#know that I absolutely wouldn’t if he hadn’t had her served on a PUBLIC stage at a PUBLIC event

[goodmorninglovelies42]

It’s weird to be a Ted Lasso fan and a Jason Sudeikis hater. Idk man; I don’t care what your ex did — serving a custody lawsuit on stage at a public event throws up huge red flags for me. And it’s hard to listen to him talk about the forgiveness and kindness as the thesis of the show when I know he’s done that.

[oceantornadoo]

ex husband price x f!reader

some drunkenness, heavy jealousy, this is a bit long

—

“another round!” you shouted to your new friends, smiling at the sounds of everyone cheering. you turned away and drunkenly maneuvered yourself to the crowded bartop, grin plastered on your face. you were so excited to go out with your new coworkers, people who didn’t know you were one year into your divorce and absolutely miserable. people who wouldn’t spew bullshit about moving on and exciting new chapter! or why did you guys break up in the first place? people who’d just let you be.

you pushed through to the front, raising your hand to signal the bartender. she looked poised to take your order, but the light in her eyes changed, a small smirk emerging as she tracked a figure who’d appeared next to you. “what can i get you, handsome?” you rolled your eyes, the alcohol bringing out emotions you normally hid in public. obviously, go her, but you really wanted to do these shots before going to the bathroom. “whiskey, neat.” you froze, shoulders bunching, heart beating, palms sweaty. you eagerly brushed your hands against your jeans, praying you had heard wrong. you turned away to sneak to the bathroom, but a hand shot out and grabbed your waist, pulling you into his side. “an’ a water for my wife.”

instinctively, you rolled your eyes at how the brows of the bartender shot up. it was always like this with him, people surprised he could be with you. one of the worst feelings in the world. “i’m fine, john.” you pushed at his hand, his viselike grip not budging from your waist. “you’re drunk.” you scoffed as he handed you your water. “that’s the point, john. to be drunk and have fun.” you’d said the last part a bit too harshly, covering your embarrassment by chugging your water. you still hadn’t dared to look at his face, too afraid of what you might see. you left the cup at the bar and turned away, determined to go back to your friends. he let you but kept his hand on your back, powerful strides mocking your slightly-more-sober ones. his presence always sobered you up, but you were determined not to let john stop your fun.

“hey guys! sorry, tender wouldn’t serve me, said i was too drunk.” you ended your quip with a grin, earning a similar one from your coworkers. “it’s fine! think i’m gonna head out soon, anyways.” said your favorite coworker, turning to you with a smirk. “looks like you caught yourself something interesting.” her eyes flicked up to john, his hand now settled on your hip, and then back to you. “he’s just my fuck buddy.” you stage whispered, loud enough so he could hear it. his hand tightened on your waist, the intended insult hitting its target. “love that for you, babe. be careful, he has a ring.” you looked down at the hand on your waist, at his ring he’d never taken enough, even when you left yours on that kitchen table. “it’s fake.” john was tugging you into his torso, the welcoming scent of cinnamon and whiskey settling you. “time t’ go, sweetheart.” you said your goodbyes to everyone, choosing to pick your battles and not fight with your ex-husband in front of a new group of friends. thankfully, most were too drunk to notice the menacing captain behind you. wordlessly, you made your way to the exit, eyes locked on the ground as john led you to his apartment, walking distance from the bar.

“always havin’ to take you home.” you could hear the grin in his voice since you were still too scared to look into his eyes. the walk was sobering you up, your steps becoming sure again. “well excuse me, price, but no one asked you to come out. don’t be a fucking gaslighter.” he sighed, hand rubbing up and down your spine as if to calm you. “don’t call me that.” he wasn’t about to tell you that he still tracked your location, still watched it for his nightly entertainment. how he had notifications for when you went to bars, just in case. “can call you whatever i want. we’re not legally bound anymore.” that one hurt, more than the fake ring comment. you could sense it in the air, how his hand had paused on your upper back, your delicate truce broken.

john was berating himself, unsure about you for the first time in his life. did you not feel the same connection he did, the same ache in your bones when he was away? he knew you were meant for each other, obviously, but this…he didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t bound to you anymore. “i’m sorry, john. i didn’t mean it.” your apology was quiet, words sacred in the dark of the night. you had moved a bit closer so his hand slid to your shoulder, moving up and down, cupping the back of your neck. “‘s ok, sweetheart. you’re still drunk.” you both didn’t acknowledge how even when you were drunk, your tongue and mind were always sharp and truthful. how he knew that because that’s how you met, drunk insults flying in the back of some pub five years ago.

you blinked and you were at his door, watching his back muscles move as he unlocked it. you took in the jeans, the untucked shirt, realizing he wasn’t as put together as you thought. like he had run out the moment he’d sense you become drunk, like some angelic protector. he guided you in as you both took off your shoes, eyes squinting at the sudden light of the lamp he’d turned on. finally, in the safety of his home, you had enough strength to make eye contact.

“john!” your eyes were suddenly filling with tears, voice breaking on the last syllable. fuck, he’d wanted to wait until at least the morning for this conversation, dread piling up like stones in his stomach. “‘s nothin’, baby. go have a shower.” you shook your head vehemently, dragging him to the sofa near the lamp, settling yourself in a straddle on his lap. “you’re hurt.” a tear was threatening to fall and he couldn’t bear it, one hand pushing you down on his lap while the other wiped it away. “just a bruise now. i’ll be ok.” you shook your head at the sight of the absolute shiner on his face, the print of a fist on his jaw. your hands were shaking as you lifted them closer, careful not to hurt him. “you didn’t tell me.” practically pouting, you couldn’t control where the sudden burst of emotion came from. your man was hurt and he still came for you, even if you hadn’t wanted him there. “didn’t want you to worry.” his other hand dropped down to your waist, pulling you closer, the seam of your jeans touching the seam of his own. “i always worry about you, even when i don’t want to.”

he was too old for this, the emotional push and pull draining him more and more every week. the way you still clearly cared for him but refused to get back together, to live under one roof. he didn’t need to remarry you anymore, just wanted you like this, his pliant sweetheart and her sharp tongue all to himself. "what if i want you to? want you to worry about me." you gave him a watery smile, tilting your head to look at him better. your eyes, wet and wide. your skin, sticky from the bar but smelling like his favorite perfume all the same. your chest, heaving with the effort of holding back your emotions, breasts threatening to spill out. and finally your legs, jeans stretched over thick thighs as they accommodated his own. fitting together like long lost puzzle pieces, always meant to find each other again. "what if we got it wrong, john? what if, what if it's all been for nothing?"

that had been your mantra for the past year. what if, what if. what if you had been able to weather his long absences better? what if he had said no to a mission every once in a while? what if he hadn't missed christmas and new years and valentine's day? what if you hadn't had to take that pregnancy test alone, hands trembling at the negative sign, emotions swirling like a tornado inside you? he was nuzzling you now, that favorite facial hair of yours scratching the side of your neck as he inhaled your scent. "go'on an' shower, baby. meet you in bed." your hand curled from his neck to his head, scratching his scalp. the low moan he gave you reverberated in your bones, settling some unknown question deep in your heart. "shower with me. i don't want to be away from you anymore." he kissed your collarbone once, twice, then pulled his head back to meet your eyes. "we're not doin' anythin'. you're drunk." you were already scrambling out of his lap once he didn't say no, tugging him into his much-too-small bathroom. "help me shower since im so incapacitated." you and that tongue were back. "alright cheeky."

you pulled the bathroom door closed, then turned to face him with a twinkle in your eyes. your shirt had a zip in the front, something that had been taunting him all night. slow like molasses, you dragged your hand from collarbone to chest to the top of the zipper, unzipping the shirt with a grin on your face. john was zeroed in on your chest as you took the shirt off, having been deprived of your naked body for months. "don't get shy on me, love. keep goin'" you turned backwards, shimmying out of your jeans, giving him a show of the lace underneath as you tugged it down after. "did you miss me?" your mask was slipping, a struggle to keep it up as john started undressing as well, showing off all the muscle he'd maintained, even more after the divorce. he might have been preparing for this moment, who's to say. "more than words can say, love. c'mere."

he tugged you into the shower, turning on the shower. it sprayed out cold water and you slapped his chest with a yelp. "give me a warning, john!" he chuckling, kissing the back of your neck as he turned you to face the spray head on. "tha's for all the trouble you caused tonight, duckie. gave me a right headache." he hadn't called you duckie in years, some half-baked inside joke you'd both made one late night. "you're insane. only one who caused trouble was you." he hummed a non-reply, too busy reaching over your shoulder to grab the makeup remover in your favorite brand. his hands ghosted over your waist, turning you around so he could clean off the mess on your face. you closed your eyes on instinct, john's hands unbelievably soft on your face, treating you like some precious thing. he switched to body wash, taking his time with your shoulders, breasts, stomach, cunt, thighs. never doing anything suggestive, only acting with absolute reverence.

john had almost forgotten how magnetic your body could be, how pliant you were when he touched you. the sight of healed scars, stretch marks, moles, birthmarks - all made a constellation of perfections on your skin. he nosed at your cunt on instinct, inhaling his favorite scent in the world before tugging himself back. still drunk, old man. don't fuck this up. he turned you back around to wash everything off, making sure all suds were gone before turning off. your eyes were still closed, your silent compliance palpable. he finally gave you the kiss he'd been yearning for, hands coming to cup your face as his naked body enveloped your own in the steam filled room. you moaned at the feeling of him, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. you bit his bottom lip just to make sure it was real, it was him, that he still liked how you kissed. he answered you with a moan. john's strong hands lifted you up around him, opening his eyes only to maneuver you both out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, laying you on top of the sheets, wet and wonderous.

“john, i need you.” you practically whined, hungry at the sight of him laying you down on his bed. “not fuckin’, love.” you pouted, reaching for his shoulders. he came down easy, tucking you into him. “i’ve been miserable without you. and i hate you for it. but i want you so badly.” the truths were bitter on your tongue, coaxed out by the safety of being in john’s arms. “never lettin’ you leave again, sweetheart. with or without my ring, you’re mine.” he punctuated his words with kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your collarbone. without my ring might have been a lie, but what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. “will you sleep with me?” he nodded against you, possessiveness placated by the need in your voice. john pulled out of your arms, ignoring your whines, and messed around in his dresser, pulling out boxers for himself and a shirt for you. he pulled you up gently, pushing the shirt over your head with practiced ease. “c’mon.”

when you opened your eyes again, you were on top of john under the mostly-dry covers. one leg draped across his lower half with an arm on his chest, your head on his heartbeat. “this doesn’t mean all is forgiven.” he hummed something unintelligible. “and i’m not running to the courthouse with you tomorrow.” he chuckled at that. “sure, lovie. whatever you want.” you sniffed. “one more thing. i know you track my location. you can’t come bursting out of the woodwork whenever im having fun.” well that wasn’t happening, but he let you believe it. “time t’ sleep, duck.” he turned off the light, drowning you in peaceful dark. “‘m glad you’re back here.” here, in his arms. here, in his space. here, in his heart where you constantly lived. “me too, john.”

and when you woke up the next morning with your wedding ring slid back on your finger, well, you pretended to throw a bit of a fit, biting back a smile the whole time.

[athys-obelia]

summary: the non dysfunctional!imperial family au hcs no one asked for 😳👉👈

character/s: anastacius de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, athanasia de alger obelia, jennette de alger obelia

here's part 2 :)

let’s set our stage, shall we?

first of all claude n anastacius’ dad is dead coz we don’t like him at all ew

so ana is the emperor, and claude is his heir presumptive (aka he’s got the strongest claim to the throne rn, but this can be changed by the birth of someone who has a stronger one - ie, anastacius’ child who would be the heir apparent) also bc “i know my mom and i gave u lots of childhood trauma that you prlly won’t be recovering from because therapists aren’t a thing here but here’s a crown you might get to make it better”

claude’s in a position where after the birth of ana’s kid/direct descendant, he’s gonna be given a duchy that athy should inherit after him while still retaining the title of prince

but after hearing of diana’s pregnancy, ana tells her and claude he doesn’t really plan on having children and wants to make their future kid his successor

he basically reserves a spot for their child in the directory and rather than announcing anything publically, anastacius names her athanasia after the sex is confirmed

then this mf obviously pulls a clown move and gets penelope pregnant and complicates things, ultimately naming her jennette, finding the name fitting - ‘god is gracious’

and really, what could be more evidence of god’s grace than the child he’s now fathering, when he thought his legacy would be ending with him?

anyways!!!

so since athy and jennette are born near the beginning of ana’s reign, both claude and anastacius are wayyy too busy trying to bring back the empire from the literal brink of bankruptcy and a possible war to really spend time w their kids

it’s alright, though!! lily is hired as athy’s nanny, while jennette gets kiel’s mom as hers

they all still live together, though obviously the main palace is for ana + jennette while claude + athy are in a separate one

this 'separate one’ is ruby palace after ana dismisses the concubines and he definitely 100% did this on purpose, and whenever he’s summoning claude he’s such a shit about it and goes about it the way you’d summon a deadass concubine

on a separate note, it’s surprisingly claude who visits athy first - he’s seen her here and there with lily but hasn’t ever had the chance to spend time w her. but now it’s almost been a year since athy’s birth (or diana’s death), her first birthday is fast approaching, and he is drunk

lily is a reallyyyy light sleeper and enters the nursery upon hearing someone inside

she doesn’t expect to see the prince standing above his daughter’s crib, a strand of her golden hair between his fingers as he just…stares at her

she approaches quietly, curtsying in greeting - he’s too absorbed to notice, and after a few minutes of silence lilian tells him, “babies can get lonely too, your highness.”

he glances at her then, confused. “how?” he really can’t understand how this girl, who can’t even speak yet comprehend something like loneliness

“princess athanasia is very responsive to her surroundings, much more than children her age usually are,” lily says, “and i like to believe children are able to tell when their parents are with them.”

he scoffs - what a foolish thought. still, claude sits by her bedside, and before he can register it, he’s taken over by sleep

the next night, claude makes his way towards the nursery and stiffly asks if athy could sleep beside him for the night - it’s fairly late, but lilian allows it

he’s gone to the main palace too early the next morning for athy to be awake, but she spent about two minutes tops worrying about the strange surroundings, saw the shiny chandelier and fancy bed and decided yes, she doesn’t mind this kidnapping

this becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence soon enough, and sometime that week she wakes up in the middle of the night with her nose pressed into something soft and literally falls off the huge ass bed at the realisation that this something soft is actually her papa’s hair (you just know that hair smells great i mean uh-)

this mans wakes up and peeks at her on the ground, reaches out to grab her from the front of her nightdress (he swears it’s exactly how he’s seen lilian do it) and plops her back onto the bed

she backs up OBVIOUSLY, you don’t just wake up with a random ass man in your bed and just vibe together?? lee jihye is dying but he glares at her for disturbing his sleep and athy pulls her act together in 0.000001 secs as claude pulls her closer and goes back to sleep

as athy grows, claude starts allowing her to visit his office during the day until it becomes a sort of ritual - he’d have tea and milk prepared and she’d come, sitting somewhere completing a puzzle or sum while he works

mans nearly tears down the entire imperial palace the day she doesn’t show up until he finds her in the garden, teaching jettie the 'proper’ way to hold a teacup during tea parties while lilian and roger’s wife, vivian, watch

athy emotionally blackmails asks him to join the tea party, so half an hour later, anastacius finds his brother sitting on the grass with a plastic teacup that athy’s filling with hot water as she lectures him to learn to fix his posture from lily so he can sit like a “proper dignified lady”

so in the beginning, jennette actually ends up spending more time with claude than her dad. though one day, the brothers are in the audience hall when athy runs in with felix running after her telling her not to run (there’s a shit ton of guards surrounding anastacius so felix has orders to be with princess athanasia when claude is with ana)

anastacius is used to this sight, and watches, smirking at his brother’s subtle smile as athy offers him this wonky looking flower crown - claude accepts it wordlessly, and ana wants to slap his ass to sanity, who wouldn’t thank their kid when they do adorable things like this??

but then they hear another voice, and in comes jennette with vivian not too far behind her. now jettie has a much cleaner looking crown in her hand, but she glances at her father’s elaborate and beautiful crown all embedded with gems and glittering and then at the one she’s fashioned out of daisies

she's always thought she was much like her uncle - jennette was so fascinated by the plain daises, they weren’t flashy but caught her eye all the same - while athy was shiny and bold like her dad

but now she’s second guessing her choice, how could she make such a simple crown for her dad, the emperor??

claude sighs from beside anastacius and literally picks off his brother’s crown before tossing it towards a very tired felix

athy urges jennette forward, and with a bright red covering her entire face she offers the crown. jennette glances at her uncle for comfort before muttering, “for papa”

anastacius.exe has crashed

this blushly, embarrassed, and apparently talented at flower crowns kid was his?

long story short he forgets to breathe or react and jettie thinks he hates the crown and hates her and won’t ever like to see her again so she starts getting teary

claude pushes his brother’s head down before athy can be convicted for murder

ana 100% almost faints when her tiny chubby fingers delicately place the crown in place, he’ll never admit it but he closed his eyes and almost hugged her instinctively as she shyly adjusted some of his bangs around the new headpiece, muttering, “papa pretty”

jennette rushes back to her sister, who’s glaring daggers at the emperor

anastacius tries to smile to calm jennette a bit and maybe look nice enough for his niece to not kill him in his sleep

right well kiel becomes the royal playmate for both the princesses - athy has her classes with him since she’s advanced and honestly they’ll be going back forth with infodumps one minute and he’s teaching her to make paper airplanes the next

(she writes notes on the paper airplanes the next time she’s in claude’s office and flies them towards him, stuff like, 'does uncle cius also snore loudly like papa?’ and he gets seriously offended like a pissbaby)

jennette first met kiel when he was visiting his mom - vivian had to leave for a bit and she taught him a bunch of flower names and their meanings in the meantime - he makes sure to research a new flower every time he visits her, and brings her a bouquet of said flowers she always knows them but never says anything coz she doesn’t wanna hurt his feelings and he gets so excited as he tells her about their meanings it’s so cute

speaking of jennette - claude and ana may seem worlds apart but they’re at the same level of emotionally constipated

ana watches his brother and niece interact and he craves that, an unconditional, timeless love that can’t possibly be tainted by ulterior motives or the like, but he just doesn’t know how to approach little jettie

it seems easy enough - she’s a smiley, sweet girl and theoretically would be friendly if he is to approach her

but gods he’s just so ashamed - such a sweet babe grew without either of her parents and he doesn’t have an excuse because holy hell, even claude is close to athy

he’s being served food in his chambers when he asks the maid about jennette, and she tells him how among her first words was 'love’ and the brunette would just stroll the palace pointing at people and declare “love you” and watch their face light up

thats so CUTE OMFG

his jaw is touching the floor when he’s told that his daughter knows the names of every worker within the palaces

at this point he’s honestly questioning whether this child is his at all

he’s absolutely horrified at the realisation that this maid, who doesn’t even work in jennette’s part of the palace, knows more about her than he does - hell, he hadn’t even asked vivian to keep him updated on her growth, what right does he have to stick himself into her life now?

now, the maid quietly suggests starting with something small like inviting jennette to tea and

of course he goes about it the wrong way??

poor jettie thinks she’s being tested by the ruthless emperor on her etiquette and spends the entire day practicing with claude after athy guilted him into it

she’s so nervous in front of her dad that he honestly feels even guiltier, and anastacius hurries to grab her hands in his to calm their tremble as she reaches to serve him tea

she apologises lmao and he’s just so flustered himself that he orders for her to sit down and instructs her through a few deep breaths

as she calms down, ana serves her the tea before asking whether girls her age even drink tea

she says no and you can literally hear the crickets

he slides the cup he’s poured for her over to his side before gesturing towards the deserts (it was claude’s daughter-luring pro tip) on her side

“you look like you read a lot,” ana says, before asking whether she’s been reading anything interesting lately

“i don’t, actually,” she tells him shyly

anastacius laughs at how of all things his hate for books is what she got from him - and only when jennette chuckles does he realise that he said that out loud

he lets her go around her bedtime, feeling rather… energized? he doesn’t know how to explain it, but it’s a good feeling

he’s busy again the next day, but has an aide send her flowers - the same ones she had put in her flower crown for him

yes lucas is still sleeping in the palace, yes athy still finds him

so athy sees the flowers from uncle cius and is enraged, literally walks up to her uncle and demands he leave jennette alone if he’s only gonna break her heart by neglecting her

and so we have fifteen minutes of the emperor of obelia stuttering as he explains himself to this seven year old

smfh his cluelessness reminds her of her own dad and she takes pity on ana’s suffering soul

the next morning, to give him a chance to redeem himself, athy asks all four of them to have breakfast together - they accept the invitation, and despite an awkward start, the meal seems to be going well

peace is not written in this family’s fate however, and this is where the first coughing up blood thing happens

ohhhh the palace staff almost gets massacred that day

athy’s limp body is moved to jennette’s room since it’s the closest - lily bursts into tears at the very sight of her princess, jennette refuses to eat or drink until her sister can, felix hears his heart break, claude is barely holding himself together

ana is livid - who dares poison a member of his family? what has he even done to earn the privilege of calling these girls his family, when he can’t protect them, at the very least?

claude absolutely refuses to leave her room and finishes all his work right outside her door, lest she wake up in pain again

anastacius can’t keep his own anxiety about jennette at bay, insisting she sleep with him as long as claude stays with athanasia - he can tell she’s drained, and she ends up sharing some of her worries late at night. he soothes both her worries and her cries, letting her curl up into him despite it being a rather uncomfortable position

the family is thrown into chaos again once they realise it was never poison, but athy’s own magic that caused this

aka when chibi lucas drops by and voodoos her back to 100%, everyone legit starts worshipping the ground he walks on - he saved their precious princess!!

ana insists on making him athy’s royal playmate after hearing she isn’t fully healed yet

what does this give us? well, a very very early lucas vs kiel

since they’ve both got the title of royal playmate, they constantly argue on whether being the future duke alpheus is a better title than the future royal magician

the girls are always dragged into this - athy always takes kiel’s side to avenge blackie, and jennette likes kiel too, but the young magician sir saved her sister!!

so.

when vivian passes away due to an illness, it’s like roger is an entirely different person

jennette + kiel + athy all help with the funeral preparations since she was a mother/aunt to them all

felix seems to be paying extra attention to kiel

it isn’t long after this that roger decides to send him to arlanta for his studies, leaving behind two disillusioned princesses

athy spends her time viciously studying to stay ahead of arlanta’s curriculum, while jennette takes an interest in cooking

(athy tries and fails spectacularly; lucas laughs at her and jettie accidentally serves him his favourite food too salty to be edible)

a/n: this would be the first of the two parts, so stay on the lookout, hope y'all enjoyed n have a great day <3

edit: part 2

[ja-barakrispy]

A/N: This is the first fanfic I've ever written, so I'm very sorry if this absolutely sucks🥺 Any (kind) constructive feedback is greatly appreciated!

I don't want this to be too much of a slow burn, but I also don't want it to be too fast paced, so idk, we'll see how it goes😅

Also, it currently doesn't have a name, so that's a work in progress!🙃

Pairing: Fem reader X ???

Warnings: Potentially offensive language, mentions of death/loss/grief, very brief mentions of jail & implying a relationship with a minor.

Summary: It's been 6 months since The Blip, and life isn't anywhere close to going back to normal. Y/N Stark is still coming to terms with the loss of her dad, as well as adjusting to life since everyone who vanished returned back to Earth.

Part One

"Steve represented the best in all of us..." You looked up at Sam Wilson as he spoke.

Steve Rogers' memorial was somewhere you didn't expect to be so soon after your father's passing. Everything that had happened since your dad had sacrificed himself felt like a continuous storm that was never going to let up, and Steve's death added to the weight of loss.

"...a few months ago, millions of people reappeared after five years away..." Sam continued.

You hadn't blipped. You were one of the supposed lucky ones.

Mostly, you were grateful - you'd gotten to spend more time with your dad (all thanks to Carole Danvers locating him and Nebula on the Benatar ship), and you got to see Morgan flourish into the sweet young girl she is now. But there was always that thought in the back of your mind: 'what would life be like now if I had blipped?'.

"...we need new heroes," Sam looked down at you from the stage. "...ones suited to the times we're in."

Rhodey nugged you lightly and you looked at each other. You gave him a small smile. He'd been a huge support to you, and he had so much belief in you.

"...thank you Capitan America," Sam was now holding Steve's shield. "But this belongs to you." There was an applause as the shield was placed into a display cabinet. It almost felt wrong to you, and you were sure Rhodey felt the same way.

"You OK?" He turned to you. You nodded.

Before you could speak, Sam was walking towards the two of you. "It's good to see you both." He smiled as he took Rhodey's out-stretched hand and pulled him into a hug.

"Wouldn't have missed it, man". Rhodey pat Sam on the shoulder.

Sam turned to you with open arms and you reciprocated his welcome hug. As you both pulled back he looked at you with a hint of concern in his expression. "How are you doing?" He asked.

"You know, up days, down days..." You shrugged, beginning to fiddle with the material belt that wrapped around the dress you were wearing.

Sam nodded his head slightly. "I'm just about to go and look around the exhibition, you're both welcome to join me?"

"Yeah that would be great, it would be good to catch up." Rhodey smiled before looking over to you.

"Sounds good." You gave a small smile. "I'm just going to get some air, and I'll be right back."

The two men nodded and returned your small smile, before you took off towards the exit.

Outside, you breathed in the warm Spring air. You just wished you could feel the warmth on your skin. How you felt was almost hard to explain - emotionally, you were completely numb and yet in absolute agony all at one.

The only person who could get you to emote nowadays was Morgan, and that was mostly because you didn't want her to see you so sad.

As you sat perched on a wall outside the building, you enjoyed the near-silence around you. There was very minimal noise: the distant whirl of traffic; a few people spoke softly as they walked by; the birds in the trees above singing. The quiet atmosphere was almost enough to drown the constant sea of thoughts running through your mind.

But then you thought of Steve.

In some ways he had been like an uncle to you. When your dad introduced you to the team, Steve accepted you into the Avengers like you'd been around for years. And despite the very obvious disagreements with your dad, he never stopped showing how much he supported you. How much he believed in you.

To you, that's what made him so worthy of being Captain America.

You took in once last deep breath, before stepping down from the wall and going back inside.

You found Rhodey and Sam looking around the museum. There were several of Steve's belongings locked up in display cabinets and pictures of him on the walls, alongside huge captions containing a mass of information and explanation. You stopped briefly to look at a picture of him and Bucky Barnes when they served in the army together. You were surprised that Bucky wasn't here today, but at the same time you understood - having to be grieve in public is one of the hardest things expected of a person.

"Y/N, I've just got to make a call to the Compound." Rhodey turned to you, phone in hand.

"Yeah of course, I'll meet you out front in a bit." You nodded.

"It was good to see you Sam." He shook hands with The Falcon and they exchanged goodbyes.

"So," Sam folded his arms across his chest. "How are you really?"

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. That was the thing about Sam - he could see straight through everyone, he was very hard to fool.

"Is it really that hard to believe that I'm actually doing OK?' a laugh escaped as you spoke.

"Y/N, you've had a lot of deal with over the last six months; I can only imagine losing Steve has been another thing to add to the pile." Sam's expression grew more concerned. You chewed on the inside of your mouth, a terrible habit you bad developed when you didn't know quite what to say.

"Have you..." Sam began, unsure whether to finish his question. "Have you spoken to Peter?"

A small sigh escaped you. "Yeah.

"I held on to so much hope when he blipped, but there was too much uncertainty. If he ever did come back, would he come back the age he should be, or would he still be 16? Would things still work out between us? But obviously we knew things couldn't continue when he did come back."

"I hate to say it, but you know it's for the best." Sam shrugged. "He's only 16, you're nearly 22..."

"Well, in all honesty, I don't want to go to jail." Another laugh fell out as you spoke.

"Not to mention you're a completely different person to who you were five years ago; you've matured more than your years." Sam added.

Your tone softened along with your expression. "If I'd have blipped too, things would be different."

Sam took a step closer to you and placed his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm about to give you some tough love, so buckle up;" he began. "You can't focus on what life would be like if you'd blipped, Y/N. As much as you want to live in that fantasy, you can't - this is reality. Damn, I wish I hadn't blipped!

"Now, I know for a fact, that you have so much potential in that brain of yours, you're incredibly smart, just like your dad. But you need to tap into that potential and use it. Now is the time for you to truly make something of yourself, and be the person that you want to be."

You looked back up at Sam. You knew he was right. "I'll try." And you meant it.

"Speaking of Peter, I'm actually seeing him tonight, I said I'd help him with this project for school."

"Look at you, being a real adult." Sam teased. You laughed a little with him.

A sudden thought dawned on you: "It must have been so weird coming back from the blip and everything being so different." Your brows knitted together slightly.

Sam let out a giggle, "you could say that."

His expression hardened slightly.

"When I came back, it was pretty much just like waking up from the longest sleep.

"We arrived right back where we left and everyone was just going about their business, as if half the population hadn't completely vanished. I remember their faces; some confused, some relieved. Many of them ran, I presume back to where they lost their loved ones to see if they'd returned also.

"The first thought that I had was about my sister and my nephews, I just wanted to know if they were ok. But, we needed to fight first. Never before had I felt such a fire in my gut - I was ready. We all were. We were ready to do whatever it took to defeat Thanos.

"Some of us more than others."

You nodded.

There was a brief silence before you spoke; "I'd best go look for Rhodey, he'll think I've dashed off without him.

"Thank you, Sam. It's been really good seeing you." The smile you gave The Falcon was the most genuine smile you'd given anyone in months.

"It's been good to see you too." Sam embraced you in a goodbye hug, before you began to leave the museum.

"Y/N," Sam called as you left. You turned to look at him over your shoulder. "Don't be a stranger."

* * *

Part Two HERE

[iturbide]

Emmeryn?

How do I feel about this character?

Glorious.  Magnificent.  Inspirational.  Emmeryn is a fascinating character for the fact that she took over a failing nation from her warmongering father at the age of ten, adopted a purely pacifistic set of policies, suffered through years of distrust and outright abuse from her own people, and not only managed to maintain her kindness and optimism in people, she managed to foster her people’s trust and love for her as a leader after the disastrous reign of her father.  She was already a force to be reckoned with in canon when they decided to unfairly drag her off the stage to spur her brother’s character development; had she lived, I’m absolutely certain that she would have continued to be an absolute powerhouse of a ruler because the affection of her people is one of the most powerful weapons a leader can have in their arsenal: Ylisse wouldn’t let anyone take her easily, as beloved as she is.

Fire Emblem doesn’t have many leaders like her, and I can’t think of any that live long, sadly.  Which is a shame, because they’re frankly fascinating, and I think the game could be improved by having them survive and thrive even in the face of war, rather than “inevitably” falling to it. 

Who do I ship this character with romantically?

Grima.  It’s Grima, okay?  I know that Phila is a popular ship for her, and I like that well enough, too, but my guilty pleasure and OTP for Emmeryn is with Grima.  Yes, I’m fully aware it’s crack.  That’s not going to stop me.

Who is my brOTP for this character?

Frederick, weirdly enough!  I’m not generally a fan of Frederick in any way, but I find his loyalty to her endearing, and I like the idea of them being contemporaries and friends; Emmeryn did trust him enough to watch over her siblings, after all, which implies to me that she knows his general character.  Also, she does have two siblings, of course I love their interactions...but I also love the idea of her bonding with Robin.  Robin doesn’t usually have an older sibling figure, and Emmeryn really does give off that sort of vibe, and seeing her take Robin under her wing is just a really warm sort of thought.

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character?

Are there popular opinions about Emmeryn?

...I guess if I had one unpopular opinion it would be that she did, in fact, mess up big time.  It wasn’t malicious, I don’t think, but the fact that she never reached out to Plegia in the roughly fifteen years after the war ended is a huge problem, because it gave Gangrel the ammo he needed to stir up public sentiment against Ylisse again.  Was it her fault that her father’s "Crusade” resulted in the genocide of the Plegian people?  No -- but as his successor in heading up the halidom of Ylisse, it should have been her responsibility to handle the aftermath of those atrocities, including admitting that Ylisse was in the wrong for doing that at the absolute minimum. 

There is value in focusing her attention on healing her own nation, of course.  Ylisse was in a terrible state when she called an end to the war following her father’s death, and work absolutely needed to be done.  But Ylisse has clearly bounced back and is now thriving again; there’s really no excuse for her to have sat on such an important diplomatic gesture for so long.  The fact that she canonically does not deny that Ylisse was in the wrong, but doesn’t directly admit to them either except to say that she’s made the halidom a “realm of peace” makes it feel like she’s trying to put the past behind them without thinking about the fact that Ylisse did direct, irreparable harm to another nation, and that’s not something that can just be swept under the rug (as much as Awakening on the whole might try to). 

I love her dearly.  But she made a big mistake with that, and I wish that more people would acknowledge that Gangrel really did have a point when he berated her.

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon?

NOT DYING??? 

No, that’s really the big one.  I really, really wish that she hadn’t been killed to serve as character development for her brother, because it’s really gross the way IntSys fridges its characters (and especially its female characters) to serve as development for its (usually male) leads.  I think the game could have been really interesting if Emmeryn survived to see through the actual events -- and given who she is as a person, I think she of all people might have been able to convince even Grima to stand down from the fight by trying to understand the fell dragon’s pain, rather than inflicting more on them. 

Give Me a Character 

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 5

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, AO3

~*CS*~

Cincinnati, May 12th

“Emma, sweetheart, how’s the tour?  Are the fans nice?  Have you been able to go sightseeing anywhere?”

“Are you getting enough sleep?  You didn’t on the last one and you were basically a zombie when you got back.  Did you pack that melatonin I dropped off?  What about your meals?  You’ve been eating something green everyday right?”

Emma rolled her eyes at Mary Margaret and David’s unending questions.  While they’d never formally adopted her they were as close to having parents as she was ever going to get.  She absolutely loved them but sometimes they drove her nuts with their worrying.

“The tour is going pretty good and the fans are great as always.  No sightseeing since this is the first day of rest we’ve gotten so far and I don’t really feel like leaving the room.  I packed the melatonin and I’m getting as much sleep as I can and I’ve eaten green things.  Sour apple rings count right?”  She stifled a laugh at David’s spluttering and Mary Margaret’s attempts to calm him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.  Tink’s been on a health kick lately and has been making us drink these smoothie things with more vegetable juices and leafy greens than frozen fruit and Killian refuses to eat fast food so we’ve been stopping at actual restaurants or he’ll cook for us on the bus.”

At the mention of his name Killian popped his head through the doorway that connected their rooms.  One of the greatest perks of having him on the tour was no longer having to share one room with both Ruby and Tink while Will got an entire room to himself.  Of course Will hadn’t been as enthused about having to share for once.

“Need something, Swan?”

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of him.  You have been trying to be friendly with him, haven’t you?  I know you were hesitant at first but Ruby has nothing but nice things to say about him and he’s been through some tough times.”

“What’s he been cooking?  And what kinds of restaurants?  Some of those places can be just as bad as fast food and he might not know it.”

Emma was extremely glad that it was only Mary Margaret and David that were on speaker.  Though she wouldn’t have put it past Killian to have heard everything they said with the way they were just shy of yelling into their phone to make sure she heard them.  As it was he could probably tell they were talking about him from the heat she could feel in her cheeks and ears.  She waved him off from her spot on the bed, turning slightly so he could see the phone she was holding.  His eyebrows shot up before silently apologizing and ducking back into his room.

“You guys really need to chill out.  Everything’s going great, Mary Margaret, and it’s early enough that we’re still getting along.  And please stop analyzing what I’ve been eating, David, you’re a sheriff not a nutritionist.”

They both hemmed and hawed but it had been that way since she’d started going further than fifty miles outside of Storybrooke to play her music.  At first it had been annoying and unwelcome until she’d realized that that’s what people did when they cared about someone.  The Nolans were second to none when it came to worrying and being overprotective out of love.

“Then, as a sheriff, is he being respectful?  And I don’t just mean with you and Tink.  He’s not trashing hotel rooms or causing disturbances in the cities you’ve been playing at has he?  I’ve read about some of the trouble he’s gotten into-”

“David, you didn’t!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Online, stuff online!” David corrected impatiently. “I’m not going to illegally pull a file on someone, no matter how much I want to.”

“So you’d rather rely on gossip sites?” Emma hissed lowly, not wanting Killian to overhear any part of her conversation at the moment. “I thought we’d agreed to not look at those after that one article made you both join Twitter just to berate the author and the site.”

“Hey, now, I got rid of it after that,” Mary Margaret said defensively, “I’m only on Instagram now.”

“I only promised to not look at stuff about you,” David grumbled. “A man with a very public history of causing trouble joins the band on only the good word of one person?  I have the right to be concerned.”

She bit back her sigh of frustration.  As much as she didn’t like David’s attitude she couldn’t help but understand, seeing as she’d felt almost exactly the same way in the beginning.

“Yeah, you do, but I’m not too worried about it and you shouldn’t be either.  You should be more worried about what Ruby’s going to do to you when I tell her you don’t trust her.”

Their twin gasps had her grinning.

“That’s cold, kiddo,” David grumbled.

“Just like your lasagne will be once word gets to Granny,” she said, snickering. “Look, everything’s going great and will keep going great unless you keep sending bad vibes my way.”

“Bad vibes?” Mary Margaret asked with a smile Emma could hear in her voice.

“Yup, the baddest of vibes, ones where I end up with laryngitis or the bus gets a flat in the middle of nowhere or my guitarist breaks their hand and can’t go on tour.  Oh wait, that’s already happened.”

Killian took up space in the doorway once again, his eyebrows high on his forehead.  She shook her head at his unasked question but didn’t shoo him away again. 

“According to Ruby it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her and that it could be the best thing to happen to you.  She has been very forthcoming about what Killian going on tour with you might end up becoming,” Mary Margaret said smugly.

“Wait, what do you mean?”  David asked confused as Emma scrambled to end that conversation before it started.

“Would you look at the time?  I gotta go!”

“Emma, sweetheart-”

“I’ll call you guys in a few days.  Love ya, bye!” With a huff she ended the call and dropped her phone onto the mattress, knowing she’d only postponed the inevitable gossip session Mary Margaret wanted to have with her.  She looked at Killian, who was still lurking in the doorway, “Yeah?”

“Not to be nosey-”

“But you’re going to be anyway,” she groaned, “You heard your name and you’re curious.”

He chuckled and strode into her room, settling himself on Tink’s bed, leaning back against the headboard, “You would be too.  Especially when you have a tenuous hold on a gig and the person who decides your fate has mentioned your name and then not long after is discussing ‘bad vibes’.”

“You think too highly of yourself,” she said dismissively. “I was talking to Mary Margaret and David about how terrible your cooking is and that it’s been giving my stomach bad vibes.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Swan,” he said with a shake of his head, “If I recall correctly you had three servings of last night’s fare.”

She rolled her eyes, “Just replenishing the reserves I used up during the show, Jones.  The stir fry wasn’t that special.”

“I see,” he said seriously, rubbing his hand thoughtfully over his chin, “I guess I’ll strike it from future meal options, wouldn’t want you to have to force yourself to eat it before complaining about it to others.”

“That’s not-” she huffed, knowing he’d called her bluff, “Whatever, you know it was great.  That’s what I was telling them.  David was all upset that I might not be eating what he considers a balanced diet.”

He chuckled, “And the bad vibes?”

“They worry too much and I basically told them they’d be jinxing me if they kept it up.  I don’t think Mary Margaret believed me and I know neither of them will relax until the tour’s over,” she sighed, flopping back onto the mattress and staring at the ceiling.

“Is this the same David that inspired you to learn guitar?” Killian asked casually but she could hear the hesitant caution in his tone.

“Yeah, him and Mary Margaret, his wife, kinda latched on and never let go, not even when-” she paused, still unwilling to share her whole messed up story with him, “things got really rough for me.  They’re pretty much my parents in every way without actually being my parents, including getting all up in my business and then nagging me about what they find.  You know how it is.”

“I wouldn’t, actually,” Killian said softly.  She sat up on her elbows and he gave her a self-deprecating shrug, “Mum died when I was eight and my father left when I was ten.  Spent a few years living with a distant cousin until things got straightened out.”

She blinked at him in shock.  Not once, in any interview or magazine profile had that part of his childhood been discussed.  They had only ever mentioned where he’d gone to school before he’d dropped out when the Realm of Jewels started getting big.  At the time, when she’d been devouring every piece of media she could when it came to her favorite band, she hadn’t paid attention to that lack of detail.  It hadn’t mattered then and while it still made no difference to her it did go a long way in explaining why she felt like she had known him for years instead of weeks.

“You, uh, got adopted then?” She asked hesitantly as she sat up, needing to know if he’d had the same heartaches as her or if he’d been one of the lucky ones.

“Er, not as such, no-” he looked up at the ceiling, his Adam's apple bobbing as his hand rubbed at the back of his neck, “First my brother was granted civil rights for adolescents, essentially cleaving himself out from under the burden of our father.  Once he proved he could support not only himself but me as well he became my legal guardian.  He had just had his seventeenth birthday the week before.”

“Seventeen?” she breathed, “And you were fourteen.”

His head snapped back down, his eyes wide and his voice a little unsteady, “You really must have been quite the fan if you still remember that bit of trivia.”

“Maybe I was,” she said softly.  She dropped her gaze to where her hands were balled up into tight fists in her lap, “Must have been nice.  Living with someone that actually wanted you.”

“It was but then there were times where it wasn’t,” he gave a deep sigh and when she looked up he was staring down at his own hands as they played with denim over his knees. “Liam had been my hero my entire life just being my older brother.  When he became my guardian I felt as though I had to push myself into perfection to live up to what I thought he expected of me.  I’d already started drinking by that point but it didn’t truly become a problem until I was sixteen.

“I knew Liam was disappointed but he had no idea how to help me and I’m not even sure I would have accepted it had he offered.  Instead he proposed a compromise of allowing me to play with his newly formed band if I curtailed my drinking substantially.  It worked, for a while at least.  I’d been playing for quite some time on my own but with the camaraderie of the band and the discovery of actually enjoying writing songs I found an outlet for all the feelings that I’d been trying to drown with the drink.  For the first time since Liam had assumed my guardianship I felt as though he was my brother again, not just my beleaguered caretaker.”

Emma wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.  She didn’t want to inadvertently come across as judgmental by commenting about his drinking but she would have given anything for some relative to have saved her from any one of her foster homes and done whatever they’d ask in gratitude.  Though, when she thought about it, Mary Margaret and David were practically the next best thing and she’d given them plenty of teenage attitude at the time.  Especially when it came to the year she would give anything to forget.

“Did he throw a fit when you decided to quit school for the band?” She asked, hoping to steer the both of them into less painful and mine filled waters.

He looked up with a small grin, “It was his bloody idea.  Liam didn’t want to leave me to my own destructive devices and since the band had been steadily building momentum he was loath to relegate shows to only weekends and holidays while I was in my final year.  He put it up to a vote with the others and they agreed.  And since I didn’t have a licence yet and therefore couldn’t do my share of the driving I spent my time on the road reading anything and everything I could get my hands on.  I’m fairly certain I got a better education that way than I would have otherwise.”

“So is that why you guys were the Jolly Rogers first?  A bunch of pirates driving all over England to pillage seedy pubs for fame and fortune?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled, his grin widening.

She grinned back, feeling somewhat proud that she’d been able to somewhat keep herself from completely depressing him with her curiosity.  As much as she’d obsessed over him when she was younger she was surprised by how much she actually didn’t know about him, even though she’d just berated David for taking gossip as truth.  There was a part of her that itched to know more about him, the real person and not the persona she and millions of fans thought they knew.  Their little chats on the bus and in the small bits of down time just weren’t enough and suddenly she had an idea on how to fix that.

“Alright, where to Jones?”

“Er, what?” He asked, his confusion at her non sequitur furrowing his brow.

“I’ve never been to this city before and I know you have so you are now my de facto pirate tour guide.”

“Swan,” he sighed, though his smile was growing by the second, “I’ve only been here twice and both times I only had a few hours to explore, which back then was usually as many bars as I could get to before sound check.  I’m probably the last person that should be leading you around this fair metropolis.”

“Too bad-” she jumped up off the bed and began looking for the shoes she’d kicked off as soon as they’d walked through the door earlier that morning, “Google ‘things to do in Cincinnati’ and pretend that you know what you’re talking about.  Then I’ll pretend to be impressed like every other time you think you’re being all too cool for school and worldly.”

“Too cool for school?” Killian repeated incredulously. “What are you, twelve?”

“Twenty-eight,” she said absently, grinning triumphantly as she extricated one shoe from under the desk and spotted the toe of the other poking out from under the bed Killian was sitting on.

“Twenty-eight and apparently have no idea how to stroke a man’s ego so he’ll want to do ridiculous favors for you,” he muttered.

She looked up at him sharply and got an eyebrow wiggle in return.  With a huff she sat back on her bed to slip on her shoe, “I don’t need to stroke a man’s anything to get him to do stuff for me.”

“Oh, really?” He asked incredulously. “And what pray tell do you do?”

Gladly rising to the challenge she straightened from her bent position she subtly arched her back and blinked owlishly at him, nearly grinning in triumph at the way his mouth parted slightly and he sucked in a breath.  She did let a small smile grace her lips as she pointed to the shoe under the bed.

“Can you grab that for me first?”

He nodded, a little slack-jawed, and as soon as he bent over the side of the bed she relaxed her posture.  When he came up with the shoe she was waiting with her hand out, her brow raised and a shit-eating grin all in place.  At his look of indignation she kind of wished she’d had her phone ready to get a picture of it.

“That’s- that’s bloody manipulation, that is!” He spluttered, slapping her shoe into her palm.

“Ooo, someone’s got their panties in a twist.  All I did was ask you to get me my shoe,” she said innocently, putting the shoe on. “Come on Tour Guide, show me the good stuff.”

“Unbelievable,” he growled, but he was shaking his head and smiling.  He stood and moved back to his own room, shouting through the open door, “I expect you to pay for whatever unique culinary delight we’ll inevitably be trying.  Fool me once, Swan.”

“Shame on you,” she cheerfully called back.

Making sure she had her phone and room key she shot off a text to everyone who needed to know where they were going.  It was a request from Regina that she had chafed at and ignored at first, until she began being recognized in the streets and the paparazzi had started following her around.  After one incident that had had her holed up in the backroom of a used bookstore with a dead phone, no one’s number memorized and a show that had been only a couple of hours away Regina had put it in her tour contract that she had to be in contact at all times.  She still chafed at practically being under her manager’s watchful eye like a toddler but she and Regina both agreed that it was better than being saddled with a handler instead.  At her insistence Ruby, Tink and Will were also in the group text so Regina wouldn’t try to hound them about her whereabouts thinking they could be hiding her.

Her phone chimed as she debated whether or not to put on a sweatshirt or her leather jacket.

Rub a dub: you know you could leave me out of this now right?

and ease up on the guilt trip I’m taking you on?  no way! She responded, deciding on the sweatshirt and tying it around her waist.

Rub a dub: jokes on you, girly, i’ve got a front row seat

to what? She sent, suspicious and wary about what Ruby could mean.

Rub a dub: if you’re asking you’re not ready to know yet.

Emma glared at her phone for a moment before sending multiple texts demanding Ruby to explain herself that all went unanswered.  She growled in frustration and turned to glare at Killian who was once more leaning on the door jamb, chuckling.

“Ruby’s being an ass,” she gave as an explanation, shoving her phone in her back pocket.  Then she got a good look at what Killian was wearing, “Is that a Reds hat?  I thought you didn’t know the city that well.  Why do you have a hat for their team?”

“Oh, you’re a big baseball fan then?” He asked, clearly surprised.

“David is, I’m more of a fan of the way the pants fit.  Plus the Reds had that jersey with no sleeves last year.  Arms like those tend to stick out in a girl’s memory,” she said dreamily, remembering just how well the players wore those particular jerseys.  Then she mentally shook herself and nodded at the hat, “You didn’t answer my question.”

His lips quirked in amusement, lightly touching the hat’s bill and then the sunglasses that she hadn’t noticed hanging from his shirt collar, “I’ve found that it’s the easiest way to blend into the crowd.  When we were at the height of… everything it was hard to even step out of the hotel without getting mobbed.  Liam discovered, quite by accident mind you, that people didn’t expect to see us dressing ourselves down and to be fans of the local sports teams.  Unfortunately it means I have a wide array of ball caps that one would consider quite a collection if they weren’t solely for a practical use.  If I had a choice I would have donned the hat from Pittsburgh but I’m not quite sure what rivalries are predominant in this city and I’d prefer not to be verbally insulted over the wrong choice.”

Emma gave a surprised laugh.  Just minutes before they’d been having a somber conversation that could have dragged the rest of the day down.  Instead they were joking around about baseball and overzealous fans.

“Should I put on some super elaborate disguise too?” She looked up at him with a teasing grin. “I could get a wig or maybe some of those glasses with the fake nose and mustache attached.”

Killian snorted, “As entertaining as that would be I think you’ll be fine, love, as long as you don’t wear the red leather.”

Feeling offended for half a second she begrudgingly agreed with him.  Her red leather jacket was her signature look, she’d worn it for all three of her album covers and went out on stage wearing it for the first half of the show.  It was as much a look as it was a kind of armor, one she’d been wearing for much longer than she’d been famous for it.  Having Killian tell her not to wear it, no matter how practical the advice was or that she’d already decided on a sweatshirt, had her suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Do you… um, do you have a hat I could borrow?”

He looked at her for a moment before nodding and moving back into his room.  She followed, shoving her hands in her pockets to keep from hugging her middle to keep herself steady.

As much as the room was identical to hers and Tink’s, the boys’ room looked like a tornado had run through half of it.  There were clothes strewn across the far, unmade bed, a rifled through duffle bag under the window, and a tray of mostly-eaten room service food on the desk.  In sharp contrast the closer bed was tidily made, a small orderly stack of books and notebooks on the bedside table closest to it.  Killian was sorting through one of the drawers of the bureau near the foot of it.

“We’re staying for one night and you put your stuff in the drawers?” She asked incredulously, moving closer to his nightstand to see what books he was reading.

“If it makes any difference-” she looked over at him and saw that he had the bill of a red hat clenched tightly in his hand as his gaze darted between the nightstand and her, “I only unpacked enough for the two days we’re here.  Er, looking for something, Swan?” 

“Just wanted to see what you were reading,” she said cautiously.  Feeling that she’d accidentally hit on yet another touchy subject she stepped back and waved her hand towards the bureau, “But that’s not important, you really took the time to unpack stuff for only two damn days?  Do you also set all your stuff out on the bathroom counter with a ruler to make sure it’s all lined up perfectly?”

“Do you want to stand here nit picking my travel habits or do you want to go explore the city?” Killian asked pointedly, stepping forward and holding the hat out to her though she could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Fine, let’s go-” she grinned, grabbing the hat.  Catching sight of the logo on the front she held it up with a sigh, “Really?  Red Sox?  Is it because I’m from Maine?”

“Would you rather wear the Yankees cap?” He challenged.

She shuddered, adjusting the snaps so it’d fit, “Never.  David would kill me if I was photographed in it and I’d never be allowed to step foot in Storybrooke again.”

“Do you have a preference then?” He looked back at the drawer, “As I said I have quite the array.”

“This is fine,” she said, trying to sound like it was a burden when she really didn’t care.  Grinning she put on the hat, pulling her ponytail through the opening in the back.  When she looked at Killian for approval he was watching her with a half grin on his face, “What?  Did I somehow put it on wrong?”

“Nothing of the sort, Swan,” he said softly.  Then his grin widened “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, pirate guide.”

What followed was a day unlike any Emma had ever had on a tour before.  They roamed the streets of the city with Killian making up facts about the various things they saw and their history as she egged him on, resulting in ridiculous stories that had her laughing until she was crying.  To her delight they ended their excursion sitting in the upper tier at a Reds game, thoroughly enjoying themselves as just two faces in the crowd.  Though, when it came time for the kiss cam she found she was surprisingly disappointed that the camera hadn’t been trained on them.  It wasn’t until they’d returned to the hotel and spent an hour moving back and forth between each other’s rooms before parting ways for the night that she figured out what Ruby had meant about having a front row seat.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Becoming - Part Four

Title: Becoming

One Shot: 4/6

Character: Tom Hiddleston

Genre: Realistic(?) fluff; Angst

Rating: T

Summary: Learning about his son was only just the start of the story. As Tom Hiddleston struggles to adapt to this sudden change in his life, he comes to learn that becoming a father might be the biggest role he’d ever taken on. *Sequel/Continuation of Lovers’ Eyes*

Authors Notes/Warnings: This story came about because I knew there was still so much about Tom and his son that I wanted to explore. I fully intended this to be a quick flash forward into their lives, a snapshot if you will….They had other ideas and so here we are. This is technically all one story but has been broken down into parts to make the reading easier.

Thanks so much first and foremost to @ciaodarknessmyheart who has dealt with me throwing all of these ideas at her and has helped shape them into something coherent and wonderful.

Hope you all enjoy!

Tag List: @tinchentitri @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @noplacelikehome77 @blacksuitofdoom @nonsensicalobsessions @theheartofpenelope @ms-cellanies @nuggsmum @inkededucatednnerdy @redfoxwritesstuff  @just-the-hiddles @wolfsmom1 @theoneanna @hiddlescastle @sabine-leo @alexakeyloveloki  @echantedbytwh @finchbaggins  @kenzieam @ciaodarknessmyheart @ladyblablabla @trippedmetaldetector

PREVIOUS

Breakfast, while more than a touch uneasy, had been nowhere near as awkward as Tom feared it would be. Not that he’d set out expecting to be invited in, especially after turning up on their doorstep at just after eight in the morning with absolutely no warning at all. It had been an impulsive, reckless decision but Tom could not find it in himself to regret it. Even as Keira glared at him coolly, her hand resting on Jaime’s shoulder as the boy bounced excitedly. They passed several moments in awkward silence before she gave a curt nod and invited Tom into the house. It was abundantly clear to Tom that while she wasn’t against him being involved in the boy’s life, dropping by as if he had the right to do so as he pleased was a step too far in her book. But she hadn’t fought him on it and for that Tom was incredibly grateful.

 An extra place had been set and Tom found himself pulled to sit next to a bright eyed Jaime who was speaking a mile a minute. He smiled indulgently as he took in the food laid on the table. Eggs, toast, crispy bacon, and sausages. Tom piled a fair amount onto his own plate, watching in fascination as Jaime ate between rapidly firing questions. His sleep logged mind struggled to keep up.

 The coffee Keira had set before him was a godsend in more ways than one. He nodded at her, offering what he hoped she would see was a small, grateful smile. Things were never going to be easy between them, too much bad blood lingered between them for that, but Tom hoped somehow they would be able to find middle ground. For Jaime’s sake at least.

 After breakfast, Jaime had lead his newly discovered father into the back garden to run and play. The weather was thankfully warm and surprisingly dry in a way that Tom was certain was tempting the weather gods. Especially this late in the year. They ran about for what felt like ages until Keira called them back inside, sending the boy upstairs to wash up and change for the day. Tom found himself rocking back and forth on his heels, wondering if he was overstepping the unspoken lines Keira had laid at the start of this. No matter what he or Jaime felt, Keira was the boy’s legal guardian. He was bound by her rules unless he took the steps to change it and with his life as uncertain as it was, that day seemed far off indeed.

 Things weren’t exactly easy after that strange morning, but they were slowly drifting in that direction. Jaime had clung to the idea of Tom as his father in a way Tom hadn’t expected. The boy was a mess of questions, curiosity, and joy. Over the years, in countless interviews, he’d been asked to describe his idea of happiness. And he’d always had the same, sweet but safely generic answers; lyrics or a quote he’d heard years ago. Things that captured the idea but not perhaps his reality of it. Never the real answer; his family or the first time he’d acted on stage, his first time on a set. Things that, looking back, were wonderful…But now, now he knew with absolute certainty that his happiness was seeing the pure unadulterated joy in the eyes of his little boy.

 It amazed him at times, thinking that something so simple, so small in the scheme of things, could come to mean so very much. Things were better yes…But they still had a long way to go.

 While Jaime had taken to Tom’s new role in his life like a duck to water, Keira had been wary. She didn’t hinder the relationship growing between Tom and Jaime nor did she actively encourage it. It had been a constant source of frustration for Tom. He knew why she acted the way she did, understood his behavior in regards to her daughter coloured the way she viewed him now. And he couldn’t fault her for that. Had he been in her position, Tom couldn’t say he wouldn’t have done the same.

 But he knew, even if he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, that sooner rather than later they would need to sit and talk, properly talk, about what was happening. About the role Tom would play in Jaime’s life.

 Tom had intended to find time to set aside to do just that, had even called his agent about starting to look for a good family solicitor should push indeed come to shove, but as it always did his life managed to throw itself in the way. He’d known filming for his latest project was coming up, and much sooner than he liked, but he hadn’t predicted the change in schedule which pushed up his need to be on set by a good three weeks. All the time he’d thought he’d had to prepare Jaime (and in all honesty, to prepare himself) for the looming separation his work would bring had been snatched from him. They needed him in five days’ time.

 He’d cursed after his agent had broken the news (a call shortly after he’d made it in the door from his morning run) and cursed a great deal more when it hit him he’d have to explain, yet again, to Jaime why he had to leave sooner than he���d promised. It killed him to think about the disappointment he knew he’d see in his little boy’s eyes. Disappoint that he, again, would be the sole cause of.

 They’d had so many things planned in those three weeks; trips to the park, the zoo, playdates and other things Tom’s agent and Luke most definitely hadn’t been thrilled with (especially without any formal public statement regarding his newly found status as a father) but begrudgingly agreed to look the other way. Things Tom himself had been looking forward to. How could he not, with the way Jaime’s face had lit up whenever he talked about it? And now he had to crush that hope, had to disappoint him yet again. The all too familiar doubts raged; would he every truly be a good father for Jaime? Didn’t Jaime deserve someone who could be there? Who could keep the promises they’d made?

 His mother’s voice, who had swiftly become his voice of reason (had been for the majority of his life if he was being completely honest), scoffed at him. ‘It doesn’t matter what you think the boy deserves, you are what he has. And you will find a way to make it work, even if it’s far from ideal. You will make it work because you don’t have any other choice.’  

 Jaime had been understandably upset by the news, tearful and not quite understanding why the father he’d just found had to leave again and so quickly. Tom did his best, again and again, in those few days leading up to his departure to explain as best he could the whys of his leaving. To explain that it didn’t mean Tom loved him any less or that he didn’t want to be his daddy anymore (when Jaime had uttered those words Tom was sure his heart had broken into a thousand sharp and painful shards). This was a temporary thing; he would be available by phone or by video and that as soon as he could he would be home.

 Keira said nothing but watched him with knowing eyes. Tom knew the picture he must be painting and hated that in her eyes he was only proving her opinion of him correct. But what could he honestly do? He was under contract and breaking it now would cause more trouble and strife than it was worth. Not that he hadn’t tried, but his agent (and his solicitors) had been firm. Walking out now would be as good as blacklisting himself. He’d already lost enough good will over the stunt he’d pulled several months back. Backing out of another project so soon after…That would certainly be the final nail in the coffin. And then what would he do? Acting was as much a part of his life as breathing. And as selfish as it was, Tom wasn’t sure he could ever fully walk away.

 He let her quiet stares go, the fight that would ensue should he push the matter wasn’t one he thought himself mentally ready for. Not at this time. But he’d spoken to both Luke and his agent and started the ball rolling, he would be ready and he would fight tooth and nail if he had to. He was Jaime’s father and he owed it to not only the boy but to himself and to Eliza to be the best father he could be. To be as fully involved in his life as he was able to be.

 Tom kissed and hugged Jaime goodbye on the last day before he was scheduled to fly out. They’d played in his grandmother’s back garden and Tom promised to call as soon as he had settled to show Jaime his temporary home. The drive back to London had been hellish; traffic was a nightmare and his nerves were only serving to make the already short fuse of his temper glow hotter still. He’d snapped at Luke when his friend had called reminding him of his flight details and when the car would be around to drive him to Heathrow. Tom had apologized immediately after, it wasn’t Luke’s fault and god knows he didn’t want to repeat his mistakes in this upcoming production. Didn’t want to slip back into that angry, frustrated man he’d been.

 “You’re tired, mate. And you’re stressed. So I will let that slide, just work on keeping yourself in check. I like working with you Tom, but lately you’ve been making me earn my pay and I’m not entirely sure I like that.”

 What was said no doubt in jest wriggled in the back Tom’s mind the rest of that evening and well into the following day. He’d managed to scrape up enough sleep to not be a complete mess when the hire car arrived in the morning. His bags had been packed and left by the door the night before and his carryon was at his side. He threw in the last of the bits and bobs he needed for the journey and headed out into the pre-dawn light.

 Bags packed securely in the trunk of the car, they sped off towards Heathrow and towards months of long, hard work that normally spiked a fevered excitement in him but now left him on edge and apprehensive. Once he got settled into a routine, he knew the unease would ebb away but until then…

 The flight was long and despite the perks of first class flying, the seats were never terribly comfortable and sleep was elusive. When he’d finally disembarked the only thing on Tom’s mind was the warm, comfy bed awaiting him. The drive from the airport to the hotel had been long enough that Tom found himself nodding off in the backseat. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when the driver shook his shoulder to wake him. Check in was mercifully a quiet, easy process and before he was consciously aware of it, Tom was in his room and laying face first onto the cool, white duvet. He drifted off again, only to be woken by the ringing of his mobile.

 Confused and still in the clutches of sleep, it took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to recognize the sound for what it was and then to dig his mobile from his trouser pocket. He smiled, blearily as he recognized the number and slid his finger across the screen to answer.

 “Jaime, lad.”

 Filming had gone far better than Tom had dared hope, especially given its inauspicious start. He enjoyed his role and had developed a genuine report with his cast-mates. It was nice to be able to escape into someone else’s life for a short time. To live through someone else’s emotions. He spoke with Jaime nearly every day, enjoying the small bits of information Jaime told him of his day. He’d shared what he could as well, sending Jaime pictures of himself in make-up and costume. Taking him on a virtual tour of the set. Reading bedtime stories to him. Time did not speed by, but it passed soon enough.

 When wrap was called after just over three months, Tom felt both an acute sadness that the end of filming almost always brought in him and an immense relief that he would be home soon. He’d managed to duck out of the wrap party after a few hours and was thankfully dropped off at the airport shortly thereafter (he had packed before heading to the party, checked out of his hotel, and left the baggage stored safely in the back of the hire car). He spent the entire flight back to the UK in nervous excitement.

 He’d rushed home from the airport, grateful to shower and sleep in his own bed. His sister had thankfully stopped by the day before to air out the house and to make sure his fridge and pantry were stocked. He had people who could easily have done this for him, and he’d used said people in the past, but this time his sister had gotten the idea in her head and nothing could budge her from it.

 Tom woke the next morning, confused but comfortable. It took him several moments to remember he was home. He blinked at the dimly lit room, getting his bearings. He’d no idea what time it was, hadn’t even remembered putting himself to bed. He glanced at the bedside table, midafternoon then. Which meant he’d slept at least ten hours. That’ll do wonders with acclimating to BST, he thought with a groan. He sat up and scrubbed his face with his hands. He needed to get up and get back into a routine or he’d never get himself back on track.

 Padding downstairs, he fixed himself a cup of coffee and set about throwing together a light breakfast. Once finished he ate it hastily, carrying the plate into the living room and settling on the sofa where he set about checking his mobile for missed calls or texts. He had a few from Luke and from his agent, which he returned. A solicitor had been arranged regarding his paternity claim should he wish to pursue custody. He also had a few interviews scheduled for later in the week regarding various projects.

 There were messages from his mum and sister as well as one from Jaime. He sighed as he played the message from his son, guilt coursing through him. He’d mean to call Jaime once he’d made it home but must have passed out before he’d done so. He called him back, apologizing and explaining that he’d gotten in late and fallen asleep soon after. Jaime seemed to accept this and immediately launched into a tale about his day, asking breathlessly after when Tom was going to come by. As soon as he showered, Tom promised (Keira be damned). Excited at the prospect of seeing his daddy, Jaime ended the call with a happy laugh. Tom chuckled to himself, taking the stairs two at a time.

 The conflict with Keira came to a head a few short weeks later. After a trip to the park, and while Jaime had been upstairs in his room, Keira’s quiet disapproval became too much. He hadn’t meant to call her out as he did, had intended on trying to keep the conversation civil but stress and frustration (both at her attitude and at the sneaking suspicion that he’d seen a photographer at the park watching him and Jaime) had brought his words out with far more force than he had intended. Keira had been taken aback, clearly not expecting such vehemence and had fired back with equal force. It was only after hearing Jaime’s footsteps on the landing that the two seemed to remember themselves.

 They plastered smiles on their faces and put the matter aside until after the lad had been fed, washed, and sent to bed. It was clear this was a conversation neither of them were delighted about having but one they knew needed to come to pass. Keira put forth her opinion that while Tom was biologically linked to Jaime, that didn’t mean he was able to be a proper parent to the boy. Jaime needed structure, support, stability. Tom worked a great deal and often in far flung locations. With Jaime preparing to start his schooling, what would that kind of disruption do to him?

 Her words stung. They were things he’d thought himself and often. But he had a right to be as involved in Jaime’s life as he could be and he’d said as much. Yes, his work meant his life was less structured or home based than most, but it wouldn’t always be. Now that this project was completed, his future work would be much more local. And save for promotional work, his schedule was clearer than it had been in years. He wanted have a tangible, legal stake in Jaime’s life. That didn’t mean he was planning to snatch him from her or that he wanted to turn the boy’s life on its head. He simply wanted to have a say in his life, to be responsible for him in more than just name.

 “Jaime is my son, Keira. He is all I have left of Eliza. I messed up terribly with her and I can never, ever take that back. I won’t let that happen with Jaime, not if I can help it.” Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I want to do this as friendly as I possibly can but make no mistake I will take this as far as I need to. Please, please let us do this in a way that will cause the least disruption to his life.”

 Tensions still running high, Tom had left and spent his entire drive home wondering what the hell he was going to do. Keira called the next morning and told him that if he was serious then maybe it was time solicitors were engaged. The words sent a shiver of real fear through his gut, though he didn’t truly think she’d meant then in any malicious way. The courts would need to be involved, in some capacity and Tom had always known that. But the irrational part of his brain worried that in doing so he would be inciting a chain of events that could bring the boy more harm than good.

NEXT

[blvejeanbaby]

Pairing: Yeosang x reader (as Wooyoung’s sister) Word Count: 2372 Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

He had agreed to meet you an hour before closing time of one of the restaurants he used to go to as a trainee. He knew the owners well and knew they would never spread rumours, especially not for personal gain. It was a place you could be at comfortably to talk about whatever was going on between you two. It was also entirely not a comfortable talk for you. You arrived at the restaurant separately. You thought you would have had a hard time finding the place, but as soon as you stepped off the underground, you realized you had been there before with your brother. Wooyoung had been a trainee at the time, together with Yeosang. It was your first time being alone in Seoul, having just moved there for school. It seemed like ages ago, but really was just two years. And in those two years, everything had changed. This restaurant represented good memories with Wooyoung to both you and Yeosang, so perhaps it was only fitting that you went there to talk about something Wooyoung could absolutely not know about. At least not right now, not in the stages it was at. Yeosang was later than you were and you were glad to have a few moments to gather yourself. Your hands were around a cup of tea and the woman working was in the half-open kitchen preparing your soup. You were one of the last customers, the only other ones being two boys dressed in workout gear. They might as well have been younger versions of Wooyoung and Yeosang. Your head shot up as the door opened to reveal Yeosang. He was wearing a big coat that he seemed to drown in and he wore a mask to both protect his identity and his health. He barely had to cast a look around the room to locate you and came up to you immediately, taking the seat across from you. “Hey,” he said, suddenly all shy again as he took off his coat to reveal a big large sweater on his frame, as there usually was. Sweater paws again, his defining characteristic. “Hi,” you said. “I already ordered soup for us.” “Hm, with crispies?” “Funny you mention those. I should ask the kind lady if she serves marshmellow or jjajangmyeon crispies.” There was a full minute of silence in which you two just stared at each other. It was different being here with him outside of the dorms. It calmed your nerves a little bit to not have watchful Wooyoung looking over your shoulder and your boys, the other Ateez members, to be paying attention the entire time. It even helped your sudden, strange desire for Yeosang as you were not about to throw yourself at him in front of the two boys and/or the lady who ran the restaurant. She returned with the soup and took up Yeosang’s drink order. He only asked for water which she came to bring quickly before retreating to her spot. You could hear the unmistakable sounds of Mario Kart as she played on her phone. “So,” you said after a while, not being able to take the silence between you two anymore, “we need to establish some rules.” “Rules?” Yeosang sounded genuinely surprised. “I mean, if we’re going to suck each other’s face off everytime we see each other,” you said, shrugging. “Please don’t call it that,” he said, blush very visible on his face. “Call it what?” “Sucking off each other’s face,” Yeosang said, shuddering playfully. “It sounds disgusting. Not that kissing you is disgusting! So that’s why I think you shouldn’t use that term. Anyway, what kind of rules do you mean?” “I mean that Wooyoung can’t know about this until we’re sure what this is,” you gestured between yourselves. “You know what he always says right?” “I would never let Y/N date any of my members,” you two said simultaneously, chuckling as you did. “Yeah, okay, but would he really not let me date you?” Yeosang said. “So you want to?” You couldn’t help the childish butterflies that once more erupted in your stomach. You were in college for goodness sakes! You were supposed to be over the teenage-love phase, but you were quite clearly not. It was frustrating and liberating at the same time, as if you’ve never really felt quite free enough to feel this way. “Would you let me?” “What is with you today?” you said, swiftly but without subtlety, avoiding his question. It was a question you weren’t sure you could answer yet. “You are not as... ambiguous. A lot shyer. Is it because we’re in public?” Yeosang shrugged. “It’s because you dressed up today.” You nearly stopped breathing. It was true that you had not put on sweatpants again, but you weren’t really sure you would consider your outfit to be ‘dressing up’. Yes, you wore a skirt, a sight nearly no one ever got to see because you considered skirts cold and for slightly more formal occassions. And yes, you were wearing lipgloss again, but just because it felt good to not have chapping lips and today it wasn’t actually a shimmery one so it was not... dressed up. You were not dressed up. But yes, you had also been standing in front of your mirror, having changed out of seven different outfits, and deciding on this one because you thought it would give Yeosang something nice to look at. So yes, maybe you had dressed up today. And the outfit had the desired effect. “Why does that make you shy?” “Oh Y/N,” he said, buring his face in his hands. There was a split second in which you thought he was going to cry, but then he looked up at you. “What do I do? You don’t understand me do you? All this time I tried not to talk to you too much, not to look at you too much. Because you’re Wooyoung’s sister and I could never do that to him, you know? That’s what I told myself. I could never just fancy his sister. But then you exist, you know? And you’re smart and funny and you get along with my friends so well. And you’re beautiful too, even when you’re in your sweats. You think I’m shy, reserved... I could see you were surprised I even kissed you. Didn’t think I had it in me to be so bold?” You weren’t quite sure what to say because, quite frankly, you had thought of him like that. He was adorable in a way that made you want to carry him with you in his pocket, like a little guardian angel. But the night when you had asked him why he was always so distant from you, he had seemingly snapped. And now you were here. You weren’t quite sure if you could say you really knew him. “Don’t say anything,” Yeosang said, even though you hadn’t been about to. “I know what you were thinking. I can probably guess what you’re thinking now. That I can’t be serious about you, that I can’t mean what I said about you letting me date you. That I just meant it as a joke or something. That I wouldn’t ever ask you in that way because that’s not me. I am shy. But Y/N, I am not. Or... yes, I am shy, but that’s not what this is about. I like you and I have liked you in that way since I met you and I never talked to you really, as me, not because I was shy but because I was protecting myself.” “So why throw all of that out of the window?” “Because while I think that having Wooyoung hate me for loving you is pretty bad, I think having you thinking I don’t like you... is the worst.” You gulped, your spoon stopping midway on its way to your mouth. You nearly actually dropped the spoon when you saw the sincere look in his eyes. “You love me?” You nearly threw the spoon back into the soup pot. “You actually love me?” “I do.” There was some genuine shyness in Yeosang now and you saw the difference immediately. Yes, he had been partially acting it up in front of the others. “I have to process that information,” you said, picking your spoon back up and shovelling the soup into your mouth. Yeosang just watched you eat, a closed off expression on his face. Meanwhile, you were sure every single passing emotion was visible on your face. The surprise, the fear, the love, the acceptance, the fear, the fear... After all, how well did you know Yeosang? How well did he know you? Of course there was a chance he had been paying a lot more attention to you than you had noticed, and perhaps Wooyoung had shared some anecdotes about you or things you got up to together. That could make Yeosang feel like he knew you. But was it enough for him to love you? You weren’t sure what to say back as you weren’t sure you felt the same way, not like that. When you finished the soup, you said: “So how about my brother?” “Wait.” “What?” “I want an answer first,” Yeosang said. “An answer?” “Yeah, you know, an answer?” he said. “Would you let me date you?” You reached over the table, not really caring if this was a public place or not and without letting yourself mull over how much skinship Yeosang liked and how much PDA was too much PDA for him. It all really didn’t matter as you grabbed his hand in yours and compared hand sizes. “I’m trying not to hold your hand over here,” you said, locking eyes with Yeosang. It was a silent challenge, really, and he took it, intertwining your hands. “So that’s a yes?” “Yes.” Yeosang’s smile made a smile break out on your face. Happy Yeo, happy me, you noted in your head. The bell above the door rang, signifying the other occupants of the restaurant leaving, and the woman who had prepared your soup appeared to clean up the plates. “We should go,” Yeosang said, watching the woman enter the kitchen to get rid of the plates. “She probably wants to start closing up.” You agreed with him and proceeded to get up, following his example. “I don’t want to go home yet, though,” you told him. This moment, away from the dorms and your boys and away from the eye of the world constantly trained on Yeosang, it was easier to get to know him. And you wanted to, so desperately. It could give you a chance to explain away this weird desire you felt to have him close to you. “We can take a walk by the Han river?” he offered and you nodded. It was not a long walk to get to the park on the riverside. Yeosang knew how to get there and since it was a short and easy walk, you trusted him enough without checking the Naver map navigation app on your phone more than once. Yeosang told you about his trainee days, both under BigHit and KQ. You listened as you heard stories you’ve only ever heard from Wooyoung’s side before and noticed little details only as watchful a person as Yeosang would pick up on. You heard how his tone of voice changed as he spoke of the Ateez members, with deep appreciation and love. His voice was normally dipped in honey anyway, but hearing him so passionate about his profession, his voice so smooth and warm, made you feel excited to be so close to Yeosang. Closer than you had been with him before. As you arrived at the Han river, the topic of conversation had shifted to you. You told him about your new life in Seoul, but he preferred to hear stories about when you were younger. For example the time after Wooyoung left for the big city, to chase his big dreams, to become an independent, big boy. And you told him everything, holding no details back. There was just something about Yeosang that made you feel so comfortable. The Han river at night was beautiful. Or maybe that was just because Yeosang was next to you, a genuinely shy smile on his face, his adorable birth mark right on display. You knew it to be an insecurity of his and you also knew it to be one of your favourite parts about him. You also knew, from listening to Wooyoung’s behind-the-scenes stories on idol life, that a lot of idols liked to go down to the Han river with their secret dates. With that knowledge in the back of your mind, you felt comfortable enough to reach out and grab Yeosang’s hand as soon as you reached the waterside. The river was quite dirty and it smelled a little if you were going to be honest, but the lights of Seoul that reflected upon the surface of the water just about made this the perfect romantic spot. Yeosang just had to ruin it. “Now, about that brother of yours...” “Oh, please, don’t talk about him now. I just want to enjoy this moment with you.” “But we have to talk about it. I can’t go home in a few hours and look him straight in the eye knowing I’ve kissed you like that and he will want to kill me if he finds out.” “Kissed me like what?” “Like this.” Yeosang pressed his lips against yours in a way he hadn’t done before. The other kisses had had a slumbering hunger beneath them, while this one was so incredibly different. It was like the honey his voice felt and sounded like, melting together with whatever liquid you were made of. It was something, you knew, because your body almost gave in as Yeosang softly bit your lip. He smiled in the kiss, probably proud he could get your body to collapse like that by such a small gesture. When you pulled away, your heart was beating ever so fast. “Okay, I get what you mean now. Let’s talk about my brother.”

[dlwritings]

Wondering | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x Osterfield!reader word count - 3,050  warnings -  A/N - I’m 21-years-old and I just got fucking HOOKED onto High School Musical: the Musical: the Series and I’m pretty shook about it and even though deep in my soul I’d love to write cute fluffy fics about it I feel too weird because they’re all babies so even though Joshua Bassett is the fucking cutest and makes me think bad thoughts (he’s 18 don’t come at me) I will refrain. Instead, here is a fic based on Wondering from the show which has been on repeat for longer than I’d like to admit

summary - You’re Harrison’s younger sister and Tom’s ex-girlfriend. Once the fame hit, you freaked out and left. It seemed like the right thing to do: end things with him before the inevitable, more heartbreaking end occurred. But when Harrison drags you to the Far From Home premiere and after party, you’re forced to face the consequences of the decision you made.

You were in the middle of sipping your morning cup of coffee when your front door opened. You turned at the sound of heavy footsteps that you knew could only belong to your older brother, Harrison. “Did I say you could come in?” you joked, turning the volume of the TV down.

“You might not want to be so sassy,” he said, “when I’m about to invite you to have an absolutely incredible Saturday night.”

“You are now?” you said. “And what might that night entail?” Harrison reached into his back pocket and pulled out two movie tickets. You just raised your eyebrows, prompting him to explain further.

“Two tickets to the premiere of Spider-Man: Far From Home and an invitation to the best after-party,” he said before doing a playful bow. “You’re welcome.”

As kind as the gesture was, you could barely manage a smile. “Is it okay if I pass?” you said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Harrison’s face dropped.

“Why?” he asked. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

“No offense, but why would I be thrilled?” you said.

Harrison sighed, “It’s been almost four months, (Y/N). You can’t avoid him forever.” You opened your mouth to say something, but Harrison said, “I’ve been saving these tickets for a huge surprise and it was supposed to be great and one up the present you got me last Christmas and you were gonna be so happy and-”

“Dude, dude, relax,” you laughed. “It’s really nice, and I so appreciate it, but I don’t even have a dress or anything.”

“Oh!” he said, his face lighting up again. He ran back towards the entryway of your apartment and came back with a box. “I got that covered, too.”

“You went shopping for me?” you asked, skeptical as you opened the box.

“God no,” he laughed. “Zendaya picked it out.” You pulled out a gorgeous dress that was clearly too perfect to have been picked out by Harrison. He had a great sense of fashion, just not a great sense of your fashion. You looked from the dress to Harrison, who looked at you expectantly.

“Fine,” you said. “I’ll go.” Harrison pumped his fist in success and smiled at you.

“It’ll be great,” he said. “You’ll have so much fun.”

Harrison ended up staying for lunch and a couple movies at your flat, but the conversation of the movie and after party didn’t come up again. Still, you tried to feign more excitement for his sake. It was clear to you that he was so happy and wanted you to be on his level. He had tried so hard to give you a good gift, and if you hadn’t still been so heartbroken, you might’ve been more grateful. Unfortunately, your breakup with Tom was still fresh in your mind.

When you and Tom started dating, Harrison was less than thrilled. You were 16 at the time, and Tom was 19. You had known Tom for years because of Harrison, and you always had a crush on him. It took a little bit longer for Tom to reciprocate the feelings, and when he did, Harrison was mad. He gave Tom a long lecture that involved a lot of yelling about you being too young for him and even a little bit of shoving. Tom swore he wouldn’t do a thing to hurt you, and after a while, Harrison got used to it. You knew he still wasn’t your relationship’s number one fan, but he could tolerate it.

For a long time, it was good. Really good. You truly loved Tom, and you knew he loved you, too. But then, Civil War came out, and Tom’s life changed in the blink of an eye. He was famous. He wasn’t just a kid in a few movies and stage shows. He was Tom Holland: the new Spider-Man. With his fame came a lot of new attention on you. Too much attention. Your own Instagram skyrocketed in followers, and every picture Tom posted with or of you received thousands upon thousands of comments criticizing you and your relationship. And suddenly, things stopped being good.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” you said, throwing the clothes you kept at his apartment into your backpack. “I just can’t do this anymore.”

“Why?” he shouted, trying to stop you from packing your things. “What is going on?”

“This is too much,” you said, not looking at him. “I didn’t sign up for a relationship with your fans.”

“You’re not in a relationship with my fans!” he said. “You’re in a relationship with me. Just me.”

“No I’m not!” you said. “Nothing is just us anymore. It’s a thousand comments about me not being good enough and, and it’s me wondering when you’re gonna leave me for someone better.”

“What are you talking about?” he groaned. “I’m not gonna leave you!”

“Not yet!” you countered. “But you will. Someday you’ll star next to some gorgeous actress who is way, way better than I am, and you won’t want me anymore. Because I am literally no one special, and that’s fine. I’ve always known I’m just some ordinary person, and I thought that was enough, and maybe it is right now. But in one, two years, it won’t be. And I cannot stick around and wait for that to happen.”

Tom sighed, “Can’t we just stop and think about this for a minute?”

“I’ve already thought about this, Tom,” you said. “I’ve thought a lot about this. This is the right decision.”

“No it’s not!” he shouted. You had finished packing all your things and threw your backpack over your shoulders. Just as you started to walk out of his bedroom, Tom grabbed your arm and held you back. You didn’t turn to face him, so he moved to stand in front of you. You noticed then the tears in his eyes and the few that had fallen to his cheeks. “Please, please don’t do this. Don’t leave me because you’re afraid of what might happen.” You pulled your arm out of his grasp and shook your head.

“I’m leaving because of what I know will happen,” you said. “And I have to protect myself.”

The thoughts brought tears to your eyes, so you wiped them away and pushed yourself off the couch. You were alone now, Harrison having left only a few moments ago. “Okay,” you said, breathing heavily past your lips. “Make it through the day.”

And you did. Friday went by in a breeze. When Saturday came, you felt sick the minute you woke up. You were sure you couldn’t do it. The premiere. The party. None of it. But you were going to. For Harrison. And for you. Because you needed to do this to prove to yourself that you could see Tom and not break.

But the truth was, the more days that went by since the break-up, the more you wondered if you had really made the right choice. If you saw Tom, you were sure you would break down in regret-filled-tears. You needed someone to talk to. You needed to sort out the thoughts in your brain before you saw Tom. So, a few hours before the premiere, you called Zendaya. Despite your break-up with Tom the minute the fame hit, you got to know the members of the Spider-Man cast and crew pretty well considering Harrison’s role on the team. Zendaya quickly became one of your closest friends. She agreed to come over and get ready with you and talk you through your thoughts.

“What if I made the wrong choice, Z?” you said, carefully zipping up the back of your dress. “What if I was supposed to stay with Tom? What if it was going to be me and him in the end?”

“I don’t know,” she said, sympathy laced in her voice. “I don’t have the answers, but you’ve gotta stop living in the past. You made the decision you made, and now you’ve gotta live with it.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said sarcastically. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, fixing her hair. “I’m just saying, you can’t keep going through the what if’s. Even if you went back and changed the past, and, and went against all the odds and braved the commitment and the drama and publicity or whatever, you don’t know what would’ve happened after that. And you can’t know. So why keep mulling it over? It serves no purpose.”

“But-”

“What you can do is move forward from here and try to make things different.”

“What if he doesn’t want-”

“Ah, buh, buh,” Zendaya said, holding up her hand to stop you. “No more what if’s.” 

You and Zendaya dropped the subject as you finished getting ready. Before you knew it, you were at the carpet with Harrison ready to walk. He gave you a hug and a sweet kiss on the cheek. “You look great,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a deep breath and smiling. “Uh-” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “-is Tom here yet?” Harrison smiled softly at you.

“Yeah, he’s a ways down the carpet already,” he said. He put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” you said with a firm nod. “Let’s just get through the carpet. I want to see this movie! I’ve gotta know how the world mourns the great Tony Stark.”

The movie, as expected, was awesome. You chatted with Harrison the entire ride to the afterparty without once running into Tom. Once you actually got to the party though, that changed. He came up to you and Harrison while nursing a beer and smiling widely. The party had only been going for about thirty minutes, but it was clear he was already a little tipsy. “I’m so glad you’re both here,” he said. “The Osterfields. My favorite family.” His hand on your waist felt like it was burning your skin. You couldn’t help but step away from him. He was too intoxicated to notice.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” you said. They both nodded, so you went over to the bar and got a moscow mule. As you sipped your drink, your mind wandered as it had been so often lately.

“I’m leaving because of what I know will happen,” you said. “And I have to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself?” Tom almost screamed.

“Tom I don’t want to keep talking about this!” you shouted, tears coming to your own eyes. “You’re being, you’re being-”

“Being what?”

“You’re being a dick right now, okay?” you said. “You’re being a dick, because I made this decision, and you’re trying to do that, that thing that men do where you try to act like you know better than me because you’re a man-”

“What the actual fuck are you on about?” Tom shouted. “You’re not making any sense, and you’re just talking shit now because you don’t even know what’s going on or what you’re doing.”

“Tom-”

“Why do you want to give up so easily? Do you not love me anymore?”

You were silent.

“Say it, (Y/N),” Tom said, taking a step closer to you. “Say you don’t love me anymore.” You swallowed thickly and clenched your jaw, looking at the floor. You could see his feet right in front of yours. He lifted your chin and made you look at him, then slowly kissed your jaw and your cheeks. “Say it,” he whispered. “Say it, and you can go.” You took a deep breath through your nose and pushed Tom away.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

You scoffed before finishing off your drink and walking back over to where Harrison was sitting at a hightop. “You good?” he asked before downing the rest of his own drink. You nodded and gave him a -what you were sure was unconvincing- smile.

“Um, testing, testing, hello?”

You and Harrison both looked up and saw Tom standing on the stage on the other side of the room with a microphone in hand. “Hey everyone,” Tom said. “I just wanted to say a quick little thank you to all of you for coming out tonight. Thank you for going to see the movie and for supporting this franchise and loving it as much as I do. Being a part of the Marvel universe has been such a blessing, and I’m thankful every single moment I’m here. Without people like you supporting me, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. So I just want to say thank you for never leaving my side, and for sticking with me through all the changes my career has brought to my life.”

And you were sure Tom looked right at you when he said those words.

Suddenly, everything was too much. What you thought had been a somewhat successful night avoiding Tom had just flipped into a disaster with a single look. You quietly excused yourself from the table and headed for the exit. You hoped to god Harrison didn’t notice you leave and that no one else was paying you any attention. And why would they be? You weren’t anyone special. No one important. Just a stupid girl in her stupid dress running away like always.

Not wanting to wait in the lobby of the building for an Uber, you decided to just walk to the bus stop. Before you could even get out the door, you heard Harrison call your name. You knew it was no use trying to outrun him, so you just stopped and waited for him to approach you. He stood in front of you, leaning down a bit to see your face. He wiped some of your tears away with his thumbs. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Where are you going?”

“I’m sorry, Haz,” you choked out. “This is just, it’s not working out for me.”

“What does that mean?” he asked. You put your hands on your forehead and took another deep breath.

“I just can’t be around him,” you said. “Every time I look at him, I, I feel so sick with regret, and it hurts so, so much.” You let out another soft cry. “And I know you’re probably thinking I-told-you-so, because you never wanted us to date in the first place, but-”

“Hey, hey, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he said, putting his hand on your chin so you could look up at him. Your lower lip quivered, and Harrison sighed and pulled you in for a hug. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

You and Harrison pulled away from each other, and you wiped your eyes. Tom was walking over to you, a look of concern on his face. “(Y/N)?” Tom said. “Why’re you, what’s, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you sniffed, wiping your face. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Tom said, stepping closer to you. “What’s wrong?”

Harrison tried to step in. “Tom, maybe just-”

“No, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong,” he said firmly. You gave Harrison a look that you were okay, and he nodded and left you and Tom alone. You folded your arms across your chest and squeezed yourself tightly.

It’s now or never.

“I know it’s been four months,” you said, “and you’re probably over me and all of this, but, but I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Tom asked, his voice soft, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I keep thinking about the night, the night everything happened-” Tom’s face softened. “-and, and I think about everything I would’ve done differently.” You sighed. “I, I’ve never been a strong person. I run away when things get hard or when I’m scared. And I was so scared, Tom. I should’ve been brave and just, just said fuck it and ignored all the odds that I felt were stacked against us.” You took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “But I know that I fucked all that up, and I can’t keep wishing I had done things differently. Because I can’t go back and change the past, and until I accept that, I’m constantly going to be wondering what could’ve been. It just makes everything so hard, like being here, watching you up there giving toasts and, and shining like the fucking star you are. It’s just too much for me, Tom.” You let out a heavy sigh and put your hands on your hips, feeling tears falling from your eyes again. “But this is my problem, not yours. So, so I’m gonna go. I’m just gonna go home, and we can pretend this didn’t-”

“Hey, (Y/N) calm down,” Tom said, putting his hands on your biceps. You looked up at him, and he wiped his thumbs under your eyes. You found your eyes flickering down to his lips, and you knew his eyes did the same. The next thing you knew, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a deep kiss. You put your hands on his cheeks and held him close to you. You pulled away when you started crying again. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit and rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “That’s not exactly romantic.” Tom just laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You looked up at him, and he brushed some more tears from your eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

“What?” Tom almost laughed.

“I ran away from you the minute you started to succeed,” you said. “What kind of girlfriend does that? Hell, what kind of friend does that? I don’t expect you to forgive me for that or, or for things to go back to normal just because I realized I messed up.” Tom shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“I don’t care about what you did,” he said. “You’re right. We can’t change the past, and I don’t want to dwell there either. The only thing that matters is that you’re here now. You came back. And I’m not over you. I’m very much not over you.”

“Really?” you said, a smile growing on your face.

Tom laughed. “Really. I love you, (Y/N). I’m pretty sure I always will.”

----- ----- ----- -----

TAGLIST

@bangtan-serendipity | @planetdemon | @the-singing-clown406 | @tomshufflepuff | @bluelalal | @grandloser | @jackiehollanderr | @mindset-jupiter | @bisexual-sk8r | @feel-like-gold | @runaway-apple | @miraclesoflove | @marvelismylifffe| @wonderbyers | @coraz0ndcristal| @lizmarvel​ |  @hannihannelora

[donteattheappleshook]

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 6/13

After literally more than a year and a half, here is chapter 6. In a miraculous turn of events though, Chapter 7 is already written and will be posted next week. Chapter 8 is half done and will be posted the week after that. I promise I have not abandoned this fic.

As always, thank you @kmomof4 for fixing my terrible grammar and being so supportive of this fic <3

Summary:

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago. 

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 6 - Roll Away Your Stone

You told me that I would find a home / Within the fragile substance of my soul / And I have filled this void with things unreal / And all the while my character it steals

The first show had gone great, really great actually, better than she’d expected. She’d been so nervous. It had been so long since she’d been up on stage - a real stage, not just open mic night at a bar or a club but a real honest to god show where she got to sing more than one song, where the audience was there for her… well okay, technically they’d been there for Abandon Ship!, but she really felt like she’d won them over in the end. At least that’s the feeling she got from the standing ovation they’d given her.

And to play with Mary Margaret and Ruby, god she’d missed that. When Ruby had told Liam a few weeks ago that they were her band she hadn’t exactly been lying. They were her band, it had just been a very, very long time since they actually backed her up. More than anything, it had been a way for her friends to guarantee that she wouldn’t have to go on this tour alone. But the last time they’d played together they had been teenagers, Emma had just barely gotten her driver’s license; Ruby had braces. She’d missed it. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed that part of their friendship, how much it had meant to her - before he showed up and ripped it all away.

She’d honestly been really impressed with how quickly her friends had learned her new songs. She had a sneaking suspicion that they may have been secretly watching her little late night skeevy bar shows more often than they’d admitted to. There had been very little discussion about it really though, the songs that is. They couldn’t play most of her old songs for reasons that Emma didn’t like to think about. And well the other ones, the ones she wrote after everything happened, she couldn’t play those. Those hurt worse. And so, they were left with her new songs - well, newer. She hadn’t written much in the last couple of years. Work, life had gotten in the way. It was hard to come home at 5am after a stakeout and find the motivation to sit and write when her bed seemed like such a better option.

It was fun, really fun, to play with her friends, to have people enjoy her music, to see them dance and try to sing along to songs they hadn’t heard before and she got to share that with the most important people in her life.

Tonight was a good night. She was glad that they’d had this show. She’d been worried at first about having to perform only a few hours after they touched ground in LA but Belle knew what she was doing. She’d booked them a performance in some bar that was so non-mainstream that it had become incredibly mainstream but hadn’t put the word out until an hour before the show with a post to the band’s social media accounts. Within thirty minutes they were turning people away at the door. Nothing drew a crowd like exclusivity.

Despite the raging fans, she was happy the show had been in a small venue. It was almost like a dress rehearsal, a trial run to a show tomorrow that would change her life forever. They were playing the Hollywood Bowl, the fucking Hollywood Bowl, the seventeen-thousand-five-hundred seat Hollywood Bowl. The show was sold out.

Emma’s hands clammed up just thinking about it. She hadn’t realised when she’d agreed to go on tour with Abandon Ship! just how big they were. Yes, she knew a few of their songs, had heard them on the radio, had a few of them on her phone, saw their album promoted on Spotify, but somehow she’d failed to grasp just how popular, how famous the guys were rapidly becoming.

Their album was number one in the country - in most countries in fact - and there were rumors of Grammy nominations. The only reason they still managed to have some semblance of anonymity was the fact that their music was - thus far - more popular than their faces, but that was changing too. Emma had googled them… well, she’d googled him. It had started with the band really, but then she’d noticed a few fan sites and then stumbled on “Jones brothers thrist tweets” and then “Killian Jones thirst tweets”. It had been a rabbit hole from there.

She watched them now, playing the final few songs of their set. They looked so good up there, so natural. Liam had an incredible voice. Had he gotten better since she saw them play all those years ago? Or maybe it was just the songs they were playing, the ones everyone knew, the ones that made them famous, everyone was singing along. Every single one of their songs was fantastic, annoyingly so. The music was sometimes exciting and upbeat and lifted your heart up and sometimes it was heart wrenching but the lyrics made her feel like they had been written about specific moments in her own life. They brought back bittersweet memories and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She’d never quite connected to anyone else’s music like that. It was jarring.

She could hear Killian singing as well, it seemed they had decided to start sharing the lead singer role since Emma had last seen them play. She was sure he looked great up there too but she couldn’t know for certain since she was actively avoiding looking at him - had been for the last hour and a half - had been since they stepped out of the elevator six hours ago. She remembered though, remembered the last time she watched him play, watched him sing into the microphone like he was trying to seduce it - or at least trying to seduce every woman in the room. Her, she was reminded, he had been trying to seduce her.

She thought again about the show tomorrow, the size of the stadium and the number of people who would be watching and her palms started to sweat. She thought about playing there with Killian watching from backstage and her heart started racing. She stole a glance at him now. Big mistake. Suddenly she was back in the little bar in New York, she was back in the dressing room, and then she was back in the elevator this evening. She clenched her fists. Why had she agreed to this again?

“Hey! Why the long face?” Ruby demanded as she set their drinks down on the table and then threw herself into the booth beside them. “Mary Margaret! Why is she looking like she’s gonna pass out? You were on Emma duty. You’re supposed to be watching her and preventing grand escapes. Look at her! She’s about to bolt.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes snapped up to her friends and her face instantly flushed bright red. “I’m sorry!” she practically squeeked out, “she was fine a minute ago. I was watching the show and I got… distracted.” She was stealthy in her glance but not stealthy enough for Emma (and she suspected Ruby) to miss the way her eyes flickered to David before fluttering around as though she were actively trying to look anywhere else.

Ruby’s grin was enormous. “Mary Margaret, I’m shocked. Ignoring your Emma duties for a pair of pretty blue eyes?”

“I wasn’t -” she tried to defend herself but it fell flat.

Emma smiled despite herself as she watched her friends. Right. This was why she was here. They were why she was here. Wasn’t that always the case, her friends dragging her into insane situations and her left wondering how she’d managed to be dragged?

“If you could all stop talking about me in the third person that would be great,” she said but her annoyance also fell flat. “I can take care of myself,” she grinned, “so Mary Margaret can oggle drummers all she likes.” Her friend turned even redder.

“And what about you, then?” Ruby asked with her own shrewd smirk. “What’s got you in a cold sweat? Is it the show tomorrow or a certain guitarist with a penchant for eyeliner and an aversion to buttons?” Emma just glared at her, which only served to make Ruby laugh. “Thought so.”

They sat through the rest of the show, Emma sulking with her arms crossed over her chest, Mary Margaret actively looking everywhere except the stage, and Ruby throwing them shit-eating grins every chance she got. When the boys were on their last song of the night, Belle hurried over to their table to rush them backstage.

“They’re gonna do one encore, maybe two if they feel up to it, and then we’ll head out the side door where there’s a car waiting for you to take you back to the hotel. There will be people out there, they’re already lined up waiting to get autographs. You don’t have to say or do anything but a little ‘look how much they like their fans’ publicity is never a bad thing. Got it?” She said all this matter of factly, as though it wasn’t absolutely insane that there would be people outside hoping to get her autograph. They couldn’t possibly want hers, Belle must have meant they’d be wanting the boys’ autographs.

Ruby gave Belle a thumbs up and Belle nodded. “Great. I’ll get in the car with you guys and the boys will get in theirs and we’ll meet back at the hotel. There might be people there too although as far as we know word hasn’t leaked about where we’re staying.” Emma listened to all of this in a daze. This couldn’t be her life could it? This couldn’t all actually be happening.

By the time she had come back to the world around her she was being ushered out the side door behind the guy’s band and her own to a crowd of waiting fans all of whom were taking pictures and shouting “I love you’s”. She froze like a deer in the headlights, staring out at flashing lights and people who somehow knew her name and were shoving papers and pens at her. She froze, as though she’d lost control of her body. She knew she should be walking, that the gap between her and the others was growing wider but she couldn’t make her feet move.

Her heart was racing in her throat and she was just considering the fact that she might throw up when suddenly a hand grabbed her own. She recognized that hand, the warm, soft palm and the long, rough fingers that were wrapped around her own. She focused on the hand for a moment before focusing on it’s owner. Killian’s expression was soft though he was looking at her with some concern. He was always looking concerned around her, she realised. She felt bad about that.

He gave her a small nod and one side of his mouth quirked up when she met his eyes. “It’s okay, they don’t bite,” he said, giving her hand a little squeeze. “Usually.” He winked and it made her feet seem to suddenly remember they were connected to her brain. “Come on,” he coaxed. He led her through the crowd of people, through the shouts and the lights to the car where Belle was waiting holding the door open, Ruby and Mary Margaret already inside. He helped her into the car like she was some frightened Victorian damsel being helped into a carriage by some Austenian hero. He leaned in, checking that she was settled and turned to head to his own car without a word.

“Hey!” Emma called after him, speaking for the first time in what felt like hours. He looked back. “Thanks.”

He smiled, just a little thing. “It gets easier,” he promised.

“You know that’s going to be all over the internet tomorrow don’t you?” she heard Liam scold as Belle shut the door and jumped in the passenger seat. She saw Killian shrug, sign an autograph, and jump in his vehicle.

Once they were far enough away that she couldn’t see the boys or the venue anymore, she turned to her friends for the first time since getting in the car. They all looked nearly as amazed as she felt, though perhaps not quite as shellshocked.

“Holy fucking shit,” Ruby said and Emma laughed. She didn’t even know why she laughed, it was probably adrenaline or something but she couldn’t stop and soon all three of them were in hysterics, even Belle started giggling in the front seat. Holy fucking shit indeed.

***

They all ended up in Liam and Belle’s hotel room as they were all still riding the high of the show and Liam and Belle had the biggest room - which Killian gave his brother a hell of a lot of flack for. “Get yourself married and then you can have the big room,” Liam taunted his brother in retaliation.

They were finally winding down after what had been one of the longest days of Emma’s life. Between the flight and the soundcheck and the show she hadn’t had a minute to stop or to herself since yesterday afternoon. Usually, she would have found that incredibly draining, and she did on some level, but not in the way she expected. Part of the reason Emma had chosen her job was because it allowed her to work alone. That was how she liked it. Being around people all the time, having to be ‘on’, to have to interact and socialize with people exhausted her. People always expected something from her and when she didn’t live up to it they were disappointed. Ruby and Mary Margaret were, of course, the exception to that rule. But, for some reason, despite having spent the entire day surrounded by near strangers, Emma felt surprisingly… good.

It was strange how easy it was to be around Belle and the boys. Liam and Belle were adorably in love and, it turned out once they were out of the public eye, they were almost disgustingly affectionate. Still, she couldn’t help smiling at them, Belle curled in her husband’s lap, his arms wrapped around her as they sat on the carpeted floor, backs against the sofa.

David and Graham had instantly shifted into big brother mode - or what Emma imagined having big brothers would have been like. The two were one joke after the other while mercilessly teasing each other and occasionally Emma as well. She found she didn’t mind the teasing and had felt a sort of proud thrill at their excitement when she’d given it back just as hard.

And Killian, she didn’t know what it was about him but somehow just being in his presence made her feel relaxed, made her feel calm. It was like something that radiated from him, an openness and a gentleness that she’d been too distracted to really notice before. She could see that the others felt it too, even his brother, despite his constant put-on airs of indignation at Killian’s almost unshakable lightheartedness.

Calm, until he looked at her. When he looked at her, her heart suddenly started racing and her breath caught in her throat for a second before she composed herself and snapped out of it. This was new territory, feeling comfortable and on edge around someone at the same time. She didn’t know if she liked it. It scared her.

Only four of them were sat around on the floor now. Mary Margaret and David had disappeared into a corner somewhere where it looked like she was trying to teach him how to twirl a drumstick between his fingers. He was failing miserably, though Emma suspected he was exaggerating his incompetence so that Mary Margaret would keep scooting closer and readjusting his hand. He smiled everytime he dropped the stick and she laughed.

Killian’s phone had been plugged into a little portable speaker and music filled the room now. Ruby had somehow managed to convince Graham to dance. Well, she was dancing, he was kind of standing there, swaying awkwardly and letting her hold his hand and twirl while he watched her with a big dumb grin on his face.

The song switched and it took Emma a second before she recognized the guy’s first single. She smirked at Killian.

“You have your own song on your most played?” she teased. She’d meant it as a joke but Killian quickly reached for his phone to change songs. “You don’t have to change it,” Emma said, feeling bad now. “It’s a good song.”

“Put the song back on!” David demanded and Killian rolled his eyes but conceded when Graham, Mary Margaret and Ruby joined in the chant.

“A lot of your songs are good,” she said, addressing the group now. “I didn’t realise how many of them I actually knew until the show tonight.”

Killian laughed. “So nice to be recognised,” he teased and she felt better that he was laughing with her.

“I’m just saying, you guys are really good. Like yeah, your songs are catchy but they also have depth you know? Substance.” She felt herself get red at her awkward attempts at a compliment.

“That’s all Killian,” David called from the back of the room. “He’s the songwriter. The real poet of the gang. The bard of the band,” he singsonged and Emma laughed wondering how many drinks David had had tonight or if Mary Margaret had just met her match for the title for cheapest drunk.

“It’s not just me,” Killian insisted. “Liam writes too. We all do.” Modesty. Emma was shocked and she said so.

“Hardly,” Liam countered. He looked at Emma, “I dabble.”

“He wrote this one,” Killian countered, referring to the song still echoing through the speaker. Liam gave Killian a look that Emma couldn’t read but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re so lucky, Belle,” Ruby sighed from where she was now swaying along with Graham to the slower melody.

“How so?”

“To have a song about love at first sight written about you.” Oh boy, if Ruby was getting romantic it was definitely time to get her to bed.

“It’s not about love at first sight,” Killian said almost instantly and everyone turned to him. He looked up shocked, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He looked to his brother.

Liam cleared his throat. “He’s right. It’s not just about that,” he agreed. Emma couldn’t make sense of whatever unspoken conversation was happening between the Joneses at the moment. She blamed it on the rum. “It’s also about allowing yourself to be open to love again, to believe you deserve it.” Killian stared at his brother and Liam looked back as though daring him to say something.

Finally, David broke the tension. “Heavy, man.” That was enough to make everyone laugh and the awkwardness seemed to pass. He and Mary Margaret retreated back into their little bubble as did Ruby and Graham as the song switched to something more bluesy and she did something incredibly intentional and incredibly captivating with her hair. Graham just stared, awestruck. Poor boy, Emma thought. He doesn’t stand a chance.

“Speaking of great music,” Liam said, drawing her back to the conversation they’d been having. “You guys were great up there.”

“Yeah?” Emma asked and then wished she could snatch the words back. That had sounded so pathetic. She’d been so nervous though, it was nice to hear that it had gone well from an outside point of view.

“Hell yeah!” Belle answered for her husband. “You’re already trending on twitter,” she said, pulling out her phone to show her a video someone had taken of the concert with captions like ‘Emma Swan out of nowhere’, and ‘the next big thing?’ written underneath. Emma just stared, slackjaw. She didn’t know how to react to that. This wasn’t even in her wheelhouse of possible situations to have possible, reasonable reactions to. She handed the phone back to Belle who turned to Killian.

“Killian, you hadn’t heard her yet right?” He gave a hesitant shake of his head. “What did you think?” she prodded.

“Yeah, it was good,” he said, noncommittally, not looking her in the eye. Emma felt it like a blow to her chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma demanded.

“Nothing,” Killian insisted. “I said it was good.”

For some reason she didn’t understand, a part of her wanted him to like it. And was crushed that he didn’t. She wasn’t even aware of that want, that need until now. She was surprised by how much his rejection hurt, how much she had hoped for his praise. That feeling scared her. She’d never needed anybody’s praise, never needed anyone to make her feel valued, never needed to depend on anyone for anything and yet here she was, devastated because some guy had said ‘yeah, it was good’. It scared her, and when Emma got scared or hurt she got angry. And now she was both.

“If you don’t like my music you can just say so,” she snapped. “I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“I don’t not like it,” he said hesitantly and she crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to elaborate. He sighed, like he didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “Look, do you want me to be honest?“

"No, I want you to lie to me,” she snapped sarcastically.

"The songs you played tonight are fun, they’re catchy, people like them and you play really well.”

“But?” She wasn’t letting him off.

He let out a heavy sigh. “But your lyrics… they’re not about anything.” She jumped back as though he’d slapped her.

“Killian!” Liam started, but he went on.

“I just mean that they don’t reveal anything about you or have any depth beyond -”

“Killian. Stop.” Liam was insistent now and Killian looked at him for a second then shut his mouth.

“No, it’s okay,” Emma said to Liam. She was furious - furious because of how hurtful, how cruel his words had been and how much it hurt that it had been him that spoke them. And a small, very small part of her was angry because she knew it was true. She hadn’t written anything real in a long time; she hadn’t written about herself. She wrote about other people, told their stories but there was no emotion tied to it. But she had her reasons. She had her reasons and he didn’t know anything about them and he’d just…

“Not every song has to be some soul bearing journal entry,” she said, her voice bitter and quiet. “Music can just be fun.”

Killian looked at her for a long time, long enough to make her uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to get out of her. It felt like he knew something, something about her that he shouldn’t know and it had her on edge.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.” Emma stood and made her way to the door. She didn’t want to stay here anymore, didn’t want to put up with anymore of his crap.

“Emma -” he started but she dismissed him.

As she left the room she could hear Ruby and Mary Margaret saying goodbye and rushing out after her and she could hear Liam speaking to his brother.

“You are an absolute dick.”

He sighed. “I know.”

She reached her room with her friends right on her tail. She didn’t have it in her. She couldn’t deal with the ‘it’s okays’ and the ‘he’s totally wrongs’ that they would have for her. Because the truth of it was that it wasn’t okay and he wasn’t totally wrong and having them try and defend her would just make her more upset about how deeply his words had cut her.

“Guys, listen, I just want to go to bed okay?” Her friends were hesitant to leave her alone. “Seriously, I’m tired and I’m pissed and I just… I just want to go to sleep and forget about it. Alright? We can talk tomorrow.” They hesitated for a minute longer but recognized her resolve and agreed. They each wrapped her in a giant bear hug before saying goodnight and promising to check on her in the morning.

She couldn’t sleep though. She tried. She roughly pulled on her pyjamas, fumed while she washed her face, and brushed her teeth with unnecessary aggression. She threw herself onto the mattress, pulling the comforter over her head in the hopes that she could block out all the thoughts in her head and silence the rage and hurt rushing through her veins. She lay there for exactly forty-five seconds.

Emma threw off her blankets, kicking her feet free before sitting on her bed, letting her head fall into her hands as she tried to calm down. When she looked up, having failed to stop picturing multiple ways she could murder Killian and not get caught, she saw her guitar sitting across the room. She stared at it for a long time, briefly considering if she could use it to murder Killian, before letting out a frustrated groan.

“Fucking damnit,” she snapped as she stood and snatched the instrument, falling back onto the mattress. She brought her fingers up to the frets but her hands were shaking too hard for her to play. No depth. Fuck him. She used to have depth, she used to have meaning - in her songs, in her life - but then he’d come along and ripped all of that away. Now all she was was empty. She could fill it sometimes with happy melodies and fun lyrics to try and patch up the hole left inside of her but whenever she tried, dug into the hole and tried to find something, there was nothing. Only pain, a pain so overwhelming that she would do anything to bury it again. Eventually she’d stopped digging.

She remembered the last time she’d tried, when she’d pushed through it long enough to find something worthwhile inside herself but it had been too much and she’d been overwhelmed by the memories - a hotel room, Nashville, playing with him, being with him, waiting for him… she let the guitar fall out of her hands to the floor. She just can’t.

Fuck you, Killian Jones.

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 32

While somewhere deep in your unconsciousness you were resolved to stay in bed for the entire day, not having slept this long or this well in quite some time, the smell of food dragged you out of your slumber. Not just the smell but the sound. Something sizzling away in the kitchen- not your kitchen- not at the house. Right. You remembered.

In the penthouse suite in Manhattan.

Because you and Tony had nearly died last night at the Expo. Because of Justin Hammer. Who was probably out on bail by now. And Ivan Vanko who was no longer alive at all. Right right right.

The house in Malibu was still destroyed, no doubt. The two of you could throw money at it to get it fixed all you wanted, it would probably still take a couple weeks before it was livable again. Which got you thinking.

Wasn’t it strange that Stark Industries had no headquarters in NYC? One of the biggest cities in the United States. At least then you could have sectioned off a small floor for bare bones living quarters. Something more familiar and desirable than- well… you couldn’t really complain about waking up in the luxury you were surrounded with.

Grabbing an overly plush robe from the hook on the bathroom door, you padded over to the kitchen, where Tony was humming away to some song playing on his phone and flipping what looked to be a quite fluffy pancake. Feeling bold, you wrapped your arms around him. “Good morning.” Your voice a mere croak.

“Good morning. Relatively speaking. I was just about to start contemplating calling a hospital.”

Moving aside him, you propped yourself up to sit on the counter. “Why’s that?” You didn’t feel worse for wear- and he seemed peachy keen.

All smiles, in fact, as he looked at you. “It’s one o’clock. You were pretty far gone.”

“One o’clock?!” You’d never slept so late in your life. Well. Not your professional adult life anyway. “How is it one o’clock?!” There was too much to get done for it to be that late in the day.

“Well, you know. You had a pretty big day yesterday.” Ah, yes. Finding out Tony may have just had a chance to come back from dying. Not having slept the night before- ...and the night before that? Was that right? How is it you hadn’t collapsed? And then being whisked away to meetings and then- oh yes, almost dying again. “And a pretty big night.”

The grin he was aiming at you earned him a little smack to the arm. Something he chuckled at as he turned the burner off on the stove. “You still shouldn’t have let me sleep that long.”

“Yes I should have. Which is why I did.” Said in that matter-of-fact way of his when he was sure he was right about something. And the only smart person in the room. He tilted the pan over on the opposite counter, plating the one pancake he’d been cooking on top of a large stack.

You ran your hands through your hair and then rubbed your face. “No.” Simple as that.

“I let you sleep in, I cook you breakfast, I set up the press briefing for this evening and the SHIELD debrief for tomorrow, get started on the clean up of the Expo, put our lawyers to work on the case against Hammer- and this is the thanks I get?” He lifted the plate, jamming a fork into the stack, digging out a piece, shoving it right into his mouth. Still full as he said, “If that’s how it is I’ll just eat these myself.”

You were sure you must have been glowing with happiness as you touched the sides of your face in a mock gasp. “You did all that?” Despite the expression, you were actually genuinely surprised.

“You guys act like I’ve never run my own company before.” In the process of taking a second bite.

Narrowing your eyes, only playfully so, “But did you really though?”

He pointed his empty fork your way. “I’m gonna let that go. Because it might be a fair point. But because I’m letting it go, we won’t discuss it.” Finally he handed over your plate, which you gratefully accepted, but he turned to the counter and then dipped back to you to offer you a glass of orange juice. “Wash it down with this.”

Pursing your lips to the side, you gave it a squint. “It’s not a screwdriver is it?” You doubted it. But one could never be too sure with him.

“No. Just your average run of the mill orange juice Plan B cocktail. Very tasty.”

The two of you shared a long, long look before you grinned, accepting the glass. “Why aren’t you just the most romantic gentleman in town.” Not even going to question where the hell he got his hands on that. But, on second thought… “Did you actually drink some??”

He smiled back, propping his hip on the counter, reaching over to a little open tub of blueberries, popping a handful in his mouth. “I had to make sure it tasted good. I’m not going to serve you the best pancakes known to man with a glass of bitter orange juice.”

Tony Stark may have just been the most ridiculous man in the world. Truly. “Well thanks for looking out for me.” Down the hatch it went.

“Any time, honey.”

About as much discussion as you needed for not only why he had the pills in the first place, but why he was giving them to you. Maybe sometime in the future- the very far future- you’d revisit it. Until then… orange juice cocktail it is.

                          -------------------------------------------------------

 While Tony had actually done the work he’d claimed to do while you were knocked out, setting up a briefing in one of CNN’s borrowed press rooms, he hadn’t bothered to start writing pointers out for himself. Which was why you knew it was extremely important that you do all the talking, and write your own speech. Letting him go off the cuff had gotten you in a lot of trouble twice now. There was no need for a third time.

The noise outside was bothersome, though, despite the private room. You really only had to focus on a few key points- most of the important ones being blaming Justin Hammer for everything. Because it absolutely was all his fault, and letting the public know you were pursuing him.

But as your hands stilled over your laptop, a sigh escaping just as two interns collided with each other in the hallway, Tony looked up from his phone. “You want me to yell at them?”

At this you couldn’t help a brief smile. “We don’t work here. They’re doing us a favor.” Though that really wouldn’t stop him if you said yes. And they’d probably run off all the same. “That is an interesting thought, though.”

His brows went up. “What? You want me to buy CNN?”

“Why doesn’t Stark Industries have a building in the city?” It made perfect sense. An expansion. And having a dedicated place to go when you actually had to work here would be wonderful.

“Haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“I think we should.” Nodding in agreement with yourself as you went back to your brief on the laptop screen. When he didn’t follow up, “It’d be good for press. It’d be good to have a place to go when we come here- and we do. A lot.” More often than you’d like to mention. “With the Expo, too. We could put a lot of people to work… open a whole new bout of research and development… and maybe we could start looking into all that clean energy...”

Though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel his grin. “You don’t have to ask me, you know. If you want to start looking at land, that’s well within your rights as CEO.”

“Who said I was asking?” Coy as you shrugged your shoulders. “Maybe I’m just talking out loud.”

He stood up from the stool poised at the makeup table, moving to come behind you and put his hands on your shoulders, leaning in. You looked up. “Keep talking.”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“Me, too. Big tower. Huge. With Stark in big letters on the top.”

A half giggle half snort escaped you. “Now I feel like you’re trying to talk me out of it.”

“Too on the nose?” His smile warmed you to your core, but more so was the kiss he pressed to the tip of your nose as he leaned down. As if making a point.

Only encouraging more giggles. Probably his goal, as when he pulled back he looked mighty pleased. “Not as much as that, maybe.” Reaching up you put a hand over his on your shoulder. “Let’s look for a spot after the conference. We’re here for a few more days, anyway.”

“Let’s do it.”

                           -------------------------------------------------------

 The lights were white hot as the two of you stepped out onto the press stage. Cameras had been going the second you stepped into the room. Voices lulled to a murmur. Tony only leaned into the podium to say, “I’m gonna uh… I’m gonna let her do all the talking this time. Less trouble that way.” Getting a laugh across the room.

Something you smiled at as you put both hands on the side, and then took a deep breath. “Thanks everyone for coming. The events last night at the Stark Expo were shocking and appalling, to say the least. It is only with the efforts of the police force and firefighters of New York City, Iron Man, and Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes piloting the Iron Man Mark II suit that nobody was severely hurt, and we owe a lot to them. At this moment in time we will be shutting down the Stark Expo for cleanup and reassessment, but we will be reopening the gates in October of this year. Anyone who purchased tickets will be able to get a refund through the Stark Industries website, or you can hold on to your passes and they’ll be redeemable later in the year.

Stark Industries is also setting up a family fund for those effected in the events last night. Anyone that needs medical bills looked after can contact our fund through our website and we will handle everything and anything you need. No questions asked. In addition to that...” Another deep breath.

You’d have to be as calm as possible for this one, no matter how much you felt otherwise. “Justin Hammer has been taken into police custody, and Stark Industries is now pursuing him to the fullest extent of the law. His absolute negligence- his disgusting need to try and show up Stark Tech led him to act wildly, aiding and abetting the criminal Ivan Vanko in order to secure stolen plans for a primitive version of the Arc Reactor. To power primitive suits that in no way could stand up to the force of Iron Man himself.

Let me be clear about this, every one of those suits was destroyed last night. Ivan Vanko lost his own life as a result. Justin Hammer will face a life behind bars, make no mistake. And it is why Stark Industries is also assisting any family, any individual, that wishes to file in a class action lawsuit against him for his rash and vile actions. Our lawyers are at your disposal. Pro bono.

We are deeply saddened that Justin Hammer used the Stark Expo, a venue that was about coming together to create technologies that help the world, as a playground for destruction. Stark Industries will do everything we can to make it right.” Pausing, taking a breath, and then opening the floor for them. “I’ll take only a couple questions.”

Even doing this was dangerous. Now that you were done, you’d much rather take off and not have to deal with any more of this at the moment. But you could only control the headlines so far with an impassioned speech like that.

Pointing at one of the reporters at the right of the room, she stood up. “How is it that Justin Hammer was able to get this dangerous presentation together without either of you being any the wiser?”

You figured this one was coming, so at least you were ready. “While in what little credit Justin deserves, I don’t believe his intent was to cause mass hysteria and violence last night. But his negligence in doing so anyway, and the means he took to get there, is not going to be looked the other way on.” When she tried to speak over you you raised your hand to stop her. “I’m not finished.” Because you weren’t dodging her question. “His presentation on the docket had been severely altered to hide its true nature. He only allowed his own workers on stage to get it ready, and bribed one of our Expo managers to get it rushed and to look the other way on the coordination. This is why we are shutting down the Expo at this time and reassessing.”

“And that staff member?”

“Will go unnamed for right now. But be assured they will also be punished.” Breath in. Breath out. You picked another person in the back.

“Excuse me- are the rumors true that you and Tony Stark entered into a romantic relationship before the co-assignment of the company?”

You allowed the utter disgust to take hold of your expression. “I’m sorry- are you asking me about my personal life after people were hurt last night? Is that really your focus?”

The man in the back tried to speak up, but Tony took hold of one of the little mics on the podium and leaned in again. “I’m right here, you know. If you wanna ask, ask.” But when the guy tried to talk again Tony cut him off. “Are you really just asking if I’m single because you wanna take me out? Because I’m flattered at the offer. Really.”

Taking the mic forcibly from his hand, you pushed it back into its position forward. “What Tony is trying to say is that trying to assess either of our romantic lives after the events of last night is incredibly tacky and short-sighted. And, frankly, I’m embarrassed for you. We’re done. Thank you, everyone else, for your time.”

Hands and voices all raised to get over one another. Shouting hundreds of other questions. You left the stage, Tony following only after you stepped down. The walk through the back halls to the green room again was a short one, but even so you felt exhausted again once there. “We really should say something. Eventually.” Another reason you really wished someone had not asked that. You didn’t need him thinking about it.

“You want to?” Then again… You slung your laptop bag over your shoulder and picked up your purse from the table. “Are you really sure about that? What if your image can’t survive playboy being shaved from your title?” Teasing. Mildly. You were slightly concerned- or at least concerned that he would be concerned. ...should be concerned? Now you were getting yourself confused.

It was hard to tell anymore.

He put his hands in his pockets as you came over to him by the closed door. “I can survive anything.” Little smirk, self assured.

You squinted your eyes at him. Scrutinizing. But more putting on a show than anything. “So you say. Why now, Tony?”

“It’d be easier to get through pressers if you weren’t always asked about it. Or me. Either. Because if someone just asks me while you’re not around I’m liable just to say yes.” Being the smart ass that he was. You believed he really would, too.

Reaching up to lay a hand over his chest, you sighed. “Not that I’m saying you’re right-”

“Oh. But you are.” Grinning widely.

“Not that I’m saying you’re right.” You doubled down. “But you may… have a point. A small one. Very minor.”

Taking your hand, he pulled it further up to lay a kiss to the back. “Uh huh. A point. So what should we do about me and you?”

Turning your hand over you cupped his cheek in your palm. “I’d prefer something subtle...” Not especially his forte.

“Hm. So no big banner on the back of the jet?”

You couldn’t help the snort. “No. Don’t you start getting tacky on me, too.” If not something completely subtle, it at least had to be tasteful. Slipping your hand down to take hold of his own, you opened the door, finding Happy waiting with a nod on the other side to escort you out of the building. People already knew. There really was no point in hiding it anymore. “What about the gala after Basel?”

He hummed out a thought. “The art show? Look- I’m not interested in buying back all those pieces-”

“Neither am I. But...” The art show in Switzerland, at least the after party where all the media would be poised out front, and all the rich people that you loathed cavorted… “I’m picturing you in a nice suit. And me in a beautiful dress. You can lead me by the hand out of the car, and we’ll go up the steps arm in arm and dance the night away...” Ah. What a blissfully wonderful life.

“Painting quite the picture, aren’t you?” A light chuckle in his voice as the two of you exited the building and he held the car door open for you.

“It’s better than a banner in the sky. Or a press release. We’ll let them feel like they’ve finally caught us.” Pretending you were going to throw the media a bone.

It was his smile that told you you’d gone too far in your head. Because he was already half leaned in the car, hand on the door, too close to you, with cameras flashing on the sidewalk fifty feet away. His voice was low and warm. “Haven’t they already?”

The car door blocked the pictures snapped thousands at a time, and the rush of raised voices faded as he kissed you. In that easy way of his making the rest of the world disappear. No matter what trouble he was causing.

 Damn him.

[winterisakiller]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Nine

Chapter: 9/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: T (for now)

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER NINE

 With a growing sense of unease, Rosemary stared at Tom from across the table. His auburn hair was disheveled, the reason becoming all too obvious as he ran his hand through it yet again. His clothing was neat but beginning to show its wear, she could see a definite hole forming at the elbow of his jumper. She had smirked at his clothing choice, or his uniform as she’d come to think of it; dark blue jumper, dark jeans, and grey boots. It was simple and perfectly him. His glasses sat ever so slightly askew on his nose. He looked much as she’d come to expect him too. But she still couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that some about him was wrong…Well maybe not wrong, but off. 

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that it must have to do with her. It was stupid and ridiculous but the thought simply wouldn’t dissipate. The idea that maybe, just maybe he’d sat and really thought about what was happening between them and decided, once more, that whatever it was wasn’t worth it. She attempted to mentally shake the thought away. He was here now, they were friends, everything was fine. And even if it wasn’t, there was little to be achieved by worrying. Like that’s ever stopped me…

“Rosie?”

She jumped at the sound of her name, her eyes quickly shooting up to lock on his as she was jolted back into the present. There was a definite mix of humor and concern in their depths. And yet there was something deeper in them that she could not place. “Hmm?”

Tom cocked his head slightly to the side seemingly studying her. She felt strange under his gaze.  “Are you alright?” 

Rosemary stifled the laugh that threatened to burst from her throat. Was she alright? “Yes, sorry.” She attempted to cover her embarrassment with a sip from her water. “My mind wandered away from me.” She paused again, looking up into his face again. “Are you alright?” 

Had she not been watching him so intently, Rosemary would have missed the way he flinched at the question. It was such a small action, so incredibly subtle, something so easy to miss. But she had seen it and was desperate to know just what it had meant. “Tom?” she queried, both anxious for and dreading his answer. 

Tom took a deep breath and offered her a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” Her eyes widened and dread settled in her gut. Her face must have given her away because Tom was quick to add. “Please, don’t worry about it, Rosie. It’s alright, we’re alright. It’s something that I’m doing my best to work through.” He reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I’m not trying to hide or keep anything from you; I just need time to work through this. And when I have, I promise you I will speak of it with you.” 

She wanted to believe him. To be able to take him at his word and know without a doubt that he would share whatever it was with her when he was ready. But the doubt was a difficult thing to shake, especially when Tom’s MO had always been evasion and followed swiftly by flight. He was trying though; she had to believe in that if nothing else. And if he was trying then she need to at least strive to do the same. Forcing a smile to her own face, she squeezed his hand in return. “Alright. I can accept that.” 

The smile the lighted his face this time seemed more genuine than its predecessor and that, in turn, eased some of the tension she’d been carrying. Neither spoke for several minutes. 

“Thank you,” Tom whispered, breaking the silence. His eyes were warm and sincere as he spoke. 

Rosemary looked at him in momentary confusion. 

He laughed softly and continued. “For giving me another chance; one I’m not sure I fully deserve…” he trailed off for a moment before appearing to gather himself. “Regardless, I’m grateful.” 

She stared at him, not quite sure how to respond. Her first thought was to tell him he was being ridiculous; they’d agreed to let it go and move forward, it was done. That she’d been given the same chance by him and if he felt he hadn’t earned his how could she have possibly earned her own? But that would spark a debate and would only hurt them both. Rosemary didn’t want that. There had been more than enough hurt between them. 

Instead, she offered him a smile and took his hand in hers once again. “I am too.” 

Momentary confusion colored his features then understanding dawned. He returned her smile, looked as though he wanted to challenge her meaning but seemed to think better of it and simply squeezed her hand in response. 

The café Tom had chosen was busy enough by lunch crowd standards but not overly so. It was calmer, more sedate than she’d expected and because of that Rosemary felt herself relax. Spending time in public with Tom was still strange and often left her feeling more than a little uneasy. It was silly, she knew, but it was a hard feeling to relinquish. She had been so used to before, when they would spend all of their time hidden away. There had been something to hide then, she’d reasoned. And now, perhaps, their friendship was somehow safer in public than when there had been more between them. Whatever the cause, she refused to let herself think on it more than was strictly necessary. Worrying over what she could not control would do her little good. It never had before. But still, it was easier said than done. 

“How was your meeting with Luke? And…Michael was it?” She asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them once again. 

“Yes. Michael, my agent here.” Tom hesitated for a moment before smiling continuing on, “Fairly well. We were finalizing a new project.” 

Rosemary’s eyebrow rose. “Oh now, care to share? Or is it a secret? I don’t want to get you in trouble.” But her curiosity had been well and truly peaked. And from the look on Tom’s face he knew it as well. 

A laugh fell from his lips, warm and joyous, and he shook his head. “No. No, it’s not a secret, per say, but I can’t speak about it in too much detail.” He paused and sipped his water. “If all goes according to plan I’ll be back on the London stage come late summer, early fall at the latest.” 

The smile that lit his eyes warmed Rosemary’s heart. He’d spoken often about how he enjoyed stage work and how he wished he could do more. He loved films, but he longed to stretch his legs on the boards once again. To throw himself into a character knowing that it was just him and the actors he shared the stage with; no editors, no reshoots, just an open and honest performance. And now it looked as if he would be able to do so again. She was utterly thrilled for him. 

“Tom,” she gushed, reaching out and taking his hand. She squeezed it in a rush of affection. “That is absolutely fantastic. I’m so happy for you.” 

He returned her smile and gently squeezed her hand back. “I cannot wait. It’s been far too long.” Tom paused and looked directly at Rosemary, hope and excitement blazing in his eyes. “You’ll have to come once we’ve opened.” 

Rosemary blushed softly and fought the warmth that threatened to overwhelm her. He’d asked her to come as a friend; for support, nothing more. She needed to get her head firmly back on lest it run away on her down a path that simply couldn’t be an option. “Just let me know when. I’d love to see you onstage.” 

Conversation ceased shortly thereafter brought on by the arrival of their respective meals. And for that Rosemary was secretly grateful. It gave her the chance to focus herself back into the present and work to relax once again. To stop her mind from wandering down the path of ‘what if?’ 

They ate in companionable silence occasionally commenting on their respective dishes and offering each other bits to try. It was wonderful, spending time with Tom like this. Just being able to sit and be with him. Once they had finished and the bill laid to the table, Tom quickly grabbed and settled it, waving off Rosemary’s protests. “I invited you, darling. I should pay.” 

She narrowed her eyes but acquiesced with a much grace as she could; fighting Tom on the matter was a futile effort and she damn well knew it. But that didn’t mean she was going to give in completely. “I’m covering next time, mind you.” Her gaze on his face was firm and serious. 

Tom smiled broadly at this. “Certainly.” His answering expression told her that the chances of him actually letting that happen were slim to none. She bristled slightly but quickly shook the feeling off. Tom didn’t mean anything by it other than simply wanting to treat her, she knew that. He was a giving person, especially for those he cared about. The idea that he cared for her warmed her heart in ways she dared not to think too closely on. 

Rosemary pointed a finger at him, “I mean it, Hiddleston.” 

Another hearty chuckle fell from his lips, “I know you do, Rosie.” He stood and tucked his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. “Shall we?” She nodded, standing and hooking her bag over her left shoulder. Side by side they headed from the dining area of the café and towards the hallway that served as its main entrance. 

Tom turned to Rosie as they neared the door. “Are you up for a walk? I’m not quite ready for the afternoon to end.” He paused and a look of delayed concern crossed his brow. “I mean if you don’t have to rush back to the shop. Don’t let me keep you.” Rosie reached up and took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. He smiled softly at her. 

Rosie smiled warmly back at Tom. She hadn’t wanted to part company with him either. Hanna had the shop well in hand and she knew that Jules had everything at the flagship location very much under control as well. There was no need to rush away. She nodded at him. “Yes, that sounds wonderful.” She was about to open her mouth to ask where he wanted to go when Tom’s phone rang. 

With a sheepish smile, Tom fished his phone out of his pocket. “Luke,” he mouthed at her as he hit answer. “Hello, Luke…Whoa, slow down. What?” Tom’s brows narrowed in confusion and his expression grew grim the longer Luke talked. “What pictures? Luke, I have no bloody idea what you’re on about…Oh…” His voice died away. 

Rosemary watched in growing concern as Tom’s face went a shade lighter. She felt her own color fade as his words processed in her mind. Pictures? There were pictures? Of what? Of us? Where? How? It was abundantly clear that whatever the pictures were about they clearly were something neither he nor Luke were pleased about. Please not of us. Not if it makes him this angry. She couldn’t make out Luke’s words from where she stood but Tom’s expression coupled with the raised voice she could just barely hear spoke volumes. 

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “No. That is not what bloody happened! I didn’t see any bleeding photographers! Yes dammit, I remember!” He paced around the small hallway, free hand jammed mercilessly in his pocket, and Rosemary could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He threw a hand up in exasperation and with an apologetic nod to Rosemary, headed back into the café. 

Several minutes passed and with it no sign of Tom. This couldn’t be good. Not by any stretch any imagination. Rosemary let out a soft sigh and wondered if maybe it would be better if she just left. She had no idea when or even if Tom would be coming back. And if he did that he would even want her there. The indecision that had faded almost to a dull murmur over the last hour came suddenly roaring back to life. Something had happened. Something that Luke was obviously up in arms about. Something that clearly unsettled and angered Tom. Something that very well may have to do with them. Maybe it was best if she simply left. 

With hesitant resolve, she metaphorically straightened her back, turned and headed for the door. “Rosie,” Tom’s voice called behind her, a wash of concern and barely concealed frustration. “Wait.” 

She paused and took a deep breath before turning to face him. “Is everything alright?” It was a stupid question. A very stupid question and she bloody well knew it. Of course he wasn’t alright. He had a set to his shoulders that belied as much even if his face hadn’t held tell-tale signs of strain and annoyance. 

“I’m fine.” His tone was terse and bordered very much on the edges of cold. She felt herself bristle automatically. “Are we done here?” He all but snapped as he gestured vaguely around at the empty hallway. 

Uncertainty warred with anger inside her. Rosemary didn’t know what had exactly had gotten him so up in arms but she knew damn well she didn’t have to take him lashing out at her over it. “Are we?” she challenged.

Tom paused, looking at her in confused annoyance, his shoulders tense. “And just what do you mean by that?” 

“You know what, on second thought I think I’m going to have to bow out on our walk. You obviously have something you need to work through and frankly I don’t feel like bearing the brunt of it until you do, if it’s all the same to you.” Rosemary didn’t bother to take in Tom’s reaction to her words, instead turning on her heel and walking out into the busy London sidewalk.

                                                       —

The door closed with a loud bang behind her and Rosemary threw herself backwards to lean heavily against it. Storming off as she’d done had been a mistake, that much had become abundantly clear on her journey back to the flat, but she knew that there was no way for her to take it back. She’d known Tom had been on edge, it would have been clear even to a blind man, but she hadn’t expected him to snap at her and she’d reacted, albeit poorly, in her own right. A right fine mess indeed. 

A soft ping from her left-hand side alerted her to a text message. Sliding herself down to the floor and settling firmly upon it, she pulled her purse to her and searched its recesses for her phone. It took several tries before she located it, hiding at the bottom of the bag. She flicked on the screen and saw one new message awaiting her. 

Hanna. 

‘So we’ve had a bit of a set back with our distributor. Said they didn’t get the last authorization form. Do you still have the scanned version in your email? I can’t find the original to save my life.’ 

Rosemary grumbled as she pulled herself back up to her feet and padded towards the couch. She picked up her laptop from its resting place on the coffee table and settled herself back against the worn cushions. While the device booted itself she fired off a quick response to Hanna. 

‘Not sure. I will check and get back to you.’ 

She dropped her phone onto the couch beside her and made quick work of logging herself into the computer. A few clicks brought open her email program and web browser. She scanned the contents of her sent folder and “Bingo,” she whispered, clicking open the message with attached authorization form. She grabbed her phone and let Hanna know that she had found said form and would be forwarding it onto her. 

A sigh fell from her lips. “Right, there’s that problem sorted.” She laughed softly. If only the others were that simple. She allowed her eyes to scan over the homepage her browser had defaulted to. Most of the ‘news’ items could barely be considered that but, occasionally, one or two could be more than a little amusing. So she hadn’t made any bother in changing it. 

One headline in particular grabbed at her attention. She sat frozen, mouse hovering over the ‘read more’ link, uncertain if she actually wanted to click it. Curiosity won out and without letting herself think further on it, she clicked the link and waited for the article and accompanying photographs to load. 

‘Trouble in Paradise for Secret Couple? 

Rumors have been flying around the last few months that the internet's boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston (38) has a secret love. While we're all sad to see him off the market by the looks of things there is already trouble in paradise. On Thursday things seemed to get heated in the park and we don't mean in the good way. Who is Tom's mysterious red-head and will she be sticking around?’ 

The short article was accompanied by several rather grainy, and obviously amateur, photographs. But the people in them were unmistakable to Rosemary, or honestly anyone who knew either of the subjects; Tom in his predictable black on black running gear and Jules, hair loose and whipping round in the wind with her all too familiar teal woolen coat wrapped tightly around her. Rosemary stared at the photos in stunned disbelief. Jules and Tom? A couple? The idea was so utterly ridiculous it was bloody near hysterical. And she did it out a short laugh then, at the absurdity of it all. 

What wasn’t funny, however, was the jolt of emotion that followed quickly on the heels of her laughter. Raw and confusing, she felt the sting of tears and a deep seated dread that settled near into the marrow of her bones. For fucks sake, why was she crying? There wasn’t the slightest scrap of truth to this story and she knew it; there hardly ever was. The likelihood of Jules ever being involved in any way with Tom was so astronomically low that it didn’t even bear thinking. And Tom was many things, but sneaking around behind her back with her best friend was not something she believed him capable of. 

That thought pulled her up short. Sneaking behind her back? Where the fuck had that come from? She and Tom were friends, and honestly just barely that at this juncture, there wasn’t anything between them that warranted sneaking around. They weren’t a couple. He was her friend and he could see or not see whomever he wanted. She had no say in the matter. And it wasn’t like he was actually seeing Jules…though she did wonder just what had led to their meeting in the first place. They didn’t speak to each other as far as she knew. And as much as Jules disliked Tom, Rosemary was certain she wouldn’t purposely seek him out. But the stubborn streak on her friend was near a mile long and hardly rational. 

Rosemary groaned and pushed her laptop beside her on the couch. God, she was being ridiculous; completely and utterly ridiculous. But that did little to silence the small voice in her head taunting her with memories of other tabloid articles and other photographs. Tom had never spoken of what had happened between him and his co-star but Rosemary hadn’t been blind. Something had happened between him and Natalie Billings, but how far it had gone she didn’t know. But it had happened. He hadn’t even been hers then and it had hurt like hell.

This is different, she told herself, rubbing her face with her hands in confused frustration. And it was completely different. This was Jules for god’s sake. Jules and Tom. Nothing whatsoever happened and you bloody well know it, she told herself with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. Then why do I feel so torn up? 

Torn up. That was exactly how she felt. Torn up. She couldn’t think of another way to put it. There was nothing to fret over and here she was wanting to cry and scream. Jealous, her mind hissed at her. You’re jealous and it’s eating you alive. 

A frustrated laugh tore from her throat. God, she was jealous. Irrationally, ridiculously jealous. It didn’t make any sense. Absolutely none. Why should she be jealous of something that didn’t exist? Because it could, her mind offered. Not with Jules. Never with Jules. But with someone else. The idea settled like a lead weight in her stomach. While Tom wasn’t seeing anyone as far as she knew that didn’t mean that would always be the case. At some point he wouldn’t be alone anymore. He would find someone that he could see himself leading a life with. Someone he’d want a family with. Someone that wasn’t her. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. It doesn’t matter. But it did. 

She hated it. Hated how confused and hurt it made her. When she had allowed Tom back into her life, Rosemary hadn’t let herself think what it meant. What she’d wanted it to mean. He had always been important to her, it hadn’t matter how long it had been since they had last spoken, she always seemed to welcome him back into her life whether she’d meant to or not. She loved him, hadn’t ever stopped if she was being completely honest, and there was little point in denying that now. But would admitting it do any good? Would it make any difference? She loved him but she wasn’t sure she could trust him with her heart. And if she couldn’t trust him with that then there was little point in any of it. 

Uncertain and deeply frustrated with herself, Rosemary closed the laptop lid firmly, as if that would make the whole mess simply disappear. God, if only. She rubbed the backs of her hands over her eyes, feeling the sharp burn of tears threatening once more. Enough, she growled at herself. Enough. This had to stop. 

A steady, rhythmic knocking on her front door startled Rosemary back into the present. She muttered a curse under her breath and pushed herself up off the couch. Rosemary grimaced as she spared a quick glance at the mirror hanging near the door. Her eyes were definitely puffier than they should have been, an obvious sign that she had been crying or at least very close to it, but there was little to be done for it now. She took a deep breath and unbolted the door. 

“Tom?” The name stumbled from her lips in confusion. He stood in the hallway; hair blown haphazardly, cheeks ruddy with cold, eyes a deep and piercing blue. There was an almost tangible buzz of nervous energy rolling off of him in steady waves. 

A knot formed in the pit of her stomach as he took a deep breath and locked his eyes on her, determination coloring his features. “May I come in? We need to talk.”

Next Chapter

[thepilgrimofwar]

1.

“Keep still.”

Sederis paused, letting his brother attend to his tailored military garb of blues and golds.

“You know they’re not going to listen to you,” Solendis said, smoothing the curve of his brother’s collar. “I’m sure you remember what happened the last time you made a similar request. To them, you’re just a warmonger. A noble brat trying to drag his people into wars that are not their own.”

“But they are their own,” Sederis stated.

“No Sederis, they are not. Not to them. You need to stop treating the Council of Kearn like your Bannerlords.” Solendis took him by the shoulders and turned him round, ensuring that each polished button was immaculate. “They are not generals. They are merchants, landowners, and serflords who represent the will of your people- whose purpose was to give the common man a voice- which I still think is the worse idea you’ve come up with to date.”

Sederis chuckled dryly. “Worse than swimming with you in one of Silvermoon’s public fountains?”

“That was one time,” Solendis sighed, “and it was the height of summer. Now focus.” He snapped his fingers at the Household guards that lined his city-based apartment, the perfect place to make final preparations before their journey to Kearn’s City Hall where the Council awaited them. “You need to play to their need of security; appeal to their petty titles, and affirm that you’re the only way they’ll retain them. If they think they’re better off serving the Alliance if they make landfall, then this is a lost cause from the start.”

Sederis looked to his armed escort, dressed in the realm’s finest brocade and bronze plate mail, and shook his head. “Why do you think I’m going to appease them?”

“I thought appeasing them was your idea.”

“It was. I changed my mind. War’s coming, Solendis. They can either fall in line or be destroyed. Whether that’ll be at my hands or at the hands of the Alliance is completely up to them.”

--

Sederis watched the streets of Kearn part ways before his carriage as they made their way towards City Hall. He wondered when he had become his father. Perhaps it had been when he began to speak in the language of power, a cold language he had adopted to better appease his Bannerlords. People had become subjects, soldiers had become fodder, and the bountiful fields that gave the Emberglade’s its namesake had become nothing more than mere resources. It was a language that could reduce his lands and everything within it into printed ink-stained numbers that could be measured- quantified- and calculated in order to keep the balance of power steady. It was a balance that the Council of Kearn chose to ignore. Today was the day he was going to rectify that.

They arrived at the ancient hall that had been built when elves first made landfall on these shores. Tall columns held up alabaster masonry, carved with images of colonial triumph. But unlike other halls of Thalassian architecture, they were not gilded in gold, but in iron. ‘A display of solidarity and strength,’ Sederis had once been told by his father. ‘Unlike the opulence of their masters in Silvermoon.’

The arrival of the Lord of the Emberglades and his host of eight house guards was announced by the clattering of military boots against sterile marble. Clerks of this seat of provincial power parted before them as they headed straight to where they were awaited.

Solendis checked his timepiece. “Fashionably late,” he jested, stopping at the doors to the council chambers.

“Mistakes.”

“What?” Solendis cocked his head in curiosity.

“I never told you. But when I created this council, I modelled it after what I had seen in Pandaria. A system of mutual checks and balances. A voice for the common folk. Instead they’ve become”

“Noble goal. Poor execution.”

Sederis frowned. “Birthed of idealism, arrogance and stupidity. My stupidity.” He opened the final door to his destination. “I spent all my time in power trying to make up for my father’s mistakes. His wrath. His brutality. But In doing so, I’ve made new ones. All for the sake of the people.”

“That’s how you learn,” Solendis said as his brother disappeared behind closed doors. “That’s how we learn.”

--

Sederis gazed up at the lowborn lords of iron and rye. They sat upon false thrones, elevated and surrounding circular stage upon which he stood. He wasn’t afraid of them, not like he had been the first time he faced them.

“You’ve come to discuss the topic of war,” spoke one.

“Again,” spoke another.

“Because we are at war,” Sederis stated. “We stand alone at the brink of annihilation. The Alliance are at the gates of Greenwood Pass, and the fleet sits off the coasts of the Great and Forbidding seas, cutting us off. It is only a matter of time before an invasion begins, once they realize that we’re not going to be starved out of our own lands.”

“This much we know,” said a council woman. “I’m not sure if you’ve been paying attention, with all your… galivanting with the Sunguard, but the crown is bleeding us all dry.”

Another cleared his throat. “Almost half of all grain we produce is being levied, along with a substantial portion of the abled bodied.”

“The people and the land are almost at its breaking point. Exhausted, not only from what we give to the crown, but also from the contributions to Legionfall of which you insisted… or have you already forgotten your own demands of your people?”

Sederis sneered. He hadn’t expected war so soon after defeating the Legion. He hadn’t expected the new leaders of Azeroth to be so unbelievably stupid. “None of these things change the fact that war is coming. When the Alliance invades- and they will invade- our beaches are likely to be the first ones to be hit.”

“If you want to know what’s the best for your people. Then the answer is clear. Surrender.” The council woman spoke for the rest of her brethren, who all stayed quiet as she continued. “The only way to spare them from the horrors of war is to ensure that those horrors never make it to our shores. Given the strength of the Thalassian navy, if the full force of the Alliances does decide to invade, there will be absolutely no stopping that.”

“You all truly believe that?” Sederis stood dumbfounded before the Council of Kearn.

“If we surrender, the provinces and the tens of thousands who live within them will be spared. Perhaps they may have to suffer under the occupation of a foreign force for a while, but they will live all the same.”

The council woman cleared her throat. “That’s if you really desire what’s best for your people, as the only one who’d lose anything in this scenario would be you. Your lands, your title, your prestige, but the people will be safe.”

“And what happens if they’re pushed to desperation?” Sederis stared each of them in the eyes. “If the crown brings to bear all the might of the Thalassians, and they turn to less honorable conduct. What then? What’ll stop them from scorching the earth of the Glades? What’ll stop them from butchering every man woman and child?”

“Surely they wouldn’t-”

“Says the man who has never seen war.” Sederis spat. “If you think the people will be better off under the mercy of a people who care nothing about them, then you all are sorely mistaken.” Silence descended upon the chamber, and each of the eight members of the Council of Kearn looked at each other. “Our only option is to prepare for it. To die to a man defending our homes-”

“We disagree,” spoke the council woman.

“What other option do you have? Flee?”

“Surrdener,” spoke another of the eight. “You were just told.”

“And I just told you why that is not an option. Are you all daft?!” Sederis yelled, his voice amplified by the chamber. “I will not put the people at the mercy of those who’d- who have- put the innocent to the sword before.”

The council woman stood forward. “As the Council of Kearn, representing the will of the people of the Emberglades, our decision- should the Alliance make landfall- will be to surrender immediately. You and your Bannerlords may do as they please with whatever meager force of militia you can scrape together, but we will have no part in this war.”

Sederis went quiet.

“Are you dissatisfied with our answer?” Asked one of them. “Do you only agree with the will of your people when it suits you? If all you do is bend us to suit your desires, then what was the point of this farce?”

“When my father died,” Sederis began. “When I came to power, I stood up for the people. When I established this council and gave you your voices, I did so because I refused to be like him. I see now that I was wrong. Because all you did with your newfound power was to clamor for more.

“You’ve opposed everything I’ve set out to do, from ensuring our children weren’t put on the altar of war to giving Legionfall our all. You were all too content to sit on your asses while the world burned down around you- as long as you aren’t the ones paying for it.

“This council is a joke. A mark of status. A power move in the petty games that you lowborn lot play. This council represents the people as little as you care about them. This meeting proves that without a hint of doubt. So, as Lord of the Emberglades, representative of the Crown, hereby abolish this farce.”

With a snap of his fingers, the members of his house guard who had been waiting by the door, entered the council chamber and took the lords of iron and rye from their thrones. With a snap of his fingers, he rectified old mistakes and made new ones.

For the sake of his people.

Art by Isharton

@retributionpriest @stormandozone @thanidiel @thenaaru @dorksworn

[ladynonsense]

ONITC (TRR AU) Part 12: Aftermath

Catch up:  One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

After that fun diversion in the last chapter, Leo’s here to deliver some new information that brings some ugliness to the surface for Liam and forces him to tell Olivia a painful secret. Warning: this is kind of dark and deals with PTSD, panic attacks, and violence. Also some rough language as is the case with everything I write  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Tags:@theroyalweisme@pbchoicesobsessed@smritysriv@thatcatlady0716@jayjay879@hellospunkiebrewster@mfackenthal@madaraism​ @boneandfur​ @pens-girl-87​ @butindeed​ @jamielea81​ @bobasheebaby@starstruckzonkoperatorbat@drakelover78@notoriouscs @sir-wigglesworth @simplyaiden-blog @jlouise88 @hopefulmoonobject

"Liam!" Leo called through the door as he knocked incessantly. "Where is everybody? The door is locked. You're starting to freak me out."

"Everything is fine, Leo. I'll be right out." Liam didn't seem concerned in the slightest with the intrusion.

Riley and Drake pulled the bedspread up to their chins, the embarrassment of being caught in bed with the king and queen-to-be making them want to hide and disappear. Olivia calmly pulled on the simple dress Liam had brought for her, while he dug through his bag for a fresh undershirt and some shorts. He answered the door still looking disheveled and flushed.

"Jesus, Liam, they said I was the playboy."

He waved off the comment and went back out to the living room to talk, Olivia in tow. Riley and Drake quietly moved to sit on the ground by the door, secretly listening in.

"What's going on, Leo? It's late, we should all be getting some rest."

Leo snorted with laughter. "Right. I'm sure it was very restful in there." His smile faded as he sat down and gestured for Liam and Olivia to do the same. "We got a call from the palace. I told them you would call back in the morning, but they insisted it was urgent enough to wake you."

Liam's brow furrowed. "Hopefully this is positive. They must have new information about the attack."

Leo leaned in towards Liam, a sympathetic look on his face. "Liam...they do. Everybody does." He pulled out a tablet and handed it to him. A paused video was on the screen, showing a man in the same body armor and mask that the attackers at the wedding had worn. Liam glanced at Olivia. Her fury was written all over her face.

"How dare these cowards address us when they won't even show..."

"...Liam, you need to tell her." Leo looked at his brother pleadingly. Liam was startled.

"Tell her what?"

"Don't play dumb. She needs to hear it from you first."

"Excuse me?" Olivia tried to cover her panic with anger, but it was starting to slip. She squeezed Liam's hand, trying to slow her breath. "What do I need to hear?"

Liam sighed, his sad gaze moving from Leo to Olivia and then back again. "I didn't know you knew. Father didn't tell me until he was on his deathbed."

Leo nodded. "I knew. He didn't want to tell you because he worried it would hurt you. He did have a heart, after all."

"What are you two talking about?" Olivia's face was going red with frustration. Liam held her hand and ran his thumb over her wrist, struggling to meet her eyes. "Does this have something to do with my parents? Are these...are these the same people who killed them?" Liam winced at her words.

"My love...your parents were killed by the King's Guard. They were the attackers, back then. They made an attempt on our lives."

Olivia went pale as she jerked her hand away from Liam's. She stared at him, speechless, for a long moment, before shoving him hard in the chest. "What the fuck!" she yelled, before standing up and storming towards the door.

"Olivia!" Leo called, wincing when she looked back at him with disdain. "...Sorry, Your Grace. But please...it's not safe to leave the house. You can have my room if you'd like to be alone." She glared back in his direction before heading to his room and slamming the door behind her.

Liam let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I have to go speak to her." He stood to leave but Leo held up a hand, motioning for him to stay.

"Let her have a minute. You didn't exactly cushion the blow there."

"Oh, have you finally decided to come home and take control after all?" Liam's carefully controlled anger was bubbling to the surface, and he found himself wanting to pick a fight. Leo winced.

"I'm not trying to tell the king what to do. I'm trying to offer support and advice to my brother." He left his chair and plopped himself down on the couch next to Liam instead, taking Olivia's place. "You can go after her if you need to, but I wouldn't. Give her some time to process before you try to talk to her or she's just going to lash out. You know it's true."

He nodded and buried his face in his hands. "I should have told her sooner. I don't know when I had planned to. What was I thinking?"

Leo patted his back affectionately. "I don't think there ever would have been a good time. But it's better coming from you than from these motherfuckers." He grabbed the tablet off the coffee table and held it out to Liam again. "You need to watch this."

His finger hovering over the play button, Liam took a deep breath and looked back to his brother. "Leo...did I make the wrong choice? Would I have avoided all this if I'd just chosen Madeleine and listened to Father's warnings about Olivia?"

"Liam..." Leo paused and chuckled. "I mean, you're asking the guy who completely bailed on crown and country to escape marriage to Madeleine." Liam chuckled, but his heart wasn't in it. "Seriously, you absolutely did the right thing. They're using the Nevrakis family history to create cracks in your public appearance, that's all. They would find cracks no matter who you married, or they'd just lie. They tried to kill you, Liam. Not her. This isn't about the Nevrakis family. This is an attempted coup." He stood up and pointed again at the tablet. "Watch the video. I'll go talk to Olivia."

Alone in the living room, he hit PLAY.

-----------

Citizens of Cordonia, the time has come to say good-bye to this backwards and corrupt system of government. To toss aside the old nobility that is sucking this country dry and leaving us weak and powerless on the world stage.

Today we stood up against the extravagant display of wealth and excess that was to be the royal wedding. Your king, an inexperienced young man left to rule after the rightful heir tossed his country aside for his own selfish pursuits, marrying an orphan duchess, the very daughter of the traitors that attempted to seize control of the government for their own selfish needs just two decades ago. Is there no one left for the king to marry who doesn't have a history of violence against the crown? This family is a laughing stock around the world, and we will not have Cordonia become a joke!

The royal guard murdered several of our brave freedom fighters today. No lives were lost on their side. We are not interested in harming the public. The Cordonian people are safe, but King Liam, mark my words: we will not stop until you are out of Cordonia, one way or another.

-----------

Liam didn't realize until he tried to set the tablet down that his hands were shaking.

One way or another.

The fear he'd been pushing down, down, down inside him since he'd heard that first shot at the wedding...since earlier...since the assassination attempt seven years ago...since he lost his mother as a boy...it all erupted in him at once. He tried to stand but his legs weren't steady enough to hold him and he fell back into the couch. He clutched at his chest...he couldn't breathe. The room was spinning...the walls were closing in.

"Liam!"

Drake bent over him, concern all over his face. He sat next to him on the couch and wrapped him in his arms to steady him. "Shhhh, shhhhh," he stroked his hair affectionately, desperate to calm him, trying not to let his own panic show. "You're OK. You're OK. I've got you. Breathe. Breathe with me."

He wiped the sweat from Liam's forehead with his thumb as he took deep, slow breaths against him. He felt his breath slow and and sync with his own, but it was soon interrupted by sobs. Drake held him, rocking softly, his heart breaking as Liam's tears soaked through his flimsy undershirt and onto his skin.

"Drake," he croaked, tears still streaming down his face, "I have to leave."

"No, you don't need to leave. Here is where you're safe. Here with all of us."

He shook his head, pushing Drake away. "No, I need to leave. I...I never asked for any of this, and everyone is always trying to take it from me." His fists balled at his sides and his face went dark. "They can have it! I'll just go live a normal life somewhere and no one will ever have to try to kill me again."

Drake grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye. "Liam, listen to me. Absolutely. Fucking. Not."

Liam stared at him, stunned. "Don't I have that right? I wasn't aware I was a prisoner of the royal court." He spat out the words angrily, immediately regretting it, knowing Drake was the last person he should be pushing away. "Isn't this what you always wanted? A normal life without all the courtly bullshit?"

He took his time before responding. "No. What I wanted was to stay with you, for times like this when people try to break you. You're the strongest person I know, but it scares me how much you absorb and repress. It always comes out, eventually." He paused, nervous that he'd set him off and drive him away. "I stayed with you because you are important. It does have to be you, Liam. It was always you that was meant for this. You can't leave Cordonia in the hands of the maniacs that shot up your wedding. What kind of option is that?"

Liam's face softened as he leaned on Drake's shoulder once again with a sigh. "I know. But I don't want to be the king of a country that doesn't want me. I don't need power or money...I just want to serve the people, and it feels like I'm failing miserably."

"I don't have the answers, Liam. But we'll figure this out. You have plenty of allies back at the palace who will help you through this. Tonight...you just need to rest."

Liam half-mumbled an answer as he stretched himself out, lying with his feet hanging over the arm of the couch and his head resting in Drake's lap, and finally allowed himself to relax and go to sleep.

[kyberled]

As an OC blog, did you have any characters in mind while creating your character you took inspiration from? (from the burntout meme)

Easy Meme for a Burnt Out Mun

Yes and no. See, I originally didn’t intend to create Braig as a character at all. In fact, he was Rodi’s idea. Way back in the day, my main blog was over at @asiifisms​. Rodi, at the time, had a bunch of muse for her Obi-Wan, @highgrcund​. We had our boys chatting in a thread, and they got on well enough, and we got to talking. Rodi suggested an AU where K/H Braig was Obi-Wan’s padawan, and, well. 

At first, he started as just an AU. But then we decided to make him younger to fit the AU, and that changed him a bit; then we got to talking about upbringing, and that changed him a bit. Then we talked about his education, and that changed him a bit. And then he started interacting with more people, and I got more into the SW lore and universe, understood more about the Order, and more and more people ended up falling in love with him and he just– Basically, a lot of things happened to change him from that AU. So I made him his own side-blog, and then his own full blog, and now, the only things that are the same are his name and I guess his scarf? And the scar he gets across his face. 

I originally considered changing his name, once I finally realised that he was nothing like my King/do/m H/eart/s boy. His new name was going to be Bréan (Pronounced BREY-on), but I never went through with it. So many people already had custom tags with his name in it, and we had so many nicknames made (Braigimus, Braiggo, Braigos, Braiglet, etc), and shipnames (Braigsoka, mainly; We could’ve made Bréba, probably, but I’m not sure it looks quite as nice as Braiba) that wouldn’t have worked, and so many reasons I never went through with it. (Sidenote: I recently started listening to the broadway OST of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Claude Frollo has a brother named Jéan, pronounced almost the exact same as Bréan, and let me tell you, that threw me for a loop.) After I decided I didn’t want to change his name, I thought to myself that I still really liked how ‘Bréan’ sounded, especially if you paired it with Braig - Braig andBréan. For a time, I debated giving Braig a Force-Sensitive identical twin brother, with whom he got up to shenanigans with, before Bré left the Order, fell to the dark, became a Sith, and one inevitably had to kill the other, because I’m awful. After that, I decided that Bré would be a non-Force-Sensitive twin of Braig who still lived with either their father or their mother. Then I made him older, since I thought that would be a fun dynamic, then I made him look less like Braig, I kept him as Braig’s moral opposite but in different ways, threw him in the exact opposite living conditions (a slum in the Outer Rim vs. the Jedi Temple on Coruscant), renamed him to Karvan, and made him Braig’s half-brother by a different father. They don’t know each other exists, and don’t have any reason to think they’re related, when/if they ever meet. 

So his name stayed the same. He loses his scarf when he’s about 16, but has it before that. His scar’s… Mostly the same, except he only has the one visible one, and his goes down past his jaw onto his neck, while KH Braig’s doesn’t, and the origins are from two very different events. But, I feel like I can’t possibly discredit the influence my trash son had on this sweet boy, and how - I’m not sure this counts - he was the inspiration for Braig in the early stages of his development. Sort of. 

A lot of Braig’s ‘mannerisms’ have been inspired by Obi-Wan: His love of tea, his penchant for proper etiquette and manners, the way he tries to straighten his appearance out and avoid looking too scruffy, and the way he strokes his chin (an invisible beard) when he’s very deep in thought. A lot of this comes from how Rodi and I wrote him as being raised largely by Obi-Dad since day one; Papa had a lot of influence on his boy, in-canon and out, so it makes sense to me that he’d pick up on things dad did. Honestly, a lot of this wasn’t intentional, but rather something that happened over the course of our writing together, so I suppose that counts. 

Braig’s hairstyle, as he gets older, was inspired by Qui-Gon, but you already know that. Rodi honest to god messaged me in the middle of a skype chat saying she’d been thinking about how Braig would look with a Qui-Bun and attached this sketch:

And I was SOLD. Absolutely, 100% sold. 

(If you can’t tell by now, whenever I say Rodi has 50% custody over Braig, it’s not as much of a joke as you’d think. He wouldn’t be who he is without her. [Neither would I, but that’s beside the point.] Hell, he wouldn’t even exist. She’s the one who even got me watching TCW in the first place.)

(Rodi probably has just as much if not more influence on this boy’s appearance than the original K/H character did.)

I don’t remember if it was my or Rodi’s idea to make him a Force-Healer; I just know it came up in a chat we were having. And I know making him a doctor changed how I envisioned him, but making him a Force-Doctor even more so. Because he had to be someone who the Force would… Choose, for lack of a better word, to be a healer. Especially once I did more reading into healing - he had to be someone who could and would focus enough, who had the patience to do the necessary meditation, and so on and so forth. So I think that had something to do with it all, too. 

He’s indigenous because some nice anon suggested it ages back, after asking me about his real-life race and me answering I hadn’t decided. (My K/H boy is latinx.) Heidi, wherever she ran off to, suggested Booboo Stewart as a faceclaim, and we all know how perfect he turned out to be. So that wasn’t really inspiration, either. It just happened.

He’s as cuddly as he is because adults showered him in affection when he was a baby and I guess nobody ever stopped. It started out just with Obi-Dad, of course, but has since spread to Shaak, Eeth, Yaddle, Mace, Depa, Quin, A’sh, and so many more. So nobody ever weaned him off the cuddle bug, so now he snuggles everyone he’s comfortable with. 

I don’t know where his love of flowers came from; I guess that just happened. I do know that he got his journal, which is now his most precious belonging, from Obidad, in another skype chat with Rodi. I know he can heal without the Force, using either ‘standard’ or herbal/natural medicines, because Cad and Hora taught him. I know he can play holochess because of Obi-Dad and Mama Ti, and cards because of Xann and the folks at Aruk’s bar, and he’s learning how to cheat at cards from Quin, because of course he is. I don’t know why he likes stars so much, but I know Obi-Wan takes him stargazing, sometimes. He likes getting his hair brushed out because Obi-Dad and Boba and Cody do it for him and it’s relaxing. He knows Vapaad because Mace decided to teach him, Tusken from A’sharad, Chaulis because of Nihrik and Reyvahl, and Mando’a from Bes’laar and Wolffe and Cody and Boba and Satine. I don’t know why he likes reading so much or why he so desperately wants to be published in the Archives, but I know Jocasta has encouraged that greatly. He likes lullabies because of Shaak and Obi, hot chocolate especially because of Shaak and also Hora, and operates under the assumption that he can get away with murder because apparently it’s true. 

To make one (1) soft boy, it takes a village, not a Batman. 

Honestly, a lot of his growth and development has come from interacting with all my partners on this blog, and I couldn’t be more thankful. You’ve all helped bring him to life and develop this intricate canon and flesh him out and just, wow.

But enough of that.

The biggest inspiration for Braig? My dojo. I’ve been training in various martial arts for fifteen-plus years now, and we’ve always been harsh on our traditionalism. We actually had the oldest living student of Yagi Meitoku visit us not so very long ago who’d been training for sixty years (Not sixty years old, he has been training for sixty years), and he said, of all the schools he’s been to, ours had the most similar energy to Meitoku Daisensei’s, so that was really cool for us; Our grandmaster of kung fu (who’s also grandmaster of the Shaolin Fist in Asia) has said that our school has kept our forms closest to the patterns/ways he first taught it decades ago, which is also really cool for a few reasons. We’re HUGE on maintaining tradition, right down to the way we take our jackets off (that’s right, you can take your jacket off wrong). It’s pretty obvious that the Jedi are heavily, HEAVILY influenced by East-Asian ideals. So I thought it only make sense that I put dojo culture into this kid. The self-imposed perfectionism over his forms and kata, the dedication he has to his tasks, the way he tries to present himself to the general public, how he handles and treats weapons, how he rarely if EVER crosses his arms, how he fixes his posture, the playfighting he does with his close friends, hell, even how he stands when idle (a loose approximation of ‘parade rest’) all comes directly from my dojo. His philosophies are MASSIVELY dojo oriented. Even the fact that he just wants to keep people safe comes from something my Hanshi told us years and years ago at a Ni Nen Keiko that really stuck with me for some reason: “The strong must serve the weak, not the other way around.” That is a MAJOR influence for how Braig views the world and his role in it. So if you talk to him about philosophies, or ask him for an Aesop’s-Fables-esque story, he’s probably gonna say something I picked up over at the dojo. 

I teach there, too, I teach tiny children and pre-teens. So a lot of baby Braig’s ways of expressing himself comes from them, they’re how I understand tiny children operate and thus are my references for writing a tiny child. That, and my brothers (also dojo rats like me). 

Honestly, I think that’s why I never lose muse for Braig. I go to the dojo at least three times a week, every week (perhaps two on weeks when we’re closed for long weekends), and every time I’m there, if he’s been fading, this boy comes right back, because that’s him. This is going to sound majorly cliche, and it’s not really a character, but he’s been inspired by the dojo spirit, and it’s constantly being renewed, so, so is he. 

So, tl;dr, he’s not really inspired by any specific characters, as far as his OOC creation goes. Or maybe he’s been inspired by a bunch of them. Depends on how you read it. But I’d say he was inspired more by lessons, and philosophies, and interactions with the many people who have come together to shape him and his life into what it is, now. 

Oh, and, of course, the light of my life and my best friend, @ectochoir / Rodi.

Blame her, not me.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Nine

Chapter: 9/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: M

Author’s Notes/Warnings:  This is part nine of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

Previous

CHAPTER NINE

  With a growing sense of unease, Rosemary stared at Tom from across the table. His auburn hair was disheveled, the reason becoming all too obvious as he ran his hand through it yet again. His clothing was neat but beginning to show its wear, she could see a definite hole forming at the elbow of his jumper. She had smirked at his clothing choice, or his uniform as she’d come to think of it; dark blue jumper, dark jeans, and grey boots. It was simple and perfectly him. His glasses sat ever so slightly askew on his nose. He looked much as she’d come to expect him too. But she still couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that some about him was wrong…Well maybe not wrong, but off.

 A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that it must have to do with her. It was stupid and ridiculous but the thought simply wouldn’t dissipate. The idea that maybe, just maybe he’d sat and really thought about what was happening between them and decided, once more, that whatever it was wasn’t worth it. She attempted to mentally shake the thought away. He was here now, they were friends, everything was fine. And even if it wasn’t, there was little to be achieved by worrying. Like that’s ever stopped me…

 “Rosie?”

 She jumped at the sound of her name, her eyes quickly shooting up to lock on his as she was jolted back into the present. There was a definite mix of humor and concern in their depths. And yet there was something deeper in them that she could not place. “Hmm?”

 Tom cocked his head slightly to the side seemingly studying her. She felt strange under his gaze.  “Are you alright?”

 Rosemary stifled the laugh that threatened to burst from her throat. Was she alright? “Yes, sorry.” She attempted to cover her embarrassment with a sip from her water. “My mind wandered away from me.” She paused again, looking up into his face again. “Are you alright?”

 Had she not been watching him so intently, Rosemary would have missed the way he flinched at the question. It was such a small action, so incredibly subtle, something so easy to miss. But she had seen it and was desperate to know just what it had meant. “Tom?” she queried, both anxious for and dreading his answer.

 Tom took a deep breath and offered her a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” Her eyes widened and dread settled in her gut. Her face must have given her away because Tom was quick to add. “Please, don’t worry about it, Rosie. It’s alright, we’re alright. It’s something that I’m doing my best to work through.” He reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I’m not trying to hide or keep anything from you; I just need time to work through this. And when I have, I promise you I will speak of it with you.”

 She wanted to believe him. To be able to take him at his word and know without a doubt that he would share whatever it was with her when he was ready. But the doubt was a difficult thing to shake, especially when Tom’s MO had always been evasion and followed swiftly by flight. He was trying though; she had to believe in that if nothing else. And if he was trying then she need to at least strive to do the same. Forcing a smile to her own face, she squeezed his hand in return. “Alright. I can accept that.”

 The smile the lighted his face this time seemed more genuine than its predecessor and that, in turn, eased some of the tension she’d been carrying. Neither spoke for several minutes.

 “Thank you,” Tom whispered, breaking the silence. His eyes were warm and sincere as he spoke.

 Rosemary looked at him in momentary confusion.

 He laughed softly and continued. “For giving me another chance; one I’m not sure I fully deserve…” he trailed off for a moment before appearing to gather himself. “Regardless, I’m grateful.”

 She stared at him, not quite sure how to respond. Her first thought was to tell him he was being ridiculous; they’d agreed to let it go and move forward, it was done. That she’d been given the same chance by him and if he felt he hadn’t earned his how could she have possibly earned her own? But that would spark a debate and would only hurt them both. Rosemary didn’t want that. There had been more than enough hurt between them.

 Instead, she offered him a smile and took his hand in hers once again. “I am too.”

 Momentary confusion colored his features then understanding dawned. He returned her smile, looked as though he wanted to challenge her meaning but seemed to think better of it and simply squeezed her hand in response.

 The café Tom had chosen was busy enough by lunch crowd standards but not overly so. It was calmer, more sedate than she’d expected and because of that Rosemary felt herself relax. Spending time in public with Tom was still strange and often left her feeling more than a little uneasy. It was silly, she knew, but it was a hard feeling to relinquish. She had been so used to before, when they would spend all of their time hidden away. There had been something to hide then, she’d reasoned. And now, perhaps, their friendship was somehow safer in public than when there had been more between them. Whatever the cause, she refused to let herself think on it more than was strictly necessary. Worrying over what she could not control would do her little good. It never had before. But still, it was easier said than done.

 “How was your meeting with Luke? And…Michael was it?” She asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them once again.

 “Yes. Michael, my agent here.” Tom hesitated for a moment before smiling continuing on, “Fairly well. We were finalizing a new project.”

 Rosemary’s eyebrow rose. “Oh now, care to share? Or is it a secret? I don’t want to get you in trouble.” But her curiosity had been well and truly peaked. And from the look on Tom’s face he knew it as well.

 A laugh fell from his lips, warm and joyous, and he shook his head. “No. No, it’s not a secret, per say, but I can’t speak about it in too much detail.” He paused and sipped his water. “If all goes according to plan I’ll be back on the London stage come late summer, early fall at the latest.”

 The smile that lit his eyes warmed Rosemary’s heart. He’d spoken often about how he enjoyed stage work and how he wished he could do more. He loved films, but he longed to stretch his legs on the boards once again. To throw himself into a character knowing that it was just him and the actors he shared the stage with; no editors, no reshoots, just an open and honest performance. And now it looked as if he would be able to do so again. She was utterly thrilled for him.

 “Tom,” she gushed, reaching out and taking his hand. She squeezed it in a rush of affection. “That is absolutely fantastic. I’m so happy for you.”

 He returned her smile and gently squeezed her hand back. “I cannot wait. It’s been far too long.” Tom paused and looked directly at Rosemary, hope and excitement blazing in his eyes. “You’ll have to come once we’ve opened.”

 Rosemary blushed softly and fought the warmth that threatened to overwhelm her. He’d asked her to come as a friend; for support, nothing more. She needed to get her head firmly back on lest it run away on her down a path that simply couldn’t be an option. “Just let me know when. I’d love to see you onstage.”

 Conversation ceased shortly thereafter brought on by the arrival of their respective meals. And for that Rosemary was secretly grateful. It gave her the chance to focus herself back into the present and work to relax once again. To stop her mind from wandering down the path of ‘what if?’

 They ate in companionable silence occasionally commenting on their respective dishes and offering each other bits to try. It was wonderful, spending time with Tom like this. Just being able to sit and be with him. Once they had finished and the bill laid to the table, Tom quickly grabbed and settled it, waving off Rosemary’s protests. “I invited you, darling. I should pay.”

 She narrowed her eyes but acquiesced with a much grace as she could; fighting Tom on the matter was a futile effort and she damn well knew it. But that didn’t mean she was going to give in completely. “I’m covering next time, mind you.” Her gaze on his face was firm and serious.

 Tom smiled broadly at this. “Certainly.” His answering expression told her that the chances of him actually letting that happen were slim to none. She bristled slightly but quickly shook the feeling off. Tom didn’t mean anything by it other than simply wanting to treat her, she knew that. He was a giving person, especially for those he cared about. The idea that he cared for her warmed her heart in ways she dared not to think too closely on.

 Rosemary pointed a finger at him, “I mean it, Hiddleston.”

 Another hearty chuckle fell from his lips, “I know you do, Rosie.” He stood and tucked his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. “Shall we?” She nodded, standing and hooking her bag over her left shoulder. Side by side they headed from the dining area of the café and towards the hallway that served as its main entrance.

 Tom turned to Rosie as they neared the door. “Are you up for a walk? I’m not quite ready for the afternoon to end.” He paused and a look of delayed concern crossed his brow. “I mean if you don’t have to rush back to the shop. Don’t let me keep you.” Rosie reached up and took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. He smiled softly at her.

 Rosie smiled warmly back at Tom. She hadn’t wanted to part company with him either. Hanna had the shop well in hand and she knew that Jules had everything at the flagship location very much under control as well. There was no need to rush away. She nodded at him. “Yes, that sounds wonderful.” She was about to open her mouth to ask where he wanted to go when Tom’s phone rang.

 With a sheepish smile, Tom fished his phone out of his pocket. “Luke,” he mouthed at her as he hit answer. “Hello, Luke…Whoa, slow down. What?” Tom’s brows narrowed in confusion and his expression grew grim the longer Luke talked. “What pictures? Luke, I have no bloody idea what you’re on about…Oh…” His voice died away.

 Rosemary watched in growing concern as Tom’s face went a shade lighter. She felt her own color fade as his words processed in her mind. Pictures? There were pictures? Of what? Of us? Where? How? It was abundantly clear that whatever the pictures were about they clearly were something neither he nor Luke were pleased about. Please not of us. Not if it makes him this angry. She couldn’t make out Luke’s words from where she stood but Tom’s expression coupled with the raised voice she could just barely hear spoke volumes.

 Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “No. That is not what bloody happened! I didn’t see any bleeding photographers! Yes dammit, I remember!” He paced around the small hallway, free hand jammed mercilessly in his pocket, and Rosemary could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He threw a hand up in exasperation and with an apologetic nod to Rosemary, headed back into the café.

 Several minutes passed and with it no sign of Tom. This couldn’t be good. Not by any stretch any imagination. Rosemary let out a soft sigh and wondered if maybe it would be better if she just left. She had no idea when or even if Tom would be coming back. And if he did that he would even want her there. The indecision that had faded almost to a dull murmur over the last hour came suddenly roaring back to life. Something had happened. Something that Luke was obviously up in arms about. Something that clearly unsettled and angered Tom. Something that very well may have to do with them. Maybe it was best if she simply left.

 With hesitant resolve, she metaphorically straightened her back, turned and headed for the door. “Rosie,” Tom’s voice called behind her, a wash of concern and barely concealed frustration. “Wait.”

 She paused and took a deep breath before turning to face him. “Is everything alright?” It was a stupid question. A very stupid question and she bloody well knew it. Of course he wasn’t alright. He had a set to his shoulders that belied as much even if his face hadn’t held tell-tale signs of strain and annoyance.

 “I’m fine.” His tone was terse and bordered very much on the edges of cold. She felt herself bristle automatically. “Are we done here?” He all but snapped as he gestured vaguely around at the empty hallway.

 Uncertainty warred with anger inside her. Rosemary didn’t know what had exactly had gotten him so up in arms but she knew damn well she didn’t have to take him lashing out at her over it. “Are we?” she challenged.

 Tom paused, looking at her in confused annoyance, his shoulders tense. “And just what do you mean by that?”

 “You know what, on second thought I think I’m going to have to bow out on our walk. You obviously have something you need to work through and frankly I don’t feel like bearing the brunt of it until you do, if it’s all the same to you.” Rosemary didn’t bother to take in Tom’s reaction to her words, instead turning on her heel and walking out into the busy London sidewalk.

                                                     —

 The door closed with a loud bang behind her and Rosemary threw herself backwards to lean heavily against it. Storming off as she’d done had been a mistake, that much had become abundantly clear on her journey back to the flat, but she knew that there was no way for her to take it back. She’d known Tom had been on edge, it would have been clear even to a blind man, but she hadn’t expected him to snap at her and she’d reacted, albeit poorly, in her own right. A right fine mess indeed.

 A soft ping from her left-hand side alerted her to a text message. Sliding herself down to the floor and settling firmly upon it, she pulled her purse to her and searched its recesses for her phone. It took several tries before she located it, hiding at the bottom of the bag. She flicked on the screen and saw one new message awaiting her.

 Hanna.

 ‘So we’ve had a bit of a set back with our distributor. Said they didn’t get the last authorization form. Do you still have the scanned version in your email? I can’t find the original to save my life.’

 Rosemary grumbled as she pulled herself back up to her feet and padded towards the couch. She picked up her laptop from its resting place on the coffee table and settled herself back against the worn cushions. While the device booted itself she fired off a quick response to Hanna.

 ‘Not sure. I will check and get back to you.’

 She dropped her phone onto the couch beside her and made quick work of logging herself into the computer. A few clicks brought open her email program and web browser. She scanned the contents of her sent folder and “Bingo,” she whispered, clicking open the message with attached authorization form. She grabbed her phone and let Hanna know that she had found said form and would be forwarding it onto her.

 A sigh fell from her lips. “Right, there’s that problem sorted.” She laughed softly. If only the others were that simple. She allowed her eyes to scan over the homepage her browser had defaulted to. Most of the ‘news’ items could barely be considered that but, occasionally, one or two could be more than a little amusing. So she hadn’t made any bother in changing it.

 One headline in particular grabbed at her attention. She sat frozen, mouse hovering over the ‘read more’ link, uncertain if she actually wanted to click it. Curiosity won out and without letting herself think further on it, she clicked the link and waited for the article and accompanying photographs to load.

  ‘Trouble in Paradise for Secret Couple?

 Rumors have been flying around the last few months that the internet's boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston (38) has a secret love. While we're all sad to see him off the market by the looks of things there is already trouble in paradise. On Thursday things seemed to get heated in the park and we don't mean in the good way. Who is Tom's mysterious red-head and will she be sticking around?’

  The short article was accompanied by several rather grainy, and obviously amateur, photographs. But the people in them were unmistakable to Rosemary, or honestly anyone who knew either of the subjects; Tom in his predictable black on black running gear and Jules, hair loose and whipping round in the wind with her all too familiar teal woolen coat wrapped tightly around her. Rosemary stared at the photos in stunned disbelief. Jules and Tom? A couple? The idea was so utterly ridiculous it was bloody near hysterical. And she did it out a short laugh then, at the absurdity of it all.

 What wasn’t funny, however, was the jolt of emotion that followed quickly on the heels of her laughter. Raw and confusing, she felt the sting of tears and a deep seated dread that settled near into the marrow of her bones. For fucks sake, why was she crying? There wasn’t the slightest scrap of truth to this story and she knew it; there hardly ever was. The likelihood of Jules ever being involved in any way with Tom was so astronomically low that it didn’t even bear thinking. And Tom was many things, but sneaking around behind her back with her best friend was not something she believed him capable of.

 That thought pulled her up short. Sneaking behind her back? Where the fuck had that come from? She and Tom were friends, and honestly just barely that at this juncture, there wasn’t anything between them that warranted sneaking around. They weren’t a couple. He was her friend and he could see or not see whomever he wanted. She had no say in the matter. And it wasn’t like he was actually seeing Jules…though she did wonder just what had led to their meeting in the first place. They didn’t speak to each other as far as she knew. And as much as Jules disliked Tom, Rosemary was certain she wouldn’t purposely seek him out. But the stubborn streak on her friend was near a mile long and hardly rational.

 Rosemary groaned and pushed her laptop beside her on the couch. God, she was being ridiculous; completely and utterly ridiculous. But that did little to silence the small voice in her head taunting her with memories of other tabloid articles and other photographs. Tom had never spoken of what had happened between him and his co-star but Rosemary hadn’t been blind. Something had happened between him and Natalie Billings, but how far it had gone she didn’t know. But it had happened. He hadn’t even been hers then and it had hurt like hell.

 This is different, she told herself, rubbing her face with her hands in confused frustration. And it was completely different. This was Jules for god’s sake. Jules and Tom. Nothing whatsoever happened and you bloody well know it, she told herself with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. Then why do I feel so torn up?

 Torn up. That was exactly how she felt. Torn up. She couldn’t think of another way to put it. There was nothing to fret over and here she was wanting to cry and scream. Jealous, her mind hissed at her. You’re jealous and it’s eating you alive.

 A frustrated laugh tore from her throat. God, she was jealous. Irrationally, ridiculously jealous. It didn’t make any sense. Absolutely none. Why should she be jealous of something that didn’t exist? Because it could, her mind offered. Not with Jules. Never with Jules. But with someone else. The idea settled like a lead weight in her stomach. While Tom wasn’t seeing anyone as far as she knew that didn’t mean that would always be the case. At some point he wouldn’t be alone anymore. He would find someone that he could see himself leading a life with. Someone he’d want a family with. Someone that wasn’t her. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. It doesn’t matter. But it did.

 She hated it. Hated how confused and hurt it made her. When she had allowed Tom back into her life, Rosemary hadn’t let herself think what it meant. What she’d wanted it to mean. He had always been important to her, it hadn’t matter how long it had been since they had last spoken, she always seemed to welcome him back into her life whether she’d meant to or not. She loved him, hadn’t ever stopped if she was being completely honest, and there was little point in denying that now. But would admitting it do any good? Would it make any difference? She loved him but she wasn’t sure she could trust him with her heart. And if she couldn’t trust him with that then there was little point in any of it.

 Uncertain and deeply frustrated with herself, Rosemary closed the laptop lid firmly, as if that would make the whole mess simply disappear. God, if only. She rubbed the backs of her hands over her eyes, feeling the sharp burn of tears threatening once more. Enough, she growled at herself. Enough. This had to stop.

 A steady, rhythmic knocking on her front door startled Rosemary back into the present. She muttered a curse under her breath and pushed herself up off the couch. Rosemary grimaced as she spared a quick glance at the mirror hanging near the door. Her eyes were definitely puffier than they should have been, an obvious sign that she had been crying or at least very close to it, but there was little to be done for it now. She took a deep breath and unbolted the door.

 “Tom?” The name stumbled from her lips in confusion. He stood in the hallway; hair blown haphazardly, cheeks ruddy with cold, eyes a deep and piercing blue. There was an almost tangible buzz of nervous energy rolling off of him in steady waves.

 A knot formed in the pit of her stomach as he took a deep breath and locked his eyes on her, determination coloring his features. “May I come in? We need to talk.”

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