#the coin locker baby au

[uzi-x33]

soukoku from another one of my au’s,, domestic modern au where Dazai and chuuya live a normal life, chuuya owns a restaurant, Dazai is a detective, they have adopted kyouka<3

Yes, this is a Christmas addition:3

[melodicaprils]

vocaloid songs that fit td characters (ignoring most of the lyrics)

draculove by ladymonsters - shawn. ignoring the lyrics, the vibes fit ig n i can imagine an amv to it

coin locker baby by maretu + dolls fall by ladymonsters - mal. 1st: i imagined an amv n it fit rlly well w/ the sort of carnival-like beginning. 2nd: do i need to even explain y

binomi by maretu + fruiting bodies by riproducer - mike. 1st: it was part of the "hmmm which maretu songs fit the mikesys" n i already thought of an amv bc ofc i did. 2nd: look at the lyrics its just him.......

mummy by ladymonsters - maybe noah. idk vibes fit

bride of franken by ladymonsters + ぽっかんカラー by kikuo - zoey. vibes n amv imagined

triple baka by like 3 ppl - cameron. bc its the trio!!!

rabbit hole by deco*27 - either alejandro or vito. for the memes

igaku (specifically the cover by trickle) - sierra. lyrics r so her n ofc i imagined an amv to it

my bread was burnt to a crisp by picdo + aishite aishite (specifically the english cover by jubiphonic if thats how u spell it) - svetlana. 1st: uhh vibes n the sorta depressing mood of the whole song w/ the simple lyrics. 2nd: part of my super epic fanfiction au thing where they all get angst

[ultimateplaylistmaker]

(For the Shuichi Enoshima AU) How would the rest of his classmates think of him?

Oooo that's a bit of an oldie. Well the thing about that is Shuichi denies fully being in any way related to Junko, he fully believes his adoptive parents to be his biological parents. It helps that Junko never claimed the baby in any way and there was never a genetic test done so as an essentially coin locker baby Shuichi has no real way to know that he IS adopted in the first place so he shuts out anything that implies he might be

[sobredunia]

can you tell me about Noah again bro, I forgor her lore, but i remember her, i just wanna know about all of your oc's i will be honest about that

Okay I'm legit surprised and confused you know who noah is bc i don't think i've ever mentioned her ever

oh wait i just remembered the zombie au i told u abt. nvm lol

This is the only rendered drawing I have of her in digital. I made it 2 years ago. god damn

lore under the cut

okay so noah has the cringiest orphan backstory. you know that thing that went on in japan a few years back where women who didn't want children put them in coin lockers? yeah

her last name is Shellby because Coin Locker Baby -> CLB -> Shellby

at first she was at an orphanage and got kinda bullied but then one time she got a pink eye and made it so her hair covered it and this one other girl kinda digged the look at became her friend, and she kept the emo bangs for years after that. she also died her hair purple to look cool

(creator's note this is bc originally her design was much different and i made it when i was fucking around with a character creator. but then evolution happened and her design changed drastically but i still wanted to be somewhat close to my roots so her younger self design has that)

The girl she befriended was friends with the rebel gang at the orphanage and one time they convinced her to do arson and she burn an entire building down. so she got sent to one of those jails for kids. idk the name

there she met a kid who wasn't from that jail but he liked climbing trees so she saw him often enough through the concrete walls, and she fell in love and they begun to date!

Then, that kid actually pushed her to start bettering herself and try to get out of jail with good conduct to live the rest of her life free from crime. or at least arson. slowly the kid showed up less and less until one day he wasn't there anymore, but oh well

she's still in kid's jail but they were working on this program to make kids in kid jail with good attitude go to schools early so their studies wouldn't get damaged much and they could be reintegrated to society better. noah was one of those people. they did have to send her to a class two years younger than her bc she dumb as bricks lmao. and also she hadn't been to proper school in ages so yeah

and in that class she made friends!! :D

[euphoritooth]

hello!

just wanted to let you know that your vocaloid au haunts me daily.

thank you for your attention and please don‘t stop making art bc your art looks amazing.

(also what vocaloid songs do you like?)

Haha, I was thinking of doing something UTAU next. Tickets for everyone to Euphoritooth's House of Cursed Crossovers. Thank you so much though, I needed this after a shitty week 💜🥴

But to answer your question, although I don't listen to it very often I do have a little setlist I queue together for nostalgia on those occasions. Some of the popular ones by Kikuo like Hole-Dwelling, Don't Look at Me in That Way, Let's Go to Heaven, and When I was Absent from School. Bacterial Contamination, Baloney Speaker, Rolling Girl, Coin Locker Baby, Magnet, Triple Baka, mostly the works. Just my Vocaloid choices, but I like voice synths as a whole. Ty for the ask!

[nyxx-nth]

i really like that actually !!

for me i definitely see him as fucked up and disturbing but in a different way than you do, i think,,,?? but also i have no idea how to word the way i see him lol. The best i can give is that he is very "other" to me, in every sense.

the reason there is so much vocaloid & japanese music in specifically his playlist is that i feel like theres a level of overwhelming unhingedness they achieve that i've never really found in english stuff lol. like, think internet yamero levels of unhinged & overwhelming, or abnormality dancin girl, or coin locker baby. (coin locker baby is actually on his playlist because the vibes of the sound are so perfect even tho the lyrics dont technically fit asdljsald)

he's just very overwhelming, high octane, nonstop in my eyes most of the time. i feel like that's his default to me, like he doesnt treat anything seriously. but i also like to think that there are things that *can* get him to become serious, and that's when he's *really* scary, like the cryptic horror type you see him as.

i feel like he's also often depicted as just like a *pure* madman, like completely cuckoo. but i dont see it that way either. i think that's definitely the impression he gives off to people, but he is definitely more aware and more intelligent than people tend to pin him to be. he just doesnt abide by our view of how those people would act.

idk if any of this makes sense??? but also. my view of him can be pretty inconsistent. it can shift drastically across different aus and stuff. im not really concrete in this version, but its what i currently tend to go with.

Ashamed to admit that just now when Cannibal by Kesha came on my brain immediately created a celebrity au where Jimmy is a controversial music artist and a string of high profile celebrity murders been happening lately….

Oh no wait, now I’m thinking of an entire au with other chars too—

Ghost is also a musical artist, being the lead singer in a band with Spooker, Colon, and Katrina (it used to be Ghost, Toast, and Katrina but a big fallout happened before any of them rose to fame that led to Toast leaving back to England and eventually becoming a model). I imagine Katrina as bassist, Spooker on drums, and Colon on guitar. Ghost used to be drummer, and Toast guitarist and lead vocalist, but Ghost took over vocals after his departure and Colon took over for Toast, with Spooker being a very last minute addition by chance when they heard how good he was and Katrina convinced Ghost having someone else on drums would leave him more time to focus on vocals and writing. Also, I feel like all of them would sing but Ghost is the one who sings most of the songs (also he can scream crazy good and I stand by that (also it’s hot af lmao)). Colon probably had mild experience in singing but has improved a lot since then, and Spooker had NO natural or learned singing skills going into the band and is still not quite up to par with his bandmates, but he’s improved /so/ much.

Toast would probably do modeling cuz, duh. But also he writes books and a lot of people won’t give them a chance because they think he’s just a pretty face but he’s actually a talented writer of supernatural mysteries. Also, more recently he got into acting and blew up on the big screen and prefers the acting gigs because he feels like he gets to showcase more of his skills and get more appreciation for them than he got in modeling.

Gavin probably is a stunt double for Toast. Besides that, I see him probably being Jimmy’s dealer (Jimmy does copious amounts of drugs he is never not on cocaine idk what to tell u /hj). He prefers to keep out of the actual spotlight of celebrity lifestyle, and instead reap his own benefits from it in the background.

Mary. Hmmm….. I feel like she needs something that’s not like, typical spotlight celebrity. I remember a certain someone (wink wink) talking about ballerina Mary… I think that’s actually perfect. She’s a skilled and renowned ballerina, but also, I think she figure skates. And does some modeling on the side—maybe how she met Toast? I’ll have to think more on it.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Peña’s Anatomy — One

pairing: doctor au!javier peña x resident!reader

chapter rating: M (talk of tumors, surgery, minor allusions to sexual tension)

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist

On the plane ride from your small midwestern town to Texas, you found yourself fantasizing about the new life you’d have in San Antonio. You dreamed of new romances, an exciting social life, your blossoming career in surgery…everything that you’d been lacking back home. But, as it always seems to turn out for romantics like you, fantasies are rarely made a reality.

The entire month since moving to San Antonio had been a living nightmare—between the head of neuro-surgery at your new hospital making it his personal mission to take you down a notch, the near constant downpour of rain mixed with the sweltering summer heat, and most recently, your apartment’s washer and dryer breaking.

“No,” you groaned as you searched through your undergarment drawer for a clean pair of underwear. “No, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

It seemed as nothing was going to plan for you—though, you reminded yourself that you did come in expecting your entire life to become some exciting adventure once you moved to a big city. Perhaps your expectations were simply far too high, and this was just a normal month in the life of every resident at your new hospital. But somehow, that thought still didn’t seem to help with your frustration.

Closing your dresser drawer, your eyes travelled to the pile up of dirty laundry in your en-suite, longing to be able to take care of it, but with what time? Being a surgical resident meant you worked 36-hour shifts at the hospital 4 times a week, and the one day a week that you weren’t working was reserved for sleep—something that was all too hard to come by at this stage of your career.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to wallow in your self-pity—eyes closing shut and a slow exhale through your nose to calm yourself down.

“It’s fine. No underwear today. It’s fine. I’ll buy a new pack on the way home. Everything is fine.” You practiced mindful breathing as you slid on your jeans without any underwear on, trying your best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of going commando to work.

When you arrived at the hospital, Dr. Peña was where he always was in the early mornings—the nurse’s station. Today he was wearing a baby blue dress shirt underneath his white coat, his black slacks practically painted onto his fit form. Your eyes always seemed to travel to the curve of his behind as he leaned onto the counter to flirt with whoever was behind it, the already tight fabric of his pants now straining even more.

Each morning began this way, your eyes locking on his form, unwillingly admiring him, and then quickly turning away as you realized yourself. You were not going to lust after him like that—not when he was so undeserving of it on the inside.

You’d already seen him come onto every single nurse that sat down behind that very counter he was leaning on now, and worst of all, they all seemed to know and accept it.

You weren’t blind. You could easily see the appeal—he was a good looking man with a lot of charm and success—but you found it hard to believe that any man was good enough to share with fifteen or so other women, and that was only counting the one station.

“Oh, look who it is. Dr. Lucky.” Dr. Peña teased you as you walked past the nurse’s station, using the nickname he coined after your very first interaction a month prior. “Always so sour. Would it hurt to smile at people every now and again?”

You breathed in another mindful breath and continued walking towards the locker room. The less attention you paid to your superior’s childish tactics, the less interest he’d have in continuing them. Or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“God, if you’re listening, please strike me down. I know we haven’t talked in a while—I usually talk a lot a shit about you, actually. But still—” You walked into the locker room to find your new best friend and fellow third year resident, Mickey, looking up at the ceiling tiles.

“It’s only 6 a.m., Mick. Is it that bad already?” You chuckled and opened your locker, stuffing your bags inside before walking over to the scrubs shelf. When you turned around and walked back to her with your scrubs in hand, you watched as she gave you a winced look.

“I…slept with Michael last night.” She confessed through a groan, your jaw dropping in response. She nodded at your reaction, covering her face with her hands. “And the worst part is…I liked it.”

“No! Mick,” you shook your head in disapproval and walked to her with a frown.

Dr. Michael Russel was the epitome of an arrogant and self absorbed douchebag. He was a sixth year resident, a self proclaimed ladies man, and the bane of yours and Mickey’s existence. And yet…

“It was good. Like…really good.” She winced and watched as you tugged off your henley to pull on your scrub top. When you took your jeans off, she forgot about her predicament for a moment to gasp at your bare ass turned to her. “I never pegged you for a freeballer.”

“My washer and dryer broke and my landlord isn’t fixing it until the end of the week.” You tugged on your scrubs and sighed at the thin cotton barrier between you and the world. “Anyways, back to you fucking Satan. How?”

“Alcohol and desperation.”

“That’ll do it.” You weighed your head to the side in understanding, earning a chuckle from the brunette.

“Did you guys see the new roster? They’re keeping us on our services for a month at a time now.” One of the Mickey-approved residents, Henry, approached the two of you with a copy of the roster. You groaned at the thought of being kept on OB with the very ancient and boring Dr. Neil for an entire month.

“Let me see that,” Mickey grabbed the paper and scanned the list for her name, gasping when she saw that she was going to be on Dr. Peña’s service all month.

“Sucks to be you!” You began to taunt her until she gave you an amused look, handing the paper over. Your eyes scanned the list only to see…

“You’re on Peña’s service too! Ha-ha!” She pointed her finger in your face and you swatted it away like a fly, fighting the urge to crumble the paper up in your hand. You handed it back to Henry and sat down on the bench, laying your back flat against it as you contemplated your choice in career. “C’mon. You’re a Neuro girl, aren’t you? Gonna have to work with the guy at some point.”

“I was hoping he’d die of syphilis before then.” You grumbled with your hands covering your face. Mickey tapped your thigh and held her hand out for you to take.

“C’mon, kid. We can do this together.” You groaned again as you took her hand, allowing her to pull you up off the bench and onto your feet. “Use that no underwear power.”

“That what?”

“You know…your pheromones. Now that you don’t have any barrier between your pussy—“

“Ladies.” Dr. Peña approached the two of you in the hallway at the worst possible time, your hand reaching to cover Mickey’s mouth as she rambled on about your lack of underwear. He smirked at the action, eyes narrowing on you in curiosity as you pulled your hand away from her face awkwardly. “Having a nice conversation, I see.”

“We were just doing some…improv.” You found yourself making up a bad lie out of sheer panic, Dr. Peña’s head tilting to question the excuse. “We do, um, improv in our spare time.”

“You get like, what, six hours of spare time a week and you use it to do…improv?” He crossed his arms over his chest and gave you an amused smirk, your lips flattening into a tight smile as you nodded.

“Yep, we’re women of both science and the arts.” Mickey spoke up, but Peña’s eyes never left yours.

“Uh-huh.” He chuckled and raised his eyebrows. “Well, let’s keep the improv away from my service, okay? You’ll find that patients with terminal brain cancer don’t really want to hear about your—excuse my change in term—vaginas.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded at him before dropping your eyes to the tile floor, another chuckle leaving his lips as he began walking off down the hall.

“C’mon, Lucky. We’ve got lives to save.” You gave Mickey a pained look as the doctor called for you to follow him, your friend urging you forward. “And you too, Dr. Pheromone.”

•••

“Alright, sweetheart. Can you follow my finger for me?” You stood in the doorway of the eight-year old patient’s room, Mickey having being sent away to fetch labs for a previous patient during this mornings rounds.

Dr. Peña was sat on the edge of the young girl’s bed, his tiny flashlight in one hand while his finger moved in the air from one side of the little girl’s face to the other. He clicked the flashlight off once he’d gotten a good enough look, standing up off the bed and patting the girls head before walking over to you and whispering. “Can you find her parents?”

“It’s just her mom, I think. She just went down to the cafeteria.” You studied the tension in his shoulders, the sad look on his face as he guided you out of the room with one hand on your shoulder. If it hadn’t been for the seriousness of the situation, you may have found yourself reeling over the warmth of his touch after so many days of only childish bullying.

“Listen, I need you to go find her mother and get her to agree to a CT. That little girl’s probably got a tumor the size of a lemon. Poor thing.” He clenched his jaw as he scribbled on the girl’s chart, your eyes soft with sadness as you studied his profile. He looked up after a few moments of you not doing what he asked, sighing and softening his stern look as he took in your worry. He hesitated as he reached to touch your shoulder, both of your eyes flickering down to study the touch before he withdrew his hand. “This…is a part of the job, Lucky. It’s not always gonna be ground-breaking surgeries and glory. Sometimes it means us running test after test only to have to tell a single mother that her eight year old baby girl will die in a couple months. You just…gotta learn to live with it.”

“H-how? How do you learn to live with that?” You whispered to him, voice weak with pure sadness, and for a moment—just one split second—you almost thought you saw him caring about you.

“We all have our coping mechanisms.” He tilted his head, eyes flickering to your lips. You sucked in harshly at the sweltering heat of his stare, stepping back in hopes of it giving you some reprieve. Dr. Peña cleared his throat and turned back to the chart in his hands, clenching his jaw. “Go find her mom, Lucky.”

“Yes…sir.”

•••

Javier’s eyes were glued to you as you walked away from him, your body stiff with the seriousness of the conversation. He sighed as his eyes wandered to your hips, his brown orbs lingering much longer than he would’ve liked. With all the strength he possessed, he turned them away and back down to the chart in front of him.

We all have our coping mechanisms.

The words replayed in his head as he closed the binder and tucked it behind the counter at the ICU’s nurses station. Javier surely had his coping mechanisms: a few whiskey neats, fast cars, and his absolute favorite—meaningless and passionate sex.

Usually, he found his partners at the nurses station. They seemed like an easier group to manage than his fellow doctors. The nurses around the hospital were all rather superficial, aside from a couple particularly wise ones who knew too much to even think about falling for his charm. There was no fear in developing feelings for them because they simply didn’t peak his interest—they just got him hard.

The doctors, however, were an entirely different ballgame. Either they were not his type at all—rigid and boring—or they were cutthroats simply hoping to use him to get ahead. Whichever it was, it always turned him off.

But then…there was you. An anomaly to every preconceived notion he had about the workplace dating scene.

He could tell you weren’t rigid or boring, the conversations he constantly overheard between you and your fellow residents being as far from stiff as it got, i.e. the “pussy” incident from earlier. You also didn’t seem egotistical enough to be a cutthroat, consistently being the program’s most generous teammate since you’d arrived.

It almost pissed him off the way you lived outside the boxes he created, and perhaps that was the reason he felt it necessary to constantly make your work life a living hell.

While he normally enjoyed making his residents work for his respect, he never took it quite as far—or as childish—as he did with you. It was as though he was a little boy on the playground tugging on the pretty girl’s ponytail. It was elementary, and it seemed pathetic even to him.

“Hey, doc,” Jessica, the night shift nurse Javier had been sleeping with for a couple months now approached him in the middle of his introspection. He sighed and forced a smile onto his face as he turned to her, eyes tired from all his thinking.

“Hi, Jessica. Thought you were working nights?” He started walking down the hall towards the elevator knowing that she would follow him.

“Picked up a double.” He nodded through his disinterest, keeping his eyes forward. “I was, uh, wondering if you were working tomorrow night. I’m off and, you know, it’s been a while.”

“Uh,” he scratched his neck as he stood in front of the elevator, eyes squinting as he turned to her. Ever since meeting “Dr. Lucky”, his previous exploits didn’t seem to interest him as much as they did before. “I’ll, uh, I’ll call you and let you know.”

The elevator dinged and slid open as she parted her lips to speak. Javier stepped in and pressed the button to the OR floor, giving her another half-hearted smile before the door closed. He sighed and doubled over with his hands on his knees, eyes resting for a moment as he thought about the decisions he’d made that got him here.

The sound of the elevator stopping for a passenger snapped him out of his rest, his body straightening. When the door slid open, you were stood on the other side, all the breath in his lungs being knocked out of him with one look at your pretty face.

•••

You gulped as you stepped into the elevator, feeling the tension that lingered from your earlier conversation.

“Did you, uh, did you get the consent form?” He asked as you stood beside him, your head nodding as you remembered what brought you onto the elevator in the first place. Tugging out the signed form from your pile of folders, you handed it over to the doctor. “What did you tell her?”

“That my attending felt it was best for us to cover all our bases.” You looked at your black leather work shoes rather than at the doctor who made your life ten times more stressful than it already was. Dr. Peña smiled a bit to himself, his eyes glancing over at you before turning back to the metal door of the elevator.

“Good job, Lucky.” Your eyes lifted at the sound of sincerity in his voice, expecting a sarcastic remark instead. He chuckled and turned his eyes to yours, once again allowing them to fall to your lips. “How would you feel about scrubbing in on the craniotomy I have in 20 minutes?”

“How would I feel?” You chuckled in disbelief and nodded excitedly. “That would be amazing, Dr. Peña.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you in OR-4 in 20.” He gave you another knee-weakening smile as he stepped out of the elevator, looking over his shoulder at you one last time. “Don’t make me regret it, Lucky.”

•••

“Looks like we’re all in for some good news. Dr. Lucky herself is in the OR today.” Dr. Peña spoke through his surgical mask as you stepped into the operating room with freshly scrubbed hands, the OR nurses coming to glove you.

“Thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Peña.” You weren’t going to bite onto whatever it was that he was trying to give you. You watched as he chuckled and sighed, nodding before clapping his hands together.

“Alright, let’s begin.”

Your task wasn’t very complex—you were only there to hand Peña forceps and scalpels when he asked for them. Not exactly titillating work. But this meant that your entire job was to pay attention to him, to even his quietest of mumbled and slightest of gestures in case he was in need of a new tool. Though you initially focused on him in effort to do your job, you quickly found that your eyes were glued to him for much more superficial reasons.

You’d known since you were in elementary school that you had a thing for competent men, though back then it stirred much more innocent feelings inside of you than it did now. Dr. Javier Peña may have been a womanizing asshole, but damn it if the man wasn’t the most competent and skilled surgeon you had the pleasure of assisting in the OR. His eyes were laser focused on the patients brain, his hands steady as a rock as they carefully poked and prodded around. Even through his thick gloves you could see the masculine beauty his hands possessed—another strange turn on of yours.

As if you needed any more reason to pull your hair out from stress, now you had to fight the undeniable attraction to your boss’s boss. The man was truly insufferable, but now it was for an entirely new reason. A reason that filled you with a fire you’d long forgotten. A reason that left you feeling lightheaded and ditzy in his presence.

“Alright, Lucky. All done.” He turned to you with bloodied gloves and what you assumed to be that famous cocky smirk of his underneath his mask. “You ready to close?”

“Wait—really?”

“I did ask you to assist. That usually means you’ll be assisting.” He stepped back from the patient and tore off his surgical gown and gloves, the OR nurse bunching it all up and placing it in the trash can. You sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of his sarcastic tone returning, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at your superior. “I trust that your luck will continue after I leave the OR.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll try not to ruin my streak.” All he had to do was chuckle at your joke to make the irritation go away and drive you all ditzy again.

“Take a break once you’re out, Lucky. You did good today.” And just like that, Dr. Peña left the OR and placed his patient’s life in your hands. You smiled beneath your mask and turned to the nurse beside you.

“Forceps, please.”

•••

“So how was it?” Mickey found you in the locker room scarfing down a granola bar during your “break” that Dr. Peña had so kindly given you permission to take.

“How was what?” You mumbled through your chewing, flipping the page of some brainless tabloid.

“Your surgery with Dr. Daddy.” She sat down on the bench and grinned at you as you rolled your eyes and chuckled.

“Dr. Daddy? More like Dr. Douchebag.” You set down the magazine and sighed, tipping your head back and scrunching your face. “He keeps doing this thing. I don’t know how to describe it but—“

“It’s the eyes.”

“It’s the fucking eyes!” You nodded enthusiastically and gestured to her. “And the stupid little smirk. It’s irritating.”

“It’s hot.” She corrected with a smug look.

“You say that now! Now that you’ve got Michael turning you to the dark side.” She gasped at your harsh read before laughing. “It’s not hot. It’s infuriating. Like he really has the biggest fucking ego to think he can spend the entire month giving me intern level work and teasing me like a little fucking boy—“

“Doctor,” the sound of Peña’s voice made the two of you jump, your eyes going wide as you took in his irritated scowl. “I need you to get our eight year old patient up to CT. Now.”

“Y-yes, Dr. Peña.” You quickly stood up and wiped your hands on your thighs before rushing past him, his head turning to follow you as you left the room.

“Dr. Brown, I need you to go check on room 216. Make sure their vitals are holding steady and that their temperature has gone down.” He remained still as Mickey stood up and started to rush out, his voice stopping her as she reached for the door. “One more thing,”

“Yes, Dr. Peña?”

“Is Lucky seeing anybody?” She wanted to chuckle at the doctor’s question, but when he turned around, he couldn’t have looked more serious. She struggled to find her words, eyes shifting to the lockers on the other side of the room.

“I, uh, don’t know…sir.” He nodded and gestured to the door, watching as Mickey quickly excused herself, leaving him all alone.

•••

Javier sighed and looked around at the locker room he used to hang his things in ten years ago, astounded that after all this time and all his success, nothing had really changed for him on the inside. He was still stuck in this hospital, chasing after pretty girls that were far too good for him, running away from the gnawing voice in the back of his head that told him that it was fine because he wasn’t good enough for anybody.

Though he desperately wanted to stop himself from making you his next exploit, he couldn’t convince his second brain to stop craving more and more of your presence. You fascinated him and ignited a fire of curiosity that he hadn’t felt for anyone since…well, probably ever.

Javier knew that you were off limits, and that it was probably a smart thing to remain that asshole that you made him out to be in your head. But he also knew himself too well to ever think that logic would win out on this one.

“Dr. Lucky, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @oceandolores @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson (sorry if your tag isn’t working!)

[kim-ruzek]

Messy, chaotic perfection

Summary: Family isn't just who is blood, but who is in your corner, who makes you feel loved and cared for, who is safe and who is home.

Season 8 au, goes off if Kim never miscarried, Burzek are together, and season eight still went somewhat how it did.

Warnings: mentions of canon events (shooting, foster situations).

Word Count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: This is a Feel Better fic for the amazing, incredible and so, so strong and brave Cíara (@fighterkimburgess ). Cíara I love you, you deserve the world, and you deserve to know that I (and all of us in this fandom) have your back and wish you all the best in your life ♥️

Life can be unpredictable, events that you never expect to happen can occur and feel like that was always meant to happen all along. This is a lesson Kim has learnt over and over throughout her life, but one she’s only finally beginning to fully understand it, that it’s always going to happen in ways you don’t expect.

Like today.

Today, when she woke up, Kim thought she’d have a tiring day at work with all the racists that Kevin, and by extension them since Kevin is their family, is having to deal with but that it would be relatively drama free and she and her boyfriend—which is a word, that no matter how juvenile it sounds, makes her feel all giggly inside at—would come home and have a nice relaxing evening with their daughter.

She didn’t expect Patrol to not show up when they called and she definitely did not expect Adam to get shot. But that is life, as Kim has kept learning recently.

“Careful, let me grab the door.” Kim quickly darts in front of a very impatient and unfussed Adam, moving so she can unlock and open their front door before he can. Adam sighs.

“Kim, I’m not an invalid.” He grumbles and she flashes him a glare before she opens up the door.

“Adam, you were shot.” She holds up her hand. “And no I don’t care if it’s was in the vest. You were shot and you were lying there and I thought you were dead. And now you’ve got a bruise on your chest and Will said that you have to take it easy—it could affect your lungs if you overwork yourself.”

Kim already knows that she’s probably going to spend the next few weeks seeing Adam lying there on the grass whenever she shuts her eyes. Just like she knows that Adam gets why she’s being so fussy, even if he’s being his typical bad patient self.

“I can still open doors. You know I like opening our door for you,” At that, Kim turns away from the door, facing Adam. She closes what little distance they had between them, resting her hands gently on his chest.

“I know, but you’re injured. Let me look after you. And—we’ve only just found our way back together again, I don’t want to loose you, and I don’t want our daughter to loose you.” Adam’s eyes soften and he gently kisses her forehead.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m just stubborn.”

If this had happened years ago, this probably would’ve ended up making an even bigger dent in their relationship, and god knows if they’d be able to communicate—and truly understand each other back then. But they’re not those young people now, they’ve grown and learnt so much, and are completely dedicated to making this work.

Especially because they’re parents.

“Hey, Ally!” Adam is immediately greeting their six month old as soon as they enter the flat, Kim not far behind, the two parents cooing over her instantly.

“Can you hold her?” Trudy gives Adam a wary eye, holding the child she, without hesitation, claimed as her granddaughter. Normally they’d have their nanny here, taking care of Ally, but given that Adam was shot and had to be looked over, Trudy had relieved their nanny instead, just in case they arrived home later than usual.

“You’re as bad as Kim, of course I can,” Adam grumbles again, mostly with good humour. Still, Trudy glances at Kim just to double check, who nods and then Trudy is helping to pass the girl to her father. Usually, Adam would scoop the girl out of her arms with ease, but—showing that he is taking Will seriously, or at least their daughter’s safety seriously—he had hesitated, waited for Trudy to help.

“You should sit down, I’ll get dinner on.” Kim tells him. She then looks at Trudy. “Are you staying or going home? You’re welcome, of course.”

“I’ll leave the three of you be. Randall has his shift in the morning.” Trudy kisses her granddaughter good-bye—leaning down to do so, Ally babbling in Adam’s arms on the sofa—and then it’s just the three of them.

If you had told her a year and a half ago that this would be her life, Kim would struggle to belief you. Adam and her felt like history, something that never had the timing it deserved and that they’d only be relegated to friends with benefits.

And being a Mom? That was so far out from the cards Kim was dealt, she didn’t think it would happen for quite a few years, and even then, it felt like a impossible and distant thought.

But she has both. A relationship with Adam that is strong and decent and a proper, communicating relationship and the beautiful daughter who made it possible.

At first, Adam and her were determined to be co parents only. More her than him, if she was honest, but he understood her side.

But then Kim hit her second trimester and with it her renewed sex drive and inability to keep her hands off him and platonic co parents got more and more unbelievable—especially as they moved in together.

The reasons why they decided to just be platonic still hung over their head, however, and so they had to have a serious conversation—several, in fact—about their relationship and what it would look like and be like. They both knew that with a child in the mix, they had to be committed and determined because their baby would be impacted.

Kim did have worries about it, about if they could keep communicating and not fall back on old habits, but by the time Ally came along, their relationship had only grown stronger. The new-born stage is a tough time for parents, and they had their moments, but that only brought them even more closer and Kim now no longer has any of those worries.

Domestic bliss is something she’s always wanted to have, alongside a fulfilling job, and there’s days Kim can’t quite believe that she’s found it.

Her life isn’t perfect, no life is. And there’s tensions at work, and with their best friend going through some horrific stuff, life doesn’t feel easy. But they have each other, and they have Ally, and Kim keeps feeling like she’s reached as close to perfection as she could have.

When she was younger, Kim imagined that having perfection would be calm, would be peaceful. And maybe for others it is, but it’s not for her. There’s always some madness in her life; she’s a cop, after all. And she’s learned to appreciate the short peaceful moments that she gets. But sometimes, sometimes life is just quiet.

It had been a few weeks of quiet that Kim had realised her life hadn’t had any madness in it. Her and Adam were just going about their routine, day in, day out, watching as Ally continued to grow and marvel them and she realised that.

And then she knew instantly that the madness was coming.

It came the next day.

Adam and her had just picked up their morning coffee from a coffee shop. It had been a while since they could, usually having to make do with the district coffee—having a baby means time is precious and money is dear—but they did this morning, the two of them in a good mood and having a ridiculous conversation about boats.

And then there was a lost six year old girl walking through the road.

Everything got a lot more busy after that, as they tracked down her family and worked out what had happened.

Being a Mom has definitely changed Kim, and she had to go into a corner—Adam joining her, wrapping his arms around her—and have a little cry in the locker room. All she could think about her daughter, her Ally, loosing her family like that and it activated the still distantly present hormones leftover from her pregnancy.

And it made her more determined to help the little girl, Makayla, especially when the girl had apparently bonded to her. Kim was told that she was the best person to talk to her, and even though she’s a mother, she had doubted her abilities. There’s a difference between her baby who’s just learning to talk and move about to a traumatized six year old but the doubts were misplaced, Kim managing to get that connection.

Makayla had wanted her to come to the safe house with her, which Kim did. Luckily Adam was by Trudy’s desk and he gave her nod, telling her that Ally and him will be okay. Still, Kim was glad that she’s already had a night away from her daughter so that she could go with Makayla, so that she didn’t have to let down this vulnerable girl who needed her just as much.

The safe house had turned out to not be so safe, and Kim’s mama bear instincts—as Adam has affectionately coined—kicked in and she instantly said she’ll be taking Makayla home, no questions.

Of course, she had glanced at Adam, silently checking with him. Adam had nodded again.

“Ally’s already with her grandparents so yes, Makayla will be staying with us.” Adam had immediately supported her, his voice just as firm and decided. Kim had already worked out Ally was with Trudy and Mouch, as he was there and they are their emergency babysitters but she felt so lucky to have a partner who was willing to not have the night with his daughter for what she wants.

Seeing Adam interact with Makayla that night had made Kim’s insides twist, and she wonders if they might end up accidentally conceiving a second baby soon with how his paternalism stirred feelings inside her.

It left her feeling sadder than Kim would’ve thought to say goodbye to Makayla after everything was sorted, an emptiness in her heart. The girl had made an impact on her and it felt wrong to end the story there.

That night, Kim had hugged Ally close to her, Adam arm wrapped around her as he cuddled up to them.

“I think I want another,” Kim had said, and Adam choked. She had laughed, then, careful not to wake the sleeping baby on her chest.

“Not now or anytime soon. One baby is enough at one time. But in the future. This—us—being a family, it feels right and as perfect as our family is, I want it to be bigger.” She had explained. She’d have been nervous, but this is Adam, possibly the only person she knows whole heartedly that she can be herself, no judgement.

“Darlin’, nothing would make me happier.” He had kissed her temple firmly then, lacing their hands together and Kim got that feeling of perfect domestic bliss again.

“I’d say let’s have another right now but, yeah, one baby is enough. Although we could practice?” He then joked and Kim rolled her eyes at him.

It isn’t that long after that they’re at social services and Kim spots that precious six year old who, if Kim is honest with herself, hadn’t left her thoughts since, every few days Kim wondering if she’s okay, if she’s settling and adjusting and if the cousin Cathy would need to call her.

“Kim!” Makayla immediately runs to her, hugging her and Kim’s heart twists and constricts, warming at the gesture but breaking that she’s here.

They’re in the middle of a turbulent case, a case that plagues Kim, but her mind is still spilt, focused on worrying about Makayla.

“Where were you?” Adam asks her when she gets back from Cathy’s. Kim knows that she should’ve told him before, that going off alone like this when in a relationship and a parent isn’t how she should be behaving but as the couple’s therapist they went to say said, sometimes Kim can have tunnel vision. It’s something she’s working on, but sometimes she reverts back, like when a six year old needs her.

“I went to see Makayla’s Cathy.” Kim then tells him, and she tells him all about it.

“What if I take her in?” The words fall out Kim’s mouth before she can really process them. It’s nothing she should say, not just for the reasons Makayla’s social worker lists. But because Kim isn’t an I anymore. She’s in a relationship and she’s a mother. This isn’t just her life, but she can’t get Makayla—or the bond they have—out of her head.

After the conversation with her social worker, Kim sees Kevin. She wonders if she should ask him about this, about his siblings and that decision, knowing that he’ll have value to add to the conversation, especially as a black man. But she stops herself, knowing that she’s getting that tunnel vision again, that she needs to discuss this with Adam before she spirals too fast.

“I want to foster Makayla.” It isn’t the most tactful conversation, or the best place for it. But Kim’s mind is in overdrive and all she can think about is how she could feel at six, feeling like only Nicole loved her, and about that precious girl, and her own daughter.

“Us. I want us to foster Makayla.” Kim quickly amends, because they’re a team. Everything they do, they do together. They’re entwined and interlinked and the only way to make the relationship successful is by accepting and respecting that.

It’s a long conversation. It’s really not the time or place but that’s something that just doesn’t matter as much as talking. Kim tells Adam all about why she does, and he talks about how he feels. That he gets it, that he would want to give her a home just as much but has she thought this through.

They work out if they want it to only be temporary, how they’ll do it with Ally, if they’re ready and if they’re only doing this because they’re adapting to being parents, parents who often felt unloved as a child.

And they grab Kevin, adding him to the discussion, getting his two cents.

And then they come to a decision—that they should take Makayla home and they’re jumping into action. Kim calling the social worker, Adam arranging for Ally to be at her grandparents for the night as they get Makayla settled.

Everything picks up after that, quiet days rarely a thing even more than before.

They get Makayla into school, sets up their home so it feels more like hers, they get her into therapy and family therapy. They introduce her to Kevin, knowing he will have to play an important role in their foster daughter’s life.

Makayla adores Ally from the first time they meet, treating her with such care and love and Ally immediately bonds to her. It fills Kim with such joy and affection, and makes her heart feel so, so soft.

Kim was worried that them having Ally already would make Makayla feel like an add on, but it has the opposite affect, making her feel more like part of the family—two weeks in, Makayla tells Kim that she always wanted a little sister, and Kim’s happy that she may not have been able to save Makayla’s family, but at least she could do something.

It’s not smooth sailing. It’s tough and it’s work. Nights were hell, Makayla waking up screaming and rousing Ally, but it gets better, especially after they get Makayla trouble dolls. It’s an adjustment, for sure, but it’s fulfilling.

For Adam too, who’s taken to calling Makayla his lil darlin’ and all three of them his girls. Kim already knew he is a great dad, but seeing him dress up and play with Makayla, and being so calm and loving through her trauma just reaffirms that over and over, making Kim feel so happy that she gave them another chance.

Makayla is family long before the adoption going through.

Mack is one of the first words Ally says, reaching for her sister as she did so. Kim—and Adam, as they discussed it later—will never forget the utterly joyful grin that had spread across Makayla’s face at that.

“Ally said my name!” Makayla had exclaimed to them happily, and proceeded to tell everyone she saw over the next week, her excitement and joy never waning.

Trudy and Mouch immediately accept Makayla as another grandchild and the rest of the family treats Makayla like she belongs. Kim never had any doubts, but it warmed her heart to see how much Makayla clearly loved and was taken by it—and how it made her feel so much more settled, knowing she’s gained so much family even after loosing so much.

Sylvie takes it upon herself to be her honorary godmother and Makayla quickly learns that Sylvie is one of the best to play princesses with. Stella comes with Sylvie one day and Makayla is immediately enamoured by her, and soon Stella decides Makayla needs two godmothers.

The Atwaters are an essential part of their family, as they help Makayla keep that connection to her black culture, helping to make sure her identity doesn’t get lost and that she doesn’t feel like she has to pick sides between her old and new life.

Makayla and Uncle Kev have a day every month, just them, doing whatever they want. It’s not even about doing anything relating to their shared skin tone, but just a routine to establish that Kevin is there for her.

Jordan takes to Makayla quickly, as well, finding her cute and endearing. He tells them that she reminds him of Vinessa at that age, and quickly starts calling her his little cousin—another thing that Kim knows helps makes her feel like part of the family.

Makayla loves her ‘big cousin', Jordan often teaching her age appropriate jokes and helping her play harmless pranks. He also teaches her some dance moves, and laughs with her when she tries to teach Adam them, who fails spectacularly.

Jordan loves Ally as well, having seen Kim as part of his family for years but Kim knows that they’ll never have the bond that Jordan and Makayla have, and it’s something that makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside—that Makayla with have things that’s just hers, that she won’t ever feel like she’s in her little sister’s shadow. It’s important, Kim thinks, and she’s glad of it. Makayla is no less her daughter than Ally and deserves to never feel like she is.

Makayla is family before she is legally, before she’s adopted into a family who barely has any blood in common anyway. But the day the adoption goes through is a joyous day for all of them.

“I love you.” Makayla has said it to them before, and more to Ally. But that day she says it and it’s louder than a shy whisper but firm and sure and Kim can’t help getting teary eyed as they hug her, assuring their daughter that they love her too, so much.

“Thank you for wanting to be my mom and dad.” Makayla says that night, so earnestly and Kim tears up again, Adam too. And nothing has ever felt so right. Kim knows she’ll never replace her mom, and she doesn’t want to, and she knows that Makayla might not ever call them mom and dad but they are and Makayla sees them as that and it feels so right.

“We’ve got two daughters.” Kim giggles against Adam’s chest that night, when everyone is asleep.

“That we do. And we got to skip the baby stage so we could get our two daughters straight away,” Adam replies, referencing their conversation from the night Makayla went home with Cathy. Kim laughs again, cuddling against her fiancé—as of a week ago.

Life is unpredictable. It’s messy and chaotic and full of madness, and Kim’s learnt and accepted that. And life is wonderful and amazing, and not despite of that, but because of that.

Two years ago, Kim would not see herself like this. In bed with Adam, her fiancé, their two daughters sleeping and feeling like she’s got the most perfect life. And it’s all because life is unpredictable.

Kim used to think that perfect meant calmness. And then she thought that can’t be her life, because she’s choose a mad and crazy life, a life not designed to be calm. But as she lies in bed that night, Adam cuddling her, Kim knows that’s wrong.

Life does mean calmness, but not because her life is quiet and calm, but because it’s messy and chaotic. It’s messy and chaotic and it’s hers. She has all what she ever wanted, fulfilled in all areas, and it doesn’t matter if it’s unpredictable because that’s the beauty of it.

There’s such a peace and calmness inside of her, an ease that has been brought on only by the messy, imperfection and unplanned events of her life—and that’s what makes everything feel perfect; perfect within the chaos.

[abacus-and-paper-money]

Some Modern/High School AU Shit That I Came Up With Because Fuck You

- Helene and Anatole are both cheerleaders

- Dolokhov is The Nerf Gun Kid

- Natasha has the MOST aesthetic Instagram page

- Mary has a hard time with common core math homework poor baby

- Balaga is the bus driver lmao

- Sonya lives on coffee and Natasha tries to drink black coffee too to look grown up but always ends up dumping an unholy amount of cream and sugar in it

- They are All Theater Kids because legally they have to be

- Marya drives a red pickup truck because she DOES okay

- Pierre is the kid cramming at 3AM who texts you asking if he can borrow your geometry book tomorrow

- Helene can break into people's lockers

- both Natasha and Anatole are easily distracted by pretty rocks, coins, and the like.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 13

13/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: Christmas Eve 1994 | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

As Scully copes with her diagnosis, Mulder joins her for the Scully family Christmas dinner. Plus, Melissa's girlfriend meets the family.

TW for disordered eating, cigarette smoking, references to abduction/medical rape.

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

Self destruction is a natural impulse for Dana Scully, though she’ll try to deny it. Take one unexplained abduction, add a dash of premature menopause, and sift out time spent proving Mulder wrong, and you’ll get a struggling Scully.

She can tell she’s entering a bad mental state when food becomes a suggestion rather than a necessity. Every bite is either earned according to whatever trivial rules she’s set for herself in that particular moment, or is not deserved and therefore not eaten. It’s a game where she’s the coach, player, and referee, yet she still loses every time. Nourishment is both prize and punishment, feeding her hunger but vacating her control.

This habit started when she was a teenager and wracked with feelings her petite frame couldn’t contain. It felt much safer than the route her siblings had taken of sneaking out in the middle of the night or using fake IDs to buy alcohol or skipping church on the regular. As far as fifteen-year-old her was concerned, she wasn’t bothering anyone by foregoing some meals. Her mother disagreed and called her out every time, humiliating her into her second coping mechanism, smoking.

There were the times when Scully was really young and enticed by her sister’s cigarettes, but that was simple preteen rebellion. What developed when Dana was seventeen was something different entirely. A survival mechanism with poison inside, snuffing herself out while keeping her alive and sane. She would walk to the gas station and buy packs of Marlboros with coins from her piggy bank. The laws were lax in the 80s, the prices too. She would blow rings of smoke while walking home, then hide the pack in her bra and swish some mouthwash. She’d repeat the process to and from school, steadily acquiring a nasty nicotine habit. It continued until the summer before college, when she made herself go cold turkey so as not to take the habit with her. As far as she knows, neither her parents nor any of her siblings ever knew about it.

It resurfaces in times of stress, though normally for no more than a single pack. Lately she’s accustomed to keeping a pack and a lighter with her at all times. Her building is smoke free so she steps outside, but her car is off limits because she doesn’t want the smell to cling to her. It is a hassle, but then again, so are most things.

Missy knows about the poor eating habits--those are hard to hide from someone who shares the same space as you. Nevermind the fact that the scale shows six less pounds than before, and that adds up when the number’s not that large to begin with. Scully’s edges protrude now...that can’t be hidden.

Missy never says a word. She remembers Dana complaining about their mother’s condescending comments about her weight, and she knows the damage that does to a young psyche. Instead, she offers. Healthy meals, guilty pleasure meals, all her sister’s favorites. She cooks more than she ever has before, well aware that her sister will struggle to refuse her.

“I recognize what you’re doing,” Missy told her sister when she tried to turn away a caesar salad, of all things. “I’ve been known to do that too,” Missy admitted. “Eat. You’re hungry, you just think not eating will give you some form of control over your body, or your life...but wasting yourself away is letting the bastards win.”

And so she did, that time at least. Scully has enough shame regarding her habit to push it aside whenever confronted---that’s how she insists to herself that it’s not an eating disorder. She can stop on command. That makes it okay, right?

Getting back into the office helped her a lot---you can’t starve yourself and function as an FBI agent. Besides, she would dissolve into thin air if Mulder figured out what she was doing. He was the one who batted around the idea of Scully helping prep each case and supervising any tests he might need the crime lab to do while he’s in the field. He understood that in lieu of therapy, she needed something to take her out of her own mind.

It was as much for him as it was her; at this point, it’s almost incomprehensible to him that the X-Files had existed before her. Of course he was the laughingstock of the FBI! He had huddled in the basement by himself with UFOs and blurry Bigfoot sightings pinned on the wall like a shrine to his own delusion.

Her fall from grace was his absolution. He’ll make an angel of her, somehow. Even if it means he has to meet the devil.

Scully has no interest in becoming an angel, though she’d sure like to avoid hell, and that hasn’t worked out too well. Locker room jokes are one thing. Underestimation another. But assault? Rape? Trauma and torture because she is who she is doing what she does? She is not a quitter, and that is killing her.

Her barrenness haunts her because it was bestowed upon her as punishment, an implication that she only has worth as a walking womb. She wants to be seen as a person, not a pawn.

The arrival of the holiday season is another weight on her shoulders. It used to be Scully’s favorite time of year; now the sight of carolers makes her want to poke her eyes out. It’s the first Christmas without her father, and that is simply unimaginable. Her and Missy spent a quiet Thanksgiving with their mother---small portions and whispered thanks--in preparation for an elaborate family Christmas. Bill Jr. and Tara are flying in from California for the annual Christmas dinner and midnight mass. They will all try to move forward, pretend it’s just like any other year, but it’s not and it never will be again. Happy Christmases are over for the Scully family.

And yet, they will try to enjoy the moment. Missy told her mom that she’s bringing a friend, which is completely true. Trinity is her closest friend that she doesn’t share blood with. That said, she plans to use the occasion to introduce Trinity as her girlfriend, come what may.

Then there was the suggestion that their mother made, which caught her youngest daughter completely off guard. “Why don’t you bring Fox?” Margaret Scully proposed demurely during their weekly phone call. “I’m making a zoo’s worth of food, I could use another mouth to feed. I hate to see any of it go to waste.”

“Mulder’s spending Christmas with his family, I’m sure,” Scully had replied. “But I’ll pass along the offer.”

That was how Scully learned that Mulder’s family isn’t much for celebration, that he usually spends the holiday flipping between It’s A Wonderful Life and the 24 hour marathon of A Christmas Story, and that he has a particular fascination with the idea of midnight mass.

“I just don’t get it,” Mulder mused. “You believe that a jolly old man with flying reindeer leaves presents in your house, but you think he waits until after you’ve gotten home from celebrating Baby Jesus’ birthday? Didn’t you ever look for his sleigh in the sky on the drive home?”

“No, Mulder,” Scully sighed. “I just believed that he knew when we were tucked in bed. Santa’s all-seeing, you know,” she teased.

Mulder chuckled. “Kind of presumptuous to assume he functions on your schedule, huh?”

Ultimately, Mulder said yes. He figured attending the Catholic equivalent of Jesus’ birthday party would be another check off his supernatural bucket list, though he did not say this part out loud for fear of Dana Scully’s wrath. Besides, what else was he gonna do on Christmas Eve? Shake the shoebox of junk he stuck under his mini-basketball hoop so he felt like he was getting a gift?

And so the fateful day arrives. Mulder flips his Garfield page-a-day calendar to December 24th, chuckles at the comic strip of the orange cat eating all his owner’s Christmas cookies, and makes his way to his partner’s increasingly familiar doorstep. The sun has already slipped behind the trees by the time he arrives. It gives up easily in the winter.

He rings the bell and hears Scully’s dainty footsteps on the other side. She’s snuck up on him enough times for him to have developed a keen sense of her light footing--no more jump scares for him.

“Hey Scully,” he stammers as she opens the door. She had told him to look “festive,” so he donned his nicest green sweater (a gift from his mom from J. Crew...he had never worn it) and slacks. Scully rounds out their show of holiday spirit with a velvet red blouse and black trousers.

“You look lovely,” Mulder says reflexively, unsure when he started using such a word. Scully pulls at her shirt, obscuring the bit of cleavage that has revealed itself. “Thanks Mulder,” she mutters, ushering him inside.

He holds up the shiny silver gift bag he hastily stuffed with tissue paper. “Some candy canes I picked up at the gas station. I figured the whole family could enjoy them.”

Scully nods, amused by his feeble attempt at gifting. “I’m sure they won’t go to waste.”

A fire crackles in the fireplace. It’s so hot in the apartment that Mulder is surprised it hasn’t melted the snow outside on the sidewalk.

“Where’s Melissa?” he asks, hoping they will hit the road sooner than later.

“She’s picking up her girlfriend from the airport. She couldn’t get an earlier flight.”

“Dulles?” He sure hopes not. It’s all the way across town.

“No, Reagan.”

Whew. Much closer.

“She should be back any minute now,” Scully continues. “Trinity’s flight got in at 3:30.”

Mulder rolls his sleeves up. “So your family doesn’t know about Trinity?”

Scully shakes her head.

“Do they know that Melissa’s…” He gestures, unsure which word to fill the space with.

“Bi? No.”

“So she shows up with Trinity, and then what?”

Scully shrugs. “She introduces her as her girlfriend. Mom already knows Missy is bringing a guest so she’ll have a plate for her.”

“You’re not worried about how the family’s gonna react?”

“Well, I’m sure Bill is gonna be a dick about it, but that’s normal. We only see him once a year, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Bill’s your brother?”

“Uh-huh. And Tara is his wife. They got married about a year and a half ago.”

Even as he pushes into his thirties, it still surprises Mulder that anyone close to his age could be married. He doesn’t even sleep in a bed.

“You think your mom’s gonna be cool with Trinity?” he asks.

“I think she loves her daughter enough to be.”

“Mmm.” Mulder sticks his hands in his pockets. If only he had dilemmas like this. He imagines him and Samantha speculating about their mother’s reaction to Sam’s nose piercing or dyed hair or...anything really. He would give so much to have someone to laugh about his uncle’s sideburns with.

His emotional deep-dive is promptly cut off by the entrance of Melissa and a brunette woman whose bangs graze her eyebrows, her hair falling just below her shoulder. “Hi!” she chirps, taking in the magnificence of Dana Scully. “Dana, I presume?”

Scully nods.

“May I hug you?” Trinity asks, hazel eyes shining.

“Sure,” Scully says, feeling the brisk air against Trinity’s coat as she’s pulled in.

Scully lets go first, and Trinity takes that as a cue to pull away. “You look just like Mel, wow,” she remarks, fighting the urge to run her fingers through Scully’s hair.

Scully smiles softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it is,” Trinity assures, exchanging a gooey gaze with Missy. Next, her attention falls upon Mulder, who does an awkward half-wave. “Hello!” She points between Mulder and Scully. “Boyfriend?”

Mulder chokes. Scully picks up his slack--”Oh, no. This is Fox Mulder, my partner at the FBI.”

“Ahh,” Trinity smiles knowingly. “Yes, I’ve heard about you. I didn’t know you would be joining us for Christmas.”

“Christmas is not exactly my family’s cup of tea, so I figured I’d get an authentic experience with the Scullys.”

“Same! I’m looking forward to Mama Scully’s ginger snaps. I’ve heard fantastic things about them.”

Mulder elbows his partner playfully. “Damn, Scully! How could you leave me in the dark about ginger snaps?”

Scully rolls her eyes but smiles. “I apologize, Mulder. Though for the record, the fruitcake is better.”

“Says no one, ever,” Mulder teases.

She grins. Now this is Christmas.

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

Taking a seat at Margaret Scully’s dinner table feels like existing inside a Christmas movie, in Mulder’s mind. Fancy china, green and red serving platters, paper mache snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, and a porcelain nativity scene; the dining room has it all. Not to mention the heaping piles of food there for the taking...if this is Christmas, Mulder wants in every year.

Scully does not share his cinematic fantasy. She knows better, having actually attended one of her family’s dinners before. Bill will get too drunk and start saying whatever comes to mind, their mother will laugh along like he’s still a five year old babbling about nothing (as opposed to the thirty-something spewing bullshit that he actually is), Missy will attempt to debate him to get him to shut up (which never works), and she will sit there and wish to be somewhere, anywhere else. And all without their father to hold the reins and keep a fight from breaking out.

The night has gone smoothly enough, Scully supposes. Missy introduced Trinity as her girlfriend in a very non-ceremonial way, forcing Bill and their mother to nod and accept it, in the moment at least. Mulder received a hug from Margaret and a pat on the shoulder from Bill, so pretty much the highest token of approval. Mulder’s candy canes earned a place in the center of the dessert table, which gave him way more satisfaction than it should have, and he couldn’t help but feel that if they were to vote on favorite man at the party, he would win. A room with Bill Jr. in it is probably the only place he would ever earn this honor, and he’ll take that.

Yet everything unwinds as Scully suspected. Bill waits until everyone has packed plates and full mouths to unleash his particular hyperfixation for the night.

“Trinity?” he questions, raising his fork diagonal across the table toward her. “Is that your name?”

Trinity smiles and nods, oblivious to what she’s in for.

“And you know Melissa how…?”

She pats a napkin to her mouth. “We worked at the same restaurant in Oregon.”

He chuckles gruffly. “What was it, one of those gay bar things?”

“No, an Italian bistro,” Trinity continues calmly.

Missy, however, is not so calm. “Gay people can go places other than gay bars,” she retorts. “We’re not segregated. Though I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Bill sets a fist on the table, clanging his silverware. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Why the hell do you insist on being so politically correct all the time? I’d shoot myself.”

“Gee, maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Now Melissa…” Margaret Scully’s voice rises above the clamor.

“I have the right to defend my girlfriend and I against Bill’s thinly disguised homophobia,” Missy responds.

“You act like I give a damn what you and your friend do,” Bill sneers. “That’s not my business.”

“Then stop pretending like it is.”

“Oh boo-hoo, little Missy thinks the world revolves around her.”

“Bill, honey, I think that’s enough,” Tara says, laying a protective hand on his arm.

“You’re right.” He raises his can of beer toward Mulder. “Whaddya doin here, hot shot? Trying to seduce my sister?”

Scully frowns, but doesn’t say anything, pushing food around on her plate.

Mulder seems rather unbothered by Bill’s advances. He chuckles. “Actually, I think it’s the other way around.”

Bill snorts. “That’s a likely story.”

“You don’t think I’m worth your sister’s time?”

“I don’t think Dana thinks you're worth her time. You’re not her type.”

“I am sitting right here, you know,” Scully says, staring daggers at her brother.

“Then tell us Dana! Is hot shot here your type?”

Her eyes brush Mulder’s face. His cheeks flush, reddening like a stormy sunset. She wishes she could read his mind. The safe answer and the true answer are not often the same. “I think Mulder is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to know him,” she answers stiffly, her annoyance aimed at Bill.

“Oh, the old run-around!” Bill scraps his fork against his plate. ”Typical.”

Scully grabs her now empty canned cocktail and sulks into the kitchen, leaving her chair pushed away from the table. Everyone watches her go, but Bill gives off the only visible reaction. He laughs. “Scared her away. Thought it would take more.”

Mulder and Melissa exchange a glance. She nods, granting him permission to play knight-in-shining-armor. Quietly, Mulder slips out of his chair and pushes it back into place. He catches the kitchen door as it swings closed behind his partner.

Her anger concealed from the rest of the family, Scully drops her can in the recycling bin with a bang. She ignores Mulder, instead opening the refrigerator and pulling out another cocktail, saying nothing.

“What is this, your fifth drink?” Mulder brushes his hand over her shoulder, and she recoils. “Leave me alone, Mulder.” She slams the fridge and tries to turn around, but he’s cornered her.

“C’mon Scully, Bill’s harmless. He doesn’t bother me.”

“It’s not fucking about Bill,” she fumes, alcohol fizzing through her bloodstream. She inhales, trying to keep it together in front of the man who has done nothing wrong to her. “Please get out of my way.”

“What’s wrong?” He frames her shoulders with his hands, creating their own little bubble.

“Don’t touch me!” she growls. Mulder knows as soon as hears it: he will never forget the pure anguish in her voice. As she retreats to the corner, he looks down at his palms, the stovetop that burned her...he would cut them off if he could.

Unfortunately, the commotion attracts the Scully’s like a dog whistle. Bill leads the charge into the kitchen, getting a full view of his sister hunched over by the back door while her partner stands by the fridge like an idiot. “Ooo, a lover’s spat!” he exclaims, only nominally concerned about Dana’s well-being.

“Shut up, Bill,” Missy hisses. To everyone’s relief, he does.

Mrs. Scully comes forward, maneuvering around Mulder to get to her daughter. “Are you alright, Dana?”

Scully keeps her back to the crowd. “I just need a minute.” She taps her pocket, confirms that she slipped her pack of cigarettes in. “I’ll be outside. Everyone can go back to dinner, please.”

She twists the doorknob and steps onto the back deck without waiting for any response. Mulder feels the tug of tears in his throat, like a dormant animal waking up in him. He is used to being hurt (though not by Scully, never her), but inflicting the hurt is a whole other beast. He doesn’t know what he’s done, but he doesn’t need to. The look in her eyes, put there by what he thought was a harmless touch, made his heart tremble. He is frozen in place, grateful when Melissa appears at his side as the rest of the party returns to the dining room.

“I didn’t mean to upset her, I was trying to make her feel better about Bill…” he laments.

“I’m sure, I’m sure. It’s not you specifically, she’s going through a lot right now--you know.”

Mulder rubs his neck. “I don’t know if I do.”

“She hasn’t shared her diagnosis?”

His eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Diagnosis?! Is she okay?”

Missy sighs. “I think you two need to talk. If she gets pissed, tell her I sent you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Tell me if she’s okay.”

“She’s okay. It’s not fatal or anything.”

“She would tell me, if it was...wouldn’t she?”

Missy bites her lip. “I don’t know, Fox---Mulder. I would hope so, but I was under the impression you already knew about this, and you see how that’s gone.”

Mulder turns toward the back door, desperation living in his voice. “I’ve gotta go. I’ve gotta check on her.”

Missy nods. “Don’t let her weasel her way out of this one. I’m expecting a heart-to-heart, mushiness and all.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

He turns the back doorknob and slips through the door, trying to imitate his partner’s ninja skills. The old wood on the door frame shakes as he shuts it. He winces--so much for the sneak attack.

Mulder follows the arc of the deck, winter’s bite colliding with him. He didn’t have a chance to grab his jacket, and now that he’s thinking about it, Scully didn’t either. He can grin and bear it but she is all skin and bones, now more than ever. It scares him to see her like that, but it’s none of his business, he feels, to comment on her body. He can break her fall, but he must not provide an extra push.

The wind has no friends to protect nor foes to defeat, so it will give away anyone. It carries the unmistakable tarnish of smoke to Mulder’s nose, an ashy haze that has come to remind him of Skinner’s office and the shadow lingering in the corner. He almost expects to find him there with his Morleys and his sadistic laugh. Instead, he finds a redhead and her Marlboros shrinking against the December cold snap.

“Bum a cig, ma’am?” He scoots up to her, ready to retrieve his own smoke from her long, slender fingers.

“Mulder!” She pulls the cigarette away from her, holding her last puff captive in her lungs.

He wiggles his fingers like an impatient child. “We’re all gonna die someday, right?”

Her jig up, she rolls her shoulders back and releases the smoke with a great rise and fall of her chest. It mingles in the air with the chill of her breath, becoming one and the same as they leave the contours of her body. Head tilted back and lips parted, she is alive with nicotine’s ease and intoxication’s freedom.

It is better than porn, according to one Fox William Mulder. He’ll keep this observation to himself for now.

“Did your parents never teach you that sharing is caring?” he rambles. “C’mon, give me a light!”

“It’s a nasty habit, Mulder.”

“I’m a connoisseur of those,” he replies loosely. “Now, you’re not gonna make me put you in a headlock are ya?”

Scully rolls her eyes. She’s never felt less threatened in her life. “You’re exhausting, do you know that?”

“I’ve heard it a time or two.”

She pulls a cigarette from her carton and slips it into his fingers. They are warm; hers are ice-cold. “I wanted to be alone.” She hands him the lighter, watches as he generates heat from thin air.

He lights his cig and sticks the lighter in his pocket rather than handing it back to her. “According to my calculations, you should be very drunk right now. Other than your Oscar bait performance back there, you’ve got things pretty under control I’d say.”

Scully gestures at her cigarette smoking, teeth chattering self. “Yeah, I’m the picture of health.”

“Do you have some exceptional alcohol tolerance I should know about, because that’d make you very valuable in undercover work.”

Scully gazes out into the distance. She’d smile if she were to look at him right now, and that doesn’t feel right for the situation. “Those drinks have low alcohol content, Mulder. You can buy them at Dollar General.”

“You ever looked at their hand sanitizer? It’s like 95% alcohol.”

“Well, now I know where you go to get your fix.”

He chuckles. “You got me.”

She stuffs her hands in her pockets and he wishes, god he wishes, that he had grabbed his jacket. He’d take off his sweater if she wanted him to--stand there with his bare chest to the cold--but he has a feeling that would only exacerbate the situation.

He tries a more gentlemanly route. “Do you want me to grab your jacket? I won’t give away your trade secrets.”

She folds herself together. “No, it’s okay. It’ll make me get a move on at some point.”

They stand united in their rebellion, blowing smoke and freezing their asses off. Who needs Christmas cheer when you’ve got Christmas resentment?

Mulder sways a bit to keep his blood circulating. He is careful not to bump her. “You wanna tell me why you’re out-Scrooging Scrooge this year?” he prompts as gently as he can.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it hasn’t exactly been the best year of my life.”

“I gathered that, yeah.”

“And it’s the first Christmas without my father…” her voice warbles.

“Shit, right. I’m sorry,” Mulder murmurs.

“...So it just doesn’t feel very celebratory.” She takes a long drag. Mulder can tell that this secret smoking habit is not new to her, and he wonders when she picked it up, how long she has kept it from him.

He takes a deep breath, watches as it is written in the air. “Melissa told me you received a diagnosis, and I think we’ve already established that sharing is caring…”

Scully looks him in the eyes for the first time since he joined her. It has the sudden intensity of a black-and-white film, Scully the 1940s scarlet and he the leading man who pales in comparison to her. There is no one he’d rather be overshadowed by.

“It’s humiliating,” she croaks. “Missy and my mom are the only ones who know.”

“I’ve got the monopoly on humiliation in this partnership, so I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says, flicking some ashes to the ground.

“This is a particular form of humiliation you can’t experience, I’m afraid. Or at least, it wouldn’t impact you the same way.”

“Let’s hear it.”

She sighs. “My abductors removed all of my eggs, causing my menstrual cycle to shut down and me to enter perimenopause.”

His breath catches in his throat. “Jesus christ.”

“Uh-huh.”

He throws his cigarette on the ground and stamps it out, though it could have burned longer. “That’s fucking horrifying, Scully. You’ve got to inform the Bureau. We’ve got to catch these--whatever they are. We’ve got to make them pay.”

“No, Mulder. It’s too much. I don’t want to keep reliving it, I want to be able to move on with my life.”

“How can you move on when they’re still out there, probably doing it to more women?”

She shakes her head, feeling the snag of tears and holding them back for fear they might freeze on her face. “I don’t know, but I can’t think about it like that. It sort of...shatters everything, the idea that this could be a phenomenon happening to other women in secret. I wouldn’t believe it if it didn’t happen to me. I still don’t believe it.”

Mulder shudders. He can’t discern whether it’s from the cold or their conversation. “Do you think it was men who took you? Or do you believe Duane Barry?”

“It seems like a level of monstrosity that only man could achieve. It requires a certain understanding of society, gender roles...dehumanization that only humans could perpetuate.”

Mulder nods. Her reasoning tracks, but the thought of him failing to outsmart humans who stole away his partner is something he cannot fully process. It makes sense that he couldn’t find her if she was in space, but if she was on the face of the Earth, he had no damn excuse.

“You were just gone, Scully...you were just gone.” His aching is so palpable, his voice a cliff’s edge they could both tumble down.

“I know I was.” She takes one last puff, then lets her cigarette fall to the ground. She crushes it with her heel, her force premeditated and brutal. That pain is for the ones who took her, the ones who have obviously never loved a thing at all.

Head bowed, she moves toward the door, but not without grasping for Mulder’s elbow, assuring that he is following behind. He is and he will be, for as long as she lets him.

Inside, the home’s manufactured warmth hits them, unreal in comparison to the cold they have known. The kitchen is as quiet as it was before their ordeal, the dining room empty aside from Mrs. Scully clearing serving platters.

“Where did everyone go?” Scully asks, momentarily alarmed that she may have ruined the entire gathering.

“We’re going to drive around and look at lights before mass. Everyone’s getting ready.”

“Oh.” She looks to Mulder, as if to check that he hasn’t left her stranded. “I think I’ll stay here,” she tells her mother. “Make a cup of hot chocolate and relax for a bit.”

“Well, you’ll be missed. Fox, would you like to join us?”

He takes a leap, hopes he’s got the right idea. “I’ll stay here, but thank you.”

“As you wish,” Mrs. Scully says with a slight smile. Mulder had never noticed her resemblance to her daughter until that moment. It was like looking at a sketch of a famous painting; the lines are there but the colors missing.

Soon enough the crowd leaves and Scully and Mulder settle on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa. Margaret Scully’s tree forms the centerpiece of the living room, and it’s hard not to admire its gold and red decorations and the shiny angel on top.

“That’s gorgeous. Does she do it every year?” Mulder asks, ignoring the steam rising out of his mug and going right in for the kill.

Scully nods. “Every year since we were kids. There used to be a lot more homemade ornaments, but I guess she swapped those for a more elegant look now that we’re grown.”

“Well, it’s beautiful.” He looks at her, curled up with the glow of the fireplace falling upon her, and he feels warmth and safety like never before. It would be so easy to slip in “and so are you,” it is practically begging to be said. But she wouldn’t believe him if he said it now; she would think it was a pity compliment. Instead, he mouths the words, and she is not looking, and that is okay.

She snuggles deeper into the cushions, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander. She is the most at ease she has been in months--here in the house she lived in during high school with the fireplace crackling and her partner by her side--and that’s not what she expected from Christmas Eve. Heaven strokes her skin, and she blinks her eyes open to find Mulder tucking her in with her mother’s microfiber blanket. She smiles her soft Scully smile. “Thank you,” she coos, burrowing herself deeper into the blanket’s embrace.

“You’re welcome,” Mulder whispers into her ear. His fingers tangle in her hair as he pulls her toward him, his lips meeting her temple. She catalogues the feeling for her memory bank: chapped but carrying the hot chocolate’s warmth. She will spend the next while convinced that it was a dream, a fleeting image in the moments before sleep, but she will carry the feeling until she feels it again.

[dullahandyke]

Tagged by both @badgrl-675 and @cykes-dono... I'm so popular 🥰 specialest girl on this website

Three ships: orldente (Olga orly x Olivia aldente), mercedmond (the count of monte cristo (Dumas catch these hands for that ending you gave mercédès you milfphobic bitch)), franvriska 😍 I'm not like other girls, two girls don't even have to meet and I'll ship them

Last song: coin locker baby by maretu... is just funky

Last movie: wall-e!!!! Those 2 space lesbians own me heart

Currently reading: christ let's run down the list again!!! Physically reading with my eyes the aeneid and crime and punishment (Hashtag Dido truther, hashtag Raskonikov was the first poor little meow meow), and i’m listening to an audiobook of the count of monte cristo because special interest momence. i also shoved omniscient reader’s viewpoint and an eons-long yugioh au bandori fic into a text to speech program so like im reading them but rlly im just listening 2 them

Currently watching: adventure time :] and also a playthru of aa6

Currently consuming: just had a cookies n cream chocolate bar mwah

Currently craving: poppin chicken :(

Tagging: @loveize @casgender and uhhh fuck, any other mutuals that wanna do this!!

[uzi-x33]

COIN LOCKER BABY MARETU AU:33 basically Chuuya and dazai live a somewhat normal life, no abilities, no agencies, but one day on his way to work dazai hears a nose coming from a random coin locker, only to find a baby atsushi💀 he takes him home and convinces Chuuya to adopt him and they basically raise him:333 I made this in my 1st period science class while listening to coin locker baby🔥

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Coin Locker Baby

coin locker baby by BuiltUpWithCatsAndTeaToMatch

inko hates the child as much as she hates hisashi.

Words: 332, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 11 of i write too many aus

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko

Relationships: Midoriya Inko & Midoriya Izuku

Additional Tags: Sensei | All For One is Midoriya Hisashi, Villain Midoriya Hisashi, Abusive Midoriya Inko, Bad Parent Midoriya Inko, Child Abandonment, Inspired by Music, Based on a Vocaloid Song, Hurt No Comfort, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drabble, short and not sweet, Postpartum Depression, kind of?, i might write more of this au if i develop it more

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014242

[starkeristheendgame]

Starker Valentine

Firstly, I want to start by wishing @softstarkerstuff a wonderful Happy Valentine’s, and also every other wonderful noodle that may see this! This is my second time participating in a challenge and I am beyond excited! Softstarker requested a High School AU where childhood best friends drift apart after Tony rejects Peter’s feelings for him. Naturally, Peter has the mother of all glow-ups over summer and Tony is quickly forced to reconsider.

I didn’t wanna go absolutely crazy on the word count for this, so I haven’t actually written out the majority of the backplot. This fic takes place after said rejection and focuses on the requested act of Tony developing his character in order to deserve Peter’s affections.

(I said that and this ended up being over 4,000 words!)

@starker-valentines 

TW: Light Angst | (Not) Unrequited Love

“Tony. Get up,” Natasha hissed above him, and ordinarily the glint in her eye would have been enough for Tony to hop to, but the situation outweighed whatever horrible consequence she could bestow him, and he shook his head.

“We live here now,” Clint shrugged happily, popping another nacho into his mouth from the bowl he’d swiped before joining Tony in an act of solidarity on the floor, hiding behind a countertop in the kitchen. Natasha arched a dangerous eyebrow at the other boy, and even Tony twisted to look at Clint.

“Why are you down here?” Tony asked, risking leaning over Clint’s thighs to peek around the corner. Fuck. He couldn’t see him anymore, but that didn’t mean it was safe to move. He blew out a harsh breath and curled back up against the counter, scowling.

“Barnes has that leather jacket on again,” Clint announced simply, as though that explained anything at all. Above them, Natasha heaved a put-upon sigh, settling for kicking Tony in the shin with an unimpressed frown.

“Him I can understand,” she begun, motioning to Clint, who paused like he didn’t actually know if he ought to be offended or not. “But you. I had higher expectations of,” she sniffed, eyes scanning the room behind them before she reached down, grasping a fist of their shirts and hauling them to their feet despite their yowls of protest and clamours to hide behind her.

Heart in his throat, Tony cast a quick glance around, but couldn’t find the object of his fears. Or... The person. He relaxed a fraction, mindlessly pawing at Natasha’s iron grip with the dull awareness that his shirt would likely be crumpled.

“Idiots. The both of you. If I were less of a friend I’d complain about you ruining my night,” Natasha sniffed as she begun to drag them out of the kitchen, Clint still desperately clinging to his snacks and having no qualms about stealing a bowl. Tony kept himself alert as they walked, fugitively scanning the rooms as they made their way towards the door.

He couldn’t exactly say he lamented leaving - Contrary to every single clichè American film, high school house parties were often measly affairs, more pizza than booze and always with that one weirdo pretending they were absolutely wasted off alco-pops and mixers. 

This party was largely no different, thumping music that made it hard to talk, pizza that had long gone cold and Tony would rather starve than touch, shitty drinks with a 4% content.

Mm, but no. What made this party truly, utterly horrific, was the fact that Peter Parker had shown up. And really, that sounded meaner than it was intended. Tony didn’t hate Peter - Not even close. Wasn’t disgusted by his presence but terrified of it.

Peter was - Or rather, had been, his best friend. This is where Tony’s sort kind of did realise the typical ‘teen film’ plot.

Boy meets boy. Boys grow up as childhood best friends, joined at the hip and vowing during recess to never, never, ever break friends. Boys navigate pre-teenhood together. Boy gets crush. 

Apparently, other boy also gets crush. Boy admits crush. Other boy is too emotionally repressed and terrified to admit crush. Boy rejects boy. Summer comes. Boy gets glow up. Other boy now doubly regrets rejection and is left to wallow in pitiful regret and jealousy.

Yeah. Tony liked it about as much as he liked Marmite, which was to say, not at all. When Peter had rolled over on their bed, eyes imploring and voice soft as he admitted his feelings, something within Tony had died. 

Because Peter was this perfect, pretty thing he was destined to never have. The flower that Tony was too scared to pick because he didn’t want to see it wither and die.

“He’s gone all thinky and melancholy again,” Clint complained at his side, and Tony thumped him on the shoulder, tripping over the welcome mat as Natasha lugged them along like reluctant suitcases. 

Tony would have given a smart quip in response, something scathing about how Clint was also running away from someone, but a soft voice interrupted the quiet of the front yard just as they reached Tony’s car.

“Tony?”

Fuck. Fuck. Don’t turn around. It was easy to pretend he hadn’t heard, grabbing Clint by the scruff to stop the moron from turning and waving as they hauled into the car. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face it. Him.

They were barely even in the car before Tony begun to pull away, Clint and his nachos rolling around in the back as the teen struggled to buckle himself in. From her seat up front, Natasha eyed him.

“Coward,” she announced, and Tony immediately agreed without shame. He was, of course. He was a coward. Had been from the start, from the moment he was old enough to let his feelings morph from the love of a friend to just...Love. He drove with a grim expression and an ache in his chest that felt like drowning.

He lay in bed for the remainder of the night, nose filled with chamomile and flora and heart aching with every memory that encompassed all that he had left of Peter. He had run away that night, recoiling from the prospect of ruining something he loved, and knowing he was ruining it by running. A vicious circle; a rat maze he was destined to run forever.

The torture of it had only increased upon their return, when cheeks round with baby-fat had slimmed and sharpened, when Peter’s unruly curls had smoothed into rolling, silky waves. He’d worked out over summer a little too, no longer just slim but lean. Summer glow-ups were nothing new, but Peter’s had hit hard.

Peter’s new looks had only succeeded in turning him from a neutral, friendly nerd to the newfound adoration of Queen’s Public High School, the boy suddenly inundated with attention and propositions. Peter seemed to have taken it in stride, not exchanging his personality for popularity, and still sat with the same two friends at lunch, still studied hard and ignored the feral social ladder.

It only made Tony love him all the more.

His sleep was restless and by Monday he was tired and grouchy, stalking through the halls towards his locker with a pair of deep shades covering his stinging eyes. Natasha cast him a glance as sympathetic as she could offer when she had made her opinion of his torment clear, and steered him towards first period. 

Peter was already there when they arrived, slouched over his desk and engaged in an enigmatic conversation with Ned. Tony allowed his gaze to linger for exactly six seconds before he slumped in his own desk, decidedly across the room from Peter and slightly in front, so he wouldn’t have to spend any of his lessons watching the other boy and lamenting the loss of his warmth.

A shadow fell over his desk and Tony slowly lifted his head from where he had been staring at the floor, willing his migraine to jump ship. The shadow belonged to one Steve Rogers, who’s summer glow up had happened over the previous year, and who had gone from your average joe with pretty eyes and a jawline to a six foot tall, broad-shouldered, lean hunk of very biteable meat. If Tony wasn’t fairly (entirely) certain one Bucky Barnes would knock all his teeth out, he’d have tried a taste.

“Can I help you?” he asked blearily, tipping his head so his glasses dipped and he could see Steve without a vignette of black. Steve merely raised an eyebrow, and Tony narrowed his eyes suspiciously in response.

“Hm.” And then Steve turned away, striding towards his own desk. Tony blinked dazedly at the now empty space, cast a sideways glance at Steve who sat down and begun to talk to Clint without a peek in return, and sighed. Ah. So Peter’s presumable warning about not going after Tony for breaking his heart must be nearing its end, then.

Wonderful.

At lunch, Tony snuck off campus and drove to the nearest Starbucks, returning to Natasha’s side with a coffee that was more espresso than water. He slouched in his seat and gave a pathetic whine, rubbing at his temples, and she slid a manicured hand through his hair, deliberately catching the tips of her nails on his scalp.

“If you weren’t such an emotionally repressed baby, you wouldn’t be like this,” she ‘soothed’ gently, and he cast her a sideways scowl.

“Yes, thank you for that. Nothing compares to your compassion and support,” Tony grumbled, scowling at her from behind his glasses. He needn’t remove them - she knew him well enough by now. Across the table Clint leaned forwards, petting idly at Tony’s forearm whilst his gaze remained steadily on Bucky from across the hall.

“Thighs like that should be illegal,” he sighed dreamily, and Tony and Natasha raised a brow in unison. Tony wasn’t the only one afflicted with love-interest related drama; Clint had gone and fallen in utter besottment with Bucky Barnes, also known as the second side of Steve Rogers’ coin. 

Unlike Steve; Bucky had always been tall and broad, with a slick haircut and a face that was already breaking hearts across the school.

Tony’s gaze drifted, away from Barnes’ denim clad thighs and instead to the sweater-clad form besides him. Peter was sprawled in his chair, sipping absently at a Cola and paying delighted attention to whatever conversation was happening. He looked... 

Soft. Soft in a way that Tony knew was huggable, touchable. His sweater was a deep blue to match the unlaced Doc Martins on his feet and his hair was askew like he’d been running his hands through it all morning.

“Stark!”

Fuck.

“What can I do for you?” he ground his teeth, voice faux sweet as he turned to eye Ms. Hill, who arched a brow at him and leaned down, plucking his coffee cup from his grasp.

“Please, correct me if I’m wrong, but last time I checked, the campus lunch hall didn’t stock Starbucks,” she announced, voice steely as she stared him down. Tony only offered her a short smile and an easy shrug.

“Correct.”

“Well then. I hope you’re sufficiently fuelled for a long day - you have detention. Immediately after last period.”

Tony simply cast her a serene, unbothered smile, taking his cup back before she could throw it in the trash. Tony’s grades more than made up for any mishaps he might incur, but Howard would still be displeased with him. Even more so at the triviality of why he was facing detention. 

Neither of his friends deigned to say anything about the instance, though Clint had given a dramatic wince at his punishment and had tossed a scowl at Hill’s retreating back - ever the supportive friend.

Natasha disappeared shortly before the end of lunch, though Tony had long since learned not to question her. He’d once found her lounging behind the bleachers, making a scalpel out of a piece of plastic card, some gum and a pencil. 

Since then he hadn’t dared to think too hard about what she might be doing whenever she wasn’t sitting in view and judging everyone.

She was back by the time last period rolled around, sitting primly in her seat with her book open, interest lost in a magazine she had apparently pulled out of nowhere. A glance at the cover showed it was a rifle magazine and Tony was not, at all, surprised.

Last period was history, and their tutor was a decidedly crabby old man who was never pleased with the efforts of his students. He was a fair grader - Never shorting them of their achievements, but he sung little praise and always had something to say about improvements.

They'd been given homework that no amount of groaning would rescind, and Tony pulled his from his bag with a sigh, rooting in his bag for a pen. In this class, he sat at the back, and it gave him a full vantage of where Peter was practically sitting in the lap of the pretty girl that had transferred here not too long ago. He had a vague notion of her name, but he knew for a fact that Peter always called her 'MJ'.

"Students! I should hope your weekend was spent wisely. Anyone not in possession of their homework will receive a detention," Mr. Ardell announced, hands clapping together. Tony breathed through his nose at the sound, pressing at his temple.

"Stark. This is not a nightclub nor a fashion show. Take the glasses off, and keep them off," he added in a snipe, and Tony forced a brittle smile, steadfastly ignoring the way that soft, honeyed eyes turned to him as he slid his glasses off And set them on his desk.

Even the typical 'bad type' student or the dumbest of them all listened to Mr. Ardell. The man had a booming voice and no hesitation about dealing punishments. 

At a glance, Tony could see that every student had their homework on their desk. Every student except Peter, who was rummaging around in his bag with a growing sense of urgency. Tony perked.

That was unusual. Peter often had his homework out before the teachers even got a chance to ask. Tony’s gaze remained fixed on the boy, who was now frantic as he dug around, mindlessly passing Mr. Ardell his homework as the man roamed the room, collecting sheets, right up until he stood opposite Peter, who floundered.

“I... I did it! I packed it this morning. It was right in my folder and now it’s gone!” Peter breathed, panic blossoming in his eyes. Mr. Ardell was quite clearly having none of it as Peter rambled and rifled through his bag, until Mr. Ardell finally held up a hand. Despite himself, Tony sucked in a breath, wincing in sympathy.

“Detention, Mr. Parker. And such a shame. You’re one of the few that don’t frequently make me wish I had the money to retire sooner,” Mr. Ardell sighed, and Peter crumpled. 

It made Tony’s heart clench in his chest, sympathy surging through his veins. He had no doubt Peter had done the homework - But perhaps he’d simply forgotten to pack it.

He was sitting there, chin on his palm as he watched MJ comfort Peter, when he sat bolt upright.

Detention.

Tony had detention.

That meant -

“Aw, fuck.”

“Mr. Stark!”

As Tony packed his bag at the end of class, Clint came sidling over, nudging him with a meek smile. “Hey, man. It’s not that bad. Just put some earbuds in. I bet he hates your guts too much to talks to you anyway!” he added cheerfully as they strode from the room, and Tony cast him a flat look.

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem! Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow. I gotta dash if I wanna make it home to walk Lucky before food!”

And then, there was just Tony and the rapidly emptying hallway. He heaved a sigh, ground his teeth, and strode towards the detention room. It was only half an hour. 

That was nothing. He could make it. The wild notion of fleeing and dealing with a double detention tomorrow crossed his mind, but Tony could only stand being in school for as long as he had to, and with a duck of his head he strode down the hallway at a faster pace. The sooner he got there, the sooner it was over with.

He reached the door and was about to push it open when the sheet of paper caught his eye.

Detention students - Room 3A12.

Tony frowned, but turned on his heel, making his way towards the other room. Perhaps that one was being cleaned or something. He was putting his earbuds in when he pushed into 3A12, Guns’n’Roses already filling his ears when a yelp of; “don’t let the door shut!” filtered through, followed by the soft slam of the door behind him.

He blinked across at Peter, who had stopped mid-stride, arm outstretched, looking pained. “Fuck! It locks from the outside. Now neither of us can get out,” Peter whined, and Tony scoffed.

“None of the doors in this place lock only from the outside.” to prove his point he turned, grabbed the handle, and slammed shoulder-first into it when it did not move as he did. Tony frowned, lips thinning as he jiggled the knob, tried again.

It wouldn’t open.

“Who the fuck installs a door that doesn’t open from one side!” Tony exploded, panic beginning to seep like cold water through his veins as the reality of the situation hit him. He was stuck alone in a room with Peter. Opposite him, Peter groaned and sank back down onto the -

“Son of a bitch.” They weren’t even a proper classroom. There were barely ten tables in here, a tiny whiteboard and a miniscule teacher’s desk. They couldn’t have been put in a smaller room if they tried. But speaking of the teacher's desk…

“Where’s the teacher?” he asked, nose crinkling. Opposite, Peter heaved a sigh, fidgeting on the edge of his seat and tugging at the ends of his sleeves.

“I don’t know. I’ve been in here for ten minutes, nobody has come in,” Peter sounded quiet, miserable, and Tony’s heart squeezed uncomfortably within his chest as he sunk down into a chair, frowning. 

Maybe the teacher was just held up with a student. They’d arrive soon enough, and Tony could be out of here and far away from that plush mouth, those dark eyes.

The minutes ticked by, with nothing but the sound of the clock on the wall. Tony tried texting Natasha and Clint, but they were both home already. If Peter had text anyone, he’d had similar luck, because ten more minutes passed and still not a soul even passed the door. 

Tony blew out a breath and tossed his phone down, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair. From the corner of his eye, he could see Peter watching.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“There’s not a lot in this room to look at.”

Tony gave a soft sound, eyes closing behind his shades as he settled. This wasn’t so bad. He could do this. They just had to wait and hope that a caretaker came around, or that someone called the reception to report that they had not come home. More minutes ticked by.

“You’re still staring.”

“I can’t help it. I haven’t...I haven’t seen you in a while,” 

Tony sucked in a breath, eyes closing and fingers beginning a tempo against the table. No. He couldn’t do this. If he did this; he’d crumble. He’d get to his knees and beg for all he’d lost, and he couldn’t do that. Not as a Stark, and not to Peter. Couldn’t lead Peter to a reckless end.

“We’re in all the same classes,” he noted roughly, and Peter made a soft, frustrated sound besides him. Tony winced but said nothing more, steeling himself. Peter deserved better than him - especially now, when it would look like Tony only cared because he’d changed. Except... Peter hadn’t changed all that much. He’d just filled out a little, gained some confidence.

“You’ve been avoiding me and ignoring me.”

“So have you,” he replied evenly, relenting to the fact that Peter wasn’t going to drop the issue. He let his head loll to the side, almost startled when he found Peter leaning forwards, arms around himself, staring at Tony with shining eyes.

“I haven’t wanted to. You pushed me away, disappeared, came back and won’t even look at me”.

Tony ground his teeth, chewing his tongue. “It’s not like I wanted to either, Peter, but I couldn’t…” Couldn’t be around you, knowing that, and not taking advantage of it. Couldn’t see you hurt. Couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t.

“What, you were so disgusted with me you couldn’t even bear to be around me?” Peter sounded defensive now, voice hardening slightly, and part of Tony was thankful. Yes. He could do barbed. He could fight. He could take Peter hating him. At least he wasn’t hurting him further, that way.

“I’m not disgusted at you,” he replied quietly, turning his gaze away. He couldn't bring himself to say anything else, throat tight and hands gripping his desk to stop them from shaking. He thought about ringing Clint, bribing him to come open the door, but Peter spoke again.

"I get it if you don't like me that way but... It's not fair. Treating me this way. Being so... Awful about it.”

"I'm not being awful. I'm…"

"Running away from your feelings? Yeah. That's kind of your MO.”

And Peter said it so bitterly that Tony flinched, teeth clipping the edge of his tongue as he sucked in a breath. Low blow. An emotionally neglectful childhood was bound to leave it's scars.

Peter seemed to regret his words immediately, because he actually stood, taking a few steps to reach for Tony. Despite himself Tony leaned away from the reaching arm, mindless of how much he longed for the contact.

"I didn't mean…"

"Words said in anger are still words with intent.”

"Tony…"

"I can't do this. I can't pretend to hate you and I can't be around you without wanting what I can't have!" he didn't explode, but it was said with some degree of passion, standing to round on Peter, who sank into a chair, looking up at him sorrowfully.

"You can have me!”

If only.

"You said it yourself. I run from my feelings. I can't have you because I'll fuck it up, and I’d rather lose you without hurting you and without attaching myself. I'm a fucki-"

The rest of Tony's emotional rant was cut off sharply as Peter reached up, grasping him by the front of his shirt and hauling him down, so he had to brace himself with one hand on Peter's chair back and the other on the table as Peter's plush mouth met his own, clumsy and a little too forceful.

A man with a stronger will would have pulled back. Would have stuck to his cause and not been selfish.

Tony was not that man.

He let his lips part, opportunistic of the way Peter gasped against him, licking into his mouth and moving his hands to cradle Peter's jaw, relishing in what he knew would be the only time he could indulge his festering love.

There was a click, and then -

"I told you it would work.”

They jerked apart, mouths red and eyes wild, Tony twisting to find none other than a prim looking Natasha and a dubious looking Steve taking up the doorway.

"What." Tony managed, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Obviously this was a set up. A good one, too. It took forever to sneak around and replace the door lock. You two were disgusting and all... Pining. It had to be stopped," she announced, like a mad plot was nothing unordinary.

But turning, looking at the flushed grin on Peter's mouth and the sparkle in his eyes... Well. It was worth getting another detention for missing the first, and it was worth the hours of agonising emotional talk with Peter, tears and sloppy kissing and the jeers from their friends when they came into school on the Wednesday, hand in hand.

"How come I wasn't in on the whole plot?" Clint whined at their table during lunch, casting a mulish glance around them. Natasha gave a sigh and pet at him with faux pity.

"Because you're an idiot with a big mouth," she informed him, twirling a lock of hair around a finger. Overnight she'd gone from fiery copper to a blue-black. It suited her well. Some black lipstick, and she'd be every boy's wanna-be-goth-girlfriend.

"Only we get to insult the idiot and his big mouth," came from above them, and none other than one Bucky Barnes ducked down, pressing a kiss to Clint's cheek, before moving on to Steve.

"That's... New," Tony managed, glancing across at Peter, who looked equally perplexed. Clint had the decency to look sheepish.

"At least I didn't need to get locked in a room to sort my shit out," he grumbled, and Peter giggled, before kissing the affronted look off Tony's face.

Tony wasn't good at feelings. And he'd never been in love before. But Peter was worth it. Peter was worth trying, learning for. 

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Truth Pt. 11

Truth Master List

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Feels, mentions of addiction, violence 

A/N: HELLO MY DARLING PRECIOUS PATIENT PUMPKINS! Did you miss these two? I know I did. This starts off domestic and then veers into like two-three completely different territories. It’s a ride that’s for sure. 

I hope y’all like it! 

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4  @piensa-bonito  @handplucked  @buckysstar  @sam-jae  @marauderconvos –harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom   @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets  @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes

He stills your hands with his. Your eyes meet his, tears sneaking down your cheeks. He wipes them away.

“You keep your memories displayed… I shove mine in a box under my bed…”

When you had pulled all of this out you were on the verge of completely melting down. Days without sleep, hardly eating, seeing that woman’s face over and over again, the flashbacks… You wanted to remember what you were before you became a monster.

It only served to remind you of everything you lost. That’s when you’d gone to the gym when Bucky found you… You’d forgotten your misguided attempt to keep yourself together until there it was spread on your unmade bed.

There wasn’t much. Your family hadn’t been big on photos, just a few posed pictures, school photos, some holidays. But you loved photos… A grotesque amount of polaroids of your friends… people whose names you forgot or who were possibly long gone… at shows, parties, on the street. Glazed eyes, leather jackets, cigarettes hanging between smudged lips are spread out. 

Maybe the names alluded you for some but you could smell the sweat, the smoke, the whiskey. Faded flyers from underground shows at Safari Club and other D.C. and East Coast punk venues add pops of color to the mix. A few misbegotten AA coins peak out to remind you of wasted time.

You pick one up as he looks over at a photo of 15-year-old you standing stiffly between your parents in front of a Christmas tree. Your expression annoyed, kohl heavily lining your eyes, hair bleached within an inch of its life and huge.

“Is this you?!” A smile curls his lips and you almost laugh.

“Yeah, don’t judge me too much… it was the 80’s.” You flip the coin in the air and catch it. “Probably the last Christmas I spent sober.”

His brow knits and you sigh. “Hi, my name is Y/N, I’m a cocaine addict… and an alcoholic... and… you get the gist.” You toss the coin at him. He looks it over. “Nine months… as long as I ever got.” Picking up the photo of you and your parents you feel your chest tighten.

“She wanted me to be perfect. Her pride. Pushed me to be the best at everything. I was a nationally ranked athlete, excelled in everything from cross-country to martial arts, incredible at any art she threw at me, damn near a genius, graduated high school at 15, got into every Ivy League school…”

Setting it aside you pick up a photo of you and someone who’s name you do remember, Dana, your first girlfriend. “I was even excellent at being a drug addict, never OD’d, high tolerance… Others weren’t so lucky.” You toss the photo aside, not wanting to linger.

Bucky takes your hand, lacing his fingers through your own. “Who kept these for you? Family?”

“I don’t have any family.”

“But… anyone? I mean… you’re so young?”

You snort, “Is 47 young?” Jesus, you were almost 50… such a strange thought.

“Well,” he laughs a small empty sound, “in comparison.”

You nod conceding. “My Mom… she lost her family in the war… in the camps,” you can’t look at Bucky. “Dad was an only child. Fury kept them tucked away in a storage locker at S.H.I.E.L.D. after…”

He nods, “He knew your father didn’t he?”

“Yeah, they worked together…” You release his hand and push through photos to find your favorite of you and your Dad. It was from that nine-month stint of sobriety, he’d been so happy that you’d been doing well that on your 20th birthday he took you to Paris. His smile was so bright… your hand trembles a bit.

“You look happy here,” Bucky rests his cool left hand on your bouncing knee as he looks at you and your Dad, posed in typical cheesy tourist fashion in front of the Eiffel Tower.

“I was… we were…” Your voice cracks. “I never knew what he did… just thought he was some low-level diplomat, never questioned it… I don’t even know that Mom knew…”

“Was she here?”

“God no,” your eyes slide shut for a moment, remembering. “She was hardly speaking to me… I was a disappointment.”

“She didn’t…”

“Tell me that? Oh yes.” You hold up a hand as he opens his mouth, “I don’t know that she was wrong. I… I did everything I could to be the opposite of what she wanted me to be. I doused her American Dream in gasoline and set it on fire…”

“Still you’re not-”

You shrug, “Doesn’t matter. I… never got to prove otherwise.” Your eyes scan your memories, hazy and painful as most of them were.

“They killed her, ya know? Hydra…”

He gives your knee a gentle squeeze, “I assumed.”

“After my last go at rehab… I really thought… I was going to be better, I wanted to be better. Go to school, live my life, make her proud. They took that away… left her bloody on the kitchen floor.” Your skin tingles, energy pulsing through you.

“I… what about your Dad?” The look on his face is pained like he doesn’t want to ask but feels like he must.

“He killed himself.” You shake your head, “At least that’s what the official report says. “Makes sense though… wife dead, daughter missing, all because you were getting a little too close.” Glancing over at his smiling face a tear slides down your cheek, “Who could blame him?”

A small sob trips over your lips and Bucky pulls you into him. Surprising yourself still, you allow him to comfort you and allow yourself to feel this… to mourn them even a little.

Ever since being here you had tried to bury the guilt and the grief. Thinking about the void they left in you, the years you wasted, the final image of her… dead for days collapsed by the back door… It was too much. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you’d been there, instead of in rehab, you could have saved her… even though you knew the ending would have been the same.

After a bit your sobs quiet. He’s leaned against the headboard, you’re curled into his arms, the steady beat of his heart soothing. When you look up at him his eyes are so soft, warm despite the cool color. The feeling of his fingers gently grazing your skin as he pushes stray strands of hair from your face sends shivers through you.

“Sorry…”

He smiles, “For what? Having feelings?” You shrug a little. “Well if you want to make it up to me,” he reaches across the bed a bit and grabs a picture of you sporting a particularly heinous head of Aquanet enforced hair looking like some combo of Cindy Lauper and a Clash groupie, “explain this.”

You can’t help but laugh and agree to explain your questionable fashion choices.  

The rest of the day is spent intermittently cleaning your apartment and telling Bucky what you remember of who you once were. The good, the bad, and the ugly. He listens and most importantly doesn’t judge.

When you put on some music from your own youth he's not too pleased. It was safe to say that bands such as Bad Religion and Misfits were maybe not his speed. However, he’s much more in tune with Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, and surprisingly The Runaways.

“I’d say you’ll pass inspection,” Bucky says as he puts your mop in the closet.

“Definitely.” You look around and feel oddly sad. His place really was so much warmer than yours. It felt like someone actually lived there, rather than just existing.

“What’s wrong?” Your face must be showing your disdain.

“Nothing,” you flash him a smile. “So… got any dinner plans?”

The smile that lights up his face takes your breath away, “None.” He grabs your waist and pulls you close to kiss you.

“How about I cook? Your place?”

“You cook?”

“I mean, I’m no Julia Child but I can promise it will be better than those packaged meals in your fridge.”

He laughs, “I’ll take your word for it.” You grab some things from your own kitchen and a change of clothes, which he doesn’t even question before you both head down to his place.

-

Five days later Bucky watches you slip into a pair of leggings as he sips his coffee.

“Are you sure you can’t even have some coffee?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure, 12 hours fasting for the tests.”

“You don’t have-” You cut him off with a glare. “Fine. But if you decide you want me there-”

“I’ll call. I promise.” You toss on a tee and a cardigan.

He looks away, chewing on his bottom lip. “Hey,” you pluck the coffee from his hands and set it on the nightstand, “I’ll be ok, Buck.” Cupping his face in your hands you place a kiss on his lips. He can feel his heart stutter just a touch, he wonders if it will ever go away. You release him and he buries his face in your chest, breathing in your now familiar scent.

When he lifts his head your smile makes his breath catch. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” Your soft lips press against his forehead. All he can do is nod. 

As soon as the door closes he feels himself wilt a bit, anxiety rising with each passing moment. He wants to believe you but he knows they could accidentally trigger something in you. Be it a memory or a reaction with your power, either could have horrible consequences.

After almost an hour of running worst case scenarios, he can’t stay here anymore. He tosses on some gym clothes and texts Steve to see if he’s free to train. Bucky’s already to the gym when he gets a response of ‘No, sorry pal.’

Sighing he turns around and heads to the shooting range. Clint is already there, experimenting with some new arrows Tony whipped up for him. While Bucky usually prefers to be here alone, he doesn’t necessarily mind Clint. He’s a fellow sniper after all and doesn’t ever seem to want to force Bucky into conversations he’d rather not have. 

The two men shoot in silence for a little more than an hour before Clint pipes up. “So, you and Y/N seem to have taken a turn for the better.” He’s taken up the spot next to Bucky under the pretense of changing his angle.

“What of it?” He may like Clint but the thought of sharing details of his private life isn’t high on his to-do list.

“Nothing. I think it’s great.”

“Yeah, you and Romanoff seemed to have an opinion the other day.” Bucky’s tone is gruff remembering Clint’s quip about her owing him.

He laughs, “Just a good-natured bet. I saw the chemistry between you two.” Bucky doesn’t respond. Some mix of anger and embarrassment blooming in his chest.

“Look, man,” Clint has stepped out of his booth and is leaning on the wall between them, “people like us should take any chance at love we can and run with it. It’s rare enough for civilians and most of them don’t spend their free time getting shot at.”

The tone in his voice drips with sincerity and Bucky can’t help but look back at him, the glare quickly melting off his face. “Who said anything about love?”

Clint shakes his head smiling, “You’ll be one lucky bastard if it ends up being that Barnes. Even if it doesn’t, friends are worth a whole hell of a lot too.” He claps a hand on Bucky’s metal shoulder, “As soldiers, it’s sometimes hard to allow ourselves to be happy. You deserve it. Promise.” Bucky says nothing for a minute and Clint nods, walking away.

“Thank you,” Bucky’s tone is low, sort of unsure. He does mean it though…

“You got-”

“Sargent Barnes and Agent Barton, you’re both needed in Mr. Stark’s lab immediately.” Jarvis’ voice cuts Clint off and Bucky feels the blood drain from his face. The two men hold one another’s gaze for a fraction of a second, a flood of emotion and information being exchanged in that one fleeting moment, before sprinting to the elevator.

When they burst out of the elevator they’re met by Steve and Natasha. Everything seems fine, nothing is on fire or blown to bits so that has to be a good sign. Still, as soon as he’s got eyes on you nothing could keep him back.

You’re sitting in a chair, wires stuck to you all over leading to a computer, tendrils of white light pulsing beneath your skin. “Y/N?!”

“Hey! I’m fine,” his hands are lightly grazing your body where the wires touch you, eyes frantically searching your own for any signs of distress. “Really, Bucky, I’m fine.”

You do seem ok. He wishes he was. His heart is thundering, muscles tense, ready and willing to do whatever he needed to keep you safe. Taking a shaky breath he rests his forehead on yours, trying to calm himself.

“Sorry if we scared you, Manchurian.” Tony quips from beside the computer as he pops a baby carrot in his mouth. Bucky shoots daggers at him.

“They were able to get a lock on the specific energy signature I emit pretty quick and scan for it. We found a match.” His eyes shoot back to you, unsure if you’re glad they found something or not.

“Well,” Bruce pipes up from another monitor, “near enough anyway. Too close to her unique signature to be a coincidence.”

“Another base?” Natasha asks from behind Bucky, who’s still kneeling in front of you, unable to move away.

“That’s what we were hoping you and Clint could clear up for us,” Tony flicks some images up so everyone can see the area they narrowed the signal down to.

Your eyes dart between the two and Bucky finally looks back. The map shows a spot just outside of Cleveland. Yet another nondescript building, nothing that says den of torture about it at all. Clint and Natasha exchange a look.

“Yeah,” she holds a finger to her lips for a minute thinking. “We may have something on this, didn’t seem like much so it’s low on the list.”

“Well, it’s top priority now.” Bucky doesn’t like the tone in Steve’s voice. It’s the one he gets when he’s going to do whatever bullheaded thing he has in mind no matter the consequences.

He sees you nod in his peripheral. “When’s the soonest we can head out?”

Bucky’s glare shoots back to you. “Absolutely not!”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not doing this.” His tone is just as stubborn as Steve’s, if not a bit more so.

You scoff, “Oh? I’m not?”

“No. You are not.”

“I hate to break it to you but you don’t get to tell me what I am and am not going to do, Bucky.” Your eyes darken just a touch as the air around you dips just a touch toward cool.

“After last time you really think this is a good idea, Y/N?!”

“No. But I’m the only one who can properly handle these assets if they attack. I’m the only one who understands even a little how this energy functions. I’m the only one-”

He can’t believe this. “So you’re just gonna throw yourself back into that?! After what almost… after… Y/N you’re being-”

“I’m doing what needs to be done. I cannot in good consciousness allow this to pass unchecked. Too many people are at risk if-”

“This isn’t a negotiation!” He bellows. “You’re my-”

“I don’t give a damn what I am to you or you to me.” It feels like you punched him in the chest. “You don’t give me orders, Barnes.”

When you look away from him to Natasha the dismissal is clear. “There’s some good surveillance footage of the area from local businesses security and traffic cams. Should be enough to establish patterns. After last time we know trying to scan is a lost cause.”

Bucky feels his rage prickle under his skin. You don’t look back to him when you’re done. Huffing he stands and stalks to the elevator, unable to be a part of this ill-begotten plan a moment longer.

-

“You know he’s coming right?” Natasha’s tone is light but she knows her words are heavy.

“Yeah.” You clip the stabilizer cuffs Tony made for you onto your belt. They were just a prototype and only to be used if you felt like you were about to lose it but they still felt strangely comforting to have. Nothing like the comfort you’d felt with Bucky… who you hadn’t seen in three days.

“Assuming you still haven’t spoken to him?”

“Not much to say.” You don’t want to have this conversation now.

“That’s bullshit.” She slips her Widow’s Bites on.

You shrug, “No. You heard how he spoke to me. In front of everyone. Like I was a fucking child like he could just say no and I’d say yessir.”

“He’s from a different time, Y/N.”

“I don’t give a fuck. It’s not 1945.” You slam your gear locker closed. “Plus, not like he’s spoken to me either.”

You barely catch a glimpse of him before he gets on the jet. Grinding your teeth you hang back for just a second.

“Need me to whoop his ass,” Sam says from behind you.

“That is not a fight I’d care to see.” You sigh, “But no. Just think we got ahead of ourselves is all.”

“Well,” he slings an arm over your shoulder, “you’ve still got me, kid.”

You laugh, “You do remember that I’m older than you right?”

“Psh, age is just a number. I got one of them old souls”

As usual Sam’s ridiculousness puts a smile on your face and by the time the two of you are boarding the jet you’re cackling. That all fades the moment you feel Bucky’s stare. Steeling yourself for the uncomfortable mission ahead you keep your eyes averted and your mind on the prize.

Things have gone smoothly for the most part. Some minor scuffles, every computer has been beyond destroyed, and no files that tell you a goddamn thing to be found but less than an hour into the mission and it seems this will be in and out. You’re not even sensing any of the telltale energy like you did last time.

You’ve all spread out a bit to try and wrap this up quickly since it all appears quiet. The area you’ve chosen is just about clear, or so you think. There’s the slightest whoosh in the air before you feel a blade nestle itself in your back.

“Fuck!” You scream as you stagger in pain and surprise. Just barely you can hear Bucky’s voice call out in the com as a foot crashes into your jaw.

It takes you a second but you get your bearings and land a blow to the asset’s abdomen. “I’m good!” No need for anyone to run to your aid when you don’t need it.

You focus a thin sliver of energy in your right hand and shoot it toward them like a tiny spear. They dodge and for a moment you think nothing of it, spinning despite the throbbing in your back from the knife wound, determined to take them out. A groan rings both in your com and from behind you followed by a thud.

Somehow you know before you even turn who’s going to be on the ground. You feel yourself somehow grow cold while also pulsing with energy, dread and rage and heartbreak crashing into you all at once. The asset forgotten, you rush to Bucky’s crumpled form on the floor.

“What the hell?!” His eyes are squeezed shut, teeth grinding in pain as he grasps the wound in his side, red sliding over his fingers.

“Heard you,” he grunts through clenched teeth. You can’t even feel the knife in your back at the moment.

“I said I was good!” You force his hands away and he groans. It’s bad, not as bad as it could be but still…

“Behind-” He doesn’t finish his statement. The asset grabs the knife and twists.

You scream, pain surging for an instant before it’s replaced with something else entirely. Thick cords of energy curl around you, pulsing in time with your suddenly steady heartbeat. There’s nothing in your mind for this moment, not even Bucky. One goal. Eliminate the target.

Pulling away the knife rips out of your back. It should feel like something. It’s just a tingle. Whirling you grab the asset by the neck. You could make this much faster than you do but… Pinning them against the wall you let your power trail down their body from your hold on their neck. They make a noise somewhere between a scream and a gurgle as superheated energy burns its way through them. It only takes a minute.

Once their eyes go dark you hurl them to the side. The sound of bones cracking. It’s then you come back to yourself, the monster sated. Bucky.

“Bucky is down. West sector cleared, I’m taking him up.”

“No, I-”

“Shut up,” you growl as you lift him.

Sam is stitching up Bucky when Nat and Steve declare the facility cleared. Nothing of value gained. They know you’re all looking for them, that’s clear enough by how quickly they abandoned this place.

The ride back is quiet. Sam takes care of the wound on your back and you can’t take your eyes off Bucky’s side. You could have killed him. If you had…

As soon as the door opens you’re bolting out. You think you’re going to run to your apartment but instead, you go to the range. Even so, all you manage to do is pace in the space anxiety thrumming through you, yet you’re unable to bring yourself to let loose the energy that almost killed him…

Before your brain knows what’s happening you’re riding the elevator up to not your apartment but Bucky’s. You know he’s in medical but he’s not hurt badly enough to stay there more than an hour or so. Pacing the hall, you wait.

The elevator doors slide open when you’re at the end of the corridor. Two voices, Steve’s and Bucky’s. You freeze.

“I’m good, promise,” you hear Bucky say.

“Alright. Call me if you need anything.” The doors slide closed and Steve is gone.

He hasn’t even opened his door before you’re on him. A small surprised noise comes from him as you turn him to face you. Logically you know he’s injured, need to be careful, but…

Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him to you. His kiss tastes like sweat and desperation. Tears burn your eyes as his tongue finds its way between your teeth, his arms winding around you, holding tight.

Suddenly you pull away, pushing against his chest. You punch him hard in his left pec. “You fucking idiot!” Your voice cracks.

“Yeah. I am.” A sardonic smile curls his lips. “Just for you though.”

[elejah-verse]

Game of Love/3

Fanfiction

Part 3

AU TVD/TO crossover story with Saving Hope

Joel Goran x reader

ft Klaroline, Kennett, and Stebekah

Summary: Y/N and Caroline Forbes are best friends and interns, who start work in the ‘Salvatore University Hospital’ in Mystic Falls. 

The night before their first day Y.N hooks up with Dr Joel Goran, and Caroline with Dr Klaus Mikaelson - but the boys have baggage - how will this pan out for them? 

a/n: I hope you like. Thanks for reading. xoxo

tag @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @cassienoble2000 @captainshurley @goddessofthunder112 @elejahforever @ hides2000 @arivalappears

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A couple of weeks after

"Happy birthday"-Y/N said to her best friend as she joined her in the kitchen and brought over a muffin with a candle to the breakfast table.

"Awww, thank you! Did you just make it?"- Caroline said as the women got out of the hug. 

"Yeah, it"s like the easiest thing in the world. It"s a banana cinnamon one. Ok. Come on, make a wish"- Y/N said and lit the small candle.

"Ok."- Caroline said closing her eyes to make a wish. A second later the blonde blew the candle off.

"This time I really hope the wish comes true."- Caroline said as she now sliced the muffin in half.

"So, last year it didn't?"- Y/N said.

"Well, it kind of did and then"- Caroline replied- "He didn’t turn to be so special. Ok, you should wish something, too.”

“It’s your birthday”- Y/N said.

“It doesn’t matter - we are like sisters and - let’s pretend I am this good fairy and she wants you to make a wish too”

“Ok”- Y/N said and as if she was a little girl, closed her eyes and made her wish.

Before taking a mouthful of the muffin, Caroline now shot-

“You wished Dr Goran falls deeply, madly in love with you!”

“Care!”- Y/N now smiled and looked at her friend with a ‘stop this’

"I know you. And - the way you looked at him just before we went out of the hospital- he crawled into your heart - but just remember what you went through with Kai."

“Huh- don’t remind me- but - there was - that something - in his eyes”- Y/N now tried to defend herself and those feelings she had rumbling every time she thought of the dishy Dr Goran. 

"And - I kind of get you.Yesterday - he rocked the OR. And he was so brilliant with the little girl in the ER!”- Caroline said.

"Exactly. He does these amazing things. You know that patient that did that awful OP in Aruba, just because he so wanted to join the air force and couldn't and got his friend out to talk to the guy and tell him that he could work as an airline pilot. He gives that extra something for people -  and I just don't get why he - can't get it together. How come he- HUH- and now that man-slaughter charge. Just can't believe it."- Y/N shook her head sighing deeply.

"I got a message from Liv that he got bail."- Caroline then said.

"Why didn't you tell me?"- Y/N said.

"I thought you were done with him?!"- Caroline said-"Even though I didn't believe it for a minute. Knowing you."

"I kind of am, and I am not. Oh, Care- I saw this something in him- like some kind of sadness. I can't explain. Like - he is scared to show his real feelings, like- what is really inside of him."- Y/N now said.

"You pretty much said the same about Project Kai." - Caroline now said.

"Don't call him that."- Y/N said not pleased. 

"Ok. Sorry. But admit it - you were set to change him. And- look how that turned out."- she reminded Y/N that Kai stayed the same smug-self as he always had been. She could not change him. 

"Ok, I got this #saveaguy complex"- Y/N admitted-"but, everything about Joel is so different. I had- altogether three one night stands in my life, but - with Joel it was- different. There were two things- the way he gave these pecks just after we- finished, and the other- he then kind of held me close to him, so tenderly for like a minute-  and then - it was like he kind of snapped out of it and - well, I went to the bathroom. When I got back to the room, he was on the phone to his cousin in New Zealand or whatever- and I just went. I can't forget about it. I know I should."

"Give me the recipe."- Caroline said now her thoughts swaying to Klaus. After seeing Camille and Klaus kiss,Caroline avoided Klaus as much as possible and even when she was assigned to his team, she acted beyond professional. Same as Y/N with Joel, she tried hard to get him out of her head, and heart as well. Caroline now looked at the half eaten muffin and Y/N now said somewhat teasingly- "Oh, yeah, who put the chocolate muffin in your locker?"

"Klaus."- Caroline now said.

"What? That's like- was it a happy birthday thing?"- Y/N continued with the quizzing.

"No, well- maybe. I don't know. It was - I got to the cafeteria, waiting in the cue and there he was. In the cue before me and Liv and - he took the last chocolate muffin. I was so - ugh- you know what I am like with chocolate when I got to have it."

Y/N nodded- and now said-"And?"

 "And Liv made a comment - quite loud-"There goes your muffin! He must have heard it. I got paged and had to go."

"Did he leave a card or something?"- Y/N was excited to hear more.

"Yeah. It said 'For your daily dosage of tryptophan. K.'"- Caroline replied.

"Well, he and his wife are still divorcing- and it was her kissing him."

"I know. I heard. But, I - kind of don't want to be dragged into this whole thing. And now, she went to talk to Chief of Psychiatry, and the Mikaelsons are friends with the Fells and I heard that Dr Felix is leaving and you'll see, she will get the job. And I don't want to be in the middle of it. Plus I heard from Rayna, that the Mikaelsons want them to reconciliate."- Caroline got all huffy now.

Y/N sighed and both of them now said they should close the subject of guys for the time being and think what they will do about the birthday party their friends were throwing for her at the Grill that night.

But before that, the two friends went shopping and Caroline decided to change her hair style a bit, and had it curled just a bit. Y/N decided to keep hers as it, and just went for the wash and a tiny bit of a trim.

They then went for lunch and later had a take away coffee and sat outside.

Both of them exchanged the presents, as Caroline was more than a generous soul and had to buys something for her bff.

And each of them now launched their hand in the little gift bags, and got out a box of jewerly.

"This is what I think is?"- Y/N said and Caroline nodded.

"You did the same didn't you? We have to stop this."- Caroline then said-"we are so not original."

"Sorry, but I thought you'd like it."- Y/N said.

"Ok. On 3-" Caroline said and the now counted one, two, three and opened the boxes.

"Lucky charm!"- Y/Na said and then looked at her fiend surprised-"A heart?"

"It is for love.So you finally find love. Real love."- Caroline said.

"Aww, thanks."- Y/N now put her little pendant on her necklace  and said-"Oh, I wish you the same."

Caroline opened her box now and there was a Chinese lucky coin pendant.

"It's great."- Caroline gushed.

"It was meant for like - everything- now that we started the internship."

"Maybe this time we get to be lucky in  love, too, even though we always choose the complicated."- Caroline said-"and so hope these charms worked their magic. And he falls truly, deeply and madly in love with you"- Caroline said looking at Y/N.

Y/N sighed-"I wish- but-"- and she thought of the trial hanging over Joel's head.

Seeing her friend’s mood damper, Caroline now tried to cheer her up- "Come on, Y/N. I have a feeling that it would be just fine. Elizabeth Forbes is on it. Not that she is my mom, but she is a kick ass lawyer. She will get Joel off the hook.”

"I know."-  Y/N said trying to be positive.

Caroline's phone rang and she answered. It was Rayna.

"Yeah, we are heading home now. Ah, thanks. See you around 8- ok. Bye"

"What's up?"- Y/N asked.

"She took care of the cake."-  Caroline replied.

"Ah, right. I thought we are not doing anything like that."

"Why not. And I thought we do a lip sync competition  thing."- Caroline said.

"Oh, God-you're mad."- Y/N laughed a little.

"Let's have fun. Come on, still haven't figured out what I am going to wear."

🎃

And at the Grill that night, it was fun and celebrations. The lip sync battle proved to be the blast.  Caroline was totally in her element.

      Klaus entered the Grill  with his brother Kol just as her performance was about to start. And her performance was hotter than Hell. And he could not take his eyes off of her. 

      Y/N, having seen Klaus come, pointed to Caroline to look at the bar. Seeing Klaus now, Caroline now inadvertently shot her eyes as if she sang to him.

There's nothing wrong with me

Loving you, baby no no And giving yourself to me can never be wrong If the love is true

And having finished the song, getting all the applause, she bowed and sent kisses to everyone. She stepped down off the stage. Rayna now said to her friend-

"He has not taken the eyes off you, at all."- and seeing Klaus approaching them, went off with Stefan.

Y/N thought of kind of disappearing as well to kind of give them some space, but Caroline pulled at Y/N's jacket a little to stay put.

As Klaus now was there, he smiled at both of them now saying- "Happy birthday.If I'd known- I would have - got something."

"Oh, it's ok. But if you like, there is some cake left."-Caroline now said clumsily.

"Chocolate, I guess."- Klaus said raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah. Need my daily dosage of tryptophan."

Klaus now smirked cheekily- "I will make sure I don't take the last chocolate muffin, and have it reserved for you."

Y/N excused herself now and left them to their flirtatious chat, which led to Caroline leading Klaus, a tad bit later, after a few Tequila shots to the Grill’s storage room. Caroline tried not to let herself go. But Klaus was so hard to resist. But as the Mariv Gaye song, she sang earlier said-      

 You don't have to worry that it's wrong If the spirit moves you Let me groove you good Let your love come down Oh, get it on, come on baby Do you know the meaning? I've been sanctified, hey hey Girl, you give me good feeling So good somethin' like sanctified Oh dear I, baby Nothing wrong with love If you want to love me just let your self go Oh baby, let's get it on  

For Caroline the birthday went down with heart set completely on fire. For Y/N, it was the set on freeze. Her thoughts were with Joel and  all the trouble that was hanging with him. She clutched the heart charm that her sister gave her and tried to send good vibes out to him.

🎃

Days after

Y/N now got out of the hospital and saw Joel sitting on his own head dropped down. As she walked up to him, he put his head up

      "Hey"- Y/N said.

"Hey"- Joel said back to her.

"I was- ok- I heard that you had a call from the lawyer. I know that you should be alone, but-"

"Alone- well, not really."- Joel said.

"I- and what did they say?"- Y/N didn't beat around the bush.

"I am free. I mean the prosecution dropped the charges, because they think that they can't get a conviction. There were cameras there showing he attacked me. It's not a victory, though, is it? I still killed a person- and these feelings- they just- they are still here- so raw- so- I- can't magically undo what I did- I killed a man "- tears now welled up in his eyes. 

Y/N now embraced him warmly, and Joel held onto her as if life depended on it. And as they moved out of the embrace, Y/N now took him by the hand and said-

"Come on, let's get out of here. Are you ok to drive?"

Joel wavered for a second and looked at her, sighing- "Y/N, you don't- have to- "

"I know I don't."- she said with compassion oozing out of her eyes and Joel now nodded and without a word, went with her.

😊

Joel woke up and his tired eyes descended on Y/N lying on the sofa. He looked at her sweetly. There had not been any woman that had managed to undo his facade and have him bear all that was inside of him. 

Flashback

"My parents divorced when I was seven, and I lived with my mom. They had shared custody. She died when I was twelve, and so I went to live with my father in New Zealand. I finished medical school there, but I so wanted to come back here, where my mom was from, but I couldn't get the internship here, So, I went to New York, and well, I guess you know."- Joel said.

"So, you and your dad are ok. He is a surgeon too, right?"

"Well, we are ok now. But- he was hardly there when I was growing up. He was always at the hospital. Dating different women. I grew up more or less with the housekeeper."- Joel said.

"Oh"- Y/N let out.

Joel continued-"Selina- this guy's wife I had this -well, I've been sleeping with like six months ago before I got back with Alex- she said that I was emotionally crippled. And - she was so right."

"Joel-"- Y/N started but he cut her off-

"She was right, Y/N."- he stressed out-" I never really thought much about other people's feelings- "

"And Alex- I mean- well- kind of not really appropriate to go there-cuz you and me-  but - we are cutting into it all- so- she must have meant more than - "- "Talking like a real surgeon-"- Joel said-"yeah, let's cut into me"- he was pensive for a second and it felt strangely that he was under an anaesthesia and this was an out of body experience of him being there looking at Y/N doing an open heart surgery on him- he then  continued- "Alex was- like-  this good in my life. I really cared about her. I and I fucked that up. She doesn't even want to talk to me now all this happened. I just hope she doesn't stop me from seeing the baby."

"Come on, I don't think she will do that."

"You have not seen the sheer disappointment in her eyes when I got arrested that day. And yesterday, she spoke to me just like a colleague."

"She is pregnant, hormonal. And now that you are cleared, it will be fine. She has a real good heart."- Y/N said comfortingly.

"She does, but you- yours is something else. Why are you wasting time on me? You should be - home, or out there having fun with your sister and your friends or fellow interns- 

"Because I have this #saveaguy complex - according to Caroline- no, it's not that- it's -  I know a thing or two about being messed up and lost."- Y/N sighed a little.

Joel could see the streak of sadness break through her eyes-She continued-"My - adoptive parents and my brother were killed in a car crash when I was 16. It was - like the whole world came down- and I- I just didn't want to feel anything, because if I did,  it just hurt, and - well, to cut things short, I got into the wrong crowd. You can only imagine- it lasted for about a year, till I met- Stefan. I was with his cousin Zach at the time. Stefan, but also Caroline - wouldn't give up on me. And- well, Stefan and I started something. It was good, but I managed to messed  that up. Because- huh- this was so complicated. And then his best friend came to live here. And- to cut the long story short- Both me and Care, wanted to get out of this ‘bad boy’ thing. And it- just got- too intense, between him and me- and well, I ended up breaking up with Stefan and starting the most toxic relationship ever with Kai. And I broke up with him at one point, too- But - then we got back together, cause it looked like he really got it together. And it was ok, for about a year or so and then he cheated. So, been there. And- well, the night you and me hooked up- was kind of me trying to get back at him. Sorry. So, there. ‘Miss Messed-up’ right here. That is why I love medicine, and surgery- it's clear cut. No emotions-"

"Yeah, medicine is the only thing I am good at."- Joel said then said agreeing. He went quiet for a second and then said-"I've never really- just - talked with- a woman- like this. If you know what I mean. Not even when I was in a relationship, whatever it was."  

"There is a first for everything, right?"- Y/N said. 

Joel nodded. He excused him for a second and went to the bathroom. As he returned, Y/N was asleep. He covered her up and stayed on to watch some TV. All different emotions rippling inside of him were keeping him awake for a long while, till he eventually got asleep on the neighbouring armchair.

 Now, he looked at her somewhat in awe. If he believed in magic, he would now think she possessed it and put a spell on him. She managed to lessen the burden from his soul a bit. Huge bit. He smiled a little. His heart feeling extraordinarily warm and uplifting. 

 Y/N's alarm on the phone now went off and she moaned a bit, sitting up and looking around, realizing quickly that she was not in her apartment. Seeing Joel there, she muttered a hey and he now reached for her bag.

 "Thanks."- she got the phone out and swiped the dismiss button to stop the alarm.

"Making sure you're always on time!"- Joel remarked. "Yeah, it's on repeat."- Y/N said."6 a.m. every day?"

"Well, sometimes I switch it off and continue sleeping. Depends"

"Yeah- ahm- do you want a cup of coffee?"- Joel now suggested getting up. 

"Yes. Thanks. One sugar. Milk."- Y/N said and asked where the bathroom was. 

"On the right"- Joel said and went to make some coffee. A little later, she got back, and he had made some pancakes.

"Ah, you can cook?"

"I lived on them in med school. It's the easiest thing to make."- Joel said.

Y/N smiled a little and had the pancakes.

"So, any good?"

"Yeah, really good."-Y/N  said-"but why are you not having any?"

"I ate all of the pizza when you fell asleep."

"Sorry, I was so beat."- Y/N said.

"Hey, no apologizing. You - kind of gave me this - I can't thank you enough for last night."                  

Y/N smiled a little at him- "You're welcome." She slipped some coffee and then got up saying that she had to go home and change before work.

 "If you wait for me to shower I'll drive you. You left your car at the hospital."

"Ok - ahm- but I can call Caroline. She will come and get me."

"Right. As you like."

"Yeah. I will see you later." -Y/N now got her bag. He walked her to the door. He opened it for her and they stood for a second looking at one another. Joel then muttered -"Later."

Y/N nodded a little and said the same, walking away. 

😊 

Later that day, as Y/N got out of the OR, Joel got out of the gallery and walked down to her and placed a little kiss on her cheek walking away as he got paged.

Y/N looked after him puzzled at the sudden gesture.   

               😊 😊 🎃The next day In the Withmore cemetery

 Mikael put the flowers down on the grave of Mary Goran. "I wish- that I never agreed to your terms."- Mikael said-"and I wish he knew that I was his father. He has been in a pretty messy jam. But thankfully it was all sorted. And his girlfriend is pregnant. So, I will have a grandchild. My first grandchild, and I will not be able to part of his or hers life. Life throws us such curveball, as you would say. Niklaus has returned and- well he and Joel are working together now, side by side."Mikael sighed a little and then said-"I have done nothing but think about telling him that I am his real father. And I know it will have terrible repercussions, but- oh, Mary, how I wish you were here."

😊

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