#appeared out of nowhere said 'mamma mia' and left

[suckmyarschkarte]

"Mamma mia!" "Go away!"

[airi-p4]

Who’s the father?

I got this silly idea and I had to write it :S Silly, comedy, crack (?) and fluff (?) - and Lukanette endgame, of course. 

AO3

__________________________________

Luka didn't expect to find Adrien Agreste in the hotel room he had been summoned by Marinette. ‘I need to tell you something important’ his wife had messaged him. But why was her ‘just a friend’ Adrien Agreste there too?

Luka greeted Adrien, confused, as he took a seat and looked for Marinette in the vast suite of Chloe’s father’s hotel. She came out of the toilet and turned to face them.

“Luka, you’ve arrived. Now that we’re all here, I have to tell you something…”

Luka gulped, nervous, expectant. Something about this situation felt very wrong, but he couldn’t place what yet. Then Marinette reached her pocket and took a device out of it, showing it to the men before dropping THE BOMB:

“I’m pregnant”

Joy should have been in Luka’s mind after the notice- but that wasn’t the case. FEAR was all he had in his body. ‘Pregnant? Awesome!’ But then again… Why was Adrien Agreste there...? Did that mean Luka wasn’t the father? Or that she didn't know? They’ve been dating for a few years, didn’t they? Heck! They were MARRIED! Then why? Was she cheating on him? He internally asked.

“Am I the father?” Adrien asked, and Luka was SHOCKED. It felt like cold water falling over him. Out of nowhere, more questions joined Adrien’s. “Or I am?” a red haired boy appeared in the room. “Maybe me?” the robot creator said, “Or me?” Kim added. Luka couldn’t believe his eyes. What was going on? Where did all those people come from? And why were they claiming Marinette’s child fatherhood. He was her husband! Shouldn’t he be THE ONLY possible candidate there?

“Is it mine, Marinette?”, “Or mine?” two new voices joined. ‘NINO!? IVAN!? This is so wrong!’

“It can only be from the coolest, and that’s me!” another man appeared in the room, and it scandalized Luka.

‘Oh no, not XY! This has to be a nightmare. Marinette what’s going on?’

“Marinette” Luka finally said, getting closer and holding her arms. He took a deep breath, trying to keep him calm, and gulped. “I am the father, right...?” he finally asked in a threat of a voice close to her ear.

Marinette’s gaze lowered and she chewed her lower lip to finally spill some tears and cover her face with her hands. ‘It can’t be…’ Luka feared the worst.

“WHO’S THE FATHEEEER!?” he screamed in despair.

__________________________

Luka woke up covered by cold sweat, and panting, shouting loudly the last sentence he pronounced in his dream.

“See? He’s ok. He only passed out of the shock. Welcome back, Luka”

Luka, still numb, turned his head towards the owner of that voice: Juleka, his twin sister. Who was she talking to? Juleka signaled to her left and there she was: Marinette, with a worried look on her face.

“Marinette! What happened?” he finally asked, wiping the cold sweat off his forehead.

“You passed out of the shock. Gosh, you’re hilarious! Next time don’t startle your wife like this. She was worried about you” Juleka said, adding a low “Lucky bastard…” and an elbow hit at his ribs at the end.

Luka blinked at Marinette. ‘Wife’ she had said. ‘At least the wife part is true!’ he sighed, relieved. ‘Of course it had to be! What was he thinking about?’ Realization hit him. “Wait- I passed out? Why did I pass out?”

Juleka made a ‘I told you’ gesture to Marinette, and the blushing woman took something out of her pocket: a positive pregnancy test.

His reaction wasn’t not what she had expected, but ‘at least he hasn’t passed out this time’. She sighed relieved, despite her concern and nervosity, expectant for his reaction.

Luka’s mouth fell to the floor and his eyes had never been so opened. ‘What?’ He quickly shook his head and pinched his arm (in case he was still dreaming- which wasn’t the case anymore) and grabbed Marinette’s shoulders first, and then moved his hands to cup her cheeks, staring at her sapphire blue eyes. Marinette jolted at his sudden touch.

“Marinette” he gulped. “Who’s the father?”

An awkward silence followed his question. Marinette was offended, and so showed her face, and Juleka was both rolling her eyes in disappointment and ready to grab some popcorn and enjoy the show to come.

“Are you making fun of me? Because this isn’t funny!” ‘Oh no, she sounds ANGRY’ Luka realized. “It’s obviously you, dummy!” she said.

“No Adrien, no tomato boy, no Kim, or Max or Nino- And please no XY?”

“What-!? NO! HELL NO! What are you talking about? Are you still asleep?” Marinette’s eyebrows frowned, and if she was already offended and angry, now she was also disgusted. “What’s wrong with you? Is this you denying the idea of being a father? If you hate it so much I can-”

“NO! NO NO NO! Marinette, NO! That’s not it! I just had a horrible nightmare and-” she frowned again- she thought he was just thinking of a silly excuse. Oh no. “Marinette. I love you and it would make me the happiest to become the father of your children. Trust me, please” he begged, trying to kiss Marinette on her lips, only to find it rejected. “I was just not expecting that. I’m shocked. You have to believe me, please!”

Marinette finally loosen up at her boyfriend’s desperate begging. She trusted him, after all. And she knew well enough he sometimes short-circuited, like the first time she had kissed him or when she had finally confessed to him after gathering the courage. Marinette giggled at the far memory.

“Luka. We’re going to have a baby. You and me. Me and you. We’re going to be a family of 3 soon!”

“Marinette, Oh my lord! We’re going to be parents! You’re going to be the best mother in the world and I’m going to be a fath-” he paused. “I’ll give it my all to be the best father I can”

Marientte blinked at his sudden change of attitude: from joyful to serious. “Are you ok? Do you need more time to process this? We can still think-”

“No, Marinette. That’s not it. It’s just… I’ve never had a father, you know? I became a little worried, that’s all. But I promise I’ll try to be the best father this child- our child- could ever have. I love you, Marinette. You make me so happy...” he fell into her arms, his joy palpable in the way he hugged her. And Marinette could finally breathe again, relieved and expectant of the new future awaiting for them.

“Oh, Luka! I love you too” she said, moving to eagerly kiss him.

That was Juleka’s curfew to leave the room, dragging her mother- who had been eavesdropping at the door- along and giving the couple some intimacy to process their future to come.

________________________________________

The parenthood news kept swirling in Luka’s mind. ‘Father’. The word alone frightened him. ‘Could he be a good father when he had no paternal figure all his life?’ Maybe it was time to ask her mother about his roots.

“Mom. Who’s our father” Luka asked after dinner at the Liberty’s deck, to Juleka’s surprise.

“Oh. I wondered when this time would come… It took you longer than expected to ask, son” Anarka said, finishing the last bit of her fruit salad. “Why now? If you’re scared of being a bad father like Gabriel Agreste then you shouldn’t worry, because-”

“No, that’s not it, mom. I never needed a father because you two were enough for me. But if I’m going to be a father, I need to be aware of possible genetic transmitted diseases or other possible alterations my child could inherit” Luka explained.

“I see. You’ll be a good father, Luka. I guess it’s time I tell you about him then...”

Juleka remained silent, just listened, curious, but also scared. She never had the courage to ask about their father in case it made her mother sad or angry, or whatever, despite wanting to know for a long time.

“When I was born it was a stormy day-” Anarka started.

“Mom. Straight to the point, please. Marinette and I have an appointment with the Doctor in less than two hours”, Luka rushed her, knowing she could be talking for hours otherwise.

“Ok, straight to the point, then” she pouted a little in a childish manner. Then she took a deep breath and gave them her answer. “I don’t know”

“Wait, what!?” The twins asked in unison.

“I don’t know, that’s it” she shrugged.

Juleka and Luka were staring at each other and looking for traces of joking in their mother's face. But nothing. She really didn’t know.

“You can’t be serious. Was it a stranger? Someone you don’t know?” Anarka denied it with her head. “You should have an idea then!”

“There are three possibilities…” she tilted her head in a remembering gesture.

“Oh, no. This is reminding me of Mamma Mia...” Juleka rolled her eyes, making Anarka chuckle a little at the comparison.

“Ok, tell us. I still want to know. “Luka demanded. “You want to know too, right?” he added, turning to Juleka, who nodded in agreement.

Anarka raised her arms, disarmed in front of her dearest children. “Ok, ok. I get it…. This is going to be surprising... “

“Just tell us! Do we know them?” Luka asked.

“You do” Anarka nodded. “First is… Agent Roger”

“AGENT ROGER!?” the twins yelled in panic, exchanging panicked looks.

“Oh no, mom! What were you thinking!?” Juleka asked.

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem! We were drunk, I was in prison, he was on watch. It just happened, and swore to forget it and never bring it up again”

“We may have a sister, then? Sabrina…”

“Impossible! it has to be someone else…” Juleka refused to believe. She still was her number one enemy- Chloe’s- best friend, after all. “Who else, mom?”

“Bob Roth…” she bluntly stated.

Luka’s face turned blue in horror for the idea. Juleka turned as pale as a ghost in disgust.

“Oh, no! Not him! Just- NO! What’s wrong with you, mom!? I can’t stand either him or his son! And the sole image of having XY as a half-brother…? ABSOLUTELY NO” Luka said in denial.

“Well, it’s not like I’m fond of that, lad… Mistakes happen, even I make them” she shrugged.

“That’s not what I would call a mistake… this- is something beyond a mistake…” Juleka mumbled, gaining Luka’s energetic nod in approval.  

Anarka shrugged again. “Past is past. And what’s done is done. There’s no point in lamenting now, anyway. Not after 24 years…” Luka and Juleka kept their disgusted faces on, so Anarka decided to move on with the candidates. “Anyway, the last one is the most likely candidate…” she paused.

“Who is it, mom?” the twins demanded.

“Is… Jagged” she finally said.

“Jagged...? As Jagged Stone!?” Juleka blinked.

“Are you sure, mom!?” Luka stood up, palms still on the table.

“He’s the most likely, yes”

‘Was that a blush on his mother’s face!? And a faint smile?’ Luka thought, with mixed feelings.

“Jagged Stone and I played together for a while. We were comfortable with each other and sometimes it happened. You know- excitement and adrenaline from the shows, alcohol, emotions while composing…” Anarka was smiling at her memories, while Luka and Juleka thought they had heard enough.

“I don’t know what to say...” Luka sat back down. “Jagged seems like the best option out there but still…” Luka sighed. “Could we get a test done?”

“If you manage to get a hair, or saliva, or skin, or anything with DNA then yes, I guess it can be done” Anarka’s words sounded more like a challenge than anything, and it set Luka’s determination up, and Juleka launched a knowing glare towards her mother. She had always been good at manipulating her son.

“We’ll do it!” Luka yelled, rushing to meet with his wife.

_______________________________________________________

It wasn’t easy, but the twins finally managed to get the DNA needed for the test (with Marinette’s help, of course). They collected some of Sabrina’s and XY’s hair (easiest choices since their parents were bald) and Marientte managed to get Jagged’s hair too.

Luka took them to the laboratory to get the DNA test done. ‘For my girls’ he thought, delighted about finding out they were going to have a daughter after their last visit with the Doctor. Oh, and he planned to spoil her so much! He would daydream and grin at the thought, hugging his wife’s belly in joy.

Finally, some days later, the test results arrived at the Liberty. Anarka had the letter on her hand, while Juleka, Rose, Marinette and Luka gathered to hear its content. Anarka ripped the sealed envelope and carefully unfolded the letter and proceeded to read it. He stared at the note, in silence, re-reading it and making faces. She was testing their patience and Luka’s nervousness peaked.

“I see… that’s it then...” Anarka mumbled.

“WHO’S THE FATHER!?” Everyone present yelled in demand.

Anarka smirked teasingly at their reactions- just as she wanted.

“Mom please!” Luka begged.

She was tempted to say Bob Roth just to tease them, but it seemed too cruel to her children to even joke about it, so she opted to tell them the truth.

“It’s Jagged”

Luka sighed in relief, as well as the rest of the family. Marinette caressed his arm a little, before he stood up and took the test results out of his mother’s hands to read it from himself. Not that he didn’t trust his mother but with Anarka, you never know. Juleka approached to read its contents too.

Sabrina - Not a sibling. Xavier Yves - Not a sibling. Jagged Stone - 99,9% Positive

Luka was relieved to finally know (mostly because the results discarded the worst two possibilities). Later, Marinette contacted uncle Jagged to let him know the news. After some dramatic performance, the rock star cried tears of joy from the discovery of having children (and grandchildren soon!).

And maybe it wasn’t what Luka expected (what was he supposed to expect, anyway?) but the idea of having a father didn’t feel as bad anymore.

From then on, Jagged, Penny and their newborn son became part of the Couffaine family, and Luka kept his promise to Marinette to be the best father in the world, and he spoiled his daughter (and her siblings) with everything he got.

He was the father, after all.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

When the Money’s Gone - Fred Weasley

Fic #17 of the Mamma Mia! Prompts Song: Money, Money, Money

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count: 1,082 Synopsis: When Weasley Wizard Wheezes falls on some hard times, Fred begins to wonder why the reader still stays with him when he has nothing to offer them. A/N: Sorry it’s a day late! The last MM! fic will be posted tomorrow!

You walked arm and arm with Fred through Diagon Alley, looking at the window displays in each shop. Fred’s main purpose of coming out was to see what kind of displays were drawing in customers as the sales at Weasley Wizard Wheezes were plateauing. Your main purpose was to go shopping. With the shop not doing so well, you, Fred, and George were all putting in long hours creating new joke items that would hopefully draw in more customers. A step away from the shop was well needed.

“Look at this, Fred,” you said, pulling on his arm softly to show him a shop display. On the mannequin was an antique pendant with a witch’s profile decorated the gold chain. Fred saw the sparkle in your eye when you looked at it and tried to discreetly look at the price. “Bloody hell, it’s fifty galleons,” you exclaimed, continuing on your stroll. Fred hung back for a minute, causing you to look back at him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, coming up to take your hand. You smiled up at him and proceeded to look at the rest of the shops on the strip. Eventually, you came back to Weasley Wizard Wheezes and saw a few customers in the store. “Finally!” Fred cried, running into the shop to sell them on anything and everything in the shop.

George was already selling them on some items when the two of you walked in. Fred immediately started helping him. Having two cute boys selling you useful items was certainly hard to refuse. You smiled to yourself as you walked upstairs to your loft.  

Once both the customers and you had left, Fred turned to his twin with a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” George asked.

“We work all night and we work all day to play the bills we have to pay,” Fred said, running his hands through his hair as he looked over the sales figures for the day.

“Ain’t it sad?” George asked with a smile.

“And still there never seems to be a single knut left for me.”

“What more could you want? We’ve still got the heat on and a roof over our heads.”

“And a miserable fiance.” Fred rubbed his hand over his face with a groan.

“Y/N isn’t miserable.”

“I can’t buy her anything nice. We’ve got the heat on, but just barely. You know, before the war, everyone needed a good laugh, but everyone seems to be keeping their spirits up just fine on their own.”

“Do you want everyone to be miserable again?” George asked.

“No, of course not, but I’d like to have Y/N not be miserable.”

“Once again, she isn’t miserable. She knew what she was getting into when she promised she’d marry you. Businesses aren’t always booming.”

“When we were out in the shops today, there was a necklace she instantly fell in love with.”

“How much was it?”

“Fifty galleons.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah,” Fred said with shrug. “Maybe if I scrounge through our savings . . .”

“Y/N wouldn’t want you to spend that much on something frivolous when she knows the store is struggling.” George clapped Fred on the shoulder as he stood. “I promise you, she isn’t miserable. We’re just in a rough spot right now. The money’s going to come up soon. Can you close up by yourself? I’ve got a date.”

“Sure.”

“You’re the best.”

“Have fun.” Fred watched George walk out of the shop and locked the door behind him. He sent the broom to sweeping as he swept through the store himself to find any item out of place. “Money, money, money. Must be funny in a rich man’s world.”

“Hey.” An hour later, you had come back downstairs to find Fred still studying the store funds. “You ever coming up to bed?” He looked at you in your pajamas, looking cute as ever.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said, coming up behind him and wrapping your arm around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“Just looking over our funds again.”

“Make any money appear out of nowhere, yet?” you asked with a laugh. Fred tutted out an unfriendly one and shrugged your arms off. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You sat down next to him, staring at him until he would explain his actions. “I know it sucks here. And I know you’re probably thinking of leaving, and I don’t blame you-”

“Wait, what?” you asked in shock, grabbing his arm. “Why would you even say something like that?”

“I don’t have any money. I can’t give you anything you want.”

“What I want?” you asked, shaking your head. 

“Yes. Like that necklace.” You chewed your lip, looking at him seriously.

“You’re right, you know.” He looked up at you, not in surprise, and nodded his head. “In my dreams, I have a plan. If I got me a man, I wouldn’t have to work at all I’d fool around and have a ball.” You stood up with a sigh.

“Sounds like the kind of person you deserve. One who would give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“Yes, but a man like that is hard to find. Even though I can’t get him off my mind.” Fred nodded his head as he stood up. 

“I understand. You don’t have to give the ring-”

“You really are daft,” you said with a laugh. 

“What?”

“I don’t want anyone else but you,” you said, pulling him down to sit in an armchair with you.

“But you just said in your dreams, you find a man and I don’t have to work at all.”

“Exactly. I’ve already found a man who owns a wonderfully weird business where I don’t have to work at all.” He still looked confused, which made you roll your eyes. “I love this shop, Fred. I love working here with you and George. It’s not working, even. It’s fun.”

“But I can’t give you anything you want.”

“I don’t want anything but to be with you,” you said, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. He smiled at you softly, looking like he could cry. “I don’t want to live in a rich man’s world. It’s probably all posh and sad. I like this life. Our life. I love you when we’re struggling and I’ll love you when we’re back in the swing of things.”

“You’re amazing.”

“I know.” You leaned in to kiss him, humming softly as you did. “Now please come to bed.”

“You got it. Anything for you.”

[ivy-stjames]

the winner takes it all ( ivy + rory + julien )

𝚆𝙷𝙾:  @julien-schuester && @roryslade​ && @ivystjamess​ 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽:  the evening of thursday, august the sixth 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴:  choir room, william mckinley high school for the performing arts 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃: ivy is uncharacteristically nervous for opening night, like always, julien is there for her, but this time rory’s just around the corner. 

POSSIBLE TWS: CHEATING

𝐉����𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍:   Opening Night snuck up on the cast and crew of McKinley High’s production of Mamma Mia faster than any of them could say “here we go again.” With a trip to New York and Los Angeles freshly under their belts, everyone arrived back to Lima feeling reinvigorated and inspired. The show was going to be great. As Julien sat in the make-up chair getting his face patted and his hair styled to transform fully into Sky, he glanced around at his cast mates through the mirror in front of him. He saw Rory, beaming, with LJ and Ruby. There was Joey. Baby. Even Leo and Finn were in his line of sight. It didn’t take him long to clock that Ivy was nowhere to be found. Hm. Weird. Ever since Julien had gone to Ivy’s place on Monday, the energy between them had been extra charged. It wasn’t lost on him that had Eli St. James not burst into Ivy’s room, they would’ve likely crossed another line that would’ve made this little thing they were doing unforgivable. Truth be told, it was already unforgivable, but Julien had found a way to justify in his head that as long as they’d only kissed and nothing more, it wasn’t as bad as what he did  to Emory…so maybe it wasn’t that bad at all. Julien still had yet to figure out what to do about Rory. He still hadn’t made up his mind. Whenever he was with Ivy, he felt like they made sense. But whenever he was with Rory…well, he felt like they made sense. He knew time was ticking and that he’d have to pick a lane at some point, but with opening night being under one hour away, his love triangle fiasco would simply have to wait. Julien smiled at the sophomore who had been fixing his hair when she finished, said thanks, and made his way over to Rory. Where the hell was Ivy? Almost on cue, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out just as he reached his girlfriend, giving her a quick kiss on the side of the head as he discreetly read the message from Ivy. can u come to the choir room asap? He had to think fast. “I gotta go to the bathroom,” he said to Rory, giving her a quick kiss as he tucked his phone into his pocket and exited the backstage area where the cast was congregating. Once Julien was in the hallway and out of everyone’s sight, he started sprinting past the lockers until he arrived at the room he was looking for. “Hey,” he said breathlessly, his chest moving up and down dramatically as his eyes landed on a Sophie-clad Ivy, “everything okay?” Julien’s demeanor changed from cheery to concerned in a matter of seconds once it registered that something was wrong. He gently shut the door behind him before he approached her with open arms, “what’s wrong?”

𝐈𝐕𝐘:  IVY ST.JAMES HAD NERVES OF STEEL. this was a fact the same as the earth revolving around the sun or a cheerios uniform instantly making someone more desirable, so why she was so nervous come opening night was lost on her. she was prepared and well practiced, so why did she feel like running into dan’s office and spilling her guts in the trash bin? being sophie sheridan meant more to her than probably anyone at mckinley would ever understand. sure, she got leads upon leads and solos upon solos, but this was a part ivy had cherished since childhood. despite all the drama in her personal life, her experience throughout this production of mamma mia sort of felt like her real coming of age and not her bat mitzvah four years prior. usually ivy kept a pretty tight lock on her headspace during show nights, no negative thoughts coming in, nothing got through that could potentially throw her off her game. unfortunately, never had she been involved in a show before where her ex-boyfriend, the girl her ex-boyfriend was seemingly moving on to, julien, and the girl julien was cheating on were all lingering backstage. every turn she feared running into something that would send her spiraling. more nervous about becoming nervous, she stowed away in the choir room where she remained pacing. why was she getting so nervous? how was she getting so nervous? eventually, she came to grips with the fact that there was no calming herself down from this one. pulling out her phone, she sent a text to julien and prayed he wasn’t occupied with anything else. lucky for ivy, julien made his appearance at just the right moment, which, seemed to be happening a lot lately. it was pathetic really, the moment julien opened up his arms ivy moved directly into them. she placed her head on his chest and closed her eyes. the fact his embrace so quickly soothed her made her feel stupid for even summoning him in the first place, “hey. . .” she finally replied. eyes still closed, she began issuing the explanation julien was owed, “i just like. . . i don’t know, it’s so totally dumb. . .” she prefaced before opening her eyes, pressing flush against him, and looking upwards at him. again, her breath caught in her throat simply from the sight of him at this perspective. as much as she wanted to wrap her arms up around his neck, ivy instead pulled away and settled for smoothing out the part of shirt she had just crumpled with her head. “i’m just like. . . kind of nervous i guess. i don’t know if i can like be around leo and rory and your sister and like still be me and do good with sophie i guess.” she rambled, once again meeting julien’s gaze with a slight pout, “don’t make fun of me.”

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍:  Julien smiled to himself when Ivy clicked into his arms like the final piece of a puzzle. For two people who used to annoy the crap out of each other, they were surprisingly good at comforting each other in a crisis. It wasn’t even intentional half the time. Julien’s instincts were simply compatible with Ivy’s needs and vise versa. Who would’ve thought? Once his heavy breathing finally regulated after his brief sprint to the choir room, he tightened his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m sure it’s not dumb,” he said earnestly, pulling back slightly when he felt her looking up at him. For a moment, as they stared at each other, there was no drama, no opening night, no obstacles—just them. The illusion of that fantasy land barely lasted because in no time, Ivy was pulling away and smoothing out his shirt. Julien’s hands settled loosely at her waist as he looked down at the spot on his chest that she was touching and then back up to her face. Once Ivy got to talking, he knew that she was valid. It was a really intense situation from all angles, but definitely the most intense for her. Of course she felt nervous. It made sense. The longer she spoke for though, the more his subtle smile grew. “Wow, Ivy. St. James is nervous?” he commented in feigned shock, chuckling softly as he found her eyes again, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous. Well, at least not because of a performance. It’s kinda cute.” Julien was being a little too bold for someone whose girlfriend was a couple of hallways away, but clearly that was the furthest thing from his mind. His sole focus was making Ivy feel better and confident that she could go out there and deliver. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he quickly cut in, smiling down at her dreamily as she pouted, “I’m not making fun.” He took a deep breath and moved his hands to her shoulders as he leveled with her and held her gaze. “Listen to me,” he started, giving her a squeeze, “I know things are complicated and messy right now. I know you’ve had a really hard few weeks. But for two hours tonight, you get to be someone else. You get to use everything you’re feeling and be the best Sophie Sheridan this town has ever seen. If anyone can do it, it’s you. So all that other stuff,” he used one hand to figuratively wave it away, “just leave it at the door. You can do this, Ivy. You’re the most talented person I know. And even if you went out there and messed up, you’d still be the star.”

𝐈𝐕𝐘:  IVY WASN’T SURE WHAT GOT HER HEART BEATING FASTER, JULIEN’S HANDS ON HER WAIST OR THE RAPIDLY ACCUMULATING BUNDLE OF NERVES SETTLING AT THE BOTTOM OF HER STOMACH. at his comments about her looking cute, ivy rolled her eyes, though there was an ever so faint smile gracing her lips, “okay, like, how is that not making fun of me? i know i’m cute, but being all like totally insecure is not cute.” she questioned, tilting her head slightly to the side, but never breaking her gaze from his own.  truth be told, his following words were hardly a necessity. his presence alone worked miracles to soothe her. while her bubbling anxiety lingered, it felt dulled, numb even. if julien was at her side, what did she have to fear? nothing?. . . exactly. it wasn’t often the two of them just got to be alone and while logically she knew ’bad’ things happened when they were left unsupervised, the invigoration it gave her was worth it. ivy couldn’t explain the seemingly magical way reality seemed to melt and leave her and julien clutching each other in it’s wake, but the comfort that came from each of their stolen moments was the best medicine to life’s problems. as his pep talk drew to a close, ivy found herself fully smiling. each of her worries had been fended off by her knight in. . . a button down and shorts, equipped with his toolbox of all the right things to say. she would’ve managed if he hadn’t taken that next step, gone above and beyond, but he had and it left both her heart and knees feeling weak. “thank you.” she whispered. though she didn’t say a lot, it could be seen very clearly that she was thinking about saying. . . or doing more. there was an odd moment of clarity where ivy felt more certain of her feelings towards julien than she had felt about anything as of late. it was certainty beyond a charged exchange in her bedroom monday night or needing companionship. at least she thought it was certainty, but just to be sure. . . “julien, i need to like check something.” ivy said quietly. before he had the chance to ask questions or to stop her, her hands were around his collar, tugging him down to bring their lips into each others. it was another kiss to add to their ever-growing pile of oopsies, but what other way to get confirmation that this. . . thing they had going did indeed mean something.in the world they had been living in moments at a time, the one away from reality and away from namely rory, it seemed like the perfectly logical thing to do. again, ivy found her thoughts fogging over with a desire to kiss julien, to be near him. would that urge be so strong if it meant nothing? her clouded mind couldn’t confirm or deny more than she had when she initiated the kiss, but ivy figured she wouldn’t want to kiss him so badly all the time if they really were just friends. julien was always there, picking her up, sharing laughs, stealing glances, putting all the pieces together, and causing her to come undone all at once. without considering julien had a girlfriend and without considering the fact ivy hadn’t fully processed what had gone down with leo and overcome it, it added up. ivy wanted it to add up, she needed it to be this simple. there was a seed planted in her heart and ivy was choosing now to command it to be full grown. pulling away, ivy remained near, scanning julien’s face for some kind of reaction, any indicator that he had a similar realization. “julien. . .” she said again, letting out a breath before finally replying to julien’s own comment from a week ago in a los angeles stairwell, “it means something.”

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍:  Julien came from a long line of pep-talkers, so whether it was right before a big show choir competition or in the final ten minutes of a state championship, he knew a thing or two about the right thing to say and how to say it. So when he came face to face with an uncharacteristically insecure Ivy, he knew what he needed to do. He  needed to remind her that no matter how crappy her circumstances were in the moment, she was talented and capable. No amount of drama or complicated entanglements would keep her from doing what she did best: shining. In the confines of the choir room, just the two of them, Julien never broke eye contact and kept his hands planted on her shoulders as he gave her an abridged version of all the ways she was incredible. When he was done gassing her up, he studied her face for any sign that he’d remedied her worries. The smile tugging at the corners of her lips indicated to him that he’d done a decent job. “No need to thanks me, Legs,” he said softly, mirroring her grin as he gave her shoulders a final squeeze before dropping his hands, “I’m just being honest.” As they stood there, shamelessly indulging in their very bad and unsubtle habit of staring at each other dreamily for way too many seconds at a time, Julien was at war with his own thoughts. What were they doing? Why was he here with her instead of with his girlfriend backstage? His overthinking was interrupted by the sound of Ivy’s voice. “Huh?” he asked quickly, snapping back to reality, “check what?” Before he could even finish his question, she was pulling him down by his shirt collar until his lips crashed into hers. Suddenly all of his thoughts quieted—all of them but one: Julien Schuester wanted Ivy St. James. Yes, in a primal physical way, but also in a fall asleep on the couch together way and a hold hands in the car way and a sing each other to sleep way. He was so screwed. Once she broke the kiss, his eyes fluttered open slowly and he looked down at her in complete awe. His breath hitched when she said his name and when she finally answered his drunken statement from nearly a week prior, he nodded. “I know.” Instinct took over as soon as their feelings were out in the open. Julien cupped the sides of Ivy’s face and brought his lips down to hers again, wanting desperately to be closer. The kiss was urgent and clumsy and before he knew it he was backing Ivy into the grand piano in the center of the room. The sound of her body hitting the keys sent a loud clash of cords through the room which shocked Julien right out of the moment. He pulled away from her breathlessly, his hands lingering on her face for a moment until he saw some movement at the door from the corner of his eye. The second he turned his head, his face got hot and his ears began to ring. “Rory,” he breathed out, dropping his hands and his heart as he laid his eyes on his beautiful, kind, talented, funny, deserving-of-only-good-things girlfriend. How long had she been there for? What had she seen? “Rory,” he said again, cautiously walking towards her as all thoughts about wanting Ivy were exiled from his brain, “it’s not what you think.”

𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘:  Nothing would have prepared Rory Slade for today. At the beginning of auditions, she only saw herself as Sophie and was convinced she would land the role, but she didn’t. Then she fully stepped into the role of Donna and felt confident in herself and that if someone was meant to play Donna at McKinley, it was Rory. She was nervous, sure, and she felt like she could hear her heart beating so loudly in her ears. Rory tried not to get herself too hyped up, she always thought it was bad luck to practice before going on. Weird logic, but she thought that if she performed now, she’d forget later or work herself so much up on stage that she’d freak out and dash off stage. After getting into costume which was just a white peasant blouse and overalls, she fixed her own hair and makeup, leaving her makeup natural but beat enough that the audience could see she had makeup on and a pinned look paired with some beach waves to give off an effortless beach look. After she was done, she spent her time with Julien until he abruptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. She didn’t think anything of it, he was just going to be gone for a minute, but then two minutes passed. Then five. Then ten. And as minute twelve was approaching, Rory knew she had to go on a man hunt for Julien. The show was about to start and neither him nor Ivy was anywhere to be found so she went to look for Julien and hoped to just find Ivy after. She looked in the girls restroom for Ivy and briefly popped her head in the boys to ask if Julien was in there. When neither were found, she started looking in other rooms, eventually landing in the ill fated choir room. They were kissing. Julien and Ivy were kissing. Julien, her boyfriend, was kissing Ivy, her rival. The blonde didn’t know how to react; should she scream? Cry? Even react at all? Or just leave the building altogether and tell Leo that she couldn’t perform? Lost in her thoughts, staring at the scene, Julien finally noticed her. She had only been standing there for thirty seconds, a minute tops, but she felt like she had spent her entire life watching the pair kiss. She heard Julien saying her name, but it was just echoing in her head and once he started making his way towards her, she bolted out of the room and out into the hallway, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’ll mess up your makeup. But then Julien began speaking. “Not what I think?” Her words weren’t angry, they were strangely calm for a girl who had just caught her boyfriend in the act with someone else, but with the freshly hot tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes piercing into Julien’s, she didn’t need to express emotion for him to know how hurt she felt. “People have been saying that you were cheating on me and now look! I’m the one who gets to look like a fool for trusting you,” now her emotions were building up. “God!” she expressed, her hands flailing up. “I trusted you!”

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍:  The wave of peace that Julien briefly experienced while kissing Ivy quickly turned into a storm when he saw Rory. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Rory, wait—“ he called out, quickly jogging after her but pausing at the door of the choir room. Julien was the rope in a twisted game of tug-of-war and the worst thing was? He put himself in that position. His face was hot with shame and embarrassment. How could he have been so stupid? He and Ivy were living in a fantasy land. And why had he even been doing it in the first place? Because he liked Rory, he really liked her. He turned his head to look back at Ivy, who was still standing flabbergasted at the piano. Even though there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to meet her back at the piano and kiss her again, there was a girl out in the hallway who he’d just hurt beyond belief. What kind of guy would he be if he just let her leave? “I’m—“ he wanted to say something, anything to make the situation okay, but he was at a loss, “fuck, sorry.” He barely looked at Ivy when he apologized but once the words fell from his lips, he left her standing there alone and zoomed into the hallway where he stopped Rory in her tracks. “It really isn’t what you think,” he lied, scrambling to come up with a valid excuse or reason for why he would be kissing Ivy in the choir room. He knew he was shit out of luck. There was nothing he could say. When Rory’s eyes filled with tears and she revealed that people had been warning her, Julien was riddled with guilt. Fuck. Why was he like this? It was all fun and games until someone got hurt. He needed to fix this. “You’re not a fool,” he told her as he approached her slowly, “okay? I am. I’m an idiot. I’m—I’m stupid. I don’t know what I’m doing.”As she started to wave her arms around and get angry, Julien tightened his lips into a line and felt all of his muscles tense. Her words echoed through the empty hallway and he knew there was nothing he could say in the moment that would make the situation better. “Rory, please,” he started, eyes pleading and tone strained. There had to be something he could say to make things better. The words spilled out of him before he could really process it, “I love you.” On cue, his phone alarm went off in his pocket and startled him. “Shit,” he muttered, pulling it out and seeing that they had five minutes until the show started, “we have to get back.” He looked at Rory, completely focused on her and entirely unaware of anything that might’ve been happening behind him. It dawned on him that he had just said he loved her. Did he love her? Had he just said that because it felt like the right thing to say? He was so confused. “I know you’re mad, but can we just do the show and then talk about it? Please?”

𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘:  Watching Julien and Ivy kiss in a romantic way instead of practicing for the musical way made Rory's heart sink and naturally so. No one wants to see their boyfriend kiss someone else like that especially when that boyfriend had a history and everyone had been warning her about the said history, but she thought things were different. Rory had been through this before. Not when it came to Julien and when that did happen, she was the "other girl". It's why she kept her relationships minimal and sexual encounters at a maximum. She couldn't get hurt if she didn't open up to guys, but it was also her weakness. A guy could just flash her a smile and tell her she was remotely attractive and she'd be weak in her knees. Maybe it was the daddy issues or the deep insecurity she held as the second-best at McKinley. And now she really was second best to Ivy St. James in every aspect. Julien was the one thing Rory had that Ivy didn't and now... even the Wicked Witch of Lima had that. She wrapped her arms around her body as if to calm herself down even just a bit but what she had seen in the choir room just kept replaying in her head every time she closed her eyes. She felt so stupid. So stupid for trusting Julien. So stupid for believing he changed. So stupid for falling in love with his stupid dorky smile. And that's when it dawned on her. She was so hurt not only because she believed in him but because she had fallen in love with Julien Schuester and in the same moment she recognized how much she loved him, he had simultaneously broken her heart at the same time. "Isn't what I think?" A scoff left her mouth. "That wasn't a practice kiss, okay? I know what you look like when you have one of those... charged choir room moments," because he had looked at her like that at one point. When Julien started to approach her slowly, she backed away a few steps. She didn't want his semi-comforting words or for him to step closer to her, she wanted to forget what she had seen. No wonder why Emory wanted to beat his car in and break Ivy's nose. This feeling sucked. The tightening in her throat, the tears, her heart beating out of her chest. She felt like someone had quite literally stomped on her heart, but when he uttered those three words Rory almost saw the light at the end of the tunnel which would have been comforting if Julien wasn't cheating on her. "Yeah... I love you too," she said barely above a whisper, using the back of her sleeve to wipe some tears off her face. There was a small foundation stain, but it wasn't a priority of Rory's at the moment. When she heard Julien's alarm ring, she knew it was almost time for the show to start so she quickly sucked up whatever she was feeling and dabbed away her tears. "Maybe," she shrugged. "I don't think there's much more to talk about," she said with a deep sigh. "Break a leg, I guess," she croaked out as she tried to hold in any emotion. Save it for the stage. Turning on her heel, she started walking back to the auditorium to get ready to go on.

𝐈𝐕𝐘:  THE FANTASY WORLD THAT RESIDED WITHIN JULIEN SCHUESTER’S LIPS CAME TUMBLING DOWN AT THE SOUND OF A FEW DISCORDANT PIANO KEYS, FOLLOWED BY A SOFT ‘RORY’ THEN A FRANTIC ‘IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK’. ivy’s ejection from that little piece of paradise was violent. other than having to make a quick acclimation to this new and tense situation, she had to shove all of eli’s, now proven to be correct, comments from her mind so she could focus on what to do. last time when emory had caught her and julien, ivy had peeled from the scene as quickly as she could, but that wasn’t really much of an option on opening night of a show in which all parties involved played principal roles. faster than they had been caught, rory was running out the door and julien was going after her while ivy remained stunned at the piano, painfully aware of how she had nowhere left to run. both herself and julien should have known better than to walk this fraying tight rope together at this point. they both knew it was a hazard, there was no safety net below them, and one misstep would send them plummeting to the hard surface that was the consequences of their actions. julien paused in the doorway, looking ivy up and down and filling her with the dangerous hope that he may stay with her. as soon as the apology slipped from julien, he was gone, and ivy found herself now knowing what to do. follow him. her feet carried her to the doorway where if she looked just to the left she could see rory and julien, even hear their voices echoing down the hallway to where she was. she was still functioning in a trance like stuporous state. she wanted to run down the hallway and after julien, but her feet told her the threshold of the choir room door was far enough. hearing rory choked up was enough to make anyone feel bad, ivy included. ashamed , she looked down upon her sandaled feet. as much as she tried to assure herself rory would come out of this fine and it was just a small incident that could be brushed off, the longer she eavesdropped the less confident in that she grew. though ivy’s largest emotional reaction came from hearing the words i and love and you leave julien’s mouth and into rory’s ears.it was like a large wound in her chest opened up and immediately caused her lip to quiver. it wasn’t a new gash though, it was about a year old at this point, and while it had been closed for some time, julien had just as easily reopened it as he had sliced it a little over a year ago. suddenly rory and julien’s conversation was muted in her ears and it felt like all she could hear was her own heart heaving in pain with each beat it thumped. what had happened to ten minutes ago when julien was in fact confirming that did mean something? was she just a toy for him to play with when he got lonely and bored? ivy couldn’t find it in herself to believe julien was capable of that malice, she didn’t want to. unable to wipe her tears fast enough, ivy bolted out of the choir room, to the right, and into the bathroom all while a faint jingle of someone’s alarm could be heard at the other end of the hallway. instantly, she locked herself in a stall and tried to rid herself of this used feeling. julien loved rory, and it seemed that ivy's own moments with him the past couple of weeks had meant nothing. julien had lied, and that only made her cry harder. the show was the last thing on her mind at the moment, just herself, the bathroom stall, trying to halt her tears and the dejected feeling that came with an overwhelming sense of loneliness and foolishness.

END

[elenatria]

Jarllan HC: salty Jared because Stellan won the award while he didn’t. His jealousy turned into passionate & steamy night.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268644

He hadn’t talked with Pierce for more than a year. They had exchanged a couple of emails and photos from that insane Mamma Mia II afterparty but that was it, Stellan had to quickly fly back to Vilnius and put those horrible fake brows back on. His stay in Lithuania was all work, jokes between takes, late-night drinks and booing Jared and Emily for their World Cup win over Sweden. Saturdays were reserved for dinners with Swedish specialties because, for all their bragging, those obnoxious Brits knew shit-all about cooking. Truly, he had no time for anything or anyone else.

Now he finally had the chance to catch up with Pierce and his sons while the ceremony’s afterglow lingered on and mixed with the alcohol in his veins. He took their hands in his and shook them vividly, praising them for their consummate appearance on stage (“Although Brad Pitt made you chase him a bit, didn’t he?” he teased Dylan, the eldest of the two, as he ruffled his long silky hair).

The boys walked off and Stellan smiled as he watched Dylan trying to brush his impeccable hair back into place. When he turned to ask the waiter for another glass of beer, he caught a glimpse of that familiar graying head bobbing about happily, nervously, hovering over a sea of shaking hands and cheeks leaning for a kiss, dropping humbly at every word of comfort and every “You should have won that Globe”. So many people had spent the evening telling Jared the same thing over and over again that Stellan could read their lips by now.

He also knew he was staring like a smitten teenager but he didn’t care, he just stood there, drinking in every little detail: Jared’s rimless glasses sliding down his nose with every little bow, full lips puckering every now and then for a kiss, hands crossing coyly in front of his crotch like a debutante at her first dance. That wasn’t his first “dance” and Stellan knew it, they both knew it; Jared had been accepting praise alongside consolation for way too long.

The Swede meant to make a cheeky remark about “the Duke of Edinburgh”, the lanky ever-smiling Brit whose arm, just as empty and trophy-less as Jared’s, was hanging over his boy’s shoulders (probably sharing with him the bitter cup of defeat) but as he swiftly turned back to Pierce, he felt the floor tremble like jelly under his Armani shoes.

Pierce quickly slipped a hand under his arm. “Eeeeasy now, buddy, even I don’t drink that much,” he laughed helping him down to the sofa with careful steps.

“You never drink that much,” Stellan mumbled wrestling with his pocket for his glasses, only to remember he had been wearing contacts since morning.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then flew them open in a hopeless effort to get rid of the fogginess that made him feel like he was swimming in a cloudy fish tank. “You’re just not Swedish enough,” he growled swiping a wrist over his feverish brow.

Pierce chuckled and leaned over him. “You okay, old man? Want me to bring you some water? You’re all flushed.”

Stellan huffed out a deep breath, his quivery knees a bitter reminder that he wasn’t so young anymore, and dragged Pierce’s hand over his lap, cupping the back of his neck for support until their foreheads touched. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he slurred against the bearded man’s lips, “just a little tipsy.”

A familiar figure flashed behind closed eyelids, a hoarser voice, a different beard. Stellan needed more than water, he needed those rimless glasses looking up at him with the same boyish astonishment they had when they first met, he needed--

A reassuring pat on the knee dragged him out of his daze. The dream, the graying red hair, the fifty-eight-year-old schoolboy with the wide-eyed admiration was gone.

“Water it is then,” Pierce said with a broad fatherly smile and headed for the buffet.

The minute Stellan felt Pierce’s weight lift off the sofa, it all came back to him - his moment of glory frame by frame, as if watching the movie of someone else’s life: that handsome kid on stage uttering his name in one single breath, Jared jumping to his feet to clap  before he could even swallow  (what was it he was munching, wild mushroom risotto or vegetarian taco?), the endless walk to the stage (because they had to stash an old man way back on the balcony, they just had to).  

He thought he’d be cool and aloof about it but he wasn’t – not for the first couple of seconds. Those long and crowded corridors, those endless steps, those blinding lights on a podium he never thought he’d walk on, it was a lot to take in. He was panting out the words, sweat breaking beneath brows styled especially for the occasion, until he found his zen-like composure again and turned his talk into what every acceptance speech should be like: a joke.

To his bewilderment, it wasn’t a joke everyone appreciated; when he returned to their table, Jared pretended he was more interested in those tedious “thank you” lists of shiny smiling people he hardly knew than in congratulating him, shushing him every time he leaned in to comment or jest about this dress or that hairdo.

He did get his tight congratulatory hug from Jared as soon as they joined HBO’s after party at Circa 55, lips planting a soft meaningful kiss on his cheek as they breathed “Well done, Stellan, well done”, a perfectly coiffed beard tickling his bare jaw and those pallid hands, hesitant at first, pressing boldly on his ribs before sliding up just enough to make him feel the warmth, the need.

It didn’t last more than a few seconds, Craig broke into their space demanding his own hug with open arms, but it was enough to have Stellan reeling and seeing Jared naked at the bottom of every glass of beer he downed for the rest of the evening.

As soon as Craig broke the spell, Jared, as if waking from a trance, cleared his throat and stated he was dying for a drink. If Stellan could judge by his past habits, he probably was. Like an elusive leprechaun the ginger-haired man disappeared into the crowd before Stellan got the chance to tell him how much he wished he could share the Globe with him.

They didn’t exchange a single word for the next three hours. Stellan spent the evening boasting to his fans about the weight of his Globe never denying a selfie, while Jared made the rounds near their reserved tables, feting their victory and accepting congratulations that more often than not sounded like condolences.

By the time they were both alone, most guests were gone; they were left tired and silent, engulfed by the chattering of strangers, slow music and half-empty dishes.

The Prince of Sunken Cheeks, Long Faces and even longer arms who had claimed Jared’s shoulders earlier was nowhere to be seen. Mister Jared Francis Harris, his back bathed in red and gold, stood alone leaning against a column, statuesque and beautiful in his black tuxedo.

For some reason his posture reminded Stellan of something his agent had emailed him a while back: on Thanksgiving morning and just as awards season was kicking off, Jared had taken a photo with his back turned on the camera, gazing at the ocean from his house in Miami. He was dreaming with his eyes open, contemplating years and years of hard work, wins and losses. He deserved the Globe, Stellan pondered, and that photo was more than a moment frozen in time: it was a moment when Jared was truly happy - a moment when he still had hope.

Stellan glanced at the black leathered case he had left on the table; inside of it the gold-plated piece of zinc he had been handed a few hours ago was already losing its luster. He turned to look at Jared’s back again, drumming his fingers on his thigh. He stroked a hand over the creases of his jacket and walked up to the lonely bespectacled man by the pillar, determined to lift his mood. He was too old, too Swedish, too drunk to let the people he cared for dwell in childish frustration.

“There you are!” he boomed startling Jared out of his statue-like stillness. “I thought you had gone to sleep.”

Jared’s face was lit by a faint smile, his hands buried deep into his pockets. “Sleep? Nah, sleep is for the old.”

Stellan’s lips curled with inebriated joy; he wrapped an arm around the shoulder he had been waiting for hours to reclaim and squeezed hard. “I have news, HBO wants us to work together again, did they tell you?”

Jared tensed under his touch, then huffed out a chuckle. “Is that right,” he murmured with a slow uninterested nod.

Stellan stroked his furrowed brow. After all the success “Chernobyl” had at the Emmys and the Globes, he found it hard to believe he saw no joy in his colleague’s eyes. “Come on!” he shook him. “You should be happy!”

Jared scoffed crossing his legs, his arms still rigid against his own ribs. “Happy.”

Stellan let his hands fall limply on his sides. “You mean you’re not happy?” he muttered, his jaw dropping in bewilderment. “You don’t want to work with me again?”

Jared clicked his tongue swaying his head from side to side as if trying to decide which set of words would hurt less.

Stellan felt his breath catch. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the post-award depression starting to kick in or Jared’s vacant stare avoiding him - as if the two men hardly knew each other anymore.

“You don’t want to work with me?...” he repeated weakly, his confidence leaking out of him one shallow breath at a time.

Jared turned at last, holding his gaze with his own blue, unfathomable stare. “It’s not that simple.”

“What? What’s not that simple?”

“I love working with you, Stellan. You know that. It’s just that—”

“Just what?”

“I’ve already been offered other projects.”

Other projects.

Stellan had never felt so lost before.

There were times in his youth when he’d play in experimental films and soft-porn films and it felt weird and stupid and hilarious - but he was okay with it all, he did it proudly, he knew he had made the right choice. There were times when he had to leave his boys and his girl for months on end, and he’d call them up or pack them all on a plane and take them to stay with him, just to come back from fifteen hours of shooting every day, have a drink with them for five minutes before crashing out on the sofa. That was enough to help him shrug off his guilt and keep doing what he was doing. He never felt disheartened or disoriented, not even when he took a divorce; he never lost his faith, his clarity. He didn’t know if it was bravery or recklessness or some false sense of security but it was always there, it was what kept him going: knowing he’d win no matter what.

But he wasn’t winning now. He never knew what it meant to feel utterly naked, stripped of all hope. For the first time in months he held Jared literally in his arms and the man was slipping away from him like sand in the wind.

Other projects.

His lips spat out the words before he could form the thought itself. “What other projects?”

“Well,” Jared said scratching his head, “there’s this thing for Apple based on Asimov’s books—”

“Apple?!” Stellan scoffed. “Apple is yet to produce any successful TV shows, are you kidding me? Tell them to stick to iPhones, Jesus Christ.”

“Yes, Apple Plus is new but it has potential,” Jared insisted. “And it pays.”

“You mean HBO doesn’t pay?” Stellan retorted.

Jared breathed out an impatient sigh. “Apple pitched ‘Foundation’ to me months ago,” he said, his brow creasing as a red flush crept up his cheeks. “And I need a job. Where were your HBO people when I needed them? Waiting to see whether I’d get a major award or not? Well I didn’t.”

“They are not my HBO people,” Stellan growled, stunned by Jared’s sudden outburst. “And you got lots of awards, don’t whine.”

“Whine,” Jared breathed, squinting in disbelief. “You make it look so easy, don’t you,” he shot back, his blue eyes cutting through Stellan like shards of ice. “Flying all the way from Europe just to get the award and go back. No parties before that, no promo tour, no social media for you. But of course. It wasn’t in your contract, none of it was.” His nostrils flared as he squeezed his lips shut. “No other distinctions before tonight,” he raged, “nothing to herald your triumph or keep you on your toes. No anticipation, no promises, and no days of endless doubt. Just you in your three-piece falling from the sky, snatching the biggest award and then BOOM, back to Sweden. As if nothing happened, as if nothing changed.”

Stellan took a beat to take it all in, holding back the turning of his stomach as the beer’s yeasty sourness reached his mouth. He staggered, trying to keep steady on a floor that felt more jelly-like than ever. “… Okay, now I know you’re drunker than I am,” he slurred grabbing his stomach.

Jared huffed out a chuckle and turned the other way.

“What does this have to do with you agreeing to do that Apple thing?” Stellan protested, bewildered. “Have you signed already?”

“Of course I have,” Jared snapped, “don’t you read the news? It was all over twitter - oh I forgot—” He shook his head crossing his arms like a man who had lost all patience, all hope in humanity.

Stellan furrowed his brow, the realization that he was losing Jared striking him harder than a bucket of freezing water. He was beyond somber now. He was depressed.

“I’m really sorry…” he muttered pressing his shoulder against the column, his long hands disappearing into his pockets as he leaned closer to Jared’s ear. “I didn’t know how bad it was for you.”

Jared threw him a side glance cocking a slightly intrigued brow, his lips fighting to remain shut and unforgiving. He turned back to the stage watching the pianist play an easy, forgettable tune. “It’s quite alright,” he mumbled bitterly. “Thank God it’s all over...”

That phrase, so familiar--

Stellan, still fighting off gallons of beer clouding his brain, couldn’t resist quoting a film, any film, just to lighten the mood. Given his state, it wasn’t such a bad idea to focus on something other than Jared’s foul mood.

“Isn’t that from… from…” He snapped his fingers. “Oh I know,” he said, proud of his memory overcoming his drunkenness. “‘My Fair Lady.’”

Jared blinked once, twice, before staring back in utter disbelief. “You just had to mention my stepfather now, didn’t you.”

Stellan clamped his eyes shut, regretting every single word; he knew about Rex Harrison, how he hated children and never missed a chance to show it to the three Harris boys. He knew how happy Sexy Rexy was when the boys were sent off to a Catholic boarding school, Jared had told him all about his mother’s second marriage over a bowl of beef Rydberg and two bottles of wine. That was the only dinner Stellan had prepared with Jared as the sole guest during the “Chernobyl” filming, the only chance they had to open up to each other.

The chance they wasted.

“Okay, that was a perfectly wrong way to continue the conversation,” he apologized. “It just… It feels so lonely without you,” he muttered giving the base of the column little kicks, his eyes glued on the floor. “I don’t want to do this if you’re not there. The HBO thing I mean.”

“Well you don’t have to,” Jared said icily.

“They want both of us,” Stellan insisted. “It’s about two strangers meeting on a plane that flies over Europe. It’s about Brexit, a dystopian scenario speculating on the future of the continent. One of them carries a briefcase with--”

“You can tell Pierce about it,” Jared cut him off.

“Who…?”

“Pierce. You look great together.”

Stellan’s mouth slacked open. That total prick, that fucking elusive leprechaun. He had been spying on them the whole evening.

“What does Pierce have to do with anything?” he roared not believing his ears. “He’s already booked for the next two years.”

“Oh, is that why you chose me over him, because I was the one available?” Jared snapped.  “Good to know.”

“For crying out loud, Jared, he’s my friend,” Stellan exclaimed throwing his hands in the air, “and you’re… and you’re—"  

“What am I?”

That inescapable cold stare again; Stellan pressed his lips together in a stubborn pout. If Jared wanted him to say it, he wouldn’t indulge him, no way. Not a word, not a breath, not unless he stopped being a child. Fifty-eight-year-old children were beyond his area of expertise.

“A pain in the ass,” he blurted out instead.

From where he was standing he couldn’t see Jared’s expression, only his flustered ear and the edge of his bearded jaw. Still, that unmistakable dimple on the other man’s freckled cheek made his heart miss a beat.

Did he just…?

Yes, he did. Jared was suppressing a smile.  

Jared shook his head and gazed at their table where Johan was lowering the rim of his hat over closed eyes before sinking into his chair, sleepy and half-drunk. “You really should give it to Pierce, you know,” he insisted, not without a tint of sadistic joy. “He’s just as British as I am. Or Colin -- oh he would be just perfect.”

Stellan let his jaw hang and closed it several times before he could form a single word. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I’m dead serious.”

Stellan heaved a deep frustrated sigh. “Jared, I haven’t played the jealousy game since I was sixteen, shirtless and in a straw hat. There’s a perfect explanation for what you saw, I was drunk and Pierce was helping me sit. What is your ‘Prince’s’ excuse for laying his hands all over you?”

“My ‘prince’? What prince?” Jared blinked behind his glasses, baffled.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Stellan said squeezing the bridge of his nose. “What’s his name.”

Jared’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh you don’t mean—” His jaw dropped. “You can’t mean… Toby.”

“YES, thank you.”

Jared opened his arms, his mouth gaping incredulously, as if he was asked to explain why one and one equals two. “Yes, we were laughing that’s why he leaned on me, he was saying that the Globes were glorified dildos, nothing more.”

“Oh!...”Stellan yelped arching his brows. He looked left and right wondering if he wasn’t the only one who had heard the insult. “Oh, but this is getting better and better…!”

Jared’s face changed in an instant; he wasn’t high on his own rage anymore, he wasn’t resentful or bitter. He was as hurt as Stellan was.

And just as lost.

“I’m-- sorry,” he stuttered hanging his head. “It was only a joke. I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Oh it’s fine,” Stellan said coldly, his face a mask of stone. “It’s good to know what you have in your head. What you think of me. All these months of working together when all I needed was this one evening. Quite enlightening.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose once more, hoping he could get rid of those fucking contacts as soon as possible - or maybe gauge his eyes out, why not; the headache that was beginning to replace his alcohol-induced cheerfulness was threatening to split his skull in half.

Jared took a shuddering breath. “Stellan…”

He almost made a move to get closer to him. He stopped.

Stellan wasn’t listening to him, wasn’t seeing him anymore. His eyes darted around looking for the closest exit until they settled on the big black box on the table. For a moment he wished that kid on the stage had never called his name; he wished he had kept eating his risotto without giving a fuck.

Not having any fucks to give was a state of mind, a way of life. Maybe he should go back to it at some point.

He fumbled in his pockets for the cloakroom ticket, shoved the black case under his arm and stormed off.

“Where are you going?” Jared shouted after him.

“Catching the earliest flight to Stockholm,” he thundered, not looking back. “My glorified dildo needs a mantle to sit on.”

[theherondaels]

Mamma Mia

Mamma Mia Au for @ac-ars. Or how many song references can I make. Hint: Too many. I regret nothing.

1.     Does Your Mother Know?

The reunion of Stella and Lola was probably heard by all of Sicily. “Lola, I can’t believe you’re finally here, there’s so much I have to tell you.” Stella gushed as she ran over the small beach pier. “I missed you too, chiquitita.” Lola grinned down at her. While Stella was excited seeing her best friend since their last summer in Argentina, she didn’t let that hated nickname mention slide, slapping her upper arm lightly as they hugged.

Lola looked at the reddening spot. “I used almost a full bottle of sun screen and you do this? I can’t look like a lobster on your wedding day!” Maybe a beach dress in a lighter colour would have done the trick too.

“And now the real reason I came here,” Lola had taken a hold of her hand, inspecting Stella’s engagement ring on her left finger. “It’s even prettier up close. And a ruby, no less. Andrés sure did his homework.” Lola said impressed. She still hadn’t let go of her hand, going on and on about the stone and cut of the ring.

“It looks so expensive. Really, I look at it and think money, money, money.” Stella laughed at that. “I would be appalled otherwise.” She had actually had yelled a chorus of several yes’ at Andrés before he even had the chance to show her the ring, or finish his speech, for that matter.

“How’s Argentina?” Stella asked, as she and Lola walked up to the house she was living with her mom. “Same old, same old,” Lola told her. “That’s why I’m here. It’s so boring back home since Ofelia and Luis moved out. I need someone I can annoy.”

“I’m the bride. I’m off limits.” Stella said immediately. “Yeah, yeah,” Lola waved her hand dismissively.

“What about you? Any other life changing events?”

Stella couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m inviting my dad to the wedding.” The words just had bursted out of her. “You what?” Lola asked shocked, “also, your mother told you? I always thought she didn’t know herself.”

To be fair, Luna Valente was all over the place, far away from organized, so it could be possible.

Stella’s excitement wavered, guilt slowly making it to the surface. “Well,” she began, finding the palm tree on their right way more interesting now. “Oh my god, what did you do?” Lola already asked.

“I found her diary while cleaning out the attic and there are actually three candidates,” Stella admitted. “Three?” Lola’s eyes were this close to falling out.

She quickly recovered though. “Better be a wide isle,” she said with a diabolical smile, earning herself another arm slap from Stella

 2.     I Have a Dream

"You're crazy," Lola announced, as Stella put a post stamp on the third, and last, sealed envelope.

“I know this is your dream, but it’s insane, and coming from me, that’s saying something.” Lola still wasn’t sold on the whole invite your potential dads to your wedding.

"As if randomly showing up in their front lawn would be a better idea," Stella muttered. This was her last resort. She wanted the fairytale wedding, so her father had to walk her down the isle. No ifs, ands, or buts!

"You thought about that, didn't you?" Lola realised, leaning back in the chair. "Maybe," Stella said with a little shrug, putting the envelopes into her bag.

Lola sighing heavily. "What if they don't show up?" she asked, truly concerned. The Argentinian doubted her friend would ever recover from that. "They will. I made it look like Mom wrote the letters," Stella said, having no doubt all three men would show up. It had been actually too easy, she and her mother shared the same messy handwriting, it had driven her school teachers crazy.

"Okay, what if they all show up?" Lola came up with another scenario, "do you think you'll just know when you see him? This can end really bad!”

"I'm going to send these letters," Stella hissed quite aggressively. Lola sighed in defeat, knowing it would be useless trying to change her mind.

“Google them before at least. One could be serial killer.”

Despite rolling her eyes, Stella did exactly that. “I knew that name seemed familiar,” Lola yelled when candidate number one turned out to be 1/3 of the Argentinian pop sensation Rollerband.

Simón had clearly been the most interesting one. Her mother had described him as her best friend during the first pages, then mused if she had feelings for him about 200 pages in, only to degrade him as a friend at the end again.

"Didn't you take singing lessons until you were like twelve?" Lola questioned. Stella was at loss for words. She had indeed taken a few lessons at her primary school, the teacher impressed with her voice.

It couldn’t be that easy, right? That the truth would had been right before her nose all these years.

“Hm, and he was already married with a kid when you were born. Would explain why your Mom fled to Sicily with you.” Lola had opened Wikipedia on her own phone.

Stella grimaced. She didn’t like the thought of having siblings.

“Okay, next,” Lola picked up another letter, eyes narrowing at the long name. “Didn’t google just suggest him too?”

“Go back,” Stella urged. “It did. Ah, he directed a music video for Rollerband. Maybe your mom was there on set,” Lola was at it with the theories again. “What is Villalobos for a surname though?” her friend wondered. “Says you, Perida!” Stella’s tone might have been a bit too venomous. “You’ll be Mrs Arias soon anyway,” Lola shrugged.

The older girl eyed the third letter then. “That’s not a Spanish name,” was the first thing Lola noticed.

Her mother had described Matteo Balsano as the epitome of a summer fling, but as soon as she had been in Buenos Aires again the calls and texts became less and less. The way she had written it, Luna had put an end to their very fresh relationship.

They didn’t find much about him, just that he was diplomat, who lived in Rome.

“Rome?” Stella’s felt her anger rise. “I can’t believe this. If this is the reason Mom didn’t let me go on the Rome trip in my last year of school…” She was too angry to finish her sentence. "I can't believe she lied to me," Stella suddenly continued. "Well, I can," Lola said unhelpfully. “Wouldn’t have been fun if you ran into him on accident.”

“Maybe he went on holiday or visited extended family in Sicily.” Lola then thought aloud, “and that’s why you life here. Mom never understood why your mother settled on this Italian island.” Growing up, Stella hadn’t really paid any mind it. Sure, it was sometimes annoying when she mixed up the languages, or worse, couldn’t remember a word in the language she currently spoke.

After a bit of digging, Stella had managed to find a photo on his Facebook page, showing it to Lola. “Okay, maybe, I’m hallucinating, but you do look alike. Like really, really alike.”

Her friend was right. Honestly, the other two letters were pretty much useless now.

--

3. I do

Stella removed her earbuds, turning around once again, making sure she wasn't being followed. She'd taken the ferry all to Naples, as mail on mainland was distributed much faster.

The matter was urgent.

She wanted her father to be present when she said ‘I do’, wanted to have the father daughter dance everyone would sob at.

Her big day was less than a month away, she needed the envelope to reach its addressee as soon as possible.

After Stella had handed the letter over at the postal office, she still had 2 hours until the ferry would sail back to Palermo. A grin appeared on her face as she grabbed a brochure about Naples.

It's been years since she had been on mainland.

4. SOS

It had been a normal morning for Matteo until he had collected his post. A letter from Sicily had caught his attention. He inspected the letter. The sender was nowhere to be found. Matteo reluctantly opened the letter.

His heart had already jumped at the messy handwriting. Luna had written him a letter. An invitation to be precise. To her daughter’s wedding.

Before he knew it, Matteo had booked a flight to Palermo.

[bethhxrmon]

All I Ask of You Pt. 27

“Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears, I’m here, with you, beside you” - “All I Ask of You” from The Phantom of the Opera

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female OC

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Some more road tripping!!!

Warnings: Cussing, some slight emotional stuff, the norm

A/N: Heyyyyy, I hope you guys are enjoying this, as always feel free to tell me what you think. And you can find the masterlist for the series in my bio!

“Can we please, please, please listen to a musical? Just one, the whole way there, I won’t ask again,” Annie begged.

“Nope. Driver gets to pick the music,” Tony replied as they continued down the interstate.

After a decent continental breakfast, they were all back on the road. It took Annie sitting though the same classic rock playlist halfway across Wyoming before she said anything. Which, in reality, had been pretty impressive given it had been the same playlist as the day before.

“Come on, just one? I told my parents it was a theatre camp,” Annie pointed out.

Tony sighed, “And we aren’t even there yet.”

While Annie hadn’t said anything, that didn’t mean the argument was over. Though, it did take her a few moments to formulate a decent plan. It wasn’t that the songs were bad, but she’d heard them more than enough times and the same forty songs was starting to become more and more apparent to her every single time. Didn’t that guy have a different playlist to listen to?

That wasn’t the point, though. The point was that she knew the songs and that she was almost positive that the others knew the songs just as well. What was about to happen was either her dumbest idea or most brilliant. If nothing else, it would give everyone something to do aside from staring at miles and miles of yellow grass and the occasional cow or horse.

She nudged Peter who was starting to doze off again, “What’s that about?”

“If I do something kinda crazy but kinda fun… would you go along with it?” Annie asked.

He nodded slowly, “Yeah, why?”

“‘Cause I’m gonna do something kinda crazy but kinda fun. And if I’m the only one I’ll look like a dumbass, but if everyone joins in then I’m making a point,” she explained.

Peter raised an eyebrow, “And I can’t know ‘cause why?”

“It wouldn’t be as spontaneous.”

Right as the next song came on, Annie started to sing as loudly as she could to the music. She looked over at Peter, hoping that he would catch on. Soon enough they were both singing and Harper and Ned were quick to join in. All of them belting out and not caring about whether or not they were off key. They all tried singing all the parts including the instrumental riffs.

And when Tony didn’t appear to bat an eye at any of them, they all continued singing. Though, Annie was starting to be obnoxious on purpose. It didn’t matter if anyone them had already known the songs beforehand, they had played enough during the trip for any of them to at least know the chorus.

“Are you guys done yet?” Tony asked, finally deciding to say something.

Annie shrugged, “Depends on if we can listen to something else. Otherwise, we’re just getting started, Sir!”

“Okay, will you guys settle down if I change the songs?” Tony asked, starting to sound more exasperated than angry.

After all of them arguing and trying to deliberate over what to listen to, they had gotten nowhere. Annie thought it would have been easy to get everyone to just agree to listen to a musical and then relax and enjoy the open road ahead. Only, it seemed everyone else had other ideas.

“We’re not listening to The Last Five Years, that makes you cry without fail. We should just listen to some nighties alt-rock and call it a day,” Harper insisted.

Tony could still be heard, occasionally putting in his two-cents, “I’m with them.”

“Oh come on! Seussical then?” Annie asked.

Harper shook their head, “Nope. Also makes you cry without fail. This isn’t ‘let’s contribute to Annie’s daily mental breakdown hour’.”

“What if we listened to disco? I think that’d be pretty cool. I mean, it includes a bit of everything, right?” Peter asked, looking between everyone.

Annie raised an eyebrow, “What decent musical came from the disco era?”

“Mamma Mia! You taught me about that one,” Peter pointed out.

Ned had dropped out of the conversation a few minutes ago, and he seemed rather immersed in his phone. What he was doing wasn’t being paid attention to. It was really just Annie and Harper doing most of the debating.

Ned’s head suddenly shot up, “Got it! Hey, Mr. Stark, I’m gonna sync my phone with the car. I got the perfect playlist.”

“Um… except you literally didn’t say anything for most of this,” Harper pointed out, crossing their arms.

Ned grinned, “Except I was listening. I got a little bit of everything. I know what Peter likes, and I think I know which things Annie likes that doesn’t make her cry, and then there was you. You said nighties alt-rock. Which, incidentally is exactly what I listen to all the time. It’s all covered.”

Harper nodded slowly, “Alright, you’re one of those smart and silent types. I can appreciate that.”

“Also, can I just put this out there? Literally anything could make me cry right now. Because, ya know, those daily mental breakdowns,” Annie said, leaning back in her seat.

Pepper, who had been quiet for most of the drive that day, turned around, “You should get mental help for that.”

“Maybe later. You need parental consent for that, don’t you?” Annie asked.

Pepper nodded, “I’m sure they’d be willing to get you help.”

“Except they don’t know what I’d need help for. That’s kind of the real kicker there. They don’t know about the whole powers deal,” she admitted, opening her book again.

Everything settled down and went back to normal with Annie positioned to use Peter as a pillow. She focused on her book and occasionally on the rolling hills of yellow grass. It seemed like everything had settled down. Minus Harper and Ned constantly sounding like they were in a constant debate about something Annie couldn’t quite make out.

That was, until they both started to get louder about the subject that had them both so talkative.

“I’m way more help. Like, if it wasn’t for me, Annie wouldn't even have a suit!” Harper exclaimed.

Ned shook his head, “But you’re not the one who can hack a suit.”

“Don’t gotta hack something if I was the one who made it. Besides, hacking a suit sounds like something you shouldn’t have done. But what do I know? I’m just a college student,” Harper responded nonchalantly.

“Hacking that suit was one of the dumbest things you guys did, for the record,” Tony interjected, trying to stare down Peter and Ned at the same time through the mirror.

Annie smirked, “As if you wouldn’t have hacked a suit for your all-time best friend.”

“Would’ve been a hell of a time. Lots of googling, probably would get arrested, but I wouldn’t have done it for you last year,” Harper admitted.

She nodded slowly, “Fair enough. I was a serious bitch at that point.”

“Okay, how bad were you? Because you keep talking about how awful you are and I’m not seeing it,” Peter said, sitting up so he could get in on the debate.

Harper smirked, “That’s ‘cause you’re in love with her.”

“N-no, we just started dating… th-that’d be weird,” Peter stammered, his face going red.

They shook their head, “Nah, you both got it bad. And I know about Annie’s side of the story. Ned, what do you say?”

“Definitely agree. But also, I’d say aside from being pushy, you’re not that bad,” Ned replied.

Harper laughed, “You really didn’t tell them about anything, did you?”

“Well, you see, it wasn’t necessary. And there was, like, that one time I said I was worse than Flash… but that was also before he tried beating the shit out of Peter. Now, I was never that bad,” Annie explained.

Tony nearly hit the brakes on the car in the middle of the highway, “Who tried beating the shit out of Peter?”

Annie pretended like she hadn’t seen Peter shake his head, “Well, you see, Ned was sick and Flash was being a jerk about Peter being the lead in the musical. And I didn’t know he was trans at the time, but then Flash outed him and tried to beat him up. And, well, I couldn’t do a whole lot. I didn’t wanna electrocute the dude, but I was close.”

“Pete, why didn’t you tell me?” Tony asked.

He shrugged, sinking back into his seat, “Never mentioned it… um… besides, Annie took care of it.”

“You’re telling me you could’ve gotten Tony Stark on that dude and you didn’t?!” Harper exclaimed, facepalming.

Peter huffed, “This wasn’t about me, this was about Annie.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, Pete,” Annie replied with a teasing smirk, “Anyways, you guys know how I was at a performing arts school, right? So, the fall production was The Sound of Music and I was the understudy for Liesel. Which was great, except the girl who played Liesel was actually the worst-”

“Because you have room to talk?” Harper asked.

Annie rolled her eyes, “Anyways, like I was saying, that girl was kinda mean and I wasn’t gonna take that. So I sabotaged her dressing room by electrocuting one of the electrical sockets. It basically ruined the room and that girl was convinced she’d been messed with, but there was no proof, ya know, because I used my powers that no one knew about. And she left so I ended up getting the part.”

“And this is where things get great,” Harper commented.

She sighed, “Okay, I get it, I did some stuff. Anyways, you guys’ve seen Mean Girls, right?”

Peter and Ned nodded.

“Okay, then you might see where this is headed. So the girl who I replaced in the show was basically the Gretchen of the group, right? And I ended up swooping in and replacing her in her own friend group. Which was great… I mean, not great, probably sucked for her. And I kinda did half of this for some kinda cute guy… um… I’ll get into that later. But I think that explains enough already,” she explained.

Peter looked at Annie, “You’re joking, right?”

“Nah, I mean, if we’re being real here, I caused the fire because that Darren guy was trying to kill me and Tina. So… I mean, I did the first thing I could think of, and there was a different problem. Except I wasn’t expecting to be blown back and… um, yeah, I think I’m done,” Annie trailed off, looking down at her hands.

Harper smiled a little, “Hey, that whole blowing up the room thing was still pretty damn iconic.”

“And arson. By all rights I should turn you in,” Tony called back.

Annie grimaced, “Yeah, maybe so, but then you’d wanna turn Peter and Ned over here if half of what Peter told me about trying to fight that vulture dude.”

“Touche,” Tony replied.

Pepper sighed, “He was only joking. If we thought you guys were gonna run around blowing things up for no reason, I don’t think he’d be driving you kids around for this long.”

Once again, the drive settled down, even though there hadn’t been a definitive answer to whether Harper or Ned was the better superhero assistant. A topic which would probably would never get answered.

Eventually it got late and Tony pulled off at Wendover, a small town right between Utah and Nevada. It was fine for everything except for the fact that everyone’s phones were an hour off from each other. They were right on the line for where the time change was.

It made for some fun conversations later in the night when Annie was sprawled out on her bed, completely immersed in her book. Whereas Harper had been trying to get some sleep for the last fifteen minutes.

Harper eventually turned off the lights, only for Annie to use her powers to turn it back on without batting an eye. She heard Harper grumbling as they reached out to turn off the light. Annie only turned it back on. The process continued a few more times.

“Look, I know you’re going all insomniac on me, but I need sleep. It’s midnight,” Harper whined.

Annie looked at her phone, “Nah, it’s only eleven.”

“Not according to the clock right here. Now either leave the room or go to bed,” they grumbled before turning out the light.

Annie sighed a little bit. She wasn’t in any mood to get out of the room. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and when she looked at herself in the mirror earlier, she had serious bags under her eyes. How in the world Peter hadn’t said anything about her, she had no idea. Not to mention that she hadn’t changed her leggings or her sweatshirt that advertised her old school’s theatre program. She wasn’t planning on it either, but still she knew that she wasn’t going to get to sleep anytime soon.

After getting into her slippers, Annie grabbed her book and the key before seeing her phone had a text notification.

Spidey: Fifth floor, vending machines

Annie saw that the message was from five minutes before. She tried to wrack her brain to figure out what Peter wanted. It could have been anything. Something from him wanting to get a midnight snack together to needing something to talk about.

Still, Annie got into the elevator, pressing on the five and waited for the elevator to do its job. After a few seconds, Annie was there and it was just a matter of finding the vending machines and Peter. Thankfully, there were a few signs and Annie saw one pointing to where the vending machines were.

That was when she saw Peter pacing around the hallway and his eyes were darting all over the place. After a few seconds, he saw Annie and ran right to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She dropped the book, hearing the thick paperback hit the carpet with a soft thud so she could hug him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Annie asked, hearing his ragged breathing.

Peter pulled back a little, looking at her with his eyes full of tears, “I-I… I was tryna sleep a-a-a-and I did a-a-a-a-a-a-a-and th-the building… it fell a-and I-I couldn’t br-br-”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay, no buildings are falling. You’re alright, Peter, it’s okay. Do you wanna sit down?” she asked, picking up her book and leading the way to the stairwell.

Peter nodded, following Annie through the door to get to the stairs. Annie sat down on one of the landings and Peter sat next to her, laying his head in her lap. She frowned a little, gently running her fingers through his hair. The last time she had seen him so shaky and scared was when Flash had hurt him.

Annie bit her lip, trying to think of what to say, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Y-yeah, ya know how I’ve told you about Vulture?” Peter asked.

She nodded slowly, “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, I-I didn’t tell you about what he did… that night I really fought with him and stuff. H-he used one of his weapons to make his warehouse collapse and it fell on me… all of it. If I didn’t have powers, I woulda died… a-and it’s less of a thing now, but every once in awhile… well I dream about it. S-sorry, you were probably asleep and I woke you up. I just… didn’t wanna be alone,” he rambled, sitting up.

Annie frowned, her eyebrows furrowing as she reached out and pulled him into a hug, “I wasn’t asleep. A-and I get it. The nightmares, I mean. But you weren’t bothering me. If I was asleep, I wouldn’t be here.”

Peter didn’t say anything and instead rested his head in the crook of Annie’s neck. They stayed like that for awhile. While Annie could hear slot machines from the lower floor, Peter seemed to calm down. It was a miracle no one had decided to go up the stairs.

After a little longer, Peter looked up at Annie, “You should probably get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Annie claimed, though she did feel her eyelids starting to droop.

Peter smiled a bit, kissing the top of her head, “You’re exhausted, come on, lemme take you to your room.”

It took some more of Annie being stubborn on the subject before Peter helped her up and they went up the other few flights of stairs between their floors. The whole time, Peter didn’t let go of her hand. Though, when they were in front of her room, they held each other for what felt like a long time.

“Well, I guess this is goodnight,” Annie murmured before quickly Peter on the lips.

Peter was caught slightly off guard, “I- um… yeah, goodnight.”

With that, Annie unlocked her room and was half-tempted to wake up Harper just to be ornery, but decided against it before flopping on her bed to go to sleep.

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