helps. And now he’s here he’s not going to leave. Not for a few months at least. Delphi promised a few months. So tomorrow he’ll deal with whatever the Ministry and his dad have to throw at him, then he’ll get on with his life, just the way he’s been getting on with it for seven years.

“The future is mine to make,” he murmurs to himself, running his fingers over the small pair of wings tattooed on his left shoulder blade. Those have always been words he’s clung to, and now they’re more resonant than ever. They’ll get what they want out of tomorrow if they’re smart, sensible, and take control, so that’s going to be the plan of attack. Now he just has to convince Delphi...

In the end, Albus doesn’t have chance to convince Delphi. When he arrives at the training ground the next morning it’s to discover that he’s the first one there and Delphi is nowhere to be found. For a moment he wonders if during his absence the league has found a new training ground and he’s in completely the wrong place, but the fresh scorch marks on the pitch and the blackened Fiendfyre crates lying against one of the walls of the clubhouse tell him that this is exactly where he should be and that everyone else is just late.

He mounts his broom and kicks off from the ground; it’s nice to get a few laps in before the air gets clogged up with people. This was the first training ground Delphi brought him to, when he was still just seventeen years old. He’d been flying for years in secret at school and at home, practicing, getting faster. He found that even if his bullies were also on brooms, they couldn’t catch him. Flying was the perfect, sometimes the only, way to escape, and his desire to disappear from the world manifested in the sort of quiet work ethic that saw him spend hours flying every day, in rain, wind, storms, and snow as much as in sunshine. Still, as good and as quick as he was, nothing could have prepared him for his first visit here – this place gave him a literal baptism of fire. It’s strange to think how familiar it is now, seven years later, familiar enough to almost feel like home.

He banks round the end of the pitch, shoulder grazing the charms put in place to stop anyone who shouldn’t from seeing what they get up to in here. The magic ripples beneath his touch, and a couple of sparks fizz off the barrier and dissipate. He makes a hard left turn in towards the pitch and dives, hurling himself and his broom as fast as he can at the grass below.

The instant before he hits the ground, he pulls up and goes shooting across the pitch, the tips of his toes brushing the overgrown grass. His heart is pounding, and his whole body is alive with exhilarating adrenaline. Flying is so much like falling, except when he’s flying he knows it’s in his power to stop himself before he hits the ground. Flying lets him put himself in terrible danger and also lets him be his own saviour. That might be his favourite thing about it.

He weaves his way across the pitch, then zooms back up into the air for some more laps and dives. It’s not long before he’s joined by other racers and they begin a sort of mid-air ballet of trying to avoid each other’s manoeuvres. Albus survives the next hour unscathed and decides it’s time to take a break. He hovers just off the ground, the tips of his toes barely brushing the tufts of grass, while he takes a long swig from his water bottle. It’s at that point that Delphi shows up.

“Good morning,” she says, coming up from behind him and putting a hand on his back.

He manages not to jump so hard he falls off his broom, but he does dribble water all down his front and spills half the bottle on the floor as he grabs the broom handle for support.

“Delphi,” he gasps, wiping the water from his chin and twisting round towards her.

She grins and moves round in front of him, looking exceptionally pleased with herself. “I hoped I’d find you here. Have you been training?”

“Always. What have you been doing? You’re late.”

She checks her watch and shrugs. “Not that late. Anyway, I had a busy night.” She runs her hand up to his shoulder, and he twitches out of her grip. “You’re here. Does that mean you’ve decided you’re staying?”

Albus puts the cap on his water bottle and drops it onto the pitch. He takes a deep breath and looks at Delphi. “I’ve been thinking about it, and... I really do want to stay. This is home, you know? And I don’t want this league shut down. We can make money here. We’ve always made money here. It would feel strange to leave for good. And you did promise a few months, remember? You promised.”

He’s never been able to read her. He looks at her now, and she’s looking back at him with dark, obscure eyes, her gaze impenetrable. She’s thinking, that’s as much as he knows, and she’s scrutinising him, but he has no way of knowing if he’s said completely the right or completely the wrong thing. At times like this she’s unpredictable and more than a little bit unnerving.

After a few seconds of silence he opens his mouth to appeal to her, feeling like he needs to say something, but she gets there first.

“I agree,” she says. “That we should stay. I think there are opportunities here, and there are a lot of people that I need to meet and that you,” she puts her hand back on his shoulder and squeezes it in an uncomfortably tight grip, “need to meet.” She shoots him a dazzling smile. “I think we have a bright future here, and I’m glad we agree on that.”

Albus stares up into her dazzling eyes, searching for all her confidence and excitement for their future – his future – and when he finds it there he nods and relaxes. If she thinks it’s a good idea to stay then it must be, and it’s so rare for them to agree on something that he’ll take this as a sign. “Okay,” he says. “Good. That’s good.”

“It is,” she says brightly. “But Sev...” She glances over her shoulder then steps in close, leaning up on tiptoe so they’re at exactly matching heights as she lowers her voice. “Be careful. The person coming today is from your dad’s department. Remember what I said about not doing anything stupid. We need to keep you safe; that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Albus looks down at his knees and nods. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I cut my hair last night, and I took the potion this morning. They won’t recognise me.” He lifts his head and smiles at her. “I barely recognise me.”

Delphi shifts her hand from his shoulder to his cheek, running her fingers gently down to his jaw. “I recognise you. Sev. My star racer.” She leans in and kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth. “That’s all you need to be today. It’s all you ever need to be for me. Just yourself.” She pulls back and looks at him, and he nods, as always too stunned by her proximity and attention to know quite what to say.

“Good boy,” she murmurs, then her hand is gone, fingers trailing the rest of the way down his neck and making him shiver before she pulls it away. “Well, today is going to be a disaster, so I should let you fly while you can. Have fun, but not too much fun. I’ll be in the clubhouse when you need me.” She rolls her eyes. “I can’t quite believe we’re going along with this.” Then she’s gone, leaving Albus to sway back and forth on his broom, brain a little fuzzy, the corner of his mouth tingling.

He reaches up to touch the edge of his lips, then he shakes himself. It still makes no sense to him why he reacts to her this way. They’ve been friends for years now – just friends, and colleagues – nothing more. He doesn’t even especially fancy her these days. Maybe he did once but that’s long passed. But she has this way about her that scrambles his mind and makes him completely stop thinking. She has a power over him that he’s never been able to describe and that she always laughs off. But it’s there – not a problem, of course. It doesn’t worry him. It’s just a strange facet of their relationship that he’s never been able to fathom.

He shakes his head to clear it and reaches down for his water bottle. Most of the contents have already been used to water the ground and the front of his t-shirt, but he downs what’s left and lobs the empty bottle in the direction of the bin. It bounces off, and he goes over to pick it up and throw it away properly before wheeling about and returning to the air, because she’s right. This day really is going to be a disaster, and the more practice he can get in before everything falls apart, the better.

He’s been flying for an hour and a half when it happens. There’s an outburst of noise and kerfuffle over by the gate to the grounds, and when he swings round in mid-air to get a look at what’s going on, he sees a figure in sky blue robes being blocked from entering the grounds by a couple of his fellow racers.

No sooner has he noticed that something’s going on than Delphi sticks her head out of the clubhouse door to see what all the commotion is. He flies down to her.

“The Ministry are here,” he says.

”I can see that. Last chance to leave. Are you sure you want to do this?” She looks at him and there’s a glint in her eye that says she already knows full well what his answer is going to be.

Albus glances in the direction of the crowd by the gates. “Yes, I want to do this. I’ll be careful.”

He hops off the broom and leaves it by the wall, then he rests a hand briefly on Delphi’s arm as he sets off towards the gate.

There’s a swarm of people gathering there now. Racers come flying in from all corners of the grounds, and their brooms among the crowd seem to form an intimidating barbed fence standing out even within the wall of bodies. Albus can sense Delphi trailing behind him as he joins the crowd and starts weaving his way towards the front. He’s too short to see over everyone’s heads, but at least he can hear what’s going on.

“Two points. First point, I’m not here to arrest anyone or cause any trouble, I just want to talk. Second point, more significant point, I have a warrant of entry from the Ministry of Magic, so technically you have to let me in.”

Albus’s heart stops. He knows that voice. He would know that voice anywhere.

“Excuse me,” he says, nudging his way past the person in front of him. “Sorry. Let me- I need to-“ He barges through the crowd without thinking. There’s part of him that’s screaming at him to stop, to run away, to walk as fast as he can in the opposite direction and find somewhere to hide, because this is the sort of danger he’s been terrified of for years. But the rest of him doesn’t care. The rest of him stopped thinking the second he heard that voice, which he’s been missing for seven years.

He bursts through to the front of the crowd, not caring that he’s leaving a disgruntled, elbowed wake behind him, and when he gets there he stops dead and stares.

Scorpius Malfoy has visibly grown up in the last few years. He’s taller, and impossibly skinnier, but he looks surer in his body now. When he was younger he always seemed surprised by his height and the length of his limbs, but now there’s a strength and control, almost a grace, to his movements, like he’s finally grown into himself.

His face has lost the last of its childlike roundness. His jaw is strong and defined, and his cheekbones are sharp. The white blond Malfoy hair shines as bright as ever, almost silver in the summer sunshine, and it’s a touch longer than it used to be, long enough for the soft, stray curls to frame his face and graze the nape of his neck, just about reaching the collar of his sky blue Ministry robes – he works for the Ministry now, for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and even though Albus knows that was never among his ambitions he can’t help but feel the role still suits him. It lends him an authority that’s impressive and not at all surprising. Scorpius Malfoy as a Ministry official feels like the fulfilment of some sort of promise. It feels right.

Albus realises suddenly that he’s been staring with his mouth open. He snaps it shut and swallows hard. His heart is thudding in his chest and his mouth has gone dry. It’s been so long and now Scorpius is here, looking like this: like heaven, like home, and Albus doesn’t know what to do about it.

Except he does know. He knows exactly what to do. What he needs to do is to run and get as far away from here – from Scorpius – as he can. But before he can move, Scorpius turns and looks at him, and Albus finds himself unable to move.

Scorpius doesn’t say a word, but there’s something in his gaze – something sharp and attentive, a slight widening of those eyes that today are the heavy grey of rain clouds – that tells Albus that Scorpius knows exactly who he is.

Scorpius take a step towards him. “What are you-“

“I’ll deal with this,” Albus says, raising his voice so the entire crowd can hear him. “He can talk to me.”

Gareth emerges from the crowds next to him. “Sev... I think we should all talk this through together. You’ve been away for so long, you’re not up on what’s been happening.” He lowers his voice. “There’s safety in numbers here.”

Albus takes a deep breath and nods. “I know, but...” He looks up at Gareth, one of the first people to accept him seven years ago, and he doesn’t know how to explain. It’s always been an unspoken rule that Gareth speaks for all of them, and he has no right to take that away, except...

He draws himself up with all the strength and authority he can muster, trying to stand the way Scorpius is standing, like he has a right to decide what’s going to happen here, and he raises his voice a little so the other racers can hear. “That may be true, but I’m-“ He cuts himself off, not knowing where he was going with that sentence. But I’m his best friend. But I’m his boss’s son. Neither of those things are really true anymore...

“Trust me,” he tries instead. “I know what I’m doing. I can make this go away, I promise.”

The other racers glance at each other, and a murmur sweeps through the crowd as everyone starts discussing what to do. Finally Gareth raises a hand and cuts off the hubbub.

“You’d damn well better do a good job of this, Sev. If you can sort this out, then-“

“I promise I can.”

He nods. “Then get on with it. We’re all counting on you.”

Albus swallows and looks around at the expectant faces of the crowd, wondering if he’s done the right thing here. Then he glances over his shoulder and sees Scorpius standing there, watching him with a perplexed, slightly stunned look on his face, and any apprehension he has melts away in an instant. This is all going to be entirely okay.

“We should get out of here,” he says, turning his back on the crowd and going over to Scorpius. “There’s a nice cafe round the corner. We can go there and talk.”

Scorpius gestures past him, in the direction of the grounds. “But I’m supposed to- I can’t just leave without doing anything.”

“And we can’t talk in here with this lot,” Albus says. “They won’t leave you alone. It’ll be much easier elsewhere...” He pauses, then plays what he hopes is his trump card. “Your iced tea is on me.”

If Scorpius had looked ready to dig his heels in before, now his expression seems to thaw, and a small, glowing smile crosses his face. He sighs and waves a hand. “Fine. Fine! But it had better be a really good iced tea.”

“It will be,” Albus promises, returning the smile. “Come on.” He puts a hand on Scorpius’s arm and is about to guide him out of the gate when he feels a tug on the hood of his jacket that snaps his head back just enough to get his attention. He wheels round to push the person away, but sees Delphi there at the front of the crowd, smiling a dangerously sweet smile, her eyes like daggers of ice.

He deflates. “Give me a second,” he tells Scorpius, then he turns to Delphi and steps in close to her so no one else can hear. “What are you-“

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” She hisses, tone so high pitched she sounds almost hysterical.

“Fixing this,” he murmurs back, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Delphi-“

“This doesn’t look like being safe,” she says, slapping his hand away. “It doesn’t look like being sensible. This looks like a disaster.”

“It’s fine!” Albus says soothingly. “He’s- it’s fine. I promise I’ll be careful. If it makes you happy I’ll be back in time for dinner. I’ll tell you what happens.”

Delphi glares at him, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much animosity in her eyes. Maybe directed at other people, but never at him. “I really really hope you know what you’re doing,” she says, voice low now, and a little bit dangerous. “Albus Severus-“

“I do,” he snaps, cutting her off. “I’m an adult. I can handle myself. I’ll see you later.” He plants a kiss on her cheek despite his burst of irritation (why does she need to be so controlling?) then turns away and waves for Scorpius to go ahead of him out of the gate. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They walk in silence for about a hundred metres down the street before Scorpius stops dead. Albus stops too.

“Are you-“

“It’s you,” Scorpius says, and Albus can hear that his voice is trembling. The smile on his face looks shaky too, like he can’t decide whether he wants to grin or burst into tears.

Albus swallows and nods. “Yeah,” he breathes. “It’s me.”

Scorpius opens his mouth, closes it again, then draws in a very deep breath. “What happened to your eyes?” He asks. “They’re... they’re brown.”

“Oh,” Albus says, twisting round to look at himself in the window behind him. “I-I suppose they are. It’s a potion.”

“A potion,” Scorpius says dubiously. “Why? The green is so...”

“It’s supposed to stop people knowing who I am,” Albus says.

Scorpius hesitates for a moment, then grins. “Well it’s not done a very good job, has it? You can’t wear that-“ he tugs gently on one of the white strings of Albus’s favourite green hoodie “-and not expect people to recognise you.”

Albus folds his arms and lifts his chin. “It’s worked for seven years, hasn’t it?”

Scorpius considers for a moment, then shrugs. “Touché. You mentioned iced tea?”

Albus smiles. “I did.”

They start walking again, and as they do they keep glancing at each other. Twice Albus catches Scorpius looking at him, and their eyes meet. For some reason Albus’s cheeks feel very hot, and the day may be warm but it’s not that warm.

“Was she your girlfriend?” Scorpius asks after a few paces. “You know, the one with the-“ he makes a wriggling motion with his fingers over his head.

“Who? Delphi?” Albus looks across at him and pulls a face. “No, definitely not. She’s more like my...” He trails off, not sure he knows what word he’s looking for. Delphi’s relationship to him is undefinable. She’s a friend, a confidant, a sister, a manager, and a teacher all rolled into one. Who she is to him is too much to explain in a word. She’s been everything to him. “She’s Delphi,” he says with a shrug. “But I don’t... she’s not my type.”

Scorpius frowns and looks down at the ground. “But you-“

“It’s just something we do,” Albus says, not sure why he feels such a desperate urge to explain that fact. “It doesn’t really mean anything. It’s... it’s weird I suppose. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know why he apologises either; it just feels like the right thing to do. Scorpius nods and bows his head as they keep walking in silence.

Albus notices that now they’re not in front of the crowd anymore Scorpius’s posture has crumpled. He’s lost all the authority from his stance, and now his shoulders are hunched, his head down. He looks small, and a little bit lost, especially inside those sky blue robes that suddenly seem far too big for him, and are definitely far stiffer than any of the clothes Albus thinks of as being the sort of thing Scorpius feels comfortable in.

“So you work for the Ministry now,” Albus says softly. “For- for, you know...”

“A very very, very junior official,” Scorpius says, with this little twisted smile that looks like it hurts, although Albus can’t fathom why. “But yes, an employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And you’re an illegal broom racer.”

“It’s a job,” Albus says, and Scorpius’s difficult, painful smile melts into a real one.

“That’s one word for it.”

They reach the cafe, and Albus holds the door open for Scorpius to go in ahead of him. While Scorpius weaves between the chairs and tables, making a beeline for the squashy sofa in the corner, Albus pauses and watches him.

This feels like a dream. Scorpius Malfoy, his best friend, who he hasn’t seen in years, is right in front of him, about to have coffee with him, and he can’t believe it. This is a fantasy. This is one of his midnight imaginings coming true. It can’t be real. But then Scorpius flumps down on the sofa, arms flopping to either side, head dropping against the back cushion, relaxing into it, and he turns his head and smiles at Albus, a warm, bright smile, and Albus’s insides flutter. This is so real. Why did he run away from this? This is wonderful.

Albus orders the drinks and joins Scorpius at the table, sinking into the equally squashy armchair opposite him, and they begin to talk.

They talk about nothing in particular. They talk about iced tea, and how nice the loaves of bread they’re selling behind the counter look, and then they talk about Albus’s favourite bakery in Paris, and Scorpius asks about Europe so Albus sketches round the details of that. Not once do they talk about broom racing or the Ministry or the seven year chasm in their friendship. In fact it feels to Albus as if he’s never been away; Scorpius is as easy to talk to as he’s ever been.

There’s a sort of bright, humorous breeziness to everything Scorpius says. He’s full of positivity and light, the way he always has been. It makes it easy for Albus to steer clear of talking about any of his hardships, or any of the darkness in his life. It’s not that he normally talks about those things, he avoids it at all costs, but usually the not talking aches, like there’s so much inside him that he wants to get out but can’t that he feels like he might burst. But with Scorpius it’s as if the bad things simply don’t exist. Scorpius is like a ray of sunshine through a window on a summer’s day, chasing the shadows away and making everything feel warm and bright.

“Did I tell you my dad bought more peacocks?” Scorpius asks after two hours of chatter, stirring the ice cubes left at the bottom of his tea with a straw to make them melt faster so he can drink them.

Albus grins and downs his third shot of espresso. He’s buzzing with giddy happiness, and he can’t tell anymore if it’s the coffee or just Scorpius’s presence.

Scorpius nods. “He did. Without telling me. I came home from work one day and this enormous, iridescent bird was sitting right outside the front door, refusing to let me in.” He leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “They really do have a vendetta against me. But at least the new ones are colourful, not those awful, creepy white things grandfather had.”

“You know,” Albus says, setting his coffee cup down. “There were nights where I’d lie awake wondering how you’d have changed over the years, but you really haven’t.”

“Whereas you’ve changed everything,” Scorpius says, gesturing to him. “Your hair, your eyes, your name...”

Albus doesn’t quite know what to say to that, so he wipes his finger round the inside of his coffee cup to pick up the last dregs of his espresso, while Scorpius noisily sucks up the last bits of melted ice cube through his straw.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Albus asks after a moment of silence. “There’s a really nice park round the corner. I don’t want to- I mean we haven’t even talked about the legal stuff yet. We should do that at some point.”

“We should,” Scorpius agrees. They get up, clear their table, and start walking.

It’s a warm day and the sun is high in the sky above them as they head off along the river beneath leafy trees. Albus rolls the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows but it’s not warm enough to need to take it off. Twice their hands brush together as they stroll side by side, and they both murmur apologies and shift apart. In the end it’s Albus who breaks the silence.

“So how did you end up working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? I thought you always wanted to be an Unspeakable.”

Scorpius turns his head away and gazes down at the river burbling gently along beside the path. He seems to hesitate for a moment, then he glances up at Albus and a shaft of sunlight through the trees illuminates his face, making it glow peachy bright, his eyes like slivers of pure silver. “Your dad owed me a favour,” he says.

Albus frowns. “My- What for?”

Scorpius’s smile does that painful, twisted thing again. “You don’t read the papers, do you?”

“I try to avoid it,” Albus says. “For, you know, obvious reasons.”

Scorpius nods. “I recommend keeping it that way.”

Albus scrutinises him carefully, but there’s nothing there to read. He’s as impenetrable right now as Delphi at her best. That must be something else he’s picked up from Draco over the years.

“So now you’re a Ministry official,” he says, knowing that pushing the subject will get him nowhere.

“I am,” Scorpius says. “And you’re an athlete.”

Albus laughs. “I suppose I am, but-“

“You’re Sev,” Scorpius continues. “The most fearless and fearsome illegal broom racer around.”

“I-“

“You’re successful,” Scorpius says, ticking it off on his fingers. “You’re driven. You’re almost unbeatable. From what I’ve heard you’re not finding it difficult to make a living. I’ve read your case file.”

“I- I have a case file?” Albus asks, stopping dead and looking at him. “What does it say?”

Scorpius shrugs. “Pretty much just that. There are photos too, but-“ He holds a hand up when Albus opens his mouth to interrupt. “Don’t panic. No one would know it’s you.”

Albus snaps his mouth shut and considers that for a moment. “Did you?” He asks. “Know it was me? Before you came?”

Scorpius shakes his head. “I thought Sev looked familiar, but I didn’t realise how I recognised him. And then I saw you, and- You’re you. You’re so very you. You can change the colour of your eyes and cut your hair, but you can’t change who you are.”

“Can I see you again?” Albus asks sharply, without thinking first. He turns and looks right at Scorpius as the question spills out. “It’s been seven years. It’s been too long. I didn’t mean to stay away for such a long time. I just...” He trails off, shaking his head, not sure what his excuse is.

“You’ll see me again,” Scorpius says, looking straight ahead down the shadow dappled path. “You’re part of the league I have to shut down. I’m not going to go away.”

Albus swallows. “I mean can I see you again away from the league, away from your work? I didn’t realise how much I missed talking to you.”

“I missed you too,” Scorpius whispers, almost too quietly for Albus to hear. He turns and looks at Albus, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Albus want to reach out and hug him, to start trying to bridge the gap that seven years apart, that Albus’s running away, has torn between them. “I want to think about it,” he murmurs. “I need to think about it.”

“I-“ Albus digs his hands into his pockets and tries not to let it look like his heart has just been shattered. “Okay. I-I understand.”

“And I need you to know,” Scorpius continues, tone strengthening now he’s started speaking, making it sound as though he’s trying to get all the difficult things out of the way in one go. “I need you to know that I have to shut down the league. Whether you’re part of it or not. I really need to do this, Albus. You can’t stop me, I’m sorry. It’s my job and I... I really need to do it well.”

For some reason that doesn’t hurt nearly as much as Scorpius needing time to think about seeing him again, so Albus just nods. “Okay.”

“It’s getting late,” Scorpius says, interrupting the slightly awkward beat of silence that follows. He gets his watch out and his eyes widen. “Shit, it’s getting really late, I didn’t realise. I need to get back to the office, and then home. My dad will be worrying about already. I need to-“

“Do you still live at the Manor?” Albus asks.

Scorpius nods and tucks his watch away. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Albus, I have to go now. And don’t you need to go and meet-“

“Delphi,” Albus groans. “I do. I forgot.”

“So we should...” Scorpius gestures over his shoulder down the path, and Albus nods in agreement, but neither of them move. They just stand there beneath the trees, in a warm shaft of evening sunlight, and look at each other.

“Do you have a quill?” Albus asks finally.

Scorpius frowns. “A quill? Yes, of course I-“

“And parchment?”

Scorpius nods. “Yes, but-“

“Can I borrow them?” Albus asks, holding a hand out.

Scorpius gives him a long, perplexed look, then pulls his parchment and quill out of a pocket. “It’s self-inking, so-“

Albus takes them and scribbles his address on the top corner of the parchment. “This is where I live,” he says, handing it back to Scorpius. “So you can find me. Visit me, call me, Owl me, whatever, whenever. If you want.”

Scorpius hovers his hand over the parchment for a moment looking stunned. “Albus...” He says softly. “Albus this is a really bad idea.”

Albus grins. “I’m full of bad ideas. I’m me. Go on, take it.”

Scorpius takes hold of the parchment and stares down at it. “I mean it, Albus. You shouldn’t give me this. There’s... there’s a 100,000 Galleon reward for finding you, and you’ve just... If the wrong people find this... You don’t want to be found, do you?”

“I do,” Albus says, then realises what he’s said and shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t. No. Of course not. I- You’re a Malfoy though. You don’t need the money. You won’t- Will you?”

Scorpius looks up from the paper and there’s a terrifying pause before he speaks. “No,” he says. “I won’t, but Albus... what if someone sees it?”

Albus casts around for a solution to his stupidity. “Memorise it,” he says. “Then eat it. Burn it? Burning it is more sensible, do that. I mean you can eat it if you want, but it probably won’t taste very good. What does parchment even taste of?”

“You’re an idiot,” Scorpius tells him. He looks down at the parchment and falls silent. For several seconds he reads and mouths along with the words. There’s something wonderful about seeing Scorpius painstakingly learning every letter of his address. With every syllable and sound his lips form, every breath of the familiar street name that Albus hears him speak, it feels more and more like Albus has company. It feels like he’s being found, in the best possible way.

Finally Scorpius draws his wand and looks up at Albus. He recites the address once through, perfectly, and when Albus nods, Scorpius waves his wand and the parchment goes up in flames. Scorpius drops it onto the concrete path and they watch it curl up and turn into a little pile of ash, until the flames finally extinguish, and the incriminating words are gone.

“Thank you,” Scorpius says, when there’s nothing left except smoke and memory.

“What for?” Albus asks.

“For making sure you can’t run away again.”

“Not from you at least,” Albus says softly. “Never from you. It wasn’t about you in the first place.” He reaches out a hand towards Scorpius, then thinks better of it and clenches his fist, letting it fall to his side. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Scorpius looks him in the eyes and nods. “See you tomorrow.”

#Harry Potter and the Cursed Child #Cursed Child #Cursed Child fic #Scorbus fic #Scorbus #Scorpius Malfoy #Albus Severus Potter #Delphini Diggory #HPCC Fic #Keep The Secrets #My writing #Mine to Make #Mayhem to the nth degree

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your-brother-crutchie · 7 years ago

Text

Mix Up

“I love you, I always have.” “Take a deep breath and, please, calm the fuck down.”

A sequel to Prosopagnosic.

TW: Ableist slur (p***ho)

Race was clattering around when he turned to see his boyfriend coming into the kitchen. He sighed in relief, thinking that, for once in their relationship, Tom might actually help him cook dinner for once. Instead, he only grabbed an apple and hopped onto the counter, beside where Race was chopping. At least he was paying an interest.

He looked up at Tom and smiled, pushing onto his toes to kiss him on the cheek before returning to his chopping. Tom just raised one eyebrow but didn’t say anything. It was far enough into their relationship for Tom to know that Race was a very tactile person. He was very affectionate with everyone and he kissed everyone on the cheek when greeting them, it was an Italian thing that he’d got from his Nonna.

Continuing to watch in silence, Tom said nothing as he quietly watched Race putting the ingredients into the lasagne dish. Spot loved Race’s lasagne but he was staying with his mum over the weekend. Stacking the layers of pasta and cheese, Race smiled at Tom, who handed him the oven gloves, before moving one of the shelves and sliding the dish into the oven. They had quite a bit of time to kill whilst the lasagne was cooking and, even though he needed to un-stack the dishwasher, Race just couldn’t be bothered.

Race turned towards Tom, smirking a little as he came closer and stood between his legs innocently. He rested his forehead in the crook of Tom’s neck and ran his thumb slowly over his wrist. When Race lifted his head, he just bit his lip and smiled at Tom quietly. They were very close. Tom’s breath was very short for a moment before Race leaned upwards to try to kiss him.

“I knew it! I knew you were fucking him!”

After their lips had grazed for the briefest of seconds, Race leapt away from Tom as though his skin burned like fire. He looked between Tom and the boy who’d just walked into his kitchen in surprise before realisation dawned across his features. The boy that he’d thought was his boyfriend was really Spot. He was dressed in a smart shirt, obviously since he’d been seeing his mother, but he wasn’t supposed to be back until Monday morning. Whilst it was true that Spot and Tom were very similar looking, Race usually had to be tired to get that mixed up so badly. He hadn’t expected to see Spot so he’d just assumed that it was Tom.

Standing there, practically floundering, Race just kept glancing between the two as he saw Spot, that fucking blind arsehole, start to understand exactly what had just happened, “Ah.” He had absolutely no idea what to do but Spot seemed to have some kind of idea as he swung off the counter and in between them, where Race could practically hide behind him.

“I swear to god, Race!” Tom was obviously livid, anger radiating from his every movement as he tried to stalk towards him, stopped only by Spot’s hand on his chest. He gave him a pointed glare, not letting Tom anywhere near Race whilst he was that angry.

Spot frowned as he pushed slightly on Tom’s chest until he stepped back and stopped threatening to come forwards, “Mate, calm down, it’s not what it looks like.” He reached his hand back slowly, reaching for Race, and sighed gently when he felt Race’s fingers tapping nervously at his palm. It was a thing that they did. When Race got nervous, he liked to tap on things and, since he’d told Spot about his Prosopagnosia, Spot had started giving him his wrist or hand to tap on to calm himself down.

Spitting a loud scoff, Tom scrunched his nose up in distaste and glared around Spot to Race, “I think it’s exactly what it looks like!” It didn’t take a lot to make Race cry and this was definitely far over his threshold.

When he heard Race sniffle quietly, Spot turned to see him before spinning back around to sneer at Tom, “You know what? I was going to explain but I really think Race’s life is going to be a hell of a lot better without you so I’m just going to let you walk out of here right now thinking that we’re fucking!”

Race was still crying as Tom finally left, snatching his coat from the hook and slamming the door on his way out. He crumbled as soon as the wood hit the frame, feeling his legs flake away underneath him and collapsing to the floor. His entire body felt numb and cold and broken but he wasn’t sad that Tom had left. He was ashamed, ashamed with himself and ashamed that his brain just didn’t fucking work.

After a few minutes of letting him wallow in it, Spot approached him carefully when he breathing became erratic. Race was beginning to panic and he was starting to struggle to breath. He just wanted to be normal, to act normally, to work normally. Lowering himself to the floor beside Race, Spot moved slowly and quietly, obviously concerned that he would scare him. He offered his hand, letting Race latch onto it and begin that consistent rhythm once again.

He waited for a few moments, Race’s breathing slowly becoming calmer, before he stood. Spot offered Race his hand but as soon as he tried to pull himself up, his legs buckled and he stumbled into Spot’s chest.

Taking a deep breath, Race looked up to see Spot smiling down at him sadly, supporting him with his arms around his waist and not letting him fall. He carefully snaked his arm underneath Race’s knees and lifted him up, into his arms, so that he was carrying him. Despite Race being an inch taller than Spot, he really had no trouble. Race wasn’t exactly heavy and Spot was pretty strong so he didn’t have to try too hard. Normally, Race would never have let himself be carried, but he just didn’t care.

Spot walked them through to Race’s bedroom, lowering him onto the bed softly and pulling the blanket over him, “Take a deep breath and please calm the fuck down.” Breathing out quickly, it was obvious that Spot didn’t really know what to do as Race caught his eyes and tried to level his breathing.

“You hate me.” Voice cracking as Race had to break the eye contact, he fumbled nervously with his duvet and tried to form some more words, giving up only after he’d opened and closed his mouth awkwardly. He sniffed, rubbing his nose carefully with his knuckle, and hid his face from Spot by almost lowering his chin to his chest. Race just couldn’t face Spot in that moment.

Looking at him incredulously, Spot’s eyebrows almost flew through the roof in shock as he reached slowly to stroke Race’s arm, “Why would I hate you? I love you, I always have.”

Spot hadn’t said he’d loved him since he’d stopped joking about them becoming a couple. After Race came out, Spot understood that it was a little cruel and had stopped the constant jokes about being attracted to him and loving him. Those words coming from Spot’s mouth felt strange but Race was pretty certain that he meant as a friend. He’d loved him for years in high school, pining and pining for days as Spot cycled through partners. Eventually, he’d found Tom.

When Spot and Race moved in together for their second year of college, Race introduced everyone to his boyfriend, Tom. There had been quiet as everyone just stared at them, looking between Tom and Spot as they recognised that they were almost identical. Down to the mole below Spot’s left eye. Occasionally, Race had approached the group when Tom wasn’t with them, getting clingy with Spot until he realised what was going on. It was always just laughed off but Race always got really embarrassed, thankful that Tom wasn’t actually there.

Just deciding to ignore it, Race settled down into his blanket, hugging it close to his chin but darting an arm out as Spot turned to leave and catching him, “Stay?” There was a moment where Spot just stared at him, looking down at his pale fingers around his wrist, before he nodded and clambered carefully into bed beside Race.

His arms fell around his waist casually, holding him against his body and breath ghosting the back of his neck. Race hadn’t felt that tingle along his spine since he’d loved him. Dearly and wholeheartedly. Something stirred in Race and, suddenly, he was reminded of exactly why he had ever been in love with Spot, all of those old feelings mixing with new ones as he sighed into the feeling of Spot’s thumb rubbing circles on his hip.

When Race woke up, he turned over gently, reaching for Spot before coming up empty. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and tried to clear his blurry vision before remembering that he would need his glasses to do that.

He reached blindly, clutching the black frames and fumbling to push them onto his face. When he was eventually able to make out the blurry shapes around him, Race found that Spot was nowhere to be seen, either. Falling back against the pillow in relief, Race sighed before taking his phone and pressing to call Tom. He needed to talk to him.

“What?”

Startled by the rude awakening, Race took a moment before he could even thinking about stammering his way through what he wanted to say. He clutched the phone tightly, knotting his hair anxiously with his free hand, “I need to tell you something.” He knew that that would make Tom shout more but he couldn’t just say it.

“Spit it out!”

Race gulped, pulling his hand away from his hair as he winced at how tight he’d pulled it when Tom had raised his voice, “I didn’t mean to try to kiss Spot last night.” He knew that it wouldn’t work, it sounded pathetic and Race’s voice was pitifully meek, but he needed to try to make him understand. Even if it was the end of them, and Race was less upset at that notion than he’d expected to be, he didn’t want Tom to think he’d just kiss another person behind his back.

“Seriously?”

Breathing shakily, Race tried to move the phone away from his mouth so that Tom wouldn’t know how close to crying he was. He’d always said that Race was too emotional, “I mean it! I have this- this thing called Prosopagnosia. I can’t recognise people and I get confused. You and Spot- you just look so similar. I thought he was you!”

“You’re lying.”

Grabbing the phone with both hands, Race gripped onto it like a lifeline as his scared eyes flared at the thought of Tom not believing him, “What? No! No, I’m not!” He’d known that he probably wouldn’t understand at first, but he’d always been so kind, so willing to listen. There was no outcome that Race had accounted for where Tom didn’t believe him.

“If you’re not lying then you’ve got some serious issues. You’re fucked in the head. I don’t need psychos in my life.”

Tom hung up on him and Race didn’t know what to do as the line went dead. He just lay there, clutching the phone to his ear and staring at the ceiling as his fractured pride tore down his cheeks.

After a few minutes of crying to himself, Race heard the door creak open and glanced up to see Spot nudging sheepishly around the door, tray in hand, piled high with pancakes. When he turned around to see Race, though, he let caution go and rushed over, dropping the tray to the bedside table, and sitting in front of him to touch his cheek comfortingly, “Race?”

Race sniffled into Spot’s grip, squeezing his eyes shut as he just drifted into the pressure of Spot’s palm against his face, “He hates me, Spotty.” Voice small and pitiful, Race tried to pull himself together, though only fell apart again when he looked up to see the way that Spot was staring at him.

Shaking his head, Spot shifted so that he could sit next to Race, pulling him carefully against his body, “You don’t need him, Race. If that’s how he talks to you, then he’s an arsehole.” Only nodding softly, Race scoffed slightly as Spot smirked and tightened his grip around him, letting them fall into a comfortable silence. A comfortable silence that lasted about three seconds, “Can we talk about the fact that we could have been twins?”

Race, unable to stop himself, let out a bark of laughter, trying to conceal his grin as he let his eyes flare for a second, “As if I hadn’t noticed.” Sarcasm lacing his words as he rolled his head to look up at Spot with a quiet smile, Race bit his lip before turning away.

“Well, yeah, but- come on, man. You should’ve known there’d be issues.” Spot cuffed Race’s ear lightly, earning himself a shove in return, as he laughed. The way his eyes crinkled made Race almost lose himself in that smile before shaking out of it.

Shrugging lightly, Race just stared forwards as he wondered whether what he wanted to say next was too much. As Race felt Spot’s fingers dancing up and down his shoulder, he just decided to go for it, “I just thought he was cute.” After all, what did he really have to lose other than his home and his best friend?

“You realise you just-“ Spot trailed off when he glanced down to see that Race was staring back up at him, a small smile drifting across his features as he understood what Race was trying to hint at, “Oh.” Although Race could see that Spot was suddenly kind of shaky and awkward all of sudden, he couldn’t help but feel that giddy flying feeling that he’d spent most of his high school days contending with when Spot just tightened his grip around him, pulling him to his chest and stroking his fingers up and down his arm.

Race didn’t want anything from Spot. He wasn’t ready, not yet, but it was nice to know that the idea didn’t scare him. Race knew how Spot reacted when someone was pushing him to commitment, he became flighty and left them, but this was different and Race was so happy for it.

“Why’d you come home, anyway?”

“Dad was there.”

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #fics #rowan writes #rowan writes sprace #?#meh #sprace #spot/race #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #prosopagnosic racetrack higgins

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hollie47 · 7 years ago

Text

Red Queen: Frozen In Time, Chapter 2

Chapter: 2/18

Word Count: 2,572

ff.net | Ao3

—

Cool air blew around the room as Regina sat behind the desk in her home office. To her left was a small pile of paperwork that she needed to file when she went into Town Hall next. On her right was an empty plastic container that once held her lunch. In front of her Ruby lounged on one of her large chairs, smiling brightly.

“Why are you so happy?” Regina asked, not understanding how some people could be so positive most of the time.

“Because I’m here with you and now when I bring you lunch during my shift I get rewarded with kisses and air conditioning and a small break instead of a smart remark and told or yelled at to leave,” Ruby replied, cracking her knuckles.

“If Henry wasn’t due home from school in half an hour and if you didn’t need to get back to work, I would have had a much more entertaining way of thanking you and showing you how sorry I am for being an arsehole,” Regina smirked, raising an eyebrow at the leggy brunette, knowing she wasn’t exactly the most pleasant person in their small town.

“Maybe you can show me next time you order lunch when I’m at work,” Ruby winked, getting up from her seat and walking over to Regina.

“I might even order it an hour early just so I can see your pretty face,” Regina responded, watching as Ruby leant against her desk in close proximity to her.

“You can see my pretty face whenever you please except for the next couple of hours as I should be at work,” Ruby smirked, watching a slight frown appear on the brown eyed woman’s face.

Do you have to leave so soon?” Regina asked, turning slightly in her chair to face Ruby.

“I need to go back to work before Granny kills me,” Ruby replied, leaning in and gently kissing Regina on the lips.

“I can’t have Granny killing you now, can I?” Before Ruby could respond Regina pulled the woman to her and their lips met in a heated kiss full of true love’s magic. Regina deepened their kiss, snaking a hand around the back of Ruby’s neck and playing with the soft hair she found here. Biting down on the green eyed woman’s bottom lip, Regina heard a soft moan escape Ruby’s lips.

Breaking the kiss even though she didn’t want to, Ruby rested her forehead against Regina’s and let out a sigh of content. “I need to finish my shift, I’ll see you later tonight my true love.”

“Okay, I’m making lasagne for dinner as I know you and Henry love it. I’m having the talk with him too so hopefully it all goes well,” Regina replied, frowning at the loss of contact as Ruby stood up.

“Good luck with Henry, hopefully he doesn’t hate me afterward,” Ruby said, having forgotten that Regina mentioned having a talk with the young boy a few days back.

“Thanks, I’m going to need it,” Regina smiled, watching as Ruby stretched.

“You’ll do fine, call me once you’ve told him and I can even help you go over his responses, I’m going to head back now though, I’ll see you later,” Ruby responded, giving Regina a quick kiss before leaving the room.

Watching as the door closed behind the woman she had fallen for hard and fast, Regina took a deep breath in and tidied up her desk. She removed the rubbish, placing it into the small bin beside the desk and neatened up the stack of paperwork, checking to make sure she didn’t miss stamping or signing anything.

Heading out of the office, Regina went into her bedroom and got changed into something more comfortable. Her black slacks and suit jacket weren’t exactly summer clothing. It was hot outside and the house was starting to warm up as the sun beamed down on it, the air conditioning barely keeping it at bay.

Hearing the front door open and close, Regina headed downstairs to greet her son. “Hi Henry, how was school?”

“Hi Mum!” Henry beamed, dropping his backpack and running over to the woman, hugging her. “School was good, today we had art and we got to paint and colour in.”

“That sounds like fun. Do you mind if we sit down and have a talk once you get changed?” Regina asked, feeling anxious.

“I’ll be back down in a minute,” Henry smiled, running up the stairs to change out of his school uniform.

Heading into the kitchen Regina picked up a couple of pieces of fruit and cut them up, arranging them onto a plate as she knew that Henry liked a snack when he got home. Placing the dish on the table Regina sat down on one of the chairs, hearing Henry coming down the stairs a few minutes later.

“What did you want to talk about?” Henry asked, sitting down at the table and picking up a piece of pear.

“I need to tell you something,” Regina began, taking a second to swallow, a wave of anxiety hitting her as she watched Henry bite into another piece of pear. “I know you’ve seen Ruby around here a fair bit and I just want you to know why. Ruby and I have become very good friends and we really enjoy each other’s company and spending time together. Sometimes we like to hold hands and cuddle too...”

“... Are you and Ruby dating?” Henry asked, knowing where his mother was trying to steer the conversation.

“Yes we are, and I wanted you to know before anyone else,” Regina replied, still surprised whenever Henry read her like an open book.

“How long have you been dating?” Henry asked, curious about the relationship.

“Five weeks and three days. I wanted to tell you sooner but I needed to see how it would play out,” Regina responded, hoping that Henry wouldn’t be mad at her.

“Do you love Ruby?” Biting into a piece of apple, Henry looked at the woman, his eyes wide.

Taking a moment to process the question, Regina knew that she knew the answer the second her lips touched Ruby’s. “I do love her, she makes me strive to be a better a person and most of all she makes me so happy.”

“Good, I like Ruby she’s nice, she always gives me extra ice cream in my milkshake,” Henry replied, smiling at his mother.

“So, you’re okay with Ruby and I being together?” Regina asked, not expected the boy to react how he did.

“Of course I am, you love her and she loves you; can Ruby come over for dinner tonight?” Henry asked, picking up his last piece of fruit.

“She’s working the dinner rush at the diner but she’ll come over once she’s done,” Regina answered, taking the empty plate to the sink.

“Okay, can I please go outside and play?” Getting up from the table, Henry waited by the door frame.

“Of course you can Dear, go have some fun but don’t be out for too long with the heat,” Regina smiled, watching her son run out the back door.

Letting out the breath she didn’t know she was holding, Regina leant against the kitchen counter and breathed. The talk with Henry went way better than she ever would have thought and he didn’t seem to mind about her relationship with Ruby at all.

Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she went into her messages and typed out a text to send to Ruby.

‘The talk went surprisingly well, I’ll tell you about it when you come over later, Henry was happy and asked when we would see you next. Have a good shift xx.’ Reading over her text, she wasn’t sure about the kisses but left them and hit send.

---

Feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket, Ruby excused herself from a table of customers and handed the order slip to the kitchen staff. “Hey Ash, can you please watch my tables? I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure thing,” the other waitress replied, pulling out her order pad and greeting a customer.

Entering the small bathroom in the back of the break room, Ruby pulled her phone out and saw she had a text from Regina. Opening it, she read it and grinned from ear to ear at the two kisses that were placed at the end. She quickly typed back a reply, raising an eyebrow at her own antics, ‘That’s good! I’ll see you later tonight and thank you babe xx.’ Ruby read and re-read over it and wondered if Regina would say anything about it and hit send.

Exiting the bathroom, Ruby almost ran into Granny. “Sorry Granny,” she apologised, stepping around the older woman.

“Why are you grinning for? You’re so giddy, what’s going on?” Granny asked, noticing the change in her granddaughter.

“Am I not allowed to be happy? I won’t be home until late tonight either, Mayor Mills has asked me to watch Henry for her after my shift,” Ruby replied, hoping it was enough to get her grandmother off her case.

“Be happy by all means, and keep thinking to yourself that you’re going over there for Henry and not a certain dark eyed woman,” Granny responded, raising an eyebrow as she left the room.

Standing still on the spot, Ruby was shocked that Granny had picked up on her relationship with Regina. Deciding that she would need to be more conservative around the older woman just to make sure that Regina was safe, she headed for the diner. She knew that Granny didn’t like Regina very much, just like how she didn’t like Peter either, and Granny had threatened him with a loaded crossbow. “Who knows what cursed Granny could come up with to hurt Regina,” Ruby thought to herself, grateful that most customers had cleared out bar one or two small families.

“I think it’s too hot for people to venture out,” Ashley said, noticing their lack of customers.

“Let’s hope it stays like this, less work for us to do,” Ruby replied, smiling at the woman.

“Ruby, since it’s so quiet, I would like your help back here,” Granny said from the break room.

Entering the break room, Ruby saw Granny sitting at the table with the books out in front of her. “How can I help?” she asked, not knowing what to expect.

“I’d like to show you how to do the books in case I’m ever sick and they need to be done,” Granny explained, pulling out the chair next to her.

Sitting down next to Granny, Ruby listened as the older woman explained what each book was used for and how to use it. Asking questions to make sure she understood what was being told to her, she smiled at how Granny trusted her enough to show her the inner works of the diner.

Having an invoice book placed in front of her, Granny told her that she was confident that she’d be able to fill it in correctly. Not wanting to let her grandmother down Ruby took her time and entered all the information, referencing the paperwork she had in front of her from stock order receipts to pay slips.

She didn’t know how long had passed before she noticed her phone vibrate. Pulling it out, she noticed the time and that she was meant to finish work ten minutes ago. She had two unread messages, both from Regina, she could tell the older woman was worried about her as she hadn’t replied to her earlier message and she guessed that Regina wanted to know if she was okay. Sending a quick text back, she got up and found Granny, wanting to know if it was okay to leave.

Getting her belongings, Ruby went to the bathroom, grabbed a quarter of a chocolate cake, and headed for Regina’s house on Mifflin.

---

Looking at the clock, Regina waited, sat at the bottom of the stairs, her foot tapping against the hardwood floor. She could hear the shower running, knowing that Henry was getting ready for bed.

Hearing a knock at the door, Regina got up and walked as quickly as she could, opening the door in one swift movement. Seeing Ruby standing their smiling, she didn’t realise how worried she was until her true love was in front of her.

“I brought chocolate cake,” Ruby said, smiling at Regina, holding the box up. “Sorry I’m late, I lost track of time.”

“As long as you’re here, that’s all that matters,” Regina replied, taking the offered cake and letting Ruby inside.

Heading into the kitchen, Regina placed the box out of sight and turned around, hugging Ruby. “I missed you,” she said, standing on her tippy toes and placing a gentle kiss on Ruby’s lips.

“I missed you too,” Ruby replied, feeling her entire body relax. “How’d the talk with Henry go?”

“It went well, he’s happy with us together, he actually guessed it too,” Regina responded, hearing Ruby’s stomach rumble. “Have you eaten?”

“I forgot to, Granny was teaching me the books and it didn’t occur to me,” Ruby replied, noticing Henry enter the kitchen.

“Hi Ruby,” Henry greeted, sitting at the table.

“Hey kiddo,” Ruby smiled, her stomach loudly rumbling again.

“Sit at the table and I’ll heat you up some lasagne,” Regina said, moving to the fridge.

“I’d like some chocolate cake too please Mum, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet and I can smell it,” Henry cheekily grinned, looking at Ruby.

“You’re lucky you’re cute Mister,” Regina replied, placing a slice of cake in front of the boy as the microwave heated up the lasagne.

Hearing the microwave ding after a few minutes, Ruby’s stomach loudly rumbled again, knowing what was to come. Having the hot plate set down in front of her, Ruby thanked the dark eyed woman and stabbed the corner of the lasagne with her fork.

“It’s hot, be careful,” Regina cautioned, looking at the two people she cared about most sitting at the table in front of her. “I’m going to go have a quick shower, you two behave.”

“Take your time, we’ll be fine,” Ruby said through a mouthful of food.

Waiting until Regina had ascended up the stairs, Henry put his fork down and looked at Ruby.

“Do you love my mum?” he asked.

Almost choking on a mouthful of food, Ruby swallowed and took a sip of water before she responded. “I do Henry, I love her so much.”

“Good, she loves you too; she told me earlier, it might take her a while to tell you though. Please don’t hurt my mum,” Henry replied, happy his mother had someone who loved her.

“Henry, I promise you that I will love your mum with my whole heart and do my best to make sure she’s happy,” Ruby responded, touched that Regina had such a wonderful child.

“Okay, good,” Henry replied, taking a large bite of cake.

Smiling at the boy’s attempt to fit most of it in his mouth at once, Ruby giggled and took another bite of her lasagne. Feeling joyful that she had the blessing of the one person who mattered most to Regina, she knew deep down that they would be a tight, little, happy family and for the moment it felt like they were normal.

#red queen ouat #ruby lucas #regina mills #once upon a time #red queen #ruby x regina #regina x ruby

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remeny-writes · 7 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas-ish Part 3

So this is for the @rpdrficexchange. I got matched up with @honeyedcurves and I really hope you like it. If you don't, I can write something different.

TW hospitals

“So I was thinking…”

“Always a dangerous activity.”

“Oh shut up!” Katya laughed then grew serious, “we should move our Christmas up to November 5th.”

Trixie could run one of two ways with this, he could tell Katya that a heart would come or he could crack a joke. He chose the latter, “you just want your present earlier, ya big ol’ baby!”

Katya elbowed him in the shoulder. “Why do you know me so well? You're so mean! But seriously can we?”

Trixie’s mouth hitched up on one side in a lopsided grin, “ok fine!”

He gave in just like Katya knew he would, playing perfectly into his plan.

They got the call on their special Christmas Eve, they were curled up watching a movie and eating lasagne, well more precisely Trixie was eating and Katya was pushing the food around on his plate before pushing the plate away all together and grumbling about not being hungry. He had been getting worse lately and had been hospitalized twice in the past 2 weeks.

Katy answered the phone with shaking hands, automatically putting it on speaker and setting it on his chest since he found it too taxing to hold the phone up without losing circulation in his hand.

“Brian, we have a heart for you.” Dr Gilmour announced, the excitement in her voice was almost palpable. “It’s in the air now, it's been double and triple checked so we won't have a problem like last time.”

“Ok, we’re on our way.” Katya said in a monotone before hanging up. He refused to get excited this time, the last time felt like his trashy heart was being crushed to smithereens.

Trixie squealed and hugged him gently before grabbing Katya’s portable oxygen tank and yanking the fully packed hospital bag out of the front closet and throwing their phones and laptop and their various cords in. It had been carefully packed for months in preparation for this moment. Trixie had found the list on Pinterest. It had the basics like toiletries, lip balm and lotion, magazines they hadn't read yet, ear plugs and sleep mask, slippers and loose clothing. Then it had things they would have never thought of, 2 empty refillable water bottles, snacks for Trixie to stress eat while waiting, a battery powered fan for white noise since Kat couldn't stand the beeping on his previous hospital stays and a stuffed Tenderheart Care-bear from Ginger. An adult colouring book and pencil crayons were suggested for the pre-surgery waiting jitters by a fellow heart patient whom they met on one of Kat’s hospital stays in the last 10 months.

Katya labouriously sat up in bed, switching to the shorter oxygen tubing to his portable tank, it was only 5:15pm but he was as exhausted as if it were 3am and he’d been working out for 10 days straight. He had to stop 5 times on the way to the car, breathing heavily and being supported by Trixie who had offered to carry him. He bristled and declined, it was totally emasculating to be offered to be carried like a child, even if it was by someone who loved him as much as he knew Trix loved him.

There were no jokes even though Trixie drove like a madman again. He was grinning madly, he couldn't help it. Katya felt hope ignite in his stomach, he tried to suppress it but soon there was a small grin on his pale blue lips too.

Trixie pulled up to the front door, “wait a sec.” He ran into the hospital and returned pushing a wheelchair which he almost careened in the side of his Jeep in his haste. Katya opened his mouth to protest but closed it with a warning look from Trixie. Trixie brought him into the lobby, pressing Kat’s phone into his hand, “call your Mum while I park the car.”

Trixie rushed away, practically skipping and humming to himself. Katya looked at his phone for a minute before tucking it into his pocket. He had to make sure this was real, he couldn't bear being any more of a disappointment to her. He was back to being numb, he had apparently successfully squashed that pesky flicker of hope.

“Hi Brian! You made it!” Dr Gilmour rushed over and hugged him, picking up his wrist to check his pulse as if by habit while she looked around. “Let’s get this show on the road, like I said the heart is in the air, should be here in 45 minutes. Where’s Firkus? You ready? How do you feel? When was the last time you ate and how much?” Her questions toppled out in her excitement, she had gotten attached to “the Brians" as she called them, she practically bounced in excitement. They were such a lovely couple and she had fought hard on behalf of Katya. He was a talented man that made a mistake and it shouldn't cost him his life.

“He’s parking the car, one bite of lasagne about an hour ago because Firkus was giving me his puppy dog eyes and before that a boiled egg, ½ a piece of toast and ensure this morning at around 10. Haven’t had much appetite. So there’s really a heart?”

She put a hand on her cocked hip as she rolled her eyes and quipped sarcastically, “no, there’s no heart. This is all an elaborate ruse Brian.” She then did an uncanny impression of the soup guy from Seinfeld, “no heart for you!”

Katya let out a giggle, “aha! I thought so!” Trixie rushed up to them, pulling Katya’s hand into his and swinging them slightly.

“Ok Firkus is here, let’s go get you a new heart Brian!”

“One second, I just have to call my Mum.”

Trixie let out an exasperated sigh, “you didn't believe it was really happening, did you?”

“He didn't. Sceptical, sceptical man!” She tsked with a wink and then checked her beeping cellphone and let out a very nonDoctor-like squeal, “it’ll be here early, in 30 minutes! Let’s goooooo!” She tapped her fingers on the counter until Katya hung up with his Mum and then she grabbed the wheelchair handles and they were off.

-------

“Daddy, why do we celebrate two Christmases?” A tiny girl in a scarlet velvet gown crawled into Trixie’s lap. He chuckled at her and put his guitar down as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“Well, 6 years ago and 2 years ago, miracles happened on November 4th.”

“Oh really? What?” She bounced on his knee in her excitement, this story never got old to her.

“Well 6 years ago, a man in Florida unfortunately died, but he gave the ultimate gift by signing an organ donor card. Your Papa was really, really sick.”

“It was his heart, right?” She said seriously, her brown eyes wide. She pointed one chubby finger to the center of her chest. A wide pink scar was barely visible, peeking out of the top of her dress.

“Mmhmm, exactly right Barbara.”

“So Papa got a new heart right?”

“You know that the answer is yes.”

“What happened 2 years ago?” She asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh it was very exciting! We got a new houseplant! That fern over there!” He laughed at her look of indignation.

“Daddyyyy!” Barbara whined and pouted, “tell the story right!”

“Oh ok! If I must,” he sighed in mock exasperation and then continued, “your Papa was feeling sick, his new heart was being grumpy so doctor Gilmour,”

“God-mommy Olive?”

He nodded into her hair and kissed the top of her head, “Yes God-mommy Olive, do you want to tell the story?”

“Noooo! I’ll be good, I promise!” She said seriously then squealed when Katya picked her up and tossed her in the air once before putting her down between them, she climbed up and he cradled her on his lap, Trixie scooched closer and put an arm around him.

“The Christmas-ish story? Again?”

“Mmhmm.”

“So I was sick,” Katya continued, “anddoctor Olive decided I should be in the hospital for a few days for some medicine. We were at the heart institute and when I was feeling a bit better, we went for a walk around the hall and noticed a teeny little 4 year old girl.”

“Me right?”

“Yes you! You were so small.”

“You were pretty sick,” Trixie took over the story like he did every night, “we found out later that you had been in and out of the hospital a lot and we felt sad that you were all alone. We didn't know where your Mommy and Dad were so we’d sneak in and sit with you and talk to you, sometimes I would sing to you. Then we found out that your Mommy and Dad were very young when they had you and too afraid to hurt you because they loved you so much so we snuck in in the night and stole you and ran fast!”

“Silly Daddy!! Then doctor Mark fixed up my heart and you adopted me, right?” She let out a huge yawn and snuggled in deeper, blinking up at them sleepily. She didn't need them to nod, she knew the story and had asked to hear it millions of times. “I’m glad,” she muttered as her long-lashed eyes fluttered shut.

Katya leaned over to Trixie and gave him a kiss, “Merry Christmas-ish dear.”

“Merry Christmas-ish honey, oh honey.” Trixie said with a giggle.

Katya sighed happily and thought ‘we started new traditions and we’ve made our own family because of it’ his newish-to-him heart filled with gratefulness and relief as he looked down at Barbara adoringly, 'I didn't destroy anyone.’

(hope the end wasn't to floofy!)

Dear beloved reader,

Thanks for reading my story! I hope you liked it and it just broke your heart a tiny bit but the ending glued it back together. Whether you liked it or hated it and want me to die in a fiery plane crash, feel free to send me feedback! Please?

On a serious note, please consider becoming an Organ Donor, it can even be put on your licence (or health card in Canada) if you think your family would disagree. It really is the ultimate gift and you can't take it with you. I, myself, am a tissue donor recipient, I am very grateful that it was an available option for my parents. (I was like 4 when we started to age 7)

Organ donation is also close to my heart as my Godbrother and very best friend, Jeremy, died when I was 12 while waiting for a heart. He was only 8.

I know it's a hard decision and I know some religions prohibit it, I would just be glad if this makes at least one person think about it.

Love and Glitter,

Remény

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