#why yes. those ARE Evan's meds why do you ask?

[habitual-creatures]

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[favefandomimagines]

With All Due Respect (e.b.)

Summary: Buck invites you to dinner with his parents as a buffer but things turns sour quickly

AN: happy vday!! enjoy a little fluff/angst with buck! xoxo

“I need you at this dinner tonight.” Buck announced as he entered your apartment. “I thought it was just you guys and Chim.” You replied. “Yes, but you’re my girlfriend, my best friend and I need you to be at this dinner tonight because it’s going to be bad.” He explained. 

You didn’t really want to insert yourself in Buckley family drama, especially when you’ve nothing but bad things about his parents. You’ve had your own issues with family, your brother having had a drug problem and your divorced parents. But, it was Buck and you knew if he was asking for help, it was serious. 

“Okay, I’ll be there. Only because it’s you.” You finally said. “And this is why I...I am happy you’re in my life.” Buck replied, before kissing your forehead. 

You noticed the stuttering and the long pause he had after ‘I.’ Neither have you had said the ‘L’ word yet, even if you had been dating for a year. Both of you had gotten out of messy relationships with people you thought you loved and you were both scared to say it. Mainly out of fear of suffering the same fate. 

You wanted to say it though. You felt it, that much was certain. But you didn’t know if he felt the same way. Or if he was even ready to say he loved you. 

Later that night, you stood in front of the closet mirror, glancing over your outfit. Both Buck and Maddie had warned you that their parents were...stuffy. And you wanted to look your best since you were dating their son. 

“No, this looks stupid.” You muttered, taking the shirt off and throwing it on your bed. “This is ugly, this is not cute, they’d probably hate this.” You commented on every shirt in your closet. 

“What are you doing?” Buck laughed. “I own no cute clothes. Nothing that’s going to impress your parents.” You answered. “Wear that one outfit. The one we wore on our second date.” He told you. “We went to an amusement park, Buck, I don’t think that’s classy enough for dinner with the parents.” You rebutted. 

“I don’t care. I love you in that outfit.” Buck said. You smiled up at him before grabbing the outfit he had recommended. “Amusement park outfit it is.” You commented. 

__

If you could turn back time and pray for a house fire so you wouldn’t have to attend dinner, you would. Sitting at the dinner table with Buck and his family was the definition of awkward. On top of that, the not so subtly jabs they made towards Buck and his career were starting to get on your nerves.

“So, Y/N, what do you do for a living?” Buck’s dad asked. “Um, I’m an EMT.” You answered. “I was on track for med school but being an EMT is more my speed.” You added. “Also, what happened to Abby, Evan?” Mrs. Buckley asked him. 

You clenched your jaw just out of sheer discomfort at first but it soon turned into annoyance. “Mom. You know what happened with Abby so please don’t bring it up. Especially in front of Y/N, that’s not fair.” Buck rebutted. 

“Y/N, choosing an EMT rather than med school is an interesting choice.” Mr. Buckley commented, quickly avoiding that subject matter.

“Well, my dad and my brother are both firefighters so I’ve been around them all my life. It just, felt like the right path.” You explained. “And your brother, is he married? I know being a firefighter can be a busy job.” Mrs. Buckley asked. “He’s not married but he’s dating a police officer in Austin. He’s a great guy for him.” You answered. 

“Oh, so your brother is..” Mrs. Buckley started. “Gay. My brother is gay.” You finished for her. 

You could see the look on their faces when you said your brother was gay and it was look you’d grown accustomed to when talking about him to ‘unaccepting’ people. Not exactly homophobic, but people who don’t really accept those who are gay and probably never will.

“I’m rather impressed you’re able to put up with Evan. He can be a handful.” Mr. Buckley said, again, changing the subject. “Um, I guess but aren’t we all handfuls?” You responded with a nervous laugh. 

Buck gripped your hand under the table and you could see that from his side profile, he was at his breaking point. 

“I think we’re going to head out. We have an early shift tomorrow.” He told you. 

He helped you up from your chair and as you walked towards the door, you turned around and looked at his parents. 

“With all due respect, Mr and Mrs Buckley, your son is the greatest man I’ve ever met. When I was a kid, my mother told me to find a man like my father. And I did, in your son. Now, I don’t know what it is that seems to upset you about him but that clearly means you don’t know him anymore. Because if you did, you’d be incredibly proud of him,” You started. 

“He’s brave, kind, honorable and I am incredibly lucky to have him in my life. I love your son and I try like hell every day to make up for the love you didn’t give him.” You finished. 

The room fell silent as you made your way out of the apartment. You couldn’t believe you just outed your feelings to Buck, in front of not just him, but his parents and Chimney. 

The car ride back to your place was a silent one. Buck was just trying to wrap his head around what you said. He never knew you thought so highly of him and that you actually loved him. 

He figured you did but what happened in his past always made him doubt your feelings. 

“I’m sorry.” You said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have said anything or tried to stick up for you. You’re more than capable of doing that on your own. Your parents probably hate me.” You explained. 

“I couldn’t care less about what my parents think. And I’m glad you said it. I don’t know, maybe hearing it from an outside perspective will knock some sense into them.” Buck replied. 

But he never said that he loved you back, which had you fearing the worst. “And I’m sorry for saying the L word. I know you’re not ready to hear it and I didn’t know I was ready to say it until I just said it. You don’t have to say it back, I understand-” Your ranting was cut off by Buck grabbing your hand gently. 

“I do love you. Hearing what you said made me realize how much I do love you. Because you didn’t have to defend me but you did. Because you love me and I don’t think that’s something Abby could ever do. Not like you.” He said. 

“Really?” You questioned. “Of course. I’ve screwed up a lot of things in my life but I can’t have us being one of them. Me taking so long to say I love you when I felt it almost did that.” He explained. 

You squeezed his hand as a sign that he shouldn’t worry. “So, since you love me, does that mean I can convince you to watch Bring It On with me?” You asked mischievously. 

“All you had to do was ask.” Buck laughed. You laughed in response and the sound was like music to Buck’s ears. 

Your laugh was always his favorite thing but now it just felt different. Being with you felt different. All because now your relationship was now solidified with just three words that were long overdue. 

[floggingink]

OH HERE WE GO LADIES IT’S RIVERDALE, CHAPTER EIGHTY: “Purgatorio”

I’m tuning in to be VERY entertained on the grounds that I missed almost the entirety of S4 and will not understand anything

we open with an incredible analogue comparing the football team to the Army, as men do construct rituals: football players get blown into the sky, etc., in a heartrending mash-up of Archie’s innocence + the American ideal/expectations/pipeline of masculinity

Archie Company is decked out appropriately to storm Hürtgen Forest

that art direction trope where a character’s hearing goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEE after an explosion……...delightful

the Vixens and friends cheering him on from the sidelines as if Archie can only process his unprocessable present through the lens of his past………...hits the spot

distressingly wood-based rifles for our purposes

Archie > Dawson: I don’t mind telling you I felt emotion upon Archie hoisting his war buddy over his shoulders to that quadruple-toned “Chivalric Archie Using His Strength for Good” tune, like when he broke his whole hand busting Cheryl out of Sweetwater River

WHEN HE SAW HIRAM LODGE, I’M TELLING YOU! 

Hiram’s dragon-scale gloves? absolutely savory; he would

“Yonkers” is one of those New York place names I don’t totally buy is real (Poughkeepsie is another)

the sepia-toned light in this hospital room rings true judging by all the Captain America fanfiction I’ve read; I also like the mint-colored hand towels draped on Archie’s bedframe bought, one assumes, using the Department of Defense’s Kohl’s Cash

Archie made Sergeant, which is the best ranking for a fictional character: important enough that they can be a leader, get into trouble; low-profile enough that you don’t have to write them in the room making terrible decisions; probably won’t die immediately, as a Captain or Private might be

Fifth period is AP English: Archie reads A Farewell to Arms to Corporal Jackson, a WWI novel by Hemingway that Jug definitely turned him onto

Christ, Archie looks good in that on-leave jacket thing

I like Jackson’s subtle graph paper-print hospital gown

Gay?!: was Jackson in love with Archie? is he gonna bus to Riverdale once he’s off his pain meds? RAS, is that you in there?

God you know I love that haunted-ass Exorcist wooden bench bus light lighting

how long has the WW been relocated under Pop’s??? I do NOT know what happened to La Bonne Nuit

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Fangs’ hair? his Tony Stark glasses? the girls’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” Burmese pythons? Toni’s headdress and immaculate glossed lip? 

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the only part of From Dusk till Dawn I’ve seen is Salma Hayek putting her toe in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth but judging from that I figure I’d like the rest 

The female gaze: Jesus Sweet Pea still looks good

Toni’s stage is flanked by twin pillars of melting candles and I would like someone to track those down for my bathroom

if they lay one hand on Pop Tate…

Betty appears to be, on her own, running the FBI training course. Betty is such a freak

Betty’s FBI-appointed psychologist is “Dr. Starling,” wears a great yellow blouse; Betty eats what appears to be a mini-sized Milky Way

her blond FBI trainer-boyfriend (uh) Glen appears to be an unholy fusion of Jimmi Simpson and that one actor with brown hair and really sharp light eyes whose acting credits I can’t think of right now, you know who I’m talking about (not the guy from Vampire Diaries)

I quite like her patterned blouse and I hate his yellow (gold?!) and blue tie

Please protect Betty: obviously we stan the Silence of the Lambs shit even as it remains infuriating Bryan Fuller couldn’t get his hands in it

Betty’s cat’s crying was so disturbingly baby-like that I had to leave the room once I realized it was in fact a cat

I’ve watched the Elisa Lam tape too many times in recent hours to handle this hallway shot

REALLY GROSS LICKING NOISES

the Trash Bag Killer coming at her was scary :(

Betty’s lovely blue knit cardi with the puffed sleeves!

50 Shades of Betty: clearing her throat before the doctor quite finishes her sentence—Lili Reinhart continues to be great at conveying “slightly perturbing subterranean tension”

was Charles a serial killer too??? oh damn!

Betty has been successfully holding off giving Glen a key to her place until now, an era that must come to a close

fellas, “Do I at least get a kiss?” is a bad move

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s new digs: exposed brick, bougiely avant-garde chandelier; possibly an elevator door right there behind the dude?

Veronica has married Hiram, to no one’s surprise

Chadwick looks like Jimmi Simpson and brunet Evan Peters plus a jaw

Veronica’s single-puffled-sleeved gown…..madamn (she has absolutely been taking secret birth control pills)

Summer + Blair = Veronica: of course Veronica would be great at Howard Ratner’s job; I MUST know what “specialty showcase haute couture offense” Vinnie has committed

T-Dubbs’ green jacket

Veronica pretended she was working at like, a department store? but she MISSED the EDGE post-day-trading

their apartment is so expensive that their bedroom is totally exposed

oh my god, Hermione

Best costume bit: please get me these satiny green high-waisted slacks?! and ugh her blouse has shoulder tassels……..she’s flourishing

“That’s threatening to an alpha like Chad.”

yes, they have a private elevator. fine.

Glen and Chad get their ties from the same Men’s Warehouse

“When that helicopter went down on the way to Martha’s Vineyard…”

you know kissing is 4-real when one person cups their hand to the back of the other person’s neck all close

I don’t understand the drop of the Glamergé egg but I appreciate that there is one and that Veronica is like, get this the fuck out of my house

Veronica’s shiny cropped tweed two-piece, Yvonne’s weird feathery coat that matches her bf’s shirt (you know she’s supposed to be “too much” because she’s got big hoop earrings)

God, Jughead is next and I’m not gonna be able to handle it

OH GOD IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT

Alphabet City?! the piano?? the fucking East Coast Beat typewriter shit—the day robe? I’m—READING CLUBMASTERS? FORSYTHE???

OH GOD HE’S DATING ANOTHER WRITER (she has nice pants)

Jughead eats: “that place you like” is a HOT DOG STAND in the middle of SOME GRASS

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead wears high-ankle light blue jeans, grey socks, and spectators that blend to create the illusion of wading boots. I’m going to commit a crime

Jughead doubts it: “So did Kerouac. And Hemingway. And Fitzgerald.” 

fuck yes I love Floundering Jughead, and his Pushy Agent who pronounces “career” like “Korea,” and the continuing tradition of Jughead getting kicked out of his house

I like Literary Grifter’s sweater

the Brat Pack, and most of the Rat Pack for that matter, were actors, but I assume RAS couldn’t resist the rhyme 

I was 100% afraid we were about to learn Cora was an uncomfortably-young undergrad

the musical cue as she reaches into her bag is absolutely as if she’s taking out a gun, and it might as well be! it’s the scariest thing in NYC: an unpublished manuscript

showrunners doing a classic I Love Lucy job partially concealing Vanessa Morgan’s pregnancy via medium close-ups, draping black clothes

Cheryl slowly turning to ask if doesn’t she look okay 10/10 icon

Cheryl’s pins: she has either a tiny spider or maybe a tick

Cheryl’s sheaths: the lacy red thing, amazing

why is Cheryl’s left hand gloved?

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl’s going to forge a Rembrandt, which unfortunately means she’s my favorite person on the planet (she does not look happy about doing this)

btw is Nana Rose an Immortal?

please tell me about Toni’s eyelashes

EXTREMELY HAUNTED DOLL?!

“Damn good coffee”: Archie’s earnest “Where are people gonna sit for the bus?” slayed me

fuck YEAH Ghoulies party house! terrible music but really good skull spray paint art

Jug looks LOW lol

Veronica’s blouse + buttons, impeccable

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Tabitha/Squeaky

the hellscape semi’s red backlighting and its skeleton’s red eyes

I like Linette’s glossy bomber!

the trucker who’s about to kill her can’t also be the Trash Bag Killer….truckers have to stick to too much of a schedule….but he could be Betty’s meandering serial

I loved this episode

NEXT WEEK: Archie brings the FBI down on some people paying their rent :(

[khoicesbyk]

Beloved.

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 4,040 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Song And Story Inspiration: Bittersweet-After 7

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @rideordiechronicles @pixie88 @txemrn @lucy-268 @shannonsaid @shannonwrote @bebepac @imturaxamara @blackkingliamstan @queenjilian @secretaryunpaid @ridgy--didge @theworldofprompts @choicesficwriterscreations

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not to see spoilers, please do not read any further.

Prompt Time! Today I’ll be using @theworldofprompts prompt “What do you want me to do, dress in drag and do the hula?” it'll be in bold in black. Also I know that I can’t be the only one who’s excited that they picked the greatest Disney movie one-liner as a prompt.

(Also this series is a slight deviation of the original story. In the original story, the werewolf hunter is a woman. But in this series the hunter is a man.)

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

A/N 2: I had a time writing this chapter. Writers block and all out forgetfulness is a bitch! But I did it! *pats self on the back*

TW: paranormal activity. Communication with the dead. Reader Discretion Is STRONGLY ADVISED.

Chapter 22.) Reflection.

It′s crazy how you flaunt your passion.

When you let meaning of them worth take over you.

You stare into my soul like that.

Makes me wonder when you ain't get by the side of me.

It′s pain and pleasure.

To love someone so.

So much you, you hate them.

Push me over the edge then.

To go catch you, your love is.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It′s bittersweet.

It had been 3 days since Naia was rushed to the hospital because of Wolfbane being in her system. Her parents, especially her mother, were both distraught and furious that their daughter had gotten herself caught up in the tireless war between The Pack and The Knights Of Ossory. Those three days felt like years to them. Both took turns sitting vigil over their daughter.

The only saving grace was that her condition hadn't changed. It hadn't gotten better but Laurie and Shane were thankful it hadn't worsened. They just wanted her to open her eyes. Laurie needed her daughter to wake up. She had to hear her voice again. And every moment that she didn't the more she went crazy. Laurie would just sit at Naia’s bedside holding onto her hand and pray Naia would squeeze her hand. The agony of waiting was going to kill her.

“Anything?” her husband asked as he entered the room with coffee in hand.

Laurie just shook her head no.

“It'll happen, baby. It has to. She'll wake up and we'll be able to breathe again.”

She never said a word to him. She just held onto Naia’s hand as Shane set the cup of coffee he brought her down. Laurie's eyes were red and puffy and her face was a mess. She blamed The Pack and The Knights Of Ossory but mostly she blamed herself. She swore to protect her daughter from all of this. To prevent her from going through the hell she went through over 30 years ago. And feels like she failed. A pain no mother wants to go through.

Laurie rubbed Naia’s knuckle silently, willing their daughter to wake up.

“Have you eaten baby?”

Laurie shook her head no.

“You should go eat something baby.”

“I don't want food. I want our daughter. I want her to wake up now.”

Shane sat beside her and placed his hand over hers.

“I know, baby. I want that too. I need it. You need it. But it's not good for you not to eat something.”

“I can't leave her! What if she wakes up and I'm not here?! I have to be here!”

Her frantic tone worried Shane.

“Baby listen to me! You need to go eat something. I'll be right here. I will watch over her. If anything happens I swear to you that I will tell you immediately.”

“But Shane—”

“No buts! Go eat something. Now! I won't let anything happen to her. I swear that on my life.”

Laurie looked at him before getting up and going to the door. When she looked back towards Naia, Shane smiled softly at her.

“It's okay baby, I'll keep her safe.”

Laurie nodded sadly before walking out the door.

Shane turned his attention back to their daughter, his worry, resentment, rage, sorrow, protectiveness, and anxiety all on high. His little girl. His flesh and blood. She hadn't moved or spoken since he last saw her. He was thankful for the hospital staff. They were able to get her allergic reaction to Wolfbane under control but she was still unconscious. None of the meds she was on seemed to be working.

It′s so easy to listen.

When your tongue is an innocent prisoner of war oh yeah.

And it might bе wrong but we never еnd that.

Damage is done, always pain and pleasure.

To love someone so.

So much you hate them.

Push me over the edge then.

To go catch you, your love is.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It's bittersweet.

It didn't take Laurie long to come back from the cafeteria. When Shane looked up she walked in with food for them both.

“I'm not the only one who needed to eat.”

Shane smiled softly as she handed him a sandwich.

“Still nothing?”

“Still no change. But I'm not giving up.”

Laurie smiled at her husband's resolve. They sat together and ate their food in silence. Their eyes went from Naia to the IV drip machine she was hooked up to.

“Don't worry baby. Our girl will wake up.”

“I know she will. She has to. And when she does…we have to tell her the truth.”

Shane looked at his wife confused.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you’re ready to do that?”

“Look at her Shane! She wouldn't be here, hell we wouldn't even be here if she knew the truth. It's time. So when she wakes up and is lucid enough to hear it we'll tell her everything.”

Shane took his wife's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Okay. If you’re ready and you're sure. Then I am too.”

Laurie offered him a small smile.

Yeah I know you know me.

That′s why you the only one can push my buttons.

Sometimes it's like you speak another language.

Got me like adios buenas noches baby.

Oh it′s pain and pleasure.

To love someone so.

So much you hate them.

Push me over the edge then.

To go catch you, your love is.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It's always bittersweet.

While her body was still, Naia was subconsciously awake.

“Naia…”

Naia slowly opened her eyes, and looked around frantically and confusedly. She couldn't see anything or anyone.

“What? Where am I?”

That's when she heard a woman's voice.

“I've been waiting to meet you.”

When Naia turned around she saw a figure she didn't recognize.

“Who’s there? Who are you? What is this place?”

The figure in front of her soon materialized into an elderly black woman. One that she recognized.

“Oh…my…God! You’re…you're…Delia?”

She smiled at Naia.

“Hello, my dear. It's wonderful to finally meet you.”

Naia’s jaw dropped.

“But how?!”

“I thought you…you died a long time ago!”

“I did. 3 years ago.”

“Wait! Am I dead?”

Delia laughed softly.

“No dear, you’re not dead. You are in the world between worlds.”

Naia blinked in realization.

“I was here with Roman. Where is he?! Is he hurt?! Did Trent shoot him?!”

Delia placed a calming hand on Naia’s shoulder.

“All will be revealed shortly. I promise.”

Naia took a shaky breath then nodded.

“Now come sit with me. We have much to discuss.”

Naia followed Delia to a bench that appeared out of nowhere. When they sat down Delia cocked her head to the side at Naia curiously. Making her feel super awkward.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No. I’m just curious about you. You’re as beautiful as I imagined you’d be.”

Naia couldn’t keep the blush from creeping up on her face.

“A ghost just called me beautiful. I must be hallucinating.”

Delia chuckled.

“You said we had much to discuss. What are we discussing?”

“You, my dear. Your connection to the town, the people, and especially Roman.”

“I mean I’ve been in town for a few months. I don’t know anyone outside of my uncle Trent and the Pack.”

Delia nods.

“And what are your impressions of them so far?”

Naia chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course dear. That’s why we are here.”

“I understand why my mom doesn’t want me around Roman. Because to be honest, he’s terrifying. But at the same time…I can’t stay away from him. I can’t get enough of him. He makes me feel safe. And loved. And wanted. And I…”

“Yes?”

“I care about him. A lot. But I don't know if I'm ready to give up my life for him. I don't know if I'm ready to be his mate.”

Deli nodded.

“It is a lot to ask of a young woman. I would know.”

“How did you decide Delia? Or was it decided for you?”

Delia chuckles softly.

“It wasn’t my intent to be Xander’s mate when I first came to Hunt’s Peak.”

Naia blinked in confusion.

“You’re not from Hunt’s Peak?”

“No. Originally from the Pittsburgh area.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I grew up in foster care so it wasn’t like many had missed me when I left.”

“So what brought you to Hunt’s Peak?”

“I was hired as a 5th teacher. I loved my job. Teaching children became my passion.”

“And how did you meet Xander?”

“I’ve always been a Wolfkin and I knew it was my destiny to become the mate to a member of The Pack but I never thought I would be Xander’s mate. But to answer your question, I was walking along the creek when I saw him and his father Ferdinand. We were smitten at first sight.”

“Oh…did his father accept you?”

“Yes, he did. And after some convincing so did his mother Cecilia.”

“When did Xander become Alpha?”

“Shortly after we met. Maybe 6 months or so.”

“Is that when you became his mate?”

“Yes. He courted me until he became Alpha.”

“Courted how?”

Delia smiled as if lost in a memory.

“He would come by the school. Regale my students in wild tales of werewolves as knights and kings and sorceresses and sorcerers. That sort of thing. But the biggest thing he did for me, was he planted a single night flower and let it blossom into a field full of them.”

“Sounds like he was a romantic at heart.”

“He used to be but when he became Alpha, responsibility and obligation replaced flowers and romance.”

“Was it hard?”

“No. Not at first. I always understood my role as The Alpha’s mate. And I cherished it. Becoming a sort of Den Mother gave me a purpose.”

“What changed?”

Delia looked at Naia with a new curiosity.

“He met your mother.”

Naia swallowed.

“Mommy told me how she met him.”

“I remember that. I remember when he told her no at first. I was furious at him. So I not so subtly encouraged him to reconsider not protecting her and your uncle.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Your mother was a child at the time. And your uncle couldn’t protect her as he should have. Only Xander and The Pack could do that.”

“She also told me about the day he offered her The Pack’s protection.”

“I remember when Xander told me about Bobby Giles threatening her. He was furious and I was disgusted. But we both knew that he couldn't just charge into town and rid it of him. Well, he could but it wasn't in his nature at the time. So he sent a few wolves in their human forms to investigate.”

“She told me that too. And the time that Bobby pulled a gun out on Xander.”

Delia snickered.

“The fool. He believed that his gun would scare Xander. But he learned the hard way that day.”

Naia shifted in her seat.

“Mommy showed me the necklace that Xander gave her.”

“I know about that. He gave it to her on her 18th birthday.”

“She also said that she was bonded to him.”

“She's right. She was bonded to him until he died.”

“Are you angry about that?”

Delia went quiet

“To be honest, I was very angry with her. Jaded and bitter even. But I realized after she left that my anger was misplaced.”

“Misplaced how?”

“After she left I found out that Xander was telling her that she was to be his new mate. And at that time your mother was a young impressionable girl.”

“He was manipulating her?”

“Yes, he played with her heart and preyed on it.”

“My God. Why did you stay with him for so long?”

“I was bound by Pack Law to stay with my mate until his death.”

Naia shuddered.

“Will that happen to me?”

“If you choose to be Roman’s mate you are bound by Pack Law to be at his side until his death.”

“Well, that explains what my mom said about you and Xander being married on paper.”

Delia nodded.

“If I was the mate of any other Pack member I could leave. But I was Xander’s mate. As was your mother. As yet…”

“She ran away.”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me about Xander?”

“What would you like to know?”

“What did he look like?”

Delia waves a hand and a picture of Xander materialized in front of them.

“Whoa…”

“That is Xander in all his glory.”

“He and Roman look just alike.”

Delia smiled softly.

“Yes. He has his father's looks and stubbornness but he also has my heart.”

“Will I meet Xander?”

“No my dear. You won't.”

“Crisis averted.”

“So, will you be Roman’s mate or will you go back to your life as a human woman?”

Just as Naia was about to speak another panel appeared in front of her and Delia.

“What's this?”

“Roman. He's trying to connect to you through your bond. We are about to look at life through his eyes. These panels that appear are what life is like.”

“Why can’t he connect with me?”

Instead of responding, Delia put a finger to her lips then pointed to the panel. When Naia looked at the panel she was transported into Roman’s mind.

She and Delia were looking at a memory of them.

She had convinced Layla to let her turn Buck’s into a mini-movie theater for the pups and their parents. To give them something fun to do. When Roman heard about it he was both curious and thrilled. The girls decided on watching Lion King. With Gino and popcorn in hand, Naia snuggled next to Roman.

“So this movie is about…cats?”

“The circle of life. And lions.”

“…lions are cats are they not?”

Naia shook her head at the memory before turning to Delia.

“I remember this.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. It was the day I learned that your son doesn’t like my impressions.”

Delia chuckled. They turned back to the memory and as they did, they came upon Naia’s impression of one of her favorite scenes in the movie.

“Hyenas. I hate hyenas. So what’s your plan for getting past those guys?”

“Live bait.”

“Good idea!…hey!”

“Come on Timon, you guys have to create a diversion.”

“What do you want me to do? Dress in drag and do the hula?”

Roman groaned.

“Are you going to be like this the rest of the movie?”

“What? Gino likes my impression. You don’t like my impression?”

“…no.”

“Everyone’s a damn critic.”

Roman rolled his eyes. But he would soon find out which scene is her favorite scene in the whole movie.

“Hey! Who’s the pig?”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Uh oh! Did he call him a pig?”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Shouldn’t have done that!”

“Are you talking to me?!”

“Now they’re in for it!”

“They call me: Mr. Pig!”

And just as she got Pumbaa’s yell Roman clamped a hand to her mouth.

“Beloved…how am I to enjoy this movie you’ve chosen with your incessant talking?”

Naia just giggled as the panel changed to a more recent memory. One that Naia didn’t recognize.

“My…room?”

“Yes, my dear. This was just a few days ago.”

“But I don’t remember this.”

“Because you aren’t there.”

“What?! What do you mean?”

Delia pointed to the panel as it showed Roman walking into her room. He looked distraught as he looked around. Naia could feel his anguish in her chest. When his eyes fell on Gino sitting on the bed, she felt tears on her cheek as he held Gino close to his chest.

“I don’t understand.”

“The one he considers to be his mate is missing.”

“His mate? You mean me?”

“Yes, my dear.”

“But why is he looking for me?”

“Because your bond with him is disrupted. He’s trying to reconnect with you.”

“But why?”

Delia turned back to the panel as it showed Roman in wolf form curled up on her bed with Gino under his jaw. She felt his agony and his pain as well as his longing as he whimpered. He was missing her. He was needing her. Her presence. Her smile. Her laugh. It broke her heart. She stood up shouting to the panel.

“Roman! Roman! I'm here! I'm right here!”

Delia put a hand on her shoulder.

“He can't hear you. This is only a vision of what has already been.”

Naia turned to Delia with pleading in her eyes.

“You said that he couldn’t connect to me, why can’t he connect to me?”

With a wave of a hand another panel appeared. This one showed Naia lying in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV with her mother at her side.

“I–I–I…it can’t be! You said I wasn’t dead!”

“You aren’t Naia. You’ve been injected with Wolfbane. It’s a toxin that can be deadly but thankfully you were taken to the hospital in time to save you.”

“Injected?! How?!”

“You don’t remember?”

Naia stood there confused until it hit her.

“The tranquilizer dart! The one that Trent was using! Am I right?”

Delia nodded.

“If I’m on an IV then why haven’t I woken up?”

“Because the spirits aren’t ready for you to wake up yet.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Delia looked at Naia.

“Answer this. Why do you think you’re here?”

Naia didn't know how to answer that question.

“I don't know.”

As soon as those words left her mouth another panel appeared. This one was of Trent after he left the hospital. He was in his boss’s office going off about Wolfbane.

“What is wrong with you Moses?!”

“The tranquilizer! You said it was harmless!”

“It is harmless! It effects those beasts and their ability to shift!”

“What about humans?”

“It doesn’t effect humans!”

Trent eyed him with an intense yet calm fury.

“What is Wolfbane?”

Bernard blinked in confusion.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Answer the question!”

“It’s the name of the tranquilizer. It doesn’t effect humans.”

“Yes it does.”

“No it does not!”

Trent pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Naia was hit by one of the tranquilizer darts.”

“The young woman you brought here the other day?”

“Yes. She collapsed after being hit and is now in the hospital fighting for her life. According to her mother Wolfbane is a poison that you and Xander created.”

Bernard looked at Trent genuinely confused.

“Her mother?”

“I didn't stutter.”

“What was her last name again?”

“Evans.”

“I knew someone with that last name but it was a he not a she.”

“Probably her dad. Her mother’s maiden name is Roberts.”

Bernard’s face lit up.

“Roberts? As in Laurie Roberts? Zane Roberts sister?”

“Yes.”

“I knew that girl looked familiar!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know her mother. Which means Xander was right. She did run off with Evans. I can’t believe she finally came back home.”

“Is what her mother said true? That you created this with Xander?”

“Yes it is but he took it too far. It wasn’t designed to be lethal. I tried to stop him but you can see what good it did.”

“So Xander truly was a monster?”

“Ohhh yes my boy. A monster indeed.”

As she watched with Delia, Naia wasn’t entirely convinced that Bernard was totally innocent.

“I don’t like him. I don’t trust him.”

“That’s Bernard Sayre for you.”

“Has he always been this way?”

“Oh yes. Even when I was amongst the living he and especially his motives were always questionable.”

“Why does the town let him do what he does?”

“Only the town can answer that.”

“I guess…”

The panel showed Trent in his cabin sitting on his couch with a bottle in his hand. Naia could feel his guilt and shame as well as his anger. His anger at his boss and anger at himself. He didn’t mean to hurt her. She just came out of nowhere. By the time he pulled the trigger it was too late. He didn't see her at first but when she dropped to the ground his heart dropped when she did. He wanted to be there at the hospital with her. To tell her how sorry he was. How much she means to him. How he wishes he could take it all back.

But at that moment he couldn't. All he could do was wallow in his festering grief and simmering anger. The same as Roman. This war had taken away a lot for both of them but this was the final straw. Trent wasn't about to lose to Roman again. And Roman had finally had enough of Trent being a thorn in his side. Both had subconsciously decided that this was an all-out war.

All of it broke Naia.

“They aren't serious are they?”

“Yes. Both are hurt and angry. Both at themselves and each other.”

“But I don't want this! I don't want them fighting!”

“Then you've found your reason for being here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me why you were brought here. My dear, you were brought here to heal what is broken.”

“You mean Roman and Trent?”

“And your family. Your mother, especially.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes. She is hurting. And angry. And confused. And you are the key to healing her wounds. And theirs.”

Naia nodded.

“How do I do that?”

“You can start by answering your mother’s prayer.”

Delia turned back to the panel that showed Laurie. When Naia looked up, her mother was holding the necklace that Xander gave her. She looking out of the window to the moon in the sky.

“Spirits of the earth,

I don't know if you can hear me or that I even have the right to ask this. But I come to you with a simple prayer. I ask you to heal my daughter. She doesn't deserve to be here. She doesn't deserve this. She's innocent. If you're angry with me for abandoning The Pack and my duties as Xander’s mate I understand. But I beg you! Don't make my daughter suffer because of me. I beg you, please bring her back to me. Let her eyes open again. Let her speak again. I just want my little girl back. I need her back. Please! Heal her.”

Delia turned to Naia with a question.

“Now that you know your purpose, are you ready my dear?”

“Yes. I am ready to heal all that is broken.”

Delia waved her hand and the panels disappeared. They were replaced by a doorway.

“Then go. Your mother is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Delia.”

Delia smiled at her.

“You're welcome, my dear. Tell my son that I miss him and that I love him and that I'm sorry.”

Naia smiled at her.

“I will.”

Naia stepped through the doorway and was transported back to her hospital room, just as her mother finished praying. She had moved her head slightly which both startled and excited Laurie.

“Naia? Naia baby are you awake?”

Naia’s eyes fluttered open and when she spoke her voice was weak.

“Mommy…”

Laurie had tears in her eyes.

“I'm here baby. I'm right here.”

Laurie was overcome with joy and relief.

“You came back to me!”

“I missed you, mommy.”

“I missed you too, baby girl.”

“We…have…much…to…talk…about.”

Laurie nodded resolutely.

“Yes, we do. It's time for you to know the true reason why I left.”

[somedayonbroadway]

Have you ever done oe thought about a Bandstand AU? Because I'm now obsessed.

Okay, so I was obsessed with Bandstand for a good six months after they performed at the Tonys. Kid you not, it was the only thing I listened to. For six months straight. And it still hasn’t gotten old.

Quick rant:

Corey Cott deserves a Tony.

Laura Osnes deserves a Tony.

The show deserved to at least be nominated for best musical, if not win the whole thing.

Dear Evan Hansen is great.

But it is nothing compared to Bandstand.

(Also, DEH won best orchestrations against Great Comet… like… what? Did the judges even see that show? DEH had like… a violin, a piano and a couple guitars. It hardly had orchestrations. Great Comet is a ****ing masterpiece of complex, insane music.)

End rant.

Anyways.

Bandstand AU

Characters

Jack Kelly — Donny Novitski (Piano)

Katherine Plumber — Julia Trojan (Singer)

David Jacobs — Wayne Wright (trombone)

Spot Conlon — Davy Zlatic (bass)

Racetrack Higgins — Jimmy Campbell (saxophone)

Crutchie Morris — Johny Simpson (drums)

Albert DaSilva — Nick Radel (trumpet)

Joseph Pulitzer — June Adams

Medda Larkin — Oliver

Bryan Denton — Jo

Specs — Michael “Rubber” Trojan

Okay, so…

Newly back home, Jack Kelly is having difficulty adjusting to life after the war. After losing his best friend from friendly fire, he’s guilt ridden. The minute Jack gets home, he’s bombarded with propaganda that everything would go back to the way it was before. He doesn’t believe that as he is now jobless, is struggling for money, is struggling hard with insomnia and PTSD.

As a composer, vocalist, accordion player and pianist, Jack begins to go to old clubs he used to perform at, only to find he’d been easily replaced. Finding an old friend, Medda, for whom he’d worked with before, he manages to secure gigs at weddings, getting slim money, just enough to eat and pay rent.

After a few weeks, he finds himself slowly losing it. He hears stories of soldiers’ funerals. Those guys came back fine a while ago.

They needed a way to make it stop.

Jack is on the verge of a breakdown. He can’t go a night without a drink. He can’t stop thinking about the war. About Specs.

He can’t get it out of his head.

He’s a genius and he knows it. He’s been musically inclined his whole life. He started playing when he was seven and he started composing when he was nine. And here he is, fifteen years later, still playing weddings. No one’s giving him a job. No one seems to care that he’s struggling or needs to play because if he can’t play, there’s nothing left for him.

But he hears about a contest on the radio. A contest for a swing band to compete in a contest as a tribute to the troops just back from the war.

In a moment of clarity, Jack decides that he’s going to put together a band made up of his fellow vets to shoot for fame and fortune, to show the vets that made it home that there’s hope for them.

So he takes a name that he remembers his best friend mentioned at one time, and he goes out to find a man about to play a gig at a club named Antonio Higgins who Specs had used to call Racer. Racer is a sax player, now studying to be a lawyer. While Race does try to send him away, he realizes that he might need this as much as Jack did and once he finds out that Specs is dead, he can’t say no. He’s doing this for Specs.

Race leads him to find more musicians who served. Spot, David, Crutchie and Albert.

Race doesn’t trust anyone.

Spot is an alcoholic, cracking jokes to get through the day as best he can.

David is OCD. He has clear schedules and plans out every minute of his day.

Albert is a control freak. He’s constantly irritated and just wants everything to be done the right way and for things to work out.

Crutchie lost a leg in the war as well as receiving brain damage in an accident that sent his vehicle flipping three times while he was in the war

Not all of them get along at first. But, for the sack of all of the vets that are losing hope in a post war world where there’s no place for them, they keep it together.

They get through their first gig together. All is well for about two minutes as Race tells Jack he’s glad he decided to play with him and Spot jokes around with Crutchie after Crutchie tells the guys about his meds and how they slow him down, asking him how much slower he can get without being put in reverse. Crutchie is very slow and goofy most of the time, unable to truly remember the events that occurred overseas, but he is a monster on drums. He doesn’t mind the jokes, in fact, he takes a liking to Spot.

It’s after this that Jack tells Albert he needs to come down off the ceiling while playing his solo, claiming that it’s selfish and out of line. Albert argues with him, sparking a bit of tension between the rest of the group. Albert then announced he has a chance to play with Dwight Anson Orchestra. Davey explains that Jack needs to work around his schedule. Albert says that they need to get paid.

Jack shoots back that the gigs they get are where and when they are going to play and he promises to try and give more of an advance in the future.

Once the others leave, Spot with Crutchie, trying to joke with him as he’s taken a liking to the youngest kid of the group, Race approaches Jack and tries to gently explain to him that he needs to learn how to talk to people if he’s gonna be a band leader. This sparks a small argument, almost leading to Race giving up and leaving, only resulting in Jack admitting that he has to do this for Specs.

He explains that Specs’s death was friendly fire and that he’d promised Specs should anything happen to him, he’d check in on his wife. Race advises Jack not to tell Specs’s wife how he died and tells him not to go to trial unless he was prepared to lose. Then he leaves, promising to see Jack for their next gig on Sunday.

So Jack goes to talk to Specs’s wife.

Katherine Plumber.

He knocks on the door before chickening out and turning to leave.

But he’s not quite fast enough.

Katherine laughs at him, accusing him of being too old for ding dong ditch. Jack laughs and shyly walks back, introducing himself as Spencer’s friend. Katherine’s smile fades and she asks him more questions, resulting in Jack telling her he has some pictures that might be of interest to her. Katherine invites him over for dinner.

Explaining to her father the situation, Joseph Pulitzer (yes, he’s very nice in this one. Deal with it.) he agrees to the dinner, telling Katherine that they won’t be great hosts. He tells Katherine to be careful and not to pry, that if Jack wants to tell her more information about Specs, he would.

So Katherine tries to respect the boundaries.

Katherine explains to her father that she feels selfish because sometimes she wishes she could be the same person she was before and that she doesn’t want to be defined as a Gold Star Wife. She used to have a life and she used to be somebody.

She pulls herself together when the knock on the door comes.

Joe welcomes Jack inside and Jack thanks him for his kindness while Katherine jokes that he works hard at being nice and explains that her mother is away visiting her grandparents.

While getting to know each other a little, Jack learns that Katherine can sing but she only sings a church and jokes that if he wanted to hear her sing, he’d have to go to a service. Katherine learns that Jack lost his parents when he was very young and has fended for himself ever since.

Eventually, they get around to looking at the pictures Jack brought. He tries to make the memories light.

But Katherine can’t help but ask if Jack was there when he’d died.

Jack tells her yes.

And Katherine can’t take it. So she excuses herself before dinner has even begun, leaving Jack and Joe to have dinner alone.

That Sunday, Jack finds himself at church, watching Katherine sing beautifully in front of an entire gathering of people.

He catches her afterwards, asking why she didn��t tell him that she got to perform the big finale. He then asks her if she’d like to see him and his band play that night, eventually convincing her that it might be fun.

Joe encourages her to go, telling her that she hasn’t been out since her husband had died. So she goes.

After watching their set, Katherine is surprised to be invited up onstage to sing a standard. She’s incredibly nervous, forgetting the bridge of the song but finishing strong with some encouragement from Jack. She meets the boys. She takes a liking to all of them, telling Davey that his family should be proud, joking along with Spot, immediately wanting to protect Crutchie, much like Spot does.

Jack tells them that he wants to win for the guys who got nothing.

Katherine asks him if he means Specs. And he tries to take it back but she runs off, upset. And Racer tells the guys that she has every right to be a part of this band as she lost her husband in the war. The guys tell Jack that he should try to get Katherine to sing with them.

So he goes to her work the next day. She tries to send him away, claiming she doesn’t need to be saved. Jack counters. “What if I do?” And then he sings her First Steps First before inviting her to rehearsal that night walking away. Katherine tells him on his way out that she’ll be there, on the condition that Jack tells her more about Specs.

At rehearsal, things are a little tense. Katherine quickly finds that Race tries his best to stay out of confrontation, David is constantly questioning Jack’s harmonies and chord progressions, Spot is always drunk, Crutchie is often confused, and Albert is hard to rely on. Katherine loosens up the tension as much as she can, learning the music and getting to know all the boys. She loves talking to Crutchie. She constantly takes Spot’s drinks from his hands and offers him coffee and water. She tries to get Race to open up and Davey to loosen up, while also somehow getting on Albert’s good side.

She finds that once they’re all playing together, things seem a little easier, like they all get along and work well together.

They play at a club in town called Medda’s, playing a song Jack hopes to be a winning song called “You Deserve It”. It’s snappy and catchy and all the boys really enjoy it. After this, Medda asks the band to play the next night and Jack and Kath celebrate with drinks.

Jack then asks Katherine if she’d be willing to take on a stage name, Kathy Pulitzer, saying it had a better ring to it than Katherine Plumber. Katherine doesn’t like this and leaves, unable to handle the idea of losing another part of Specs.

Jack follows her, apologizing after Katherine breaks, crying about how she’ll never see her husband’s body or get to say goodbye.

Jack promises to give her answers if she comes back to the band. So they go tell the guys they have another gig.

The next night, after escorting a very drunk Spot home, Jack expresses his worries that Spot will be wasted on the night of the competition to which Albert replies he has bigger problems and reveals he’d been rehearsing with Dwight Anson and thinks they might have a better song. He leaves, telling Jack he’d be playing with the band that had the better song.

Jack walks Katherine home, angry and scared and exhausted knowing he can’t sleep. He tells Katherine that if it were Specs, he’d be saying how they’d be winning this thing, on their way to New York in some Pullman cars, living the dream.

Katherine shows Jack a poem she’d written that makes Jack feel better. After promising — mostly — not to tease, Jack asks Katherine if he can look through more of her poems. Reluctantly, Katherine agrees.

The next day, Jack returns Katherine’s book with a new song, word for word lyrics to one of Katherine’s poems. He explains that this is the song they need to win. Katherine is hesitant but agrees to sing it.

Going to the contest, the band wins easily, hitting the judges hard with a song with a true story and one that many were too scared to tell.

Ecstatic, the band has a moment of victory before reality sets in.

They’re told that no one is paying for them to get to New York. They’re responsible for travel and getting there doesn’t guarantee them a spot on the broadcast. Jack and Race try to argue, telling them that they have to help them get there because everyone just heard them win, to which one of the producers replies that hardly anyone was listening.

And if no one saw it, it never happened.

(That moment gets me every ****ing time. The lights go out and a spotlight hits every single one of the boys. It hurts so bad.)

Their arguments get nowhere. And they’re left with this crippling news.

Jack falls to the ground in mental and emotional agony. The guys are arguing and getting worked up but Katherine is holding onto Jack, trying to make sure he’s alright.

Jack finally stands and tells them that they’re going to that contest. They have to make it there anyway they can and they’ll take every gig they can get because they have a right to respect.

And all the guys agree.

They’re done fighting for their country. It’s time to fight for themselves.

They take every gig offered to them, writing new songs and winning the hearts of their hometown (Cleveland). They even write a song about their hometown. Everyone adores it.

Jack and Katherine are closer than ever, Jack telling Katherine all the stories about Specs he can remember. He tells her one of his favorite memories of Specs which was when they were playing with some other cats in the army. Specs was playing the drums so fast, telling everyone to go faster and faster until finally he looked at Jack and just told him to sing. And Jack did. It was less of a song than a battle call.

When they write their new song, they begin to perform it everywhere they can as their town loves the song that’s all about them. While they do this, a certain club owner overheard the band talking about making enough money to get to New York. And Miss Medda hatches a scheme.

She asks the band to play more often for more pay and gets the rest of the town in on the game. Jack doesn’t realize what she’s doing.

Davey admits to Albert that his wife kicked him out. Albert offers up his home, igniting the first selfless act any of the others had ever seen from him.

Katherine tried to get Spot to give up the bottle. He refuses.

Spot starts massaging Crutchie’s back every now and then to help him relax and make him feel better after his injury.

In the midst of all of this, Katherine explains to Jack that she has to quit her job in order to make sure she could be at the contest. She says she’d be taking all the overtime and lipsticks as she could before then. She tells Jack how she lied about her mother being away to visit family and how she walked out on her and her father years ago.

And she says she wants to know what happens to Specs.

Unable to keep dodging the question, Jack breaks. He loses it, telling her that she couldn't understand. He’s crying as he recounts every detail in his brain, telling her how it happened, how it was his fault that his best friend was dead.

And Katherine runs away from him, horrified at what she’d just heard.

She doesn’t show up to the gig the next night.

Jack confides in Race who tells him that he’s letting this girl slip away from him. Jack tries to joke about Race not chasing after any pretty girls even though he has plenty of girls lining up to get a kiss from him after shows. Race says that he thought a smart guy like Jack would’ve had him figured out already.

Race lost his partner in the war.

Suddenly, things make a lot more sense.

Katherine stays home with her father, sobbing, explaining that it was Jack’s fault her husband was dead. But Pulitzer tells her that there aren’t reasons for what happens. Everything just happens. He tells her the only thing that matters is what she does next.

Katherine writes a poem and shows it to Jack the next day, apologizing even though Jack says she has nothing to apologize for. She says the same thing goes to him. She explains that she doesn’t know and cannot understand what happened in the frontlines. And this poem was for Jack and the boys.

Jack sets it to music knowing this song is too real and genuine to be played for an audience. So they change the lyrics.

This is the song Katherine would have sung if Specs had come home.

After performing this song for the first at Medda’s, Jack stands up to tell the audience that they won’t make it to New York, getting emotional and telling them that he was no hero and that the wrong guy made it home from the war. Medda stops him and explains to him he doesn’t need NBC when he has Cleveland. She hands him seven tickets to the Cleveland Limited. Pullman Cars. First class.

Jack literally breaks into tears and hugs Medda as tightly as he possibly can.

The band’s going to New York.

Jack gears up the guys for a successful contest while being awestruck and exploring New York City. Jack walks Katherine back to her room after a night exploring. They stop themselves from going into her room together after they both admit there’s more than just friendship between them.

They part ways that night, promising to see each other in the morning.

The next day, they go through preliminaries and are told they’ll be on the broadcast. Jack and Katherine sign the contract and the whole band celebrates until the next night when no one can seem to find Racer.

When Race arrives, two minutes before they’re on, he explains that Jack and Katherine signed away the rights to their own song and would be no more than walk ons if they won.

This just about breaks Jack.

Spot suggests leaving. The rest of the guys agree.

But Jack asks Katherine if she remembers all the original lyrics to Welcome Home, the poem she’d written for her boys.

She says yes.

And they know what they have to do for the soldiers out there to know they’re not alone.

They get on stage and they blow it up.

Crutchie starts the drums. Jack tells him to go faster. Faster. Faster.

Then he looks at Katherine. And he tells her to sing.

Charlie made it home.

Most of him at least .

Had three operations,

But the pain has not decreased .

Al learned to survive.

Means you never trust .

Once you see the worst in man,

Then how do you adjust?

Sean, he cracks a joke.

Claims to be alright .

Drinks a fifth of vodka

In his kitchen every night

And I stand here trying

Like mother Mary

With my private burden

Of grief to carry  

Welcome home my boys

Welcome home my sons

Welcome home my husband

Welcome home my love  

Welcome home

Welcome home

Welcome home  

David’s never free.

Schedules out his day.

Filling every minute

Just to keep the ghosts away .

He could never get

Back the life he had .

Faced with raising kids

Who did not recognize their dad .

Tony made it back to town

Four months ago

Lives to tell the things

No one could bear to know

Keeps his guard up now

A lot goes undiscussed

Focuses on fighting

What he finds unjust  

Welcome home my boys

Welcome home my sons

Welcome home my husband

Welcome home my love  

Welcome home

Welcome home

Welcome home  

Jack, he does his best,

Trying to pretend

What he doesn't talk about

Won't matter in the end

Jack, he made it home

But thinks it wasn't fair

How he made it out

But left his buddy there

Jack, he doesn't sleep

Because the nightmares come

Jack looks for an answer,

Jack, he looks for absolution,

And I'd give up anything

If I could give him some

And I stand here helpless

My arms extended

Knowing full well, darling,

Your war's not ended

Welcome home

Welcome home my husband

Welcome home my love

Welcome home

Welcome home

Welcome home my boys

Welcome home my sons

Welcome home my husband

Welcome home my love

Welcome home

Welcome home

Welcome home

It’s the most honest performance these men have ever given.

Months later, Jack and the band walk out of a movie theatre, joking about how good Dwight Anson Orchestra looked while Sinatra sang their song.

And some girls run up to them, asking for an autograph.

Jack gives them one, telling them to bring their father who served backstage at their next concert.

And then they leave.

They have a gig to get to.

What do you guys think? Wanna see any specific scenes?

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

[queerchoicesblog]

A Promise Kept (OH/WT Crossover, Harper Emery & Ellen Thompson, Friendship)

As anticipated, my very first (official) crossover fanfic for the entry Friendship of the @choicesjulychallenge hosted by @kinda-iconic  ❤️

As I was playing Wishful Thinking I had this crazy idea: I started picturing an Ellen Thompson & Harper Emery friendship. They’re about the same age, they’re both devoted and esteemed professionals (dealing with scumbags like Ellen’s boss and Declan Nash *cough cough*)...long story short a friend-ship canon started shaping. And that’s the result: hope you like it!

Disclaimer: The fic contains a reference to this previous work as well as a personal background and FC (Gugu Mbatha-Raw is not the perfect FC but I get Harper vibes) for Dr. Emery

Prompt: Friendship

Word Count: 1988

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @melodyofgraves @bhavf @begging-for-kamilah @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @kennaxval @strangerofbraidwood @crazypeanat @desiree-0816 @universallypizzataco

Harper Emery Tag: @bubblygothzombie @emeryharper @korrasamixfan  @delphinusbae

If you like this, please consider a like, comment, and/or reblog.

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"Holy crap! How come I missed this?"

Aurora froze gaping at the box placed on her aunt's new desk. She stopped by to return her set of keys before starting her shift and found Harper unpacking her stuff in her new, well previous smaller yet comfortable office as "Head of Neurosurgery, Edenbrook Hospital". She had never been there before: she had only seen it during video calls but it was the first time she actually set foot there. There were a couple of boxes around filled with the little decor the place needed: her aunt's degrees, a few framed photos (graduation picture with beaming Dad, Grandpa and Nana; a rare shot of Harper and her mentor, Dr. Rabinovits, posing for the cameras and was that Alexander Evans, that former patient she heard of? Well, probably a family photo of the Evans wearing Santa hats), a small ebony sculpture, a painting of a Caribbean landscape and a set of wrist and hand stretchers. Books had already been organized over the shelves.

But that one...that was unexpected.

"What, Rory?" Harper asked, checking her bookcase.

Aurora's fingers grazed a frame before picking her up in her hands.

"You have been interviewed by Ellen Thompson? The Ellen Thompson?" she asked, showing the newspaper article that caught her attention.

Harper slowly diverted her eyes from her previous chore and let them linger a moment over the old article before moving closer and gently taking it from Rory's hands. A tiny smile filled with nostalgia formed on her lips: her younger self flashing an enigmatic smile to the camera casually sit on her desk was still in the dark of the tough challenges her career had in store for her. She was just happy, proud of herself; she was just forgetting for a moment the harsh reality of "that cruel science called neurosurgery", as Dr. Rabinovits put it. But the memory of that day was pleasant, comforting in a way.

"Yes, it was her last article she wrote before being promoted daytime anchor. I thought you knew? I'm pretty sure Nana has a copy of this, Marcus too probably..."

"Yeah probably...I must have missed it. I was too busy with college and my dissertation at the time probably..." Aurora considered. "But how?! I mean, I'm not trying to belittle your achievement, it's just...Ellen!"

"I know, I was surprised too at the time" Harper laughed softly.

"I bet!"

"I didn't think she would accept it. Because of bias, you know? She confessed that it had been quite a tough call for her, she's an incredibly talented professional and being accused of being biased is a capital sin in her field..."

"Biased? How could she be biased?" Aurora furrowed her brows, confused.

Harper took a pause and gave her an amused look.

"Because we're friends, Rory! Don't you remember?"

"You're friends??" Aurora gaped, plopping down on the sofa. "I really slept on this for years?"

"Well, we don't see each other as often as we once did now but we never truly drifted apart. And oh, you were probably too young to remember but she attended my graduation. Nana probably has pictures of that day...there was a small group of friends celebrating with us: you surely remember Bethany - she visited a few months ago, Nate, her college boyfriend, Ricardo, Alison, Elliott-"

"Oh I do remember Elliott! Your college sweetheart, dressed up to the nines and all googly eyes" the young Emery giggled.

"Glad you remember" Harper made a scene of rolling her eyes, smiling. "...and the most elegant of all was Ellen. That Ellen"

Aurora took a moment to reminisce the few memories she had of that day. Yes, probably...no surely! That girl in a gorgeous pink dress clinging her glass and chatting with Nana was Ellen. And...oh gosh, her younger self had even been so nosy to ask Ellen, that Ellen where she bought that dress because she wanted one just like hers. Luckily, Harper spoke again, saving Rory from the embarrassment of that moment.

"As I said we had somehow kept in touch over the years, against all odds. We were both so busy...her internships, her field jobs, my residency. But we managed to check on each other every now and then. Small things, even just a message in the voicemail or a quick call"

She smiled - a quick soft smile- and handed the framed article back to Aurora.

"When I became 'the youngest Head of Neurosurgery in the history of Massachusetts' she showed up at my door" she said, nodding behind her. "And announced that she was gonna interview me. It wasn't even up for debate, she would have signed that article"

"The hell with the friendship bias?" the niece asked, more and more involved in the story featuring two of her personal role model.

Harper smiled again, but it was a weaker one this time.

"Apparently so. She claimed that there were very good reasons to write it, even ethical reasons if you wish. She said that it was a story worth being told, that I could have inspired people out there, little girls in schools, things like that."

She sighed, shooking her head.

"Not sure I lived up to that inspirational role, but I tried, right?".

Aurora diverted her eyes: she knew what her aunt was referring to. She remembered the conversation they had the night before the hearing, their argument during the break of that hearing...and frowned. 

The weight of the last few words lead to a brief silence, interrupted only by the sounds of steps along the corridor. 

"Oh this must be Tanaka with Dr. Yannick. I asked them to stop by to sign those papers...excuse me, it won't be long"

That said, she hurried to meet the colleagues, leaving Aurora alone in her office. 

The Emery girl absentmindedly eavesdropped the three of them discussing a surgical oncology procedure but she got lost in the surgical medicalese the doctors spoke. So her eyes fell on the article in her hands again. She started reading:

“A Promise Kept: Why You Should Know The Story Behind Edenbrook Hospital New Shining Star" 

As some of you probably know, this will be my last article. Before you start getting sentimental about it, I do not regret it: I've spent so many years of my life typing behind a laptop and as much as they will always be an important, essential maybe, part of my life, I'm ready and eager for what comes next. You are going to hear my voice and see my face on your screen, brace yourself, dear readers.

I must confess that I was full of doubts about writing this article because I value ethics and professionalism. But I soon realized that ethics and professionalism are the main topics of this piece I'm writing and well, the very reason why this article should see the light of day.

So, for one last time, let me tell you a story.

More than a decade ago, I was a college student, an ambitious hard-working journalism major struggling over a research project. My professor asked the class to think outside the box and choose an issue we were not familiar with so that we were forced to document, do some real fact-checking and so on just like real reporters do. I spent hours in the library trying to find the perfect issue for a project I wanted to be A+, but nothing came. I was losing all hope when I noticed the notes of the girl sitting in front of me. They were complex anatomy schemes: she was a med student. Frustrated by my current situation, I did what I rarely do: ask for help. So I tapped her shoulder and asked her about controversial issues in the medical sphere she would like to see debated or brought in the spotlight. Just one, it was for a journalism project. The girl took her time to think about it then handed me a piece of paper with her answer:

Less than 19% of surgeons in this country are women and the percentage drops considerably if we consider specific specialties and women of color. It is a truth universally acknowledged yet publicly denied that women are still overlooked for surgical positions: the fair sex is emotional, tends to get to involved in the medical cases, not to mention potentially hysterical and suffering of that dangerous 'lack of refrain' so well known (?) to their male colleagues. They make better nurses than doctors and better GP than surgeons. 

That was a promising start. I thanked the girl and wished her good luck with her upcoming exam. Actually, I saw that girl a few days later: she passed her exam with flying colors and was now standing by my side at a rally. We became friends and one night, the first night of our senior years we made a pinky promise: a solemn silly pinky promise not to give up no matter what obstacles we will have to face later in our careers. A solemn silly pinky promise to be one day the best journalist and best doctor we could ever be. For ourselves and the others out there.

Well, I'm glad and proud to announce that about fifteen years later, that mystery girl has become the youngest Head of Neurosurgeon in the history of Massachusetts. Daughter of an archeology professor and another legend in the surgical field, Eloise Emery, the Haitian born cardio surgeon who successfully performed the first domino heart transplant on pediatric patients at Mount Sinai Hospital, NY, in 1989, Harper Emery is already exceeding any reasonable expectation. Colleagues describe her as 'headstrong, devoted and passionate, a doctor who would go above and beyond for her patients' while prestigious medical magazines crowned her 'the most brilliant neurosurgeon of her generation”.

At first, I thought that I accepted to write this article because I know Harper Emery and I value and respect her dearly both as a friend and a professional. But that is not completely true.

I accepted to write this article because I know Harper Emery and I know that she will always keep her promise. She already did.

Good luck, Dr. Emery!

Author: Ellen Thompson

Aurora swallowed down the lump threatening to form in her throat: that was the aunt she knew and looked up to basically her whole life. An aunt she thought irremediably lost...but maybe she was wrong, after all. As that realization crossed her mind, her phone beeped. It was a message from...Dr. Trihn? It was a selfie of her new flatmates waiting for her at the cafeteria. They had already bought her a cappuccino and a saved her half donut. Oh right, 'roomies breakfast', she had almost forgotten. She cautiously placed the framed article on her aunt's desk and was about to exit the room when she almost bumped into Harper coming back to her office.

"Gotta roll?" she asked.

"Hm yeah. The new roomies want to grab a coffee together at the cafeteria...I suspect, no I'm afraid that is some kind of a 'shining happy people' ritual" Aurora sighed, hanging her head.

Her aunt chuckled at her reaction to a friendly gesture.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as it sounds." she teased then smiled. "Have fun, Rory!"

The Emery girl nodded, even though she wasn't fully convinced, and picked a set of keys out of her pocket.

"Oh here's the keys and...Aunt Harper? You should hang that article to the wall"

Dr. Emery threw her a quizzical look then joked:

"Because it was written by Ellen? It would certainly give me celebrity points to impress the poor souls visit-"

"No, Auntie, you got it all wrong. Hang it to inspire yourself"

Aurora flashed her a quick confident smile and left the room headed to the cafeteria as Harper met once again the fierce joyful gaze of her younger self smiling back at her behind the framed glass.

[meggtheegg]

ooh would love to hear you elaborate on autistic!evan please? :))

Okay yes!So. Basically:Throughout the play, Evan shows many symptoms of autism (specifically Asperger’s.) The level of those symptoms varies by actor but there is evidence in just the script that backs my point up.

First, obviously, there’s his social anxiety. Now, of course, social anxiety can be its own thing, but it often goes hand-in-hand with autism, because people on the spectrum have trouble knowing how to behave in a socially acceptable way and often face criticism and backlash for things they didn’t realize were issues.

Then, there’s another big one: his fixation on trees. He brings them up almost constantly, sometimes at points where there’s no obvious reason to bring them up. He writes himself talking about them, unprompted, in Sincerely Me, with the assumption that looking at cool pictures of trees will help someone feel better. And he probably does this a lot in the fake emails we don’t see, considering that Alana becomes convinced that Connor is obsessed with trees. Jared uses it to make a point to Evan about how much he’s pushed Connor out of the narrative. (”If there’s one thing about Connor, the guy loved trees. No, wait. You love trees.”) This is exactly how a lot of autistic people treat their special interests. Wanting to talk about them all the time, changing the subject to turn an unrelated conversation into one about those special interests, becoming an “expert” on them and assuming that other people will get excited about them, too. 

Now, with those two things out of the way, there’s the slightly more subtextual stuff.Evan is very black-and-white in the way he thinks about things. And he takes a lot at face value. When Jared jokes that he broke his arm by jerking off too much, he reacts as if people will believe that he did, even though it’s obviously a joke. He believes Jared and Alana’s very thin facades, and that leads to him falling out with both of them, because he assumes that Jared won’t care if he cuts him out and that Alana isn’t emotionally invested in the Connor Project. He believes Heidi thinks he’s broken because she put him on meds (which, if he’s misdiagnosed and on the spectrum, probably don’t work anyway, but more on that later) and decides that she sees him as a burden. He thinks she won’t mind that he’s at the Murphys’ house instead of at Jared’s because he’s out either way, so why does it matter where he is? He sees all the bad parts of his mom, but all the good parts of the Murphys, not noticing their better-concealed but pretty major problems. He thinks that because they dote on him and don’t push him to get help that they like him more than his mom does. They show more obvious, outward signs of affection, and that is very clear. No interpretation needed. Heidi is trying her best and definitely loves him, but to an autistic kid, that’s a lot harder to see. 

He misunderstands people’s intentions all the time, like with Alana and Jared, with his assumption that Connor took the note in order to bully him with it, thinking that Zoe was breaking up with him when she came over, etc.

He doesn’t connect the dots with social expectations. He’s taken aback at the idea that he’d be expected to give a speech at the kickoff event for the Connor Project, even though it should be obvious. He doesn’t initially realize that the Murphys are going to want to see him again after that first dinner, and that they’ll want to see the supposed “emails.” (And he fails to notice the pretty gay implications of his story until Jared points it out, after which he goes noticeably far to try to shake that idea off.) And that lack of social awareness leads to him doing things he shouldn’t. He gets pulled into the lie and lets it spiral out of control, unaware of how wrong it is and how he’s making it worse. He brushes Jared and Heidi off and replaces them, then is taken aback when they’re upset about it. He kisses Zoe without realizing how wildly inappropriate it is. 

He tends to talk too much, going off on tangents to try to clarify what he’s saying even if clarification isn’t needed. (”I love jazz. Well, not all jazz, but definitely like, jazz-band-jazz, that’s so weird, I’m sorry.” “Well, sometimes. If he brought it up. I never brought it up. Obviously. Why would I have brought it up?”)

He seems to have sensory issues, too. A lot of his worst decisions are made in a desperate attempt to make the people around him stop yelling. That was what caused him to not tell the truth about the note in the first place. He’s also always very aware of how sweaty his hands are, and he often stops to just touch and feel things to ground himself. A lot of actors have him often messing with his clothes, especially his collar, as if he’s bothered by how it’s brushing against his skin.

He has trouble in social situations where he doesn’t have a general planned idea of what to say. He always starts his description of breaking his arm with “I fell out of a tree, actually…” and clearly has the way he’ll tell the story clearly planned out in his head. His interactions with his mom generally seem kind of wooden and practiced. When forced into situations with the Murphys that he doesn’t have a script for, he gets panicked and escalates things. He has a panic attack when he drops his notecards. He’s also very repetitive and clings onto things he’s used to and comfortable with. He repeats the lie in the same way so many times that Alana gets annoyed with him, saying something like “Yes, I know the story, Evan. We’ve all heard the story. You’re like a broken freaking record about it.” Zoe has to ask him to stop talking about the Connor Project. Also, based on the book, he sticks very closely to a routine. He has the same lunch every single day (and sits in the same spot, I believe.) He describes his letter-writing process in a very step-by-step, planned out, repetitive way. There are probably more examples but I haven’t read the book in a while and I think I’ve made my point.

Also, a lot of this is down to acting choices, but most actors I’ve seen play Evan with a lot of “tics” and fidgeting, ie. stimming, and a tendency to avoid eye contact. Some of them give him issues with volume control. At one point my brother noticed that Michael Lee Brown even went for some subtle echolalia. He also sometimes squeaks a lot or makes other noises and gestures that seem to have no clear purpose.

What really seals the deal for me is the whole medication/feeling broken thing. It was almost definitely not Steven Levenson’s intent but hey, death of the author. I interpret the text, not the intention. A major criticism of the show is that Evan goes off his meds and is totally fine afterwards. That is not a good message to send and seems poorly thought out for a show that seems to have thought of a lot. But, if he was misdiagnosed with an anxiety disorder, depression, etc, medication wouldn’t do what it was supposed to. It obviously wouldn’t make him less autistic, and could actually make him feel worse because they’re supposed to “fix” him and aren’t doing that. Autism isn’t a treatable thing, especially not with pills. Maybe the meds alleviated the anxiety, but his social struggles didn’t go away. And that convinces him that there is something inherently wrong, or broken about him. (”I’d rather pretend I’m something better than these broken parts / Pretend I’m something other than this mess that I am.”) He’s being treated for the wrong disorder, so of course it’s not working. Of course stopping them doesn’t really make a difference. If the causes of his anxiety were lessened, it could be possible that by the time he stopped, they were doing nothing at all for him, anyway.

Writing affirmation letters and taking anxiety medication doesn’t take away sensory issues or difficulty with social cues. It doesn’t stop special interests from being the only thing you want to talk about. It doesn’t stop the desperate desire to fit in and no idea how to. And in Evan’s specific case, it didn’t stop him from being constantly berated by his overly honest only friend over things he didn’t realize were socially unacceptable. It didn’t stop his mom from acting like he wasn’t trying. It didn’t stop the rest of the school from ostracizing him. 

That’s what made him cling onto the Murphys. They made him feel like he wasn’t broken. Zoe treated his struggles and quirks like they were endearing instead of annoying. Larry and Cynthia never acted like he was different and encouraged him to go out of his comfort zone, but not to the point that it felt like they were pushing. They treated him the way they treated anyone else. And that was all he wanted. 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 24

The following morning, I slid Arantxa a mug of coffee as she sat next to me with a groan. “How do I feel even more tired than I did when I went to bed last night?” she grumbled before making a valiant attempt to drown herself in the hot beverage.

I raised my matching mug in a silent toast. “I know, right? I couldn’t sleep for anything.  I have the big sister of the migraine I went to bed with last night, to boot.  I had to ask Miys to get a batch of analgesic patches from medical, which turned out to be a good idea because I am apparently not the only one.  Xiomara looked at me like I single-handedly ended world hunger when I told her.”

She grunted before coming up from her coffee for air and a refill. “We are all under a significant amount of stress.  Everyone seems a little dazed today, even Councillor Hodenson, if that helps.”

“No way,” I murmured in disbelief, looking around.  Sure enough, Grey was standing with their data screen up, but staring off into the distance over it. “I didn’t think anything could get to them.  At least I don’t feel as bad knowing they’re rattled, too,” I shook my head, groaning slightly as the pain in it intensified.

I didn’t even realize I had closed my eyes until they flew open at the sound of something being set in front of me.  “I swear, for someone who likes to cook so much, you sure forget to eat an awful lot,” the familiar voice of Zach Khan trickled in my ear as I stared at a plate of scrambled eggs piled high and topped with salsa and cheese.  “Your sister said your favorite breakfast is huevos rancheros, but this is the best I could do with what they brought in.”

Pushing down the rolling nausea in my stomach, I took a tentative bite.  As much as I knew he was right, migraines always made me sick.  I just reminded myself that dry-heaving was worse than throwing up and forced myself to swallow.  “And everyone calls me a mother hen,” I tried to joke.  “Thanks, Zach.”

“No prob,” he waved off. “I already took something to Derek and Tyche.  She said she thinks she’s coming down with something at the worst possible time, so she asked me bring you something to eat while she tries to cool off in the shower.  I would have grabbed you something, too, but I didn’t know what,” the last part was directed at my friend, who was showing heretofore unknown talent in chugging scalding beverages at this point.

She paused long enough to shake her head. “I don’t eat breakfast, but thank you.  Once I am more awake, I will find something, I promise.”

After throwing a scowl at her for not eating something, I turned back to Zach. “What are you even doing up already?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Plus, someone had to be on hand to set up the headsets for the drone pilots.  They’re pretty bootstrap since our host had nothing like them on hand, but we’ve got them working.  The pilots report some nausea and dizziness from prolonged use, but that’s pretty standard with prolonged VR use, which is essentially what we’ve got them doing.  Pranav was going to ask Derek to take a look at them, but Maverick and I pretty much put the kibosh on that until he’s recovered from yesterday.”

“How’s he doing?” I asked, worried.

“Eh, he ate, so that’s good. I took him as much water as I could carry, and he’s holed up in the farthest corner of one of the sleeping areas, spoiling your cat.  Conor brought up some of his modelling clay, so he’s got that, Mac, and a few ice packs.” A huge wait I wasn’t previously aware of fell off my chest at the information.

Arantxa’s face made a sudden appearance from her fourth – fifth? – cup of coffee. “Conor was here?” she asked excitedly.

As I smothered a grin, Zach shook his head. “Negative. He was on Level Three, where Miys met him to pick up the clay. Security is still super tight until we find out who or what caused the sensor damage.”

My poor, lovesick friend deflated at the news, and I was torn between laughing and crying to see how much she missed our friendly giant.  “We were supposed to have a date, today,” she grumbled.

“Nuh uh!” I cried, echoed by Zach’s “No way!”

She nodded. “We were going to visit BioLab 2, and he was going to teach me to swim.”

“Uh, Rants, you already know how to swim,” I pointed out.

“He doesn’t know that,” she declared imperiously.  “It was the best I could do, since I have absolutely no help.” The last was accompanied by a playful glare.

“Wait wait wait,” Zach held up his hands. “Did Conor know this was supposed to be a date?  Deets! I need deets!”

“Are you going to give me dating advice?” she asked eagerly.

“Who? ME!?” he pointed at himself. “You’ve got to be kidding.  I’m pining over the Ace Ace over there, which is the dumbest thing ever for a bisexual horndog, so I’m the worst person to ask for advice.”

“Are all bisexuals disasters?” she asked skeptically.

“Yes,” Zach and I replied in unison before glancing at each other and laughing.  

I had to stop when the small man in my head found a bigger hammer to pound my skull with. “Ugh, I need to wait until my pain meds kick in before I have the rest of this conversation. Y’all have fun, though,” I waved at them as I stood.

“No, no, nope,” the programmer gently pushed me back in my chair. “Tyche and Derek both insisted you eat all that before I let you out of my sight.  We’ll change the subject, but you have to eat.”

“All of it?” I asked with horror before looking down at my plate. A mountain of eggs stared back at me.

“Four ounces of eggs, one ounce of cheese, an ounce of salsa.  Roughly two hundred calories, Tyche’s orders. And she scares me more than you do – I’m pretty sure she actually could kill me with one eyebrow – so you gotta eat that.”

I grumbled and started forcing down the eggs as Arantxa continued her impressive performance at breathing coffee and Zach filled us in on everything that happened while we were asleep.  I only understood about a quarter of what he said, just enough to understand that we were in orbit around one of Eenie’s moons, and in ten hours would be moving to the next for additional materials.  Also, lunch would apparently be vegetarian. Finally, I finished my eggs (much to Zach’s relief) and was free to hunt down Xiomara and another analgesic patch while I waited for my food to settle and coffee to kick in.

When I found her, in the same place I left her the night before, she didn’t seem to be in any better shape than I was.  She sighed gratefully at the sight of the coffee I brought her – a near repeat of the night before – before taking in the pinched look I knew sat around my eyes and just asking “Stress?”

“Yup,” I confirmed. “But life carries on, I’ll be okay once everything calms down.”

“I know the feeling,” she sighed after a sip of coffee.  “Unfortunately, it’s ‘hurry up and wait’ right now.  All the pilots other than Maverick and Evan are taking turns piloting drones while those two crash until further notice.”

“Short notice,” I observed as I gestured to where Maverick was hovering around the jury-rigged controls to the Ark.

Xiomara groaned. “He has decided the Ark is his ‘baby’ and doesn’t want anyone to even come close to the controls until the sensors are fixed and the Miys take back over.” A brief scowl was shot in his direction before she took another swig of steaming caffeine.  She made a remarkably good impression of Mac’s look of satisfaction as she enjoyed her coffee.

“Have you had a chance to talk to Pranav about the sensors?” I asked, hoping she would understand what I meant.

“Mmm,” she hummed enthusiastically. “Yes, I have.  Two of the pilots on file are currently in genetic surgery bays, about halfway through treatment.  The other ten, we’re looking into alibis.  There’s an incredible amount of metadata collected by the systems, so Pranav is personally going through that.  It’ll take a few days, but we want to be completely clear rather than chasing rabbits.”

“If there’s so much data, how do we not know who destroyed the back up sensors,” I asked quietly, mostly thinking out loud.

“Temporary systemic blackouts from all common areas to the location of the sensors,” she muttered unhappily. “Tracing that is Zach’s next job, and once Mr. Okafor is recovered and has checked the VR rigs, we’re hoping he can take over as primary.”

“Normally, I would be incredibly defensive at the idea of Derek being expected to do so much, but honestly I don’t know how anyone will be able to stop him once he finds out that someone played jiggery-pokery in his playground.  He’ll do it anyway, so I’m glad he’s at least allowed to this time.” When she raised an eyebrow at me in question, I waved her off. “Nothing major. He may have hacked the medical database to make sure the evergreens that Conor Mac Maoilir decided to spread all over the ship for winter holidays wouldn’t mess with people’s allergies? He was grounded from my cat for a week, and I made him fix the security weakness, I swear!” I explained hastily when she gaped in horror.

“You are telling me a seventeen-year-old hacked an alien data system for a medical bay that we have no training for, just to make sure a bunch over oversized shrubs wouldn’t make anyone sneeze!?” She demanded.

“Like I said, he fixed it?” I responded sheepishly.  “To be fair, that’s part of the reason Pranav trusts his skills so much.  Every programmer and network security specialist on this ship, including Noah, can’t figure out how to keep him out of literally anything. Fortunately, he generally does it just to see if he can, or because he’s looking for something very specific. Since he isn’t hurting anyone, and actually usually does it to avoid hurting people, it’s really difficult to convince him not to do it.”

She just shook her head. “Good thing he’s a good kid.  That’s… it would be horrifying if it wasn’t just incredible.”

“Right?” I asked in agreement. “On another topic, how’s Grey holding up?  I saw them just staring into space earlier, which is unusual.”

“Grey is unusual in general,” she shrugged. “People are more your thing than mine.  Why don’t you go check on our fellow Councillor, and I’ll ride herd on the pilots?”

I smirked before I could stop myself. “Coward,” I accused in a teasing tone.

“People shooting at me, piloting in wild new frontiers, I’m good.  People? Not so much,” she shrugged.  “That’s why I’m Safety and Security, and you’re People.”

“Human Resources and Social Engagement,” I scowled.

“Right. People. Go people at Grey, see if they’re okay,” she shooed.  Softer, she tilted her head. “Seriously.  This is pretty much their show right now, so we really need them to be okay.”

I took a deep breath before nodding.  The second painkiller patch had made a significant dent in my migraine, downgrading it all the way to a screaming headache.  I could work with that.  I’d worked with worse.  “If I’m not back in two hours, send Noah.  Or my sister, if she’s feeling better.”

Grey startled as I gently touched their elbow. “Grey.  I’m sorry for touching you – I know you don’t like it – but I’ve called your name ten times. I even tried waving my hands in front of you.  Are you okay?”

They shook their head like they were waking up before pushing their glasses up. “My apologies, Councillor Reid. I have had difficulty focusing today.  My assurances that I will endeavor to correct this.”

“Whoa,” I stood back, alarmed. “Grey. Since when do you call me ‘Councillor’?  And you never have difficulty focusing.  Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am only distracted, I promise. I admit I am distressed by the lack of materials for repairing the sensors.  The drones are bringing in a satisfying amount of elements to replenish what we have used by being on board, but less than a tenth of what we need for the sensors. It is frustrating that we have no data we can use to narrow our search to only locations that would yield what we need.”

“So, what do we need?” I asked, happy to play rubber duck if it would assist my friend.

“Silica, mostly, for the necessary optical fibers. Iron, aluminum, gold or at least silver for plating and wires,” they rubbed their eyes tiredly before replacing their ever-present glasses.

“Okay, that makes sense,” I nodded.  I was mildly concerned that I actually understood the majority of what they were saying. “So what are we not locating?”

“Iron,” Grey replied.  “This particular moon is very iron poor, it turns out.”

“Iron,” I repeated. “Wasn’t Mars iron rich?  That’s why it was red, right?”

“Correct, but atmospheric neon would also cause a planet or moon to be red if the atmosphere was charged.”

“Still, it narrows down the search, so that may help,” I pointed out.  “What else?”

“Aluminum, and before you ask, aluminum does not have a distinct color that is observable from atmosphere,” they glanced at me knowingly. “It is white or grey, and in cases where it is found in the form of bauxite, it is blue or green.  Several minerals and atmospheric gases create the same color.  Additionally, it would take significant concentrations to cause it to be visible from orbit.”

I shrugged.  “Worth a try. So, next question: What can you do, right now, to improve any of this?”

They let out the most defeated sigh I think I ever heard. “Honestly, nothing.  All I am doing is worrying.  I feel there is something that I am missing.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t sound like it to me,” I assured them.  “Have any of your researchers come up with any other ideas?”

“They have not,” Grey conceded.

I smiled. “In that case, ask Miys for something to help you sleep – I know you don’t like medication, but you’re exhausted,” I cut off their rebuttal. “Even the finest computer needs to turn off sometimes.  And you are decidedly not a computer, so you need rest even more.”

They blinked at me owlishly. “Is this what Councillor Kalloe refers to as you being a ‘mother hen’?”

“Bingo,” I winked. “You get used to it, I promise. Now go. Sleep.”

<< Prev  Masterlist  Next >>

[westonthebeston]

Family Reunion \\ Westons

WHO: Juliet and Rory Weston

WHEN: Monday, January 20th, evening.

NOTES: Rory and Juliet haven’t seen each other since he walked out on their family. Juliet wasn’t expecting to see this face on her way back up to the baby she was supposed to be keeping an eye on.

WORD COUNT: 2,043

There were certain hazards that came with working in security. Especially when you had to take someone to the ground and they were high enough to act like a fucking rhino. Rory had been able to do his job - he was great at it, in fact. That's the main reason he was the go-to on big jobs. But there were also some draw backs like having your damn shoulder popped out of its socket. It wouldn't be the first time and before Rory was always one to be able to pop it back in himself but after multiple attempts, he decided not to risk it. A quick visit to the ER would get it popped back into place and he'd be back on his way. Sitting on one of the bed, he checked his phone before giving a quick glance around, not really paying attention to much until he felt the ghost of some one crawl up his back.

No. That was impossible.. Was it..? It had been years since he'd seen his sister, and she looked older now, more grown up, and she was definitely not a patient. She worked here? Something cold curled inside of him and just as one of the doctor's walked up to him, Rory jumped off of the bed. "I'm sorry. I should probably go." The man tried to argue with him about his shoulder but Rory stepped back, about to leave when he knocked over a tray of instruments. "Shit. I'm sorry.. I'm sorry about that.."

Juliet heard the clatter and really hoped it wasn't another junkie getting aggressive with the nurses, though, when she turned around, the man that was staring at her. Rory.

Juliet had tried to keep contact with her brother when he'd taken off, but ... nothing. She knew he went out West, possibly California, and maybe that had influenced her decision to go to Stanford, but she hadn't expected to see him out of the blue, not at work .. Not today when she'd just been given an amazing opportunity. She'd only been walking through the ER to get back to Officer Evans, Alice, and Johnny.

It only took a second to see that Rory was trying to dash for it so she quickly caught up and faced him, even if the idea ... scared her. She hadn't seen him in ... years.

"Ror- Jus- .. What are you doing here? Are you hurt?"

Shit. Rory hadn't been ready for this blast from the past. After he left home, telling his family he was going for a walk and never coming back, he'd started up a whole new life. Somewhere far from anyone who knew what he'd done, and what he'd lost. It was how he'd wanted it. His family would be better off without him.

And he believed it too. But now his little sister was in front of him and he felt.. scared. "Uh. H-hey, uh.. hi. How's it.. going? Hurt? No.. No, i'm just.." He looked at his shoulder and waved his good hand dismissively. "I'm fine. I was actually just heading out," he said, taking another step away from her. She was a doctor now. See? He told himself. Her life was better without him. "It's good to see you though," he turned quickly and stepped outside as fast as he could.

Of course he was trying to escape. Juliet wasn't having that, not again. "Rory!" She shouted after him, hustling outside and grabbing his elbow. "You can't just run away all the time," Juliet told him, hating that there were tears in her eyes. At least they were outside and none of her superiors were around.

When Rory had left Juliet had been beside herself. Her big brother was always there and suddenly he was gone. Losing Cole had been hard enough, but a year later her brother just ... left. Nothing felt like it was going to be okay anymore so she'd done what she could to forget it all and poured herself into school. First high school, then college courses for extra credit. She got into every school to applied to, but, she chose Stanford. Her work didn't stop there though, she graduated at the top of her class and had her pick of hospitals. She stayed in California, probably subconsciously hoping to find him but ... now he was here and she didn't know how to make him stay.

Rory had always known that he'd fucked up back then and it was impossible not to think about it. He still had a scar down his arm from where the broken glass from the window had torn into his skin. Every morning he got dressed, he saw it and he thought about what happened. He hadn't expected to see Juliet and it would be better for her if that didn't last long.

But he should have known she would follow him. "Jules, it's--ow, fuck." He stopped where he was when she grabbed his elbow, making a grunting sound as he grabbed his dislocated arm. Okay so he couldn't exactly hide that little fact now. "I was just getting my arm.. popped back in or whatever. I didn't know you were here," he said in an apologetic voice.

Juliet sighed when he told her his arm was dislocated. Why was she not surprised. It was probably a fight, but judging by his lack of bloodied up face, he'd won.

"Come inside, Rory. I'll help you with your arm." All she wanted was for Rory to stay but ... maybe pushing it was the wrong thing to do. "You can escape after that ... okay?"

He stood in place for a minute, thinking about his options. He could have left. He could walk away. It wasn't far to another hospital, just a couple miles, and he could go there. But before he'd even made a decision on whether he was staying or going, Rory was following her inside. He kept his head down as he walked back to the bed and sat on the edge. He should have just stayed quiet but the curiosity was too loud. "How long have you been here?" They'd occupied the same city and hadn't even known.

"Eight years," Juliet answered without even a thought. When Juliet got into her "Doctor Zone" her friends had called it, she quieted. She gently took his arm, warning him that it would hurt, and efficiently popped his shoulder back in.

"Go easy on it," Juliet warned him, as she scribbled a prescription for some low dose painkillers. "And you can take these as you need. A little stronger than Advil but nothing special."

Did she want to beg him for information? Yes. But Juliet knew her brother and he was stubborn and he obviously didn't want to be here so who was she to force it?

"You've been here for eight--" There was a little warning enough but then a grunt of paint as he felt his shoulder go back into its socket. He turned his head to the side, rode out the feeling and then flexed his fingers to work through the pins and needles he felt.

Waving off the prescription, Rory jumped up to his feet. "I don't need that. Even the low dose stuff makes me groggy and I have to be on it for my job." He should have just thanked her and walked away like he'd been trying to earlier but now he felt like he wanted to stay. That was a dangerous feeling. "So.. eight years, really?"

He didn't leave.

Juliet had been bracing herself for a quick escape but .. he stayed just standing there. She wanted to smile but was scared if she did, he'd vanish into thin air, like it felt he did before. So instead, she nodded. "Moved here after graduation. Stanford for undergrad and med school. I just started interning here in September, for surgery."

All this time, he thought. A part of him wanted to pull her in his arms and hug her. He'd missed her, missed his family, missed a lot of things.. but guilt was real. "Wow," he said under his breath. "That's.." He nodded a few times, lowering his gaze to the ground. It felt like he couldn't even look at her. Like if he did, he'd see her recognizing someone who killed their cousin. He saw enough of that in his mirror every day and he'd avoided seeing it come from her. "That's really cool, Jules. Good for you."

He couldn't even look her in the eye, that stung. All Juliet wanted to do was ... make the last few years disappear. She wanted to be at home, watching him "go for a walk", and just ... follow him. Make it so he couldn't leave again. "Thanks, Rory..."

Juliet took a step back, making sure he knew he could leave if he wanted to. But, as she did she pulled her phone out and opened up the contacts app. "Add yourself? Please?" She asked, trying to look into his eyes.

Rory told himself to apologize and make a quick escape. They hadn't seen each other once in those eight years so they could continue to go back to that. He'd just make sure that he didn't bring himself back to this hospital if he needed it.

But he looked up and caught the look in her eyes, something that was so brightly pleading. He'd seen that look so many times growing up, when his little sister wanted something and she'd figured out how to get him to give it to her. He let out a breath and nodded once before tentatively taking the phone and typing his number.

Then as he handed it back, he lowered his attention back to the ground, holding his arm against his side. "Thanks for.. you know.." he motioned to his arm. "I um, I'm really glad that you're.. you know.. doing well." God, he hated himself in that moment.

Juliet pocketed the phone immediately, not even wanting to check if the number looked fake, she'd have to have a little faith right now, faith he was still the brother she knew and loved. Maybe things had changed after the accident, but she still loved her big brother, always would.

"It's my job," she chuckled, looking at his shoulder. "And, uh, just doing what I can, y'know." I miss you. She couldn't finish her sentence though, she couldn't have him shoot her down, not after finding him again, even if it was an accident.

I miss you. Rory nodded at her comment, "Yeah. Right. I think we just, you know, kind of do the best we can. I guess." What the hell was he saying? If he was going to go, he needed to go so he took a step towards the door. "I uh, gave the front desk lady my insurance information so I'll--" Shaking his head at himself, he sighed, "Sorry. You don't.. care about insurance information. I'm.. I'll.. right.." It was so good seeing you. "I'll... bye." Rory gave a quick nod of his head and then turned, heading out the door and forcing himself not to look back or run back the way he wanted to.

He didn't even hug her goodbye. She watched him go hoping he'd just ... turn around but...

Tears stung her eyes and Juliet knew she needed out of that ER now. She needed to be gone before she ran into Nichol or any of her other higher ups. She needed to stay away from Icaro, she didn't need the Chief seeing her weak like this. The door to the nearest on call room was locked, but, there was an open supply closet across the hall and that was good enough for now.

Closing the door behind her she broke down, sliding down the door onto the ground. She hadn't cried like this in years. It wasn't fair that he could just .. waltz out the door like she was just his doctor.

Eventually she calmed down, figuring it'd only been ten minutes or so. Checking her phone almost an hour and a half had passed since she'd left the ER. Shit, shit, shit, shit. She knew she needed to get back to Johnny or she was dead.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

i'm here with your request to write blush. do as you please. give those boys some sadness.

well it’s not really that sad but have some Cute Gay Shit

________

ship: blush

genre: mild hurt comfort

warnings: blood, but not a lot, cuts, Post fight, mention of a knife

word count: short 

editing: no

________

Mush was studying for chemistry when he heard a knock on his door. Thinking it was his roommate Finch who had forgotten his keys again, he jumped up to answer.

“Finch, I know you spend almost all of your time at Buttons’s place, but that doesn’t mean you can just forget your-” he swung open the door to reveal not Finch, but the cute guy who lived across the hall. “You’re not Finch.”

“No, I’m not,” the cute guy said. “You're in pre-med right?”

“Um, yeah.” Mush was quite confused. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…” the guy tried off, lifting his head to reveal a multitude of bruises and a long cut from his temple to his jaw line. “I was wondering if you could maybe help me? I think I need stitches and I can’t afford to go to the ER right now….”

Mush’s eyes winded. “Yeah yeah,” he stammered. “Come in. I’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

“Thank you,” cute boy sighed. “I’m Blink, by the way.”

“Mush,” Mush said, leading blink into his bathroom and pulling out his first aid kit. He dabbed at the cut with rubbing alcohol.

“How did you even get this?” He asked.

“Someone brought a knife to a fist fight,” Blink explained. “I’m just lucky they didn’t hit my good eye.”

“Your what now?” Mush looked up from numbing the cut with crushed ice.

“I’m blind in my left eye,” Blink said nonchalantly. “If that idiot had gotten my right eye I would have been toast.”

“Oh.” Mush paused his work to glance at Blink’s eyes. Sure enough, the left one was slightly milky and discolored.

“I’m going to stitch you up now,” Mush said. “It won’t take too long but it’ll hurt like a bitch so you can squeeze my leg if you need to.”

“Okay,” Blink nodded as Mush picked up the needle. He tried to go as fast as possible, mumbling apologies every time Blink yelped or squeezed his leg tighter. Despite the circumstances, Mush couldn’t help but enjoy Blink’s squeezes, even if he was going to have a bruise tomorrow.

Finally he finished and applied a tight gauze bandage. “Okay, you’re good. But-” he paused, trying how to work out how to phrase this, “I think it would be best if you stayed here tonight, just so I can make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

Blink rolled his eyes, but didn’t complain. “Yeah okay. For medical purposes only.”

________

ah yes that’s what happens when you decide to write when you should be sleeping

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

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[blitheringmcgonagall]

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin Additional Tags: wolfstar, jily, Marauders Medical AU, jily fic - Freeform, wolfstar fic, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Minor Character Deaths, Angst, Fluff, jily au, Wolfstar AU, Snape is a pervert, fenrir is a psychopath, referenced violent relationship, cursing  Ended up posting two chapters cause one was too long!! Hope you enjoy...

James Potter was arrested for possession of drugs with intention to supply. What happens next?

t

                      Don’t Know How Much I Can Take

Morning before the arrest…

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a long time. Why did you ignore me afterwards, the time we kissed at the Med Ball? I was so confused,” said Sirius.

He was lying in bed beside Remus, warm and exhausted and happy.

“oh, that,” said Remus, grimacing and falling back onto his pillow.

Remus sighed and glanced at his boyfriend. Sirius looked dishevelled, if not debauched, yet languidly relaxed. Unbelievably attractive.

“I don’t think even you realise just how gorgeous you are! I was mad about you. I guessed you were flirting with me for months, but I was too frightened after the whole…”

“Car thingy,” supplied Sirius immediately; he didn’t like seeing Remus’ face whenever he mentioned that traumatic episode.

“Yeah, car thingy,” smiled Remus, kissing Sirius’ hand lightly.

“And?” said Sirius eagerly.

“And then I couldn’t take my eyes off you that night, I didn’t think. Just acted,” shrugged Remus.

“You were beautiful, I still remember you in the starlight. Fucking beautiful,” said Sirius reverently.

Remus rolled his eyes. He was dreadful at accepting compliments.

“Avery had been threatening me for a few months at that stage, had somehow found out I was gay. I was anxious after kissing you in case he made good on his threats. When I went back to sit in my car to clear my head. Avery cornered me and told me if I didn’t leave you alone, he’d tell your parents and get you disowned. Or worse,” said Remus. “I wasn’t sure what to do. Then I overheard you talking to Snape and Rosier, denying you were gay. I thought maybe I didn’t mean anything to you.”

He looked at Sirius again.

“Fuck Avery!” said Sirius. “Shit! I feel so bad that you heard what I said to those two bastards! I panicked, I was terrified they’d tell my parents. I was scared of them, my parents, not those two idiots!”

“It’s alright, Sirius, I understand,” said Remus, placing his hand over Sirius’.

“I told them though, that morning, told them the truth,” said Sirius, his eyes filled with anger and hurt. “That was the last time I spoke to them, or saw them. They kicked me out. Disowned me.”

“They did what?” said Remus, horrified.

“I’m glad I told them, Remus,” said Sirius, holding on to his boyfriend’s hand. “It was eating me up inside. It was all a lie. I couldn’t have stayed there any longer. They are horrible people, Remus. Racists and bigots and homophobic and…”

He tried not to think about Reg, about what must have happened to him. But sometimes he couldn’t help himself.

“I didn’t know,” said Remus, his voice wavered. “I did it to protect you. All that time… I didn’t know. And then you disappeared, stopped attending college. I didn’t know the full story.”

“We can’t change the past,” said Sirius, sinking back onto the bed. “You’re here now. You make me so happy.”

“I know,” Remus’ lips twitched upwards.

“Is it too early to tell you I’m in love with you?” asked Sirius, staring up into Remus’ eyes.

“Probably,” said Remus smiling.

Sirius saw the look of amusement and joy on his boyfriend’s face, sheer joy, and marvelled at the change in him. He knew that was also due to therapy, over the last few months. Still…

“A short run of mad, passionate lovemaking with Dr. Sirius Black and you’re a new man!” he said playfully, running his index finger over Remus’ lower lip.

“It probably is too early, but I’ll say it anyway – I’m madly in love with you, Sirius,” said Remus, running his hands through Sirius’ straight, silky hair.

Sirius blinked twice.

“Managed to shut you up, for once, have I?” Remus said, with a gleam in his eyes.

Sirius’ grey eyes continued looking at him with confusion.

“Come here!” said Sirius, recovering from shock and pulling Remus down on top of him to kiss him hungrily.

“I love you, Remus Lupin!” Sirius whispered urgently, covering his boyfriend’s face, neck and chest with kisses.

“We’re supposed to be getting ready for work,” groaned Remus, doing nothing to stop Sirius’ ministrations.

“You can’t say things like that and expect to get away scot-free!” said Sirius, winking at Remus seductively. “Remember – mad, passionate love-making? You and me? In love?”

“I remember, we’ve literally just done that this morning,” muttered Remus, finding Sirius’ lips again.

“So? Nothing stopping us doing it again, is there?” said Sirius.

“Yes, I have to… oh screw that!” said Remus, losing control.

“I’m irresistible, say it!” said Sirius, arching into him.

“You’re irresponsible,” said Remus.

“Same difference,” said Sirius breathlessly.

……………………………

“Come on, Lily, stop being a lazy git and get out of bed!” Lily muttered to herself crossly.

She sat on the edge of her bed and groaned, as another wave of nausea hit her.

“Ugh!” she said, lying back down again immediately. “What is wrong with me!”

She was beginning to think that maybe her self-diagnosis of Winter Vomiting Bug was wrong. It should have cleared up by now. She thought last night she was better. Now she wasn’t sure if she could get up and drive into work without vomiting.

Leaning back into her pillow, looking at the sunlight streaming into the tiny cottage, she smiled absentmindedly, thinking about James, and their conversation in her house the previous night.

“I’ve been offered a job in the States, it’s a research post, in Boston,” she had said, biting her lip.

“I know,” said James smiling at her proudly. “I’m not surprised, you’re incredible! You deserve it.”

“Yeah, but…” she hesitated.

“Are you worried how it might affect us?” he asked, stroking her hair softly.

“Yeah,” she said, turning her head to look him in the eye. “I don’t want to ruin this… us…”

“I’ll wait for you,” he said soothingly. “I’m not letting you get away from me that easily, not after waiting so long! If that’s what you want?”

“Of course it’s what I want!” said Lily, staring into his warm, hazel eyes. “I’m wondering if I should go or not?”

“Don’t be daft,” he admonished, kissing the top of her head. “You’ve worked so hard for this. You shouldn’t sacrifice your career because of me! I could try to sit the USMLE exams and see if I could take a year or two off the scheme and move over with you.”

She sat up and turned towards him.

“James, that’s too much, trying to sit those awful American exams! You’re meant to be sitting the Membership exams as well. You just won’t have time for all that!” she said, brushing her fingertips over his chest.

“You forget that I’m frighteningly intelligent!” he grinned at her.

“I don’t forget!” she rolled her eyes fondly. “I’ll never forget Tom Suffolk reading out our exam results in Fourth Year and stopping with utter disbelief when you came second. Despite doing practically nothing all year!”

“I may have exaggerated the extent of my slacking!” he laughed good humouredly. “Trying to make myself look cool in front of a certain red-head I was desperately trying to impress!”

“What an eejit!” she said, leaning over and planting kisses on his chest and shoulders.

He winked at her.

“I’m very serious! I’m going to sit those damned exams and see what happens. If I pass them, excellent. If not, I’ll just have to save up and come over to annoy you as often as I can,” he said in a low voice.

In the back of his mind he was trying to reconcile his monthly earnings and the cost of travelling to the U.S.

“Hell yes!” she said, her large green eyes filled with longing. “I won’t be able to stand it if I can’t see you regularly. I don’t think I could stick it out. And I can’t have some beautiful Irish woman steal you away from me!”

She moved up and pressed her lips to his.

“This is the only Irish woman for me,” he said, kissing her back. “The only woman.”

“James Potter, stop saying things like that!” she said, feeling her heart rate pick up. “You’re driving me wild.”

“Make me stop,” he challenged.

She stared at the man underneath her.

“You’re unreal!” she laughed breathlessly.

“That’s how it’s always been with us, very competitive,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

He was perfect. In every way.

“Just watch me,” she said.

Sunday, Forty-eight hours after the arrest of Dr. James Potter…

“Dr. Potter, I think its only fair to point out that it’s not looking good, you know.”

James looked at the grey-haired woman in front of him and snorted.

“Really? I thought I was in with a reasonable chance,” he said dryly.

“Well, stwictly speaking, no,” the tight-lipped solicitor replied cautiously, her pronunciation difficulties accentuated by her anxiety. “I’m afwaid that the evidence against you is wather overwhelming-“

“I’m joking, Pince,” said James, giving a short humourless laugh. “I know what it looks like.”

Irma Pince cleared her throat and looked up over her reading glasses.

“I should pwobably point out that it would be pwudent to consider entewing a guilty plea. You’ll still get the mandatowy sentence but if you offer to coopewate with the Gardai, pwovide information on the cwiminal gang involved and-“

“Pince, there’s zero chance of me entering a guilty plea so you can scrap that idea immediately, alright?” said James, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

Keep reading:

Chapter 9: Don't Know How Much I Can Take

[thejilyship]

Wishing you all a good evening

AN: Part 1 of who knows how many. I’m guessing that it will have four or five parts, but also, those are famous last words because I’m terrible at making things short. I’ve accomplished it once, but only once. We’ll see. 

WC: 6.3K

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | ff.net

UCL News didn’t have any particular ring to it. It didn’t garner a lot of attention and actually seemed to have the ability to make signs, newspapers or t-shirts invisible.

Lily Evans had been working in the UCL news department since she was a freshman, and three years later, she was one of the lead anchors on the cable access news program that ran from six to seven three evenings a week. She had first joined because her friend Mary had decided at the time that she really wanted to be a news anchor. But then Mary decided that maybe she wanted to be a zoologist and got a job at the local zoo, and Lily had already made friends and decided to stay. Working for the show awarded her credits. And she got paid. It was less than minimum wage, but still something.

When she’d first started school she hadn’t a clue what it was that she wanted to do. She was just sticking her toes in the water and peeking around and trying a little of everything. Now that she was a junior, she had long since declared a major. Digital Media seemed to be the smart choice given her utter fascination with the production of the show.

Over the last three years, she’d found that she very much enjoyed being in front of and behind the camera. She liked directing the cuts, she liked piecing together the stories and the clips that they added when they did more in-depth stories, she liked working on the writing, the editing; all of it really. And working for the station was a very low risk way to get experience. She heard from one of the professors who worked in the department that there were only about twelve people who regularly watched their news program. And Lily could guess which twelve professors remembered to tune in every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

“And that’s been the news,” Her co-host said with a brilliantly dazzling smile.

“We do have one more announcement to make however,” Lily said with a practiced lilt to her voice. Mary made fun of what she called Lily’s ‘television voice.’ But Lily knew that everyone who had ever been put in front of a camera screen in this news room had a different way of talking than when they were off screen.

“Yes, this is actually going to be my last broadcast,” His name was Michael and Lily had never really liked him, though she could appreciate that he had a certain presence about him. And that’s why he’d been picked up by a public news station that reached more than twelve people. “Starting Monday morning, you can find me working as a junior anchor over at Good Morning London.” She could hear how proud of himself he was, and she tried to remember that people were allowed to be proud of themselves, that he should be proud. He hadn’t even graduated yet and he was a junior anchor on a highly rated show.

“We’ll miss you around here, Michael.”

“Of course you will,” He said, which wasn’t what they had scripted, but Lily kept smiling. “I’m the best thing about this show.” Lily’s brows shot up a bit and then Michael laughed. “Only joking, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Thank you,” She said a bit more tersely. “Wishing you all a good evening, I’m Lily Evans.”

“And I’m Michael Diggory.” And then the red light went off and Lily pushed herself away from the desk.

“There was no need to be a dick, Diggory.”

“What does it matter, only twelve people saw it.” He rolled his eyes and started walking away. Lily wasn’t the only one that knew their show didn’t have a wide audience of course. It was a running joke among most of the members of the crew. But even if there were less than twenty people (out of the thirty thousand that to school at UCL) Lily still wanted to make sure that it went over perfectly. Or as close to perfectly as she could get it.

She pulled her hair up into a loose plait and started towards her ‘dressing room’ of sorts. It was actually just a closest that had all the jackets and blazers that the people who were going on air wore, but when she’d become an anchor and started staying later most nights to work on different pieces for the show, the space had just sort of become hers. Not officially of course, but Michael had always found it annoying that she had a designated space and he didn’t. He picked his backpack up off the couch that was behind the camera and left without saying much to anyone.

Lily sat down at her desk and pulled out a notebook, making a few notes that she could remember from the show, and then headed towards the breakroom to get a coffee before she sat down with Marlene McKinnon and Emmett Dackery to re-watch the show. It was Friday, and most people were going out, but that’s what Saturdays were for in her mind. Friday nights were spent working on and perfecting their show.

“It was a great run,” Marlene said, pulling her glasses down from her almost insanely bushy hair and pushing them up the bridge of her nose. “Apart from Michael being terrible that is.”

“I could probably catch up with him before he reaches his car and give his new viewers something to look at for Monday.” Emmett offered, though it was all in jest. Emmett was well over six feet tall, with a very large stature, but the only time he ever hurt anyone was when he was playing rugby.

“Oh please do it,” Marlene sighed, “I can’t stand him and his pompous attitude. He drives me nuts.”

“He’s a ponce.” Lily agreed, albite with a bit more vulgarity. “But he’s gone now.”

“He is gone now. Which means that we’re going to have to go through our last round of auditions on Sunday.”

“You couldn’t allow me a moment of reprieve?” Lily asked, sighing as she thought about the audition process to come.

“There is no reprieve when we only have one anchor.” Marlene pointed out.

“He was supposed to be here next week.” Lily muttered, pushing open a door at the end of the corridor that they’d been walking down and taking a seat in front of the computer. Their station wasn’t all that well funded, but they made due with what they had rather splendidly. Two cameras, one new computer, three older ones, a greenscreen (that had once been a world map, but Lily and Marlene had painted over it) and a few other odds and ends.

“I know, but now this was his last show and we’re going to have to find his replacement sooner.” Marlene ran a hand through her hair and then pulled up a wheelie chair next to Lily. Emmett did the same and the three of them proceeded to watch through their show, make notes of ways to improve and talk about their potential new anchor for their Monday show.

“You could just do it on your own until we find someone who fits.” Emmett suggested.

Lily shook her head, “I don’t think Professor Flitwick would like that. The point of the show is to give people an opportunity to try and if we waited for perfection he might intervene.” Normally their professor who was in charge of the students who ran the station was a hands-off kind of guy and Lily liked it that way. “Though you know, you could always be my co-anchor.” She grinned, leaning closer to him and giving him her best ‘oh-please-would-you’ smile.

Emmett shook his head and laughed. “You know that I can only be here during Friday and Monday’s shows. You need someone who can be here for all three shows.” Lily sighed and looked over at Marlene, though she’d be beating a dead horse if she asked again.

“Don’t look at me.” Marlene said in leu of answering the unasked question and Lily sighed.

“Alright, so you two are useless and I have no co-host.”

“There are people coming in on Sunday.”

“I know I know, but that’s the day before the first show we do in a post-Michael world.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling out her ponytail, only to put it back up again.  “And I’d like a bit more time to prepare-“ Just then there was a loud cheering that came from the main room down the hall.

“You think they put on the football game?” Marlene asked Emmett, since Lily had no interest in any of the school sports. Though she could be caught at a Rugby game supporting Emmett.

“They usually do.” He nodded, leaning back in his chair to try and hear what was going on.

“Five more minutes of footage and then I’ll release you.” Lily assured him with a smile.

“Five more minutes. You can have ten if you’d like.” He smirked, and Lily shook her head.

“Just five will do,” She jotted down another note, her page now entirely full of things to go over on their Sunday meeting. “I really am dreading Sunday.”

“I know,” Marlene said. “But I’ll bring you one of those donuts you like from that café by the river-“

“And I’ll be here.” Emmett winked, causing both girls to chuckled. He was a nice bloke, always flirting and causing a laugh.

“Well with donuts and Emmett, I should be able to get through anything.” Lily nodded, ex-ing out of the program now that they’d finished watching everything except Michael being a dick. Lily didn’t need to see that again.

“POTTER! POTTER! POTTER!” Came a cheer from down the hall and Emmett jumped to his feet.

“I love you both, but I have to go and see what’s happening.” He raced off and Lily and Marlene waved him off.

“You know, I think we should revamp the website.” Lily mused, adding another note to her paper.

“You suggest doing that at least once a month.”

“Well I don’t much like it.” She shrugged. “We’ll get it there though.” She grinned. “Do you have plans for tonight?” Marlene nodded.

“I do actually. Benjy and Bertram invited me to go to this ‘Art in the Dark’ thing over in Hyde Park. Apparently, everyone’s going to get high and draw with chalk all over the pavement.” She shrugged.

Lily laughed and nodded, “Sounds like something Mary would be into.”

“How is she anyway, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“She’s good,” Lily shrugged. “Busy. She’s pre-med now. I think this one will stick.”

“Oh.” Marlene put a hand over her heart. “Our little flower child is growing up.”

“You’re the flower child, Mary is more the wild child.”

“And what does that make you?” Marlene asked, standing up and reaching for her bag that she’d ditched in the corner of the room before the show started.

Lily pursed her lips and shrugged one of her shoulders. “I am and always have been the mum friend.” She said. “Don’t forget to drink water after you get drunk tonight and text me when you get home.”

Marlene chuckled and leaned over to kiss Lily’s cheek. “Will do love. You’re not just going home are you? Because you can come with me if you want.”

“Oh no, I have plans.”

“Library plans?” She asked, raising a brow.

“No, actual plans.” Lily said, though she remained vague since she didn’t actually have plans. Marlene accepted that Lily was not going to tell her whatever her plans are and left with a smile and promised to see her on Sunday. Lily took her time packing up, making sure that everything is in its proper place or turned off before locking up the ‘production room’ and heading back to the main stage. They used an old projector to watch the game on the wall where the green screen normally was. Every Friday they watched the games, and every Friday, Lily left before they were over.

She used to like football. It had been something she’d played as a kid and in secondary school and she’d gone to too many games to count with her dad. But then he died, and she lost interest.

She waved to a few people on her way out and then started towards the train station. She didn’t have a car, and didn’t care to have one. She didn’t think there was much use of a car while living in London. Especially as a student, when the furthest place she would have to go on a daily basis was normally within walking distance of her flat.

She felt her phone buzz in her pocket as she reached the train station. She pulled it out and saw that she had four texts from Mary.

Mary: Don’t hate me.

Mary: Our fish is dead.

Mary: Also, we’re out of milk.

Mary: Also, I invited a few people over to watch the game.

There was about an hour in between the last three. Lily was a notoriously terrible texter. She couldn’t even blame it on the fact that she’d just been doing a show, because she could have been doing anything and the thought to check her phone just wouldn’t have dawned on her. Her phone was mainly used to call her mum and to make sure her drunk friends made it home alright.

Lily re-read Mary’s texts as she sat down on the train and narrowed her brow.

Lily: We don’t have a fish??

Lily: Also you’re lactose intolerant??

Mary: Okay well I found a dead fish in our flat. And my girlfriend is not and drank it all because she’s a twat

Lily: Well that raises some questions. And You really do know how to pick ‘em

Mary: Are you sure we didn’t have a fish? And you can’t be mean. At least I’m trying.

Lily: Positive. Ask your girlfriend about it.

Lily: I can be mean. It’s what I do best.

She put her phone back in her pocket and looked around the train. There weren’t many people on. Lily figured they had all already made it to where they wanted to go by now. All the students were at the game, or at a pub watching the game, or at someone’s flat watching the game. Or if you were friends with Marlene, you were getting high in a park to do chalk art. Lily hoped that Mary had invited some people that Lily knew.

oOoOoOo

Lily found herself crammed onto her sofa between Emmeline Vance (Mary’s twat girlfriend who actually wasn’t a twat, but a very nice girl who Lily actually liked quite a bit) and Dorcas Meadows. Hestia Jones was there, and Gwenog as well.  Lily was glad that Mary hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she’d invited a ‘few’ people over. She’d said that before and Lily had walked into a full-blown party. And they didn’t have room for that. But this was nice. She liked these girls.

“Jesus that boy is fit.” Hestia rested her chin on her palm and sighed longingly.

“Are you staring at Potter’s arse again?” Gwen asked, giving her cousin a look. “Because we’re going to see him tomorrow and I’ll tell him that you’re at it again.”

“Oh, come off it. You know he’s fit.” Hestia and Gwen both played football for the girl’s league. Apparently on Saturdays the boys and girls practiced together.

“Okay I won’t tell James, I’ll tell your boyfriend.” Gwen threatened.

Hestia sat up straight and leaned over to push Gwen off the couch. The older girl fell onto the floor and Lily laughed into her drink. “My boyfriend knows that James is fit. Everyone in the bloody school knows he’s fit.” She said indignantly, pushing herself to her feet.

“He’s not that fit.” Lily shrugged, and suddenly all eyes were on her. She sighed and pushed her way off the couch. “Okay he’s fit but he’s not as fit as everyone makes him out to be. Like there are bloke who are better looking. But everyone just ogles him, and it doesn’t make sense.”

“Being good at football makes you better looking than you already are,” Emmeline said, as though that explained it all.

“I understand that some of you feel that way, but I think being a nice bloke, not having your head up your arse and being able to hold an actual conversation about something other than football makes you more attractive.”

“You had one conversation with the boy two years ago.” Mary sighed, “You have to stop bringing it up.”

“He was sloshed.” Dorcas chimed in.

“And none of you are friends with him- with the exception of Gwen,” She said before the girl could protest. “So you can’t tell me that he’s not as conceited as his twitter feed would lead one to believe.”

Emmeline shrugged, “I always read his tweets as though he’s trying to be funny. When he writes, ‘Who’s the greatest center forward of all time?’ he’s just being cute. Not conceited.”

Lily pursed her lips and shook her head. “He tweeted out yesterday ‘Aren’t you all so lucky to have me?’ How did that not make you throw up a little in your mouth?”

“Okay that’s not really cute,” Emmeline laughed, “But we are lucky to have him.”

“All I’m saying is that a little humility would go a long way.”

They couldn’t really argue with that, but Mary did anyway. “You’re just pissed because Michael was a little bitch on air today.”

“You saw that?” Lily sighed, forgetting about James and all ready to go off about Michael, which they let her, until the commercials ended, and the game came back on. Mary motioned her over to the kitchen and leaned up against the counter.

“You alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’m just going to be stressed out this weekend. I should be completely fine or infinitely worse come Monday night.” She grinned and Mary reached out and pinched her cheek.

“You really like, Em?” She asked, looking over at the couch and biting on the tip of her thumb, a nervous habit of hers. “Because what you said over text-“

“Mary, I was just giving you a hard time.” Lily interrupted. “She’s great. Even if she drank all the milk. It’s probably for the best since I never finish a carton and we end up with spoiled milk.” She smiled. “She’s a nice girl and she seems to like you.”

“She does seem to like me,” Mary smirked. “And I think I really like her too.”

“Good.” Lily laughed. “Now did you really find a dead fish in our flat?”

oOoOoOo

They went out after the game, which Lily had been expecting. They all got ready- Lily lent some clothes to a couple of the girls and Mary did almost everyone’s makeup after insisting that she knew what she was doing since she’d been watching nothing but makeup tutorials on YouTube for the past week.

“I’m thinking of making my own channel.” She said, though she’d already had three beers by this point, and as a rather small girl, three beers was enough for her to properly buzzed and boarding tipsy, so no one took her seriously, but since they were buzzed as well, they were enthusiastic about the idea.

When they finally made it to a pub, Lily was surprised to see that it was packed. This was their usual place, and while it could get busy, this was a bit much. Even for a Friday night. After the game, everyone usually went to a pub closer to campus. This pub was out by their flat, and yet it was packed with college age kids, and many of them looked as though they were coming from the game, wearing face paint or jerseys.

They got some drinks, miraculously found a table and then headed out to the dancefloor. Mary and Em were the first to disappear and then Hestia’s boyfriend materialized. Gwen found someone to dance with and then Dorcas excused herself to use the restroom. Lily stumbled back to her table, feeling almost relaxed now that she’d have quite a bit to drink. Her mind always seemed to be buzzing and it was rather hard to get it to quite down, but a night out helped.

“Is this seat taken?” She looked over, already rolling her eyes at the tired line.

“Yes, all the seats around this table that have jackets and purses on them are in fact, taken. Shocking, isn’t it.” She asked, raising her brow. But then she looked at the bloke who had spoken and her brows shot up even further.

“Coats and purses are inanimate. I don’t think they’ll be bothered if I get off my feet for a few. After all, I have been pretty busy all night.” James Potter smirked at her as he took Mary’s empty seat. He had a beer in his hand, his hair was all mused from the events of the night and he wore a smile that made it seem as though he and Lily were friends. Which they weren’t. Lily was more than a little surprised to see him sitting there. She’d had a few classes with him over the years and knew that he had a way of making himself at home wherever he was, but they hadn’t spoken to one another in two years. And even then it had only been one conversation- and a short one. That had gone very poorly.

“They won’t mind, but I might.” She said, shifting in her seat.

“But you might not,” He said, still smiling at her. He reached up and pulled at the collar of his shirt, the fabric sticking, parts of it grass stained.

“You didn’t think to shower before coming out?” She asked, most likely because she was on her third drink of the night and it was clear that he hadn’t decided to take a shower between winning the football game and coming out with his mates. Or alone. She didn’t see anyone that seemed to be waiting for him to come back. Though at least his presence at the pub explained why there were so many people there. He must have told a bunch of people were he was headed after the game.

“I thought about it, but then decided that it’d be a waste of water. No one has ever left a pub thinking that they didn’t need to shower. Then there’s the fact that I look rather sharp in my uniform.” He grinned, leaning a bit closer and Lily could smell the alcohol on his breath mixed with the smell of sweat. It was a common smell for someone in a pub to have, but she still leaned back. “Beside, people like to get pictures of me in my jersey.”

She narrowed. “Alright, so then why did you decide to sit down here?” She asked. They were surrounded by people who would love to be graced with his presence, but Lily was not among them.

He met her gaze and held it for a moment before turning his head and looking around the bar. “You really don’t like me, do you? You know, I think you might just be the only person on campus.” Lily snorted. “Alright, not the only person. But one of the only girls.” He said, looking back at her again.

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” Lily said, because she didn’t dislike him, she didn’t really know him. She knew that she couldn’t judge a person on one drunk conversation that was held years ago. And while he was a bit arrogant online… well, a lot of people acted one way online and a different way in real life. “I just don’t think that being able to kick a ball around a field should award you special privileges. I’m not going to act like we’re friends just because I’ve heard your name a million times. I’m treating you as though you were any other annoying bloke who decided that they can sit on my friends’ coats for the sake of chatting me up.”

“Oh, so that’s it, is it. You can’t play football.” He smirked, nudging his elbow against hers and completely ignoring the latter half of what she’d said.

Lily pulled her arm off the table and shook her head. “I can play fairly well actually, that has nothing to do with anything.” She sighed. He narrowed his eyes at her and then took another swig of his beer.

“Saying you play fairly well to someone who plays-“

“At a collegiate level. Which most people do. My dad played football in college.”

“Saying you play fairly well to someone who plays as well as I do,” He repeated himself, adding emphasis where he deemed appropriate. “Is often taken as a challenge. Is this where I invite you to the field and see if you can score on me?”

She looked at him, catching the way his lilt changed when he said ‘score.’ “No.”

“You wanna dance?” He asked completely unperturbed. Lily laughed, shaking her head.

“I’m good, I’m just waiting for my friend to come back from the loo.” But as she said that, she saw that Dorcas had found someone else to dance with on her way back to the table. That didn’t mean that Lily wanted to dance with James though.

“Are you sure? I’m a great dancer,” He grinned, taking another drink of his beer.

“I’m sure. I’m getting the feeling that you think you’re great at everything.” Again, he didn’t seem to notice what she was saying.

“I think people would like it if we dance.” He said and that piqued Lily’s curiosity.

“What? Why would other people care if I danced with you?”

He shrugged. “You’ve got quite a presence on campus. A very different presence than my own, but you have almost as many twitter followers as I do.” Lily shook her head.

“I run the twitter for the school news station.” She said shrugging. It was different, though she knew that being connected with the news station wasn’t the reason that she had so many followers. But what else was she going to say? That everyone knew her because of all the different classes she took? Because of all the different clubs and activities, she’d taken a part of over the years?

“You use your own handle though.” She could tell that he wasn’t buying it. She wondered if he followed her. She would have noticed that though, right?

“Well that’s because no one pays any attention when you preface a message with UCL News. I wanted people to listen so-“

“It’s funny. That’s what I was getting at.” He grinned. “You’re funny.”

“On twitter.”

“Not in real life?”

“No I mean, you came up to me to ask me to dance because you’re impressed by my twitter? Everyone is funny on twitter.” She laughed.

“I didn’t ask you to dance because of your twitter.”

“Well then why did you ask me to dance?” She asked, though she wished she hadn’t almost immediately. When you asked a boy that you didn’t want to dance with that question, you never got an answer that you knew what to do with.

“Because you’re fit and I want to dance with you.” He shrugged. “Have you changed your mind yet?”

“No,” She said, though she could feel herself becoming less annoyed and more amused by the minute. “You know, you’re a bit ridiculous.”

“I’ve been called worse,” He shrugged, still smirking at her. Lily laughed again, not at all surprised by that. “See, I make you laugh! The least you could do is dance with me.”

Lily pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I’m almost drunk first of all,” She said, holding up a finger, “So I’ll laugh at anything. And secondly,” Another finger. “The least I could do is not dance with you. It’s continue to talk to you even though you came over her and took my friends seat and started talking to me without invitation.”

He opened his mouth and then closed it a few times before bringing his drink up to his lips and Lily looked away feeling triumphant. “Just how bad of an impression did I leave on you?” He asked, looking over at her and bringing up the first time they’d interacted for the first time since he’d sat down. Lily was surprised that he even remembered it in the first place. “I mean Remus said that I was a right prat that night, and I believe him, but I figured you might not remember.”

“Who’s Remus? Because he has the right of things.” Lily said, taking another sip of her drink.

“He usually does. He actually works for the school newspaper.” He said, “You work with the newspaper, right?”

Lily shrugged, “If we’re doing a big piece we collaborate sometimes.” She nodded. “But I don’t normally- I mean I’ve not personally been in that part of the building.”

He nodded, “Well he told me that coming over here was a bad idea.” She looked over at him.

“Then why did you do it anyway?”

“Sirius said he was wrong,” He shrugged and then made a face and shook his head. “Well he said that you wouldn’t remember that I’d made an arse of myself last time. Though he agreed that I’d made an arse of myself last time. And then suggested that if I came over here, I’d make an arse of myself again. I took it as a challenge, but maybe I should have taken it as a warning.”

Lily didn’t know who Remus or Sirius were, but they both sounded like they had good heads on their shoulders. “Why do you remember talking to me two years ago?” She asked. “I remember it because everyone is always talking about you and to be quite honest, I’ve not had too many run-ins with blokes who’ve talked to me like that.”

“Well that’s good,” He chuckled, rubbing his hand at the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I was going for, but I guess saying I’m drunk isn’t exactly an excuse. I’m sorry.” He said, looking her in the eye again. She pursed her lips and finished her drink. “I don’t normally talk to people like that.”

“Well thank you for apologizing,” She said, not sure what else she should say on the matter. “Did Gwen say something to you?” She asked, not sure what had spurred this. “Is that why you’re here?”

“You know Gwen?” He asked, brightening up a bit now that he was no longer trying to look contrite for his apology.

“Obviously, since I just ask you if she talked to you.” She said, wishing that she hadn’t finished her drink already. James noticed her fiddling with an empty glass and jumped to his feet.

“I’ll get you another drink,” He said, looking even more lit up now that he’d set a task for himself.

“You don’t need to-“ But he was already on his way to the bar and Lily closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. She wasn’t sure what was going on. Why was James Potter sitting next to her at a pub after one of his games? Why was he apologizing to her and buying her drinks and asking her to dance with him? None of this made much sense.

He came back with a new drink for both of them and Lily thanked him, still feeling a bit off kilter. She looked around, waiting to see one of her friends giving her some sort of single to let her know that they were behind this.

“So, do you like working at the station?” He asked, re-taking Mary’s seat for himself, this time angling himself more toward Lily, who was still sitting facing forward.

“Yes, I do like it.”

“It must be fun to get to be on the telly every other night.” He grinned.

“I enjoy it.” She nodded, looking over at him and trying to gauge what was going through her mind. It wasn’t uncommon for blokes to try and chat her up, but he seemed a bit more persistent than usual. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t have other options. Other options who wouldn’t be giving him clipped short responses because they couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t left yet.

“Do you- I mean I know that you’re an anchor, but do you help with the writing of the show too? Or is that a different job?”

It was public knowledge that she was an anchor, as she did have quite a few people following her on twitter, and she posted clips of the broadcast quite frequently. Even if only twelve people watched, she was still proud of the work that her team did. “I do a bit of everything.” She said, “I’m majoring in digital media and so I like to try my hand at all the different parts.”

“I really liked the story you all did about the- oh what was it- top ten places to nap in the library. I know it was just a fun little piece, but it was funny,” He laughed. “And I totally agree with you about the best place to get coffee on campus. Definitely Hoppers.”

She sat up straighter and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You- You watch the show?” She asked, not sure exactly what it was she was feeling in that moment. Confusion seemed to be a theme of this conversation.

“Oh yeah,” He nodded. “I’m a student at UCL aren’t I? Why wouldn’t I watch it?”

It was Lily’s turn to gap for a moment and then she shook her head. “No one watches it.” She said. “Well twelve people watch it actually, but that’s basically no one and you’re telling me that you watch the show.”

“Twelve people?” He raised his brow, surprised to hear that. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“We get a couple hundred views on the clips I post to our website, but only twelve people watch the actual broadcast.” She repeated. “Only twelve people sit down and watch the entire broadcast and you’re telling me that you’re one of them?”

He shifted in his chair now. “Well I don’t catch every episode. It’s the Friday one’s that I normally miss since were right before our game- but it’s always on in the locker room.”

“Is it the only channel that you get?” She was aghast.

He laughed and shook his head, “No, it’s just what we have on. You have a good show-“

“I know that it’s a good show.” She said, putting her hands up. “My surprise isn’t because I think that we don’t have a good show. We all do a great job with editing and writing and I’m even impressed with the lighting most nights. But no one watches. Working for UCL News is to get experience and learn how everything works more than anything else. Michael used a few reels for his resume, but- You really watch?”

“I’m quite glad that Michael is done.” James sighed, ignoring her repeated question as he’d already answered it. “The two of you were always professional, but he was so stiff half the time and he never delivered the lines right when the two of you were trying to have a bit of repartee on air.” Lily couldn’t say anything to that. She agreed of course, he was right, but she couldn’t say anything because she was still flabbergasted that James Potter of all people, watched the show.

“Who’s going to be on now that he’s gone?” He asked.

Lily shrugged, clearing her throat so she could speak. “I’m not sure yet. He was supposed to be here through the end of the upcoming week, but decided to have tonight be his last show and now we’re without a second anchor. We’re holding auditions on Sunday but it’s all rather last minute.” She said.

“Sunday.” He nodded. “Well whoever you get has to be more fun than Michael, right? I mean what was it that he said right as you were signing off? He was the best part of the show? That’s a load of shite.”

“I thought you said you don’t watch on Friday.”

“I also said that it was on in the locker room.” He shrugged.

“You did say that.” Lily nodded, now chewing on her lip.

“So you view it as practice then? You want to be an anchor?”

“Yeah, sure.” She shrugged, not really wanting to talk about her future plans with her.

“You think I could be on one night?” He asked and Lily chuckled.

“I told you, only twelve people watch the show.” She said. “If you’re on the show, only eleven people would watch.”

“You said that it was good practice though.” He argued. “And I need some practice time on air. If I plan to keep playing football then I’ll eventually be interviewed, and I’d rather my first time not be in front of the entire nation or something like that.”

Lily took a drink from the drink that he’d brought her and shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” She said. “We’ve had student athletes on before. They were usually in one of the digital media classes or journalism classes, but still.”

“That’s awesome. Thanks, Lily.” He said, grinning at her again. She gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. “So, you want to dance now?” He asked, and Lily rolled her eyes.

“I think I’m still good.” She said, pushing herself away from the table. “I’ve got to go and check on my friends.”

“Alright,” He got up from the table as well. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

She didn’t catch that, or she would have turned around to correct him.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Bah, HumBuck! Plans C and D

Summary: You’re the newest Avenger. Realizing that Bucky plans to spend Christmas alone, you enlist the help of Wanda, your best friend, and Steve, Bucky’s best friend and your mentor. You’re determined to make his Christmas amazing. Plan A Plan B Time for plans C and D! Pairing: Bucky x Female!Powered!Reader Word Count: ~2,618 Warnings: language, fluff A/N: This is for Sam’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree Writing Challenge. My prompt was #16, “’This was a terrible plan.’ ‘This was your plan.’” @lovelynemesis Flame on? Flame on. Was giving Reader the same powers of human torch intentional? Yes. Did I do it because Chris Evans was the human torch? No, but I still love that coincidence. *gifs not mine*

Masterlist // Plan B // Plan E

Fifteen minutes later you were walking out of the med ward, the gash just a faint pink scar on your palm.

“Damn, Doctor Cho really is amazing,” you said as you held your hand in front of your face and studied it closely. Your brain was working in overdrive while you walked; Plan A and B failed, so plan C was next.

Steve let out a long sigh. “You’re just lucky it was a pretty easy fix and that she’s already calibrated her tech for your DNA,” he said, running a hand over his face. “You also need to thank Vision; he’s the only one of us who knew how to work Cho’s machine.”

“Thanks, Viz!” you said, holding your newly-healed hand up for a high five. He looked from your face to your hand in confusion for a moment before he seemed to remember what he was supposed to do. He returned your high five perfectly with a loud smack... and it hurt. You smiled, but as soon as he’d turned away you shook your hand out, wincing at how badly it stung.

Steve let out a sigh. “Now, I think that’s enough excit-”

“We should go sledding!” you said, cutting across Steve with a smile he easily recognized as the “I’m going to do it anyway so you may as well join me” look. He groaned and rubbed his temples.

“Fine,” he said tiredly.

“Do we even have sleds?” Wanda asked, eyebrows raised in question.

“There are sleds purchased specially by Mr. Stark for these occasions,” FRIDAY informed you.

“Awesome! FRIDAY, make sure those make it to the entrance of the building in the next fifteen minutes, please!” you said as you turned to the others. “West Entrance to the compound. Twenty minutes! Bundle up!” you ordered cheerfully as you ran down the hallway. You had a couple things to do and not a whole lot of time to do them.

Nineteen and a half minutes later you were at the base’s West Entrance, bundled up in layers of jackets and panting from running around nonstop. You’d even found your old pair of ski pants, which was nice. Wet pants ruined snowy day fun faster than you could say “hypothermia.” Sure, you could dry them off with your powers, but it was just so much work (and came with risk of setting your pants on fire). You shuffled your backpack around on your back until it was sitting more comfortably and glanced around the foyer for everyone else.

Bucky was sitting quietly on one of the uncomfortable-looking blocky black couches, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window. Snow was still falling outside, blanketing the entire compound with a layer of cold white fluff.

You were about to go up and talk to him when the elevator dinged open, revealing Wanda, Vision, and Steve.

“I still do not understand why sledding is so appealing when one can fly, but I will make an attempt,” Vision was saying, drawing both your and Bucky’s attention towards him.

“That’s all I’m asking, Viz,” Wanda said kindly, taking his hand in hers as she smiled up at him.

“Are we all ready to go?” you asked all of them, barely contained excitement showing on your face.

“What’s in the backpack?” Steve asked suspiciously, giving it and you the stink eye.

“A surprise! Now, are you ready to go?” you said evasively.

“As we’ll ever be,” Steve said grimly, glancing at the frigid paradise outside.

“Awesome! The sleds are outside; one for each of us!” you informed them, practically skipping for the door. You may have missed the way Bucky was smiling at you, but Steve and Wanda didn’t. They gave each other knowing looks that you, Vision, and Bucky all missed.

You wrenched the door open and the wave of cold air hit you. It wasn’t as though it bothered you much; you didn’t really think you could get cold.

Wanda and Steve were a little more apprehensive. You couldn’t blame Steve; he’d spent 70 years as a popsicle after all. Vision didn’t mind the cold, though, and easily coaxed Wanda outside, Steve following shortly thereafter.

What surprised you, though, was that Bucky seemed hesitant. The Winter Soldier? Afraid of a little snow? Nah. Impossible.

“C’mon, Buck! We’re burning...” you glanced up at the sky and frowned “-cloud light,” you finished lamely.

He snorted at that, small smile on his lips, and your heart soared. He didn’t smile very often so you enjoyed it every time you saw it. He picked up one of the sleds beside the door and fell into step beside you.

The group made their way towards the east side of the compound. There were a few steep hills there. Wanda, Steve, and Vision were chatting animatedly ahead of you and Bucky about something you couldn’t quite hear. After a few minutes of walking in silence with Bucky, he spoke up. “What is in the bag?” he asked curiously, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hey! I said it was a surprise! You’ll find out eventually!” you said, paranoid, turning your torso so that the backpack was hidden behind you.

He laughed at that. Actually laughed. As in eye-crinkling, teeth-showing, chest-rumbling laugh.

Your heart tried to kill you when you heard it, it was beating so fast. He had a wonderful laugh. You were used to feeling warm, but the way his laugh made you feel-

Light? Safe? Happy? Maybe... that he might actually enjoy your company?

“Alright, alright. I won’t pry. Promise,” he said, smile still etched into his face.

You tried to memorize it but apparently were being too obvious, because it slid from his face once he realized you were staring.

“Is... is there something on my face?” he asked, suddenly looking a bit alarmed.

Oh no. He noticed me staring. “No! It’s just- I uh-” Think. Come up with an excuse. Any excuse. “I just like your laugh,” you sputtered. Your eyes widened in horror a half second later at your words, but you couldn’t look away from his gaze.

He looked almost as shocked by your words as you did, his pace faltering for a beat. He looked away from you, gaze forward, and didn’t say anything, his face hidden by his hair.

Great. Really great fucking job, (Y/N). You made him uncomfortable, you chastised yourself mentally.

You hung your head and trudged onward, gaze straight ahead, not noticing the shy, pleased smile and blush on Bucky’s face.

Your fun sledding activity quickly devolved into a competition of who could do the coolest tricks. You’d been upset at first, but after Steve pulled off a particularly impressive triple-back-flip-turned-handstand and challenged you to try and one up him, all bets were off.

“Go (Y/N)!” Wanda cheered from the bottom of the hill. She’d wiped out a while ago and decided to stay put until the snow numbed her butt. Vision was sitting with her, discussing the finer points of sledding.

You placed your sled about ten feet back from the point where the hill began to drop and walked even farther back.

Steve and Bucky watched you with interest.

“Watch and learn, boys,” you said, winking salaciously at them.

Steve suddenly look worried and Bucky turned a deep crimson but you’d already looked away.

You took a running start at your sled, gathering your powers in your hands. The moment your feet hit the sled you threw your arms behind you and turned your powers on full blast, giant jets of flame shooting from your palms. You rocketed forward, still going slow enough at first for gravity to pull you down instead of sending you flying off the edge of the hill.

The jump the boys had built, though, was a completely different story. You flew off it, sled leaving your feet as you used your powers to flip yourself midair once, twice, three times, before you plummeted back to earth, landing skillfully on top of your sled, riding it like a snowboard. You let your momentum carry you for a while before you hopped off of the sled...

And immediately fell face-first into the snow. You hadn’t realized how fast you’d been going and weren’t expecting the force of acceleration to be as strong as it was. Your feet hadn’t been able to keep up with how fast the rest of you was moving... and now you had a face full of snow.

You heard the others laughing merrily at your misfortune and your face literally burned with embarrassment, melting the snow under it.

“You alright?” Steve yelled down from the top of the hill, smile obvious in his voice.

You didn’t get up, simply giving him a depressed thumbs up in response, which sent everyone into a fresh fit of laughter.

Yup. You could just die here. That would be preferable to facing the life of teasing this was sure to earn you.

The telltale sound of a sled approaching followed by the crunch of snow beneath feet finally made you look up.

You immediately buried your face back into the snow, not wanting to face him.

“You can’t lay there forever, Doll,” Bucky said kindly, smile clear in his voice.

“I think I can, actually,” you muttered bitterly.

“What was that?” he asked playfully, though he’d clearly heard you.

“I’m going to die. Right here. In this snow bank. Just leave me. Tell my family I love them. Also, tell Tony he’s an asshole,” you said melodramatically.

He laughed at that last bit. “Sorry, that’s not allowed. If you decide to die a slow death out here it means I’d have to spend more time out here in the snow,” he said stubbornly, but you could still hear the smile in his voice.

“What’s wrong with the snow?” you asked curiously, finally turning your head to peek up at him.

He suddenly looked awkward, as though he’d said something he hadn’t meant to. He fidgeted where he stood and picked up his sled. “C’mon, Doll. We can’t let you end on a note like that,” he said, extending his hand down to you.

“Do you not like the snow?” you asked perceptively without taking his hand. You looked at him properly, scrutinizing every movement closely.

He swallowed hard, looking well and truly guilty now. “It’s, uh, not my favorite, no. It reminds me of Siberia and-”

You were up in a flash, throwing your arms around his waist. He dropped his sled in surprise, looking down at you in shock. “I’m sorry! I had no idea! I would never have forced you out here if I’d known!” you said quickly, trying to figure out how to make up for- “Wait here!” you said, letting him go abruptly to run a few feet away before you focused your powers in your hands and feet and quite literally flew back to the top of the hill, leaving a trail of flame in your wake. You landed heavily, staggering a couple steps before you grabbed your backpack.

Steve was staring at you, alarmed. “(Y/N)? What’s going on? Why did you-”

You snatched Steve’s sled from his hands and threw it on the ground in one fluid motion. “Borrowingthisnoweverything’sfinethanksSteve,” you said in the span of a second and a half before you sat down on top of it and pushed yourself off of the edge, this time letting gravity- and not your powers- take you to the bottom.

You got off as soon as the sled started going too slowly for your liking, running the rest of the way to Bucky, pack bouncing against your back.

To his credit, he’d stayed exactly where you’d told him to, though he was looking at you warily.

“Am I about to find out what’s in that bag?” he asked apprehensively.

You made it the last few steps to him, panting softly from the exertion of flying up to the top of the hill and running through snow.

“Yup!” you said merrily, throwing the pack down in front of you. You kneeled down, unzipped it, and pulled out-

“Thermoses?” Bucky asked, looking absolutely confounded as he sat down next to you.

“Yeah! I made some hot cocoa before we left and put it in these. There’s one for each of us!” you said chipperly, handing him a silver and red thermos that reminded you of his arm. You pulled out the cheesy flames-and-black one that you’d decided was yours and looked at him sheepishly.

“I know it’s a bit silly, but... I wanted to give you a good memory. Of snow,” you said, gesturing to the area around the two of you. “God, it sounds so selfish when I put it like that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

You were cut off by him opening the thermos. You looked at him, surprised. The smell of hot chocolate hit you immediately, laced with-

“Oh, I forgot to mention! I also spiked it,” you said, winking mischievously.

“You know I can’t get drunk, right?” he asked, smile playing on his lips as he poured some into the cap cup.

You froze in the middle of opening your own thermos, smile sliding right off of your face.

Fuck. There went plans... wait, what plans were you on again? You thought about it for a second and concluded spiked hot cocoa and sledding were plans D and E, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure. No. C and D. They were plans C and D.

“I totally forgot,” you said, feeling like a complete idiot. You laid back in the snow, thermos forgotten next to your backpack, and wallowed in your own failure.

“Mm, tasty,” Bucky said casually, causing you to look up in surprise. “Baileys?” he asked, taking another sip.

You nodded, sitting up slowly. Maybe it wasn’t a total loss, but you still felt like an insensitive ass. First the snow, then forgetting about how he can’t get drunk or even tipsy.

“Good choice,” he said, smiling at you over his cup of cocoa.

“Did you really make cocoa and not give me some?” asked Wanda from behind you.

You turned to her, startled by her sudden appearance, but you smiled and shook your head.

“Of course not,” you said, snorting dismissively as you pulled out the pure red thermos you’d designated as hers. “It’s generously spiked, so take is slow,” you warned as she took it from you.

“You’re the best!” Wanda said happily as she took a seat next to you, opening her flask excitedly.

“Excuse me, I hate to impose, but-”

“Yeah, I made some for you, too, Viz,” you said, grinning widely at him as you pulled out a thermos that was patterned with tiny red, blue, green, and yellow ones and zeros.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said as he took it from you as sat down next to Wanda.

That just left-

“So first you steal my sled and then you don’t tell me about the hot chocolate?” Steve asked, pretend anger in his voice.

“Do you want the hot chocolate or not?” you asked playfully, waving the last untouched thermos in front of him tantalizingly. It was, of course, bespangled.

“Yes please,” he said quickly, sitting down on the other side of Bucky. You tossed him his thermos, grinning, and he caught it easily.

You chatted in the snow, sipping hot chocolate for a while. At some point you conjured a fire in the center of the group and, although the boys might not admit it, you knew they all appreciated it.

Two hours later the five of you trudged back into the residential building (well, Vision was floating gracefully, but he was always graceful). You were talking to Bucky as you walked. Your plan hadn’t been a complete failure, but it still wasn’t good enough.

Time for Plan E.

This is fine! I can do this! Plan E!

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

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[parkerrogersgirl]

Happy Accident- Part I

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,588

Warnings: Steve being cute, fluff, more fluff, mentions of cheating, swearing,  

Summary: After he saves you from being injured at the gym, THE Steve Rogers asks you out. Little by little, you start falling in love with every part of him, his quirks, his old-fashionedness, and his charm. But are you ready to let your guard down and let him in?

Author’s Note: HI EVERYONE! This is my first ever fic, so please give me feedback in my asks and reblog! And I will be taking requests, so feel free to send me some of those. Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! On another note, I have to mention @sis-tafics because this fic probably wouldn’t exist without her support. She encouraged me to write this, and I’m eternally grateful. Thanks, Jill! Also thanks to the marvelous @my-emotional-self for pretty much inspiring me with her KILLLLLLLER Chris Evans fanfic!

You were at the gym on the treadmill, running a good 8 mph pace. Most people say “don’t run away from your problems,” but what did they know? They weren’t you. They had no idea what was going on in your life. They weren’t at work, where you’d just lost the big promotion to LINDA (honestly just go home to your stupid grandkids, Linda). They weren’t in your personal life, where you had caught your boyfriend of 2 years having Skype sex with someone he met in med school. Nor were they part of your family, which- never mind, that’s too much to focus on. Back to your mental soliloquy…. screw everyone else! If you wanted to sprint on a cycling trail of rubber than by God, you were going to!

That is until your feet started going too fast for the treadmill and you started falling backward. Everything was moving in slow motion as you shrieked, but the world froze when you felt a strong pair of hands wrapped around your waist. You stopped, turning to thank your savior, seeing a gorgeous, tall, muscular man with blond hair. And not just any man.

Steve. Fucking. Rogers. Captain America himself had saved you from certain injury. His mouth started moving, but you couldn’t focus on what he was saying. You blinked a few times, shaking your head.

“Hello??? Are you okay, ma’am? Can you hear me?” He shook you gently, and your stomach flipped as you registered his facial expression as one of true concern.

You looked up at him, trying to put on your least awkward smile “I’m fine, thank you so much. I don’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t caught me. I’m (Y/N).” He sets you upright and you internally frown, longing for his touch around you again.

He smiles back at you, “a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I’m-“

“Steve. I know.” You blush as you cut him off.

“Of course you know who I am, sorry. I’m still getting used to being popular. This era is so weird.” He lets out a laugh, a glorious sound that you wouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of your life- whoa where did that come from? You’ve known him for 2 whole minutes! Get a grip, (Y/N)!

You raise an eyebrow at him, “weird? How so?”

“Well, for one thing, now it’s not considered rude to ask a woman out on a date after only knowing them for a few minutes. In the 40s, you couldn’t even talk to a woman without having the entire town talking about you.”

You blush, looking down at your feet. “I’m sure whomever you’re referring to will say yes when you ask her. Good luck,” you say as you smile up at him.

He smiles down at you, leaning against the wall. “I hope you know I was talking about you. I would love to get to know you better. Is there a chance you would let me take you out sometime?”

Your mouth falls open as he speaks, and you stare at him absolutely dumbfounded. “Um- I- er- sure- yes?” You curse at yourself in your head, permanently embarrassed having made an absolute fool of yourself.

“Great, just go ahead and type your number in my phone.” He fumbles as he pulls his phone out of pocket, flustered that you accepted the date. He hands you the phone, “it might take me a bit to respond, I have no idea how these things work. It takes time.”

You type your number in and text yourself, then add yourself as a contact before giving him phone back to him. “Well, maybe I’ll teach you how to use it on our date.”

He puts the phone in his pocket, smiling sweetly at you, “I look forward to seeing you again soon, sweet (Y/N).” He kisses you on the cheek as he heads to the locker room, and you stand frozen in your place as you watch him walk away.

(Y/N), you are so screwed, you think to yourself.

—————

3 hours later

You’re sitting in your bed studying when your phone vibrates with a text.  

Steve: “I know the general rule is to wait a few days, but I couldn’t resist texting you.”

You giggle to yourself, then stop immediately. You can’t fall for him this fast, remember what happened last time… you collect yourself for a moment, then start to type a response.

You: “new phone who dis?”

You: “hey, hot stuff”

You: “hi, Captain Rogers. What are you up to?”

There, much better. You send the text, and the typing bubbles pop up almost immediately.

Steve: “not much, just daydreaming about this girl whose life I saved at the gym earlier. She almost took a nasty spill off the treadmill. Thank gosh I was there.”

You laugh out loud. ‘Thank gosh?’ This man needed to stop being so cute before you fell in love with him.

You: “wow, you sound like a real hero. I’m sure she appreciated it more than you know.”

Steve: “I’m not sure, maybe she’d let me take her out to dinner tonight so I can ask her in person how much she appreciated it.”

You groan to yourself. Why is this stupid man SO SMOOTH?

You: “I would love that, just name the time and place.”

Steve: “I have a better idea. I’ll pick you up around 6:30 and we can walk there together.”

You: “Sounds good, what should I wear?”

Steve: “You can dress up a little, but to be honest I know you’d look gorgeous in even a garbage bag.”

You blush as you type out a response.

You: “I sincerely doubt that, but I’ll see you at 6:30, just press the buzzer when you get here and I’ll buzz you up.” You send him your address and go back to studying, not expecting a response. You’re surprised when your phone buzzes again.

Steve: “I can’t wait. See you in a bit, (Y/N).”

A bit? It’s only 4:30. You look at the clock and gasp. In your studying, You had completely lost track of time and it was already 6pm. You panic, jumping up as you run to the bathroom and turn on the shower. This would have to be the fastest shower you’d ever taken in your life.

You quickly undress, practically sprinting into the shower as you speed wash your hair and body. You put on a robe and quickly blow dry your shoulder-length auburn hair. You put on light makeup, only applying mascara, eyeliner, and a bright red lipstick. Steve’s from the 40s, red lipstick was the trend back then, right? Oh well, you didn’t have time to Google and check anyway.

You check the time on your phone, which read 6:10. Damn, you go girl. You would have time to curl your hair after all. You do so, making sure to pin it back away from your face before using hairspray.

You check your phone again, this time going back over Steve’s text. “Dress up a little?” What does that mean? You shrugged, walking over to your closet and picking out a knee-length baby blue dress with black flats. You smirked, congratulating yourself on the perfect choice. You get dressed, checking yourself and smoothing out your dress in the mirror.

You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, shaking your head as you walk over to open it.

“Hey, doll.” Steve is standing outside your door, holding a bouquet of pink tulips. You smile up at him, opening the door wider so he can enter.

“You caught me off guard, I was waiting for you to press the button so I could let you up,” you say to him as he enters, closing the door behind him as he hands you the flowers.

He kisses you on the cheek and you blush. “Sorry, someone buzzed up a pizza delivery guy and I couldn’t wait to see you, so I snuck in with him. It was a good idea, too, because you look incredible.”

You blush an even brighter red. “Thank you, you clean up pretty well yourself. I’ll be right back.” You turn and head to the kitchen, sticking the flowers in a vase and filling it up with water. You set the vase on the counter, leaning over the sink for a minute. Get it together, (Y/N). You are fine. Breathe. You take a deep breath and bring the flowers out to the dining room table, then walk over and rejoin Steve.

“Shall we go?” He smiles at you, holding the door open. You walk out, with Steve following you as he closes the door. You lock the door, turning around to see Steve holding out his arm. You smile and link your arm with his, starting to walk toward the elevator. You press the button and he turns to face you as you wait. He looks at you, then smiles, reaching out to get a stray eyelash off your face.

“Make a wish,” he says. You do so, then blow the eyelash off his finger. He kisses your cheek, the reaches down to take your hand as the elevator doors open and you both step in.

This is bad. You thought as the elevator doors closed.

You were starting to fall for him.

Part II here!

Taglist: @sis-tafics @my-emotional-self

[i-also-miss-our-talks]

Accusations ~ Connor Murphy x Kleinman!Reader

Requested by a reader on Wattpad. Not sure how I feel about this, honestly. And please don��t kill me if the dialogue isn’t 100% accurate. I just wrote it from memory. 

WC: 2,092

Warning: Swearing, Hospital, Jared Kleinman

Masterlist

As always, I try my best to make it as gender neutral as possible.

And if you’re wondering, I love hearing what you guys think of my stories. You can send me a message or an ask and just let me know what you thought about on any of my stories or headcannons!

“Is it weird to be the first person in history to break their arm from jerking off too much?”

You smacked your brothers arm. “Hey! Be nice, Jared,” you said and walked over to Evan. Your first day of 11th grade and your brother was already being a bad influence. You pointed to his cast. “Can I sign it?”

Evan nodded and pulled out his sharpie. “H-Here. J-Jared, do you want t-to sign it-t?” Evan stuttered.

Jared sighed. “No. We’re just family friends. I don’t even know why Y/N is signing it.”

You scribbled down your name and a smily face before facing Jared. “Because I’m actually his friend.”

Jared rolled his eyes and looked past you. He smirked at the sight. “Hey, Connor. Love the new hair length. Very school shooter chic.”

Turning, you see a tall man, Jared’s age, with long brown hair. His black nails were slightly chipped as you watched him grip his bag strap. His eyes almost appeared as two different colors, but you couldn’t quite tell because he wasn’t looking at you. He was glaring at your brother.

“It’s…a joke,” Jared said.

“Yeah, no, it was funny,” Connor said. “I’m laughing, can’t you tell?”

As much as this guy was hot, you couldn’t help but feel something off about him. You turn to Evan. “Go to class, Ev. I don’t want this Connor guy messing with your anxiety,” you whispered. Evan nodded and ran off to his first class.

“Am I not laughing hard enough for you?!” Connor raised his voice.

Jared tossed his hand in the air carelessly. “You’re such a freak.”

“Jared!” You glared at him. “Quit being so mean to people!”

“The fuck are you laughing at?”

You turned around to see Connor standing right in front of you. You looked up—yes, his eyes were two different colors—and gulped. “W-What?”

“Stop. Fucking. Laughing at me!” Connor yelled at you.

“N-No! I wasn’t-“

“You think I’m the freak?!”

“No! I never said-“

“I’m not the freak! You’re the fucking freak!”

“I WASN’T LAUGHING AT YOU!” That caused Connor to stop. “I’m sorry that Jared said those things to you, but I wasn’t laughing. I’ve never met you, Connor, but I sincerely hope this isn’t how you actually are, making accusations and such,” you said.

Connor frowned at you. “How do you know what I’m actually like?”

You shook your head. “I don’t. But I have a feeling that you’re just confining in what society makes you out to be.” With that, you make your way to your first class.

Why? Why must fate have its way? Why were you sitting here? Why were you sitting here in your last class of the day? Why were you sitting here next to Connor in your creative writing class?

“Well this is fucking fantastic,” Connor mumbled as he sat down beside you.

You rolled your eyes. “Likewise.”

Connor rested his chin on his hand as he listened to the teacher go over the syllabus.

“You know, you don’t strike me as a writer,” you whispered.

“That’s cause I'm not a fucking writer. They just threw me in this shitty class,” he whispered. “I never caught your fucking name.”

“I didn’t fucking throw it,” you smirked. “Y/N Kleinman.”

Connors eyes widened. “You’re related to that asshole?”

“Yeah. He’s my older brother. But he’s such a dick,” you frowned and pulled out your notebook since the teacher started writing notes.

“Tell me about it,” Connor said before taking out his as well.

You giggled quietly. When you told people that, they would say things along the lines of, “he’s your brother, he’s supposed to act like that,” “oh, you’re just overreacting,” “he’s not that bad.” But Connor agreed with you. He knew how your brother actually acted.

All too soon, class ended. You packed up your bag and made your way to the door till Connor spoke up.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, walking over to you. “I didn’t get all the notes. Do you think you could text me a shitty photo of yours?”

You smiled. “Sure. I’ll make sure it’s the shittiest one you’ve ever seen,” you teased and grabbed his phone, typing in your information.

Connor rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.” He put his phone away and walked with you towards the student parking lot. “I have to go print some shit out in the computer lab, so I guess I’ll text you later?”

You shook your head. “Nah. Jared can wait. I’ll come with you!” You could’ve sworn you saw a quick smile on Connors face before you two walked to the lab. You saw Evan and waved at him. “Hi, Evan!”

Evan smiled and waved shyly. “H-Hi, Y/N.”

You skipped over to him while you waited for Connor to turn on his computer. “Did you talk to Zoe today?”

The blue boy shrugged. “I-It wasn’t really, like, really talking, I guess?” He pressed print on his document.

“But you managed to say something to her, right?” you asked, looking at his cast for a signature from her.

Evan played with the edge of his shirt. “Kinda?”

“Hey, I, uh, see you broke your arm.”

You both turn to see Connor standing next to you with a piece of paper in his hand.

“Oh, uh, y-yeah, I did,” Evan stuttered.

“How’d you break it?” Connor asked.

“I, um, I fell out of a tree.”

You were surprised! Evan wasn’t stuttering!

“Well that’s the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Connor said. He pointed to Evan cast. “Can I sign it?”

“Oh, no it’s okay, you don’t have t-“

“Have a sharpie?” Evan quickly pulled one out of his pocket. Connor wrote his name in big block letters across Evan’s arm, but making room for yours from earlier. “There. Now we can both pretend we have friends.”

You lightly elbowed Connor. “Hey, I’m your friend, too,” you smiled.

Connor shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. Anyway, I found this on the printer. Is it yours?”

Evan looked at the paper in Connors hands. “Yes! That’s mine! But don’t read it cause it’s kinda personal and all and-“

“‘because there’s Zoe and all my hope is pinned on Zoe?’ You wrote this?” Connor asked. You noticed him start to tense up like he did when Jared made fun of him. “You wrote this…cause you knew I would find it.”

Evan shook his head. “No! Why would I-“

“So I can read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister and freak out, right!?”

“Connor, no! I promise you Evan wouldn’t do that,” you said, trying to calm him down by placing a hand on his arm. But he pushed you away, a little too harshly, actually. You fell back and lost your balance. Your back slammed against the ground and your head banged against the back of the wooden chair at one of the computer desks, yet neither of the Seniors seemed to notice.

“And then you can go and tell everyone how much of a freak I am!” Connor yelled. “Well, fuck you, Evan Hansen!” And with that, he stormed out of the lab.

“No, please, just give it back!” Evan yelled.

You got up, despite your body’s wails of pain, and chased after the long-haired boy. “Connor, wait!”

“You were in on it too, right? Your brother probably put all this shit together to mess with me, right?” Connor yelled, turning around to face you.

“No! This is what I was talking about, Connor! You need to stop making accusations!” You felt your head spin. Maybe you hit it harder than you thought. The floor stared to wave around before everything went black and your body went limp. Before you were completely out, though, you heard Connor call out your name.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Ugh, turn it off,” you groaned and reached around to turn off your alarm. Instead you felt a hand. You opened your eyes and followed the hand up the arm and to the persons face. Connor’s face, actually. “What the fuck?”

You looked around, taking in your surroundings. Turns out, you weren’t at home, trying to shut off your alarm. You were actually at the hospital, trying to shut off your heart monitor.

“You’re awake. Fucking finally. And just as Kleinman leaves, too,” Connor mumbled and softly rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“What happened?” you asked and tried to sit up. But your back screamed out in pain, causing you to scream as well.

Connor jumped up and held your back, carefully lowering you back down onto the mattress. “Don’t move, Y/N. It’ll make it worse. What do you need?”

You looked up at him and gripped his arm, squeezing it to help relieve the pain. “I need to go home. I hate hospitals.”

“Y/N!”

Both of you turn and see Jared standing in the doorway with a coffee. “You’re up!”

You nodded. “Yeah. I guess. How long was I out?”

Jared walked over to you and kissed your forehead. “About two days, I think. I wasn’t there when you passed out, though, so I can’t say,” Jared explained and set his coffee down. He glared at Connor before taking your hand off his arm and holding it with both of his.

Connor shoved his hands in his pockets and got up. “I’ll see myself out.”

“No, Connor, wait,” you said. “Can you stay? Please?”

“Uh, Y/N? I’ll be here. You wont need Connor. Especially since he’s the one that caused all of this,” Jared said.

You frowned and pulled your hand away from him. “I don’t care, Jared. I want Connor here.” You reached out one of your hands towards the long-haired boy. Connor came back and held your hand, smirking at Jared.

Jared glared at him. “Fuck you, Murphy.”

“Likewise, Kleinman.”

About two weeks later—geez, Connor pushed you pretty hard. Though he did come to visit you everyday after school till around 11 at night when he was forced out of the room so he made up for it—you were well enough to go home. Your back still ached and you had a huge goose egg on the back of your head, but you could make it with some pain meds. Of course, you didn’t tell Connor you were coming back. You wanted to surprise him.

You walked into your last hour right before the bell rang. You saw Connor sitting in his seat, writing something in his notebook. You smiled brightly and skipped over to him. “You’re not a fucking writer, huh?”

Connors head bolted up at the sound of your voice. His eyes widened. “Holy shit,” he whispered and stood up. Connor hugged you close, not really caring about whether the other classmates saw. You giggled and hugged him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back.”

“Yeah. Cause I wanted to surprise you, dummy. Did it work?”

“Hell yeah it did,” Connor said and let go of you, both of you sitting back down in your seats.

You smiled and took out your notebook. Thankfully, while you were in the hospital, Connor took notes for you. Therefore, your notebook was filled with his, sloppy but eligible, handwriting. You thanked him before turning to the next open page to write the notes on the board for today. But when you flipped to the page, you noticed a little rose was sketched in the corner. “Did you draw this?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah. It's pretty fucking bad.”

You shook your head. “No! No it looks lovely, Connor,” you whispered and placed your hand on his arm.

The boy turned to look at you, placing his hand over yours on his arm. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you…maybe…shit I don't know…do you wanna go out sometime? Like…fuck this is stupid I shouldn't have said anything and now you're gonna go tell your brother and-“

“Connor!” You kissed his cheek, smiling. “Relax. I'd love to go out with you. And before you say anything, don't you dare give a fuck about what my brother thinks, okay?”

Connor smiled. “Awesome, I mean, cool. Whatever,” he mumbled. Though he did intertwine your fingers, he tried not to show his enthusiasm to the other classmates.

You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder.

Who knew that your brother making fun of someone could turn into the start of a wonderful relationship?

[zoemurph]

to have a friend, chapter five: $98

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

happy birthday to myself heres a mess of a chapter thats literally ALL over the place but i do what i want

ive been watching the gbbo cause ive been super sick and now i will now project as i do with everything else. speaking of which, everything thats been mentioned happening in school in this fic has happened!! that applies to this chapter too!! isnt public school fucking wild

warnings: anxiety, anxiety/panic attack, some suicidal thoughts, let me know if any other warnings should be added

enjoy!

“Do you usually walk home?” Evan asks, following Connor out of the school.

“Yeah.”

“Do you not��� do you drive?”

Connor gives Evan a weird look. “Why?”

Evan shrugs. “I don’t— I mean, most people drive. That’s a thing. That teenagers do. Jared drives. A-Alana drives. Um…most of our senior class drives, e-even if they don’t have a car. The juniors drive. Some of the older sophomores drive—”

“And are incredibly annoying about it,” Connor interrupts.

Evan ducks his head. “Not as annoying as the freshman.”

“God you’re right.” They stop at a stoplight and wait for the walking light to turn. Connor runs a hand through his hair. “I have my license, but I’m not allowed to drive right now.” Evan frowns. “Why not?”

Connor takes a step off the sidewalk and looks down the road. “Come on,” he says, motioning for Evan to follow. He takes long strides as Evan rushes to catch up. “Parents. Mom’s worried about me driving high or hurting myself. Larry’s worried about the car.”

“O-oh.”

Connor furrows his eyebrows and glances down at Evan. “Don’t worry about it, Hansen. I don’t care what he thinks.”

Evan nods. “Right. Right, duh. Of course you don’t.”

Connor shakes his head. “By the way, did I mention that my mom thinks that you have a really garbage immune system.”

“She does?” Evan asks in surprise. “W-why?”

“Word vomit.” Connor makes a face. “My bad.”

“I mean…” Evan pulls on the straps of his backpack. “That’s not— Anxiety can like…really screw up your immune system? Um…stress is bad for you. And I’m…always stressed.”

Connor snorts. “No shit.”

“Yes shit,” Evan mutters. “Cold season is a ni-nightmare.”

“Drink more tea,” Connor suggests.

“Wow, never thought to try that before.”

Connor laughs. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you suffer on your own then. Have fun being sick.”

“Being sick is the worst .” Evan steps closer to Connor to avoid a puddle. “B-because if you’re sick you miss class and then you miss work and everything starts piling up and then you have way too much work to do and then you’re failing out of school.”

Connor is quiet for a second before he says, “I don’t know, I skipped most of school last year and I’m still here.” He tilts his head as he looks at Evan. “I think you’ll be okay.”

“Okay is relative,” Evan murmurs.

“Anyway I wanted to warn you in case my mom starts shoving fucking…vitamins or a ridiculous amount of citrus fruits at you.” Connor steps onto the street as the sidewalk ends and casually walks in almost the middle of the lane. “She can be really…”

“Worried?” Evan suggests.

“I was going to say aggressive, but that word is nicer.”

“Hm.” Evan can’t really remember the last time his mom really fussed over him. It sometimes happens in quick bursts when she’s home, but she’s never home enough to really worry about him. She refills his meds when he needs more, she leaves him money for dinner, she pushes the scholarship applications. He can’t really imagine her trying to get him to take vitamins or eat oranges or anything like that.

Evan shakes away those thoughts and focuses on the walk to the Murphys. It’s nice. The trees have started to change color with the turn of the season and it’s starting to get colder. Not too cold, but cold enough that he has to start bringing a sweater to school. They’re only three days into October, but Jared has already started yelling about Halloween.

Evan looks at Connor out of the corner of his eye. It’d definitely be too weird to ask what Connor is doing for Halloween. He’s probably going to go out and get high or something. That’s what most teenagers do on Halloween, right? Go party and take advantage of illegal substances?

Evan will probably just leave out a bowl of candy on the steps and watch TV. That won’t be too bad. Or different from what he’s done for the past few years.

“Mom’s really into seasonal decorating,” Connor says when they get to his house. He nods to the autumn wreath hanging on the front door as he pulls out his key. “There’s a fine line between classy and tacky and I don’t think anyone in my family knows where it is.”

Evan smiles. “I think it’s nice.”

Connor huffs. “You would.” He opens the door and bends down to pull off his boots. “I’m home!” he shouts as he leans against the wall to undo the zipper. “Evan’s here too.”

Evan toes off his sneakers and moves them next to Connor’s boots. Connor had slipped him fifteen dollars this morning instead of ten and asked if Evan was free after school. Evan never does anything other than homework and therapy, and therapy is a Wednesday event.

Cynthia pokes her head out of the kitchen as they pass it. She smiles at Evan. “Hello, Evan! Are you two hungry?”

Connor looks to Evan and Evan shakes his head. “N-no, I’m good but th-thank you!”

She nods. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Let’s go.” Connor leads Evan up to his bedroom. He tosses his backpack onto the desk and kicks a few things on the floor into what is sort of a pile of things against a wall. “I’d apologize for the mess but I don’t give a shit.”

Evan wonders if it’s weird not having a bedroom door. It seems uncomfortable. “I-I don’t mind,” he promises.

“Cool.” Connor bends down and picks up a mug from the floor. He looks inside and makes a face before putting it on the desk.

“What’s that?” Evan asks. And a better question is probably, should Connor wash it or just throw it out. Sometimes it’s not worth it to try and save dishes and the best option is to just toss them with whatever disgusting thing is growing in or on them.

“Paint water,” Connor says. He pushes the mug further away from the edge of his desk. “It looks like puke. Probably need to clean it.”

“You paint?” Evan asks in surprise.

“Not really.” Connor pulls out the desk chair and then leans against the edge of his bed.

Evan hesitates before he sits down in the chair. “I-I didn’t know you liked art.”

“I don’t. Art is the fucking worst.”

Evan blinks. “Uh…okay?”

“It’s hard ,” Connor almost whines. “Like…what’s the fucking point?”

“I don’t know,” Evan admits. “I’ve never really…done it outside of elementary school art classes and those were… I mean, we drew shoes that one time? Do— do you remember that?” Their art teacher had brought in a giant shoe because her husband’s company made custom shoes for basketball players, whose feet were so big they couldn’t buy shoes in a normal store. Now he wonders if the shoe was that big or if they just seemed big to second graders.

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah…yeah I think I do. She made us take off our sneakers and put them on the table. And Josh Powers threw his at Marcus and hit…who’d he hit?”

“I think it was Rachel,” Evan says slowly.

Connor narrows his eyes. “Which…which one?”

“The…redhead?” Evan sometimes forgets how many kids in their grade have the same names.

Connor groans. “ Which redhead?”

“You know multiple redheaded Rachels?” Evan asks, mostly just amazed that Connor knows people in their school beyond people he interacts with.

“It’s not as bad as the Olivias,” Connor points out. “I remember there were three in class in fourth grade.”

Evan snorts. “In third grade I had two of the Zacharys, two Hannahs, and two Joes.”

“ God .” Connor sits down on his bed. “Thank god the other Connor is in Zoe’s grade. I refuse to deal with that shit.”

“Elementary school was— it was…something.”

Connor nods. “Yeah. Lots of things were thrown.”

Evan doesn’t mean to, but he starts laughing. He claps his hands over his mouth and stares at Connor with wide eyes. “I’m sorry!” he says, voice muffled by his hands.

Connor rolls his eyes. “It’s fine , Hansen. I said it. And there was a lot of things thrown. Shoes. Dodgeballs. Printers. Bats. Rocks—”

“Tables at the principal.” Evan says.

Connor stares at him. “Wait what?”

“Uh…” Evan rubs the back of his neck. “Fourth grade. We had a project where— we were supposed to make an earthquake proof building out of whatever the teacher gave us and we— Well we made our own construction companies up? It was part of the presentation and one of the kids in our group didn’t like the name we chose and he started getting really really mad and the teacher called the principal and when the principal came in he threw the table and the project at her.” He meets Connor’s eyes. “Um…you-you weren’t the only one to uh…maybe have some anger problems? When we were growing up?”

Connor crosses his arms. “Growing up? Just growing up?” Evan would be nervous, except for the smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You never threw someone into the chairs in the cafeteria and beat them to a pulp,” Evan whispers.

Connor straightens. “You saw that?!”    

“Part of it. Heard more of it. Jared got a video.”

Connor whistles. “Shit, man. Sometimes I wonder how I’m the school freak when we have shit like that go down.”

Evan laughs nervously. So yeah, some guy in their grade sent a kid to the hospital for making a move on his girlfriend, and there were a group of girls who got into a fight at the mall, and some other kid who got suspended for bringing a knife to school and doing knife tricks during class. But still, Connor Murphy has always been the one everyone is afraid of. “I th-think it’s the black clothing and long hair? M-maybe?”

“You can jump on the haircut train with Larry,” Connor says, shaking his head, “but I’m not cutting it.”

“I like it.” Evan feels his ears burn. “It’s— it fits you.”

Connor stares at him before smiling slowly. “Thanks.”

Evan ducks his head. “Um… Can you— could you show me…any of your art?”

Connor sighs. “I guess.”

“I— You don’t have to! If you don’t want to you shouldn’t— I didn’t mean to pressure you into—”

Connor stands up and reaches for something on his shelves. “Hey, Ev, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. The world won’t end if you look at shitty doodles.” He grabs a spiral bound sketchbook off the top of his bookshelf. “Don’t expect anything actually good.” He opens the sketchbook and flips through it. “Here.”

Evan takes the sketchbook from Connor. The right page is filled with a bunch of drawings. A few are half finished, others barely made it past a rough outline, but a couple are more complete. In the corner there’s a drawing that’s been completely scribbled out with such intensity that Evan wouldn’t be surprised if Connor broke the pencil while doing it. On the left page is a profile someone with a strong nose and a rounded jawline, staring ahead with a blank look in their eyes.

The contrast between styles is almost incredible. Evan looks between the quick, looser, and more cartoony style and almost realistic sketch in amazement. The way that the person’s hair is tucked behind their ears and there’s soft shading on their neck, like Connor was afraid to do anything more.

“Wow,” Evan breathes. “These are really good.”

He looks up to see Connor giving him a funny look. “I’m paying you to be my friend. You don’t have to be a kiss up too.”

“I’m not,” Evan promises. “You’re good.”

Connor scrunches up his nose and takes the sketchbook back. He holds it up and tilts his head as he looks at the pages. “Okay…yeah I’m not seeing whatever you’re talking about. Just shitty doodles and a bad attempt to draw someone I saw in a waiting room.”

“I like them.” Connor lowers the sketchbook and Evan shrugs. “I don’t know anything about art, but you aren’t bad at it. I can tell you that.”

“Okay,” Connor says slowly. “Okay.”

Evan shifts uncomfortably in the silence. He doesn’t really know where the conversation is supposed to go from here. Maybe he should just—

“Do you have a Facebook?” Connor asks suddenly.

Evan furrows his eyebrows. “W-what? Why?”

Connor closes the sketchbook and throws it on his bed. “My mom was getting on my ass for not being friends with you on Facebook.”

“Who uses Facebook?”

“Moms,” Connor says flatly. “Wine moms.”

“Is your mom a wine mom?” Evan asks, looking over his shoulder into the hallway.

Connor shrugs. “I don’t know what she does all day. She could be a wine mom. Probably needs to be considering I’m her son. Anyone would need alcohol to deal with me all the time.”

Evan snorts. “You aren’t that bad.”

Connor smiles. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

Evan walks to the bathroom, furiously picking at his cast as he tries to keep his steps normal. His heart is racing and everything is wobbly and he feels like he’s about three seconds away from crying or throwing up. Or both. He can never tell.

He goes to the third floor bathroom. It means climbing the stairs — he hangs onto the railing like a lifeline — but it’s also usually empty. He needs an empty bathroom right now, he can’t lose it around other people, he can’t do that, he can’t be that kid who had a meltdown in front of half the senior class.

Part of his brain tells him half the senior class can’t fit into the boys’ bathroom.

The other half is spiraling faster and faster and faster.

He shoves the bathroom door open with his shoulder and stumbles into the handicapped stall as the lights flicker on. At least he knows no one else is in here.

Evan barely gets the door closed before he’s collapsing against the wall of the stall and sobbing as he tries to catch his breath. His knees are weak and he’s trying not to slide to the floor because it’s the bathroom it’s the fucking boys’ bathroom in a high school it’s probably the most disgusting floor ever but his legs are shaking and his hands are shaking and everything is shaking—

He scrubs away hot tears as they roll down his face.

Fuck .

He doesn’t even know what happened. One minute, he was in english. He wasn’t great but he was okay, and that was normal. And then someone was talking and Evan started getting lightheaded and there was a heavy weight in his chest and he managed to raise his hand and ask to go to the bathroom and sound somewhat normal and leave the classroom sort of calmly but now he can’t breathe he can’t breathe.

The walls are closing in around him and everything is getting smaller and smaller and crushing him under the weight of the world. Evan can’t do this. He can’t.

He pulls at the edges of his cast.

He could’ve— he should’ve—

Evan takes a shuddering breath and presses the base of his good hand against his eye. He wants it to stop he wants it all to stop.

“Evan?” someone asks softly

Evan inhales sharply and jerks away from the wall of the stall. He stumbles over his own feet and crashes into the wall, hitting his shoulder hard. “W-what— wh-who?”

“Uh, it’s just. It’s Connor. Are you…?” he trails off.

Evan’s breath hitches as he tries to force himself to calm down. He focuses on Connor’s boots, he can see them in the space between the stall doors and the floor. There’s something stuck in Evan’s throat and it’s making it hard to breathe and think.

“I recognized your shoes,” Connor says after a few seconds. “I was, uh, trying to get out of international relations, cause that class is…bullshit. I hate it.”

Evan forces a watery laugh. “R-right that’s— I heard it’s-it’s for the uh, the kids who want to take AP Gov but that’s— I can see why you might—” He takes a shallow breath. He can do this he can do this.

“Hansen, is there anything I can do?”

Why is Connor even here? Why is he trying to help, why would he want to help a disaster like Evan? A lost cause and constant disappointment who can never amount to anything and will never do anything worth remembering— not worth remembering not worth trying for not worth anything. He’s just an invisible speck lost in a crowd of millions of people and he’s drowning between all of them and can’t keep his head above the water.

“Hey,” Connor says, “is it okay if I touch you?”

Evan can barely even tell he’s moving, but Connor touches his wrist very softly so he must have nodded or something. Connor gently pulls Evan’s hands away from his face. He doesn’t know how Connor got into the stall but his head is spinning and his thoughts are a muddled mess.

Evan chokes back a sob and blinks away tears as they well up in his eyes and blur his vision. Connor is searching his face with furrowed eyebrows and a concerned look in his eyes and Evan just wants to curl up in a ball and have it all stop .

“What can I do?” Connor asks softly.

Evan shakes his head. Nothing, there’s nothing. He’s decided he’s okay with everything ending in this bathroom. Because everything hurts and his brain won’t stop why won’t it stop ?

“Um… shit . Hold on.” Connor lets go of Evan’s hands and Evan inhales sharply. “I’m-I’m not leaving,” Connor promises. “I’ll be right back.” He unlocks the stall door and Evan focuses on the sound of his boots on the floor because he can still barely breathe and he’s not sure how to hold on to reality.

“Just locked the door,” Connor says, stepping back into the stall. He shuts the door and slides the lock closed.

Evan takes a deep breath. It catches and it’s shaky and bad, but it’s slow and he needs— he has to slow down his heartrate. He’s supposed to be doing deep breathing exercises, it’s not supposed to get this bad.

Inhale through the nose for five. Hold for five. Exhale through the mouth for five.

Evan gets through two cycles before his mind freezes and panics and stops. He takes a few short breaths, gasping for air.

“You’re— it’s going to be fine,” Connor says. “It’s… There’s only like twenty minutes left of school, Ev. You’re going to be okay.”

Evan just wants to lay down. To lay down on this disgusting bathroom floor and curl up in a ball and sleep and never wake up. He could just melt into the floor and stop existing and that would be so much better than this. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing a little slower but he can’t, he can’t.

“Do you…do you want me to leave?” Connor asks slowly. “I can go. I was just trying to get out of class. So I can—”

“P-please don’t— don’t leave,” Evan chokes out. He reaches out blindly, trying to find Connor with his eyes still squeezed shut.  

Connor takes Evan’s hand and squeezes it lightly. “Yeah, sure. Not going anywhere.”

Evan just holds on to Connor’s hand and tries to breathe. Tries to find some semblance of calm in his mind. He doesn’t think he ends up being successful, he thinks his brain just got too tired to keep being so anxious.

When it doesn’t feel like his lungs are getting crushed anymore, Evan loosens his grip on Connor’s hand. “I-I’m s-sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry that you— that you had to deal with me.”

“I wanted to help,” Connor says. “I promise.”

Evan can’t meet his eyes.

“There’s only a few minutes left of class.” Connor takes a step away. “Do you… Are you walking home today?”

Evan nods. He doesn’t like the bus. It’s still warm enough out that he can walk to and from school. It’s better than being on a loud and crowded vehicle that goes over potholes too fast.

“Let us bring you home,” Connor says.

Evan frowns at the floor.

“Zoe doesn’t have practice today,” Connor explains. “Just… I don’t know, can you let us drive you home? So you don’t have to walk?”

“I’m— you don’t have to,” Evan mumbles.

“Yeah, but I’m offering.”

Evan wants to say no, he really wants to say no. He can’t take advantage of Connor like that. But he also just wants to be at home as soon as possible. “O-okay.”

“Thank you.”

Evan glances up at Connor. Connor is running his hand through his hair.

“I’ll…meet you by your locker?” Connor pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Are you…”

“I’ll be fine,” Evan says softly. Connor doesn’t look convinced, but Evan doesn’t have the energy to convince him right now. “I’ll… My locker. Yeah.”

“I’ll see you in…like three minutes,” Connor promises. “You can do a fucking countdown if you want. But I’ll be there. I swear.”

Evan nods. He digs his nails into the palm of his hand as Connor unlocks the stall and leaves the bathroom. It takes him a few more moments to figure out how to move his legs.

He still feels slightly off balance and wrong. He takes his time on the stairs, letting the bell ring and students rush around him in a sea of half known faces. He hesitates outside his english room before he ducks inside to grab his backpack. He stammers out an apology to his teacher, saying that he got sick, and she just tells him to feel better and make sure he does the reading for tomorrow.

He has to climb the stairs again to get to his locker.

Connor is there, waiting for him, staring off into the distance. As Evan approaches, Connor’s eyes snap to him and he stands up straighter.

“Zoe’ll meet us by the band room,” Connor explains. He glances from Evan to the lock. “Here I can open it.” He opens the lock quickly and Evan just forces himself to stay standing and breathing.

Connor takes books from Evan as he pulls them out of his backpack and then closes the locker as Evan puts his backpack on.

Connor glances around the halls and then takes a few quick steps to the elevator and hits the down button.

“We-we aren’t supposed to—”

“Fuck it,” Connor interrupts. “Stairs are bullshit.”

The elevator doors open and Connor pulls Evan inside, hitting the close doors button until the slide shut. Evan grips the straps of his backpack tightly. If anyone sees them using the elevator without a pass, they could get yelled at. He can’t deal with that today.

They stop on the ground level and the elevator doors open and Connor takes Evan’s arm and pulls him out of the elevator before reaching in and hitting the close doors button again. ���Come on,” he murmurs, leading them toward the music wing.

Zoe is leaning against the double doors of the band room, a guitar case strapped to her back and her saxophone case at her feet. She looks up from her phone at them. She does a double take when she sees Evan, eyebrows furrowing.

“Can we go?” Connor asks shortly.

Any concern vanishes from her face as she rolls her eyes. “It’s going to take us fucking decades to get out of the parking lot at this point but whatever.”

“S-sorry,” Evan mumbles.

She shoots him a look. “Don’t worry about it, Evan. It’s just— it’s kind of messy getting out of here. It’s not your fault.” She picks up her saxophone cause. “Haul ass, Connor.”

Connor mutters something under his breath as he follows her.

Zoe leads them to the back corner of the parking lot where a silver SUV is parked. Evan finds himself thinking that if Connor were allowed to drive, they’d be able to park in the senior lot and would be closer to the school.

Zoe unlocks the car and looks to Connor and they have some sort of silent conversation before Zoe pops the trunk and loads in her instruments. “Hop in, Ev,” she says. “The car won’t eat you.” She slams the trunk shut.

Evan pulls open the backseat door and climbs in, dumping his backpack on the floor. To his surprise, Connor slides in on the other side, and not into the passenger seat in front of him. Connor tosses his bag into the passenger seat before buckling in.

“I’m apologizing now for Zoe’s music choices,” Connor says, leaning closer to Evan. “She’s on an early 2000s kick right now and it’s really fucking annoying.”

“You’re really fucking annoying,” Zoe says. She pulls the parking pass off the mirror and shoves it into the sunglasses holder. “What’s your address?” she asks Evan as she puts the keys into the ignition.

“I’ve got it,” Connor says.

Zoe meets Evan’s eyes in the mirror before shifting the car into reverse. “Okay.” She turns up the music and twists around to wait for an opening in the line of cars waiting to get out of the parking lot.

Evan blinks in surprise as Check Yes Juliet blasts from the speakers.

Connor groans.

“Just help me get out of here, asshat,” Zoe says.

Connor turns to look out the window. “You’re good with cars coming in.”

Zoe squints at the line of cars and backs up as soon as the smallest opening appears. Someone behind them honks their horn and Connor just rolls down the window and flips them off.

“And now we wait,” Zoe mutters, once she’s gotten the car into the endless line of other cars attempting to get away from this place.

“This is why I don’t drive,” Connor grumbles.

Zoe scoffs. “Okay. Sure.”

Evan rests his head against the window as they slowly move through the parking lot.

“Is this Jordin Sparks?” Connor asks when the next song comes on.

“You might be judging me,” Zoe says, “but you’re the one who recognized Jordin Sparks.”

The car is warm and Evan is so tired that it’s hard to focus. He finds himself thinking that it’s sort of nice that Connor and Zoe are arguing over something so mundane as music, even if that’s just the surface level of a much deeper problem.

Evan doesn’t fall asleep, but he does drift off. He hears Connor and Zoe talking softly, but doesn’t process any of the words. When the car stops, he blinks slowly and sits up. He squints out the window and at his front door.

Oh. Cool.

“Thanks,” he murmurs as he unbuckles his seatbelt and grabs his backpack from the floor. He opens the door and climbs out, careful to find solid footing on the driveway.

“No problem,” Zoe says with a soft smile. Her eyes dart to Connor. “You staying here?”

Connor looks at Evan. He raises an eyebrow.

Evan nods. He doesn’t…he doesn’t think he wants to be alone right now. But Connor doesn’t have to know that. If Connor asks, Evan will just say that it would be weird if Connor left him after being worried or something. Something about friendship.

“I’ll tell mom,” Zoe says. “Now get your ass out of my car or I’ll drive away with you.”

“Fuck off,” Connor mutters.

Evan digs through his bag for his house key as he walks up to the front door. He pulls it out of the pocket and unlocks the door.

Connor flips Zoe off before stepping inside. Zoe flips him off as she backs down the driveway.

Evan pulls off his shoes and leaves them by the door. He drops his backpack on the couch as he passes the living room and wanders into the kitchen. He almost forgets Connor is with him until Connor leans against the kitchen table.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Evan almost laughs because that really is the worst question. Instead, he opens a cabinet and holds out a box to Connor. “Cheez-its?”

“Did Jared buy these the other day?” Connor asks, taking the box.

“Uh…yes.” Evan feels his ears burn. “I— He bought a lot of snacks. We, um, still have pizza? If you want any?”

“Have you eaten today?” Connor asks.

Evan blinks a few times. “S-sort of? Lunch, I-I had some lunch. You?”

“Just breakfast.” Connor puts down the Cheez-its. “I’ll take a piece if you do.”

Evan feels like he might lowkey be being played, but Connor needs to eat. “Okay,” he says. “Want it warm?”

“Yeah sure.”

Evan focuses on getting the pizza out of the fridge and onto a plate and then into the microwave. As he watches the pizza slices spin, Connor digs through the kitchen drawers.

“W-what are you…?”

Connor holds up a knife and fork victoriously. “We’re good.”

“Are you… Since when do you eat pizza with silverware?”

“I’m not a caveman,” Connor says sagely. He reaches past Evan to pull open the microwave door a second before it beeps.

“You’ve never used it before?” Evan takes the pizza out and takes a slice before handing the plate to Connor.

Connor snorts and sits down at the table. “You’ve only seen me eat pizza like three times, Hansen. You don’t know me.”

Evan slowly pulls out a chair as Connor cuts up his pizza. “Yeah but…before you were eating it backwards. Which was— why were you doing that?”

Connor points his fork at Evan. “Used to make Zoe mad.”

“I-I guess that’s…valid.” Evan eats his pizza slowly as he watches Connor eat his piece by piece. He doesn’t really understand, but that’s okay. He glances at his half finished piece of pizza before he mumbles, “You don’t…you don’t have to, um, pay me for this.”

Connor lowers his fork with a weird triangle shaped piece of pizza still on it. “It’s fine, I can still—”

“No,” Evan interrupts firmly. “I— I wanted you to be here. I asked you to. It was my choice so you— you don’t have to give me anything. That’s… It’s only fair.”

“Are you sure?” Connor asks slowly.

Evan nods. “If-if you try to pay me, I’ll just give the money to Zoe to sneak into your room. O-or she could just take it. And then there was no point in giving it to me.”

Connor looks at him with an expression that Evan can’t decipher for a few seconds before shrugging and saying, “Okay” before going back to his pizza.

Evan isn’t entirely content with the answer but it’ll do for now.

—«·»—

“Here,” Evan says, taking the remote from Connor and opening Netflix. “Th-there’s never really anything good on TV.”

“Sweet, thanks.”

Evan doesn’t really know how they got to this point. They finished eating and Connor offered to leave if Evan wanted him to, but Evan shook his head and then somehow…they ended up on the couch.

“The Great British Baking Show?” Connor asks, reading the title of the first show under ‘Continue Watching’.

“Oh, um…” Evan plays with the hem of his shirt. “It’s…a nice show? It’s not— other cooking shows are a lot more stressful? And intense? This one is… It’s a lot nicer. It’s kind of funny and they have nice bakers usually.”

Connor gives him a half smile. “You like baking?”

Evan rolls his eyes. “We both know I can’t bake for shit.”

Connor laughs. “I know, it’s just funny how you like to watch people bake but burn mac n cheese.”

“I never burned mac n cheese,” Evan mumbles.

“Do you mind?” Connor asks, gesturing to the screen.

Evan shakes his head.

Connor goes to the beginning of the season Evan had open and restarts the first episode.

“Oh there are going to be lots of measurements that I do not fucking understand,” Connor says.

Evan smiles and leans back on the cushions of the couch. It’s nice to watch something where he already knows the outcome, and Connor has some pretty amusing commentary to add to the whole thing. It’s kind of funny how fast Connor decides who his favorite and least favorite bakers are.

As Connor watches a technical challenge where no one has any clue what the hell they’re doing, Evan feels himself drifting off to sleep and he can’t find the energy to stop himself.

—«·»—

Evan wakes up slowly. His eyelids are heavy— his whole body is heavy, actually. There’s still thick cobwebs of sleep left in his brain that haven’t been dusted away and they’re making it very hard to regain consciousness. This usually happens after really bad days that involve some sort of meltdown, but all it ever does is make Evan want to go back to sleep.

He turns his head to press his face more into his pillow. Something tickles his nose. Something like…hair?

Evan groans and sits up, squinting at the bright screen of the television. Connor turns to look at him and gives him a crooked smile.

Oh.

His pillow had been Connor’s shoulder.

“S-sorry,” Evan mumbles.

“It’s fine,” Connor promises. Their arms are still pressed together and Evan really doesn’t care to move right now. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Fine. Uh…how long was I…?”

Connor glances to the screen. “Maybe two and a half hours?” Evan’s eyes go wide. “It’s fine, Ev. I’m okay with being used as a pillow. You needed the sleep and I got to get through a few more episodes of the show. Win win.”

“Win win,” Evan repeats softly. “Do you… Are you leaving soon?”

“Do you want me to?” Connor asks.

Evan is a selfish person. He knows exactly what he’s doing. And he hates himself for it.

“Not yet.”