#also becca your note is so going on my wall

[akindofmagictoo]

THEY’RE HERE!!

@ashen-crest

#still can’t believe I’m friends with a published author #who is sending me goodies for her to-be-published book??? #also becca your note is so going on my wall #❤️ #me and my friends

[writing-in-lesbian]

A Heiress in love. Pt. 6

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff / Female Reader Tags: angst, fluff, Translations: Hainofi = princess // Strik sis [Strisis] = little sister // Ai hod yu in = I love you // Ste yuj = Stay strong // Yu laik ai kru = You are my people // Oso laik wonkru = We are one clan // Ai hod you in seintaim = I love you too // Em pleni = enough // Ai laik Heda = I’m the commander // Jomp em op en you jump ai op // Attack her and you attack me. Chapter synopsis: As the enemies get closer, our new appointed commander embarks on a much personal journey.

A/N: This story keeps sending me into new research topics! I hope I’m doing them justice. Also since there aren’t a lot of trigedeslang transistors, everything in italics and underlined would be trigedeslang. Again, I’m partying ways from some canon events in the 100 in order for this to work. Work is not beta’d so all mistakes are mine.

Chapter 6 - The prince, the princess and death.

Tuesday 03:30 a.m.

That’s what you think the time it’s based on the stars illuminating the sky. You observe Wanda sleeping peacefully close to the table where you left her, having you decided to meditate a little.

Your soul is restless, for some reason, you can’t stop thinking about the impending war and the consequences it might have, you make a mental note to send Henry a message tomorrow night, the device for communications being at your chambers, just to ask him how’s everything on their side.

The night is silent.

It should feel peaceful but it’s thick with anticipations of something you quite don’t understand. A lot has happened in a few days, and the constant changing of things does nothing to calm your mind. You think of your family, especially your mother, How many battles and wars has she seen already in her life? She deserves a quiet life, For years she was just surviving, making amends with death but then your mom quite literally fell from the sky and well, they both deserve a quiet life already. Haven’t they suffered enough?

Your mind travels to the redhead close to you and how you went from wishing to know her to being betrothed. Funny how sometimes the universe chooses to give us what we wanted. You notice her slim figure and, think how much harder all of this is being for her, and, not for the first time, you wish you could do more, be more, for those you love and care about.

Wondering as well about your other guests, they will probably leave tomorrow sometime during the day, hoping Pietro or Natasha could stay a little bit more, for Wanda’s sake. Taking your eyes off Wanda you look at the sky and the moon, shining bright above you, making her best effort to bring solace to your query mind.

Raven told you once that your mind thought 800 thoughts per millisecond, never shutting up and it would be a good thing for Lexa to start training you on how to effectively lessen them. You should have paid more attention to your lessons, maybe if your mother had been the one to show you instead of Octavia, you would have studied more, ‘cause you definitely want that state of mind right now.

In a few hours, your party will leave for Tondc, despite the political air it has, that’s where you’ll go to get your tattoo done, right at Becca’s bunker. You’re still amazed at how a lot of things changed when it comes to the Commander rituals, thanks to your mother and her rules.

Closing your eyes again, you try to concentrate, inhaling and exhaling slowly, one, two, three times, but before you can reach the fourth inhalation you hear Wanda whining. Your instinct and need to protect her takes over you and you go to her side immediately. Later when you are questioned, you will recall seeing the red wisps coming from her hands but claim you didn’t notice until it was too late.

You touch her shoulder trying to wake her up and receive a blast of red magic, that, upon impact does feel a little weird, but is enough to send you flying and crashing against one of the bigger rocks on the wall. You have to thank Raven for teaching you to cover your head when being sent flying and crashing from explosions. That summer you spent with her and she used you as a dummy test (to the displeasure of your mothers), is proving to be effective now.

Still, the hard impact is enough to leave you unconscious. … … … … … … … … …

You awake (or regain consciousness) to the sound of screaming. Trying as quick as you can, you force your body to get up, opening your eyes but the air is strong, making it harder for you to see, so you instantly close them again.

Putting your hand covering your eyes you walk towards what you think is the table, squinting your way out.

“Wanda?” You scream but your voice can’t be heard.

The noises are too loud.

You somehow see the smoke rising from the way the Tower is. Feeling your stomach drop, you turn and try to look for Wanda but all you see is fire where the table used to be, you still make your way back to it.

“Wanda, where are you?” But the clouds are covering the moon and there’s a lot of fog, making it impossible to see beyond a certain range, you’re not sure if it’s from the smoke or the chill air, but is starting to get into your lungs. Covering your mouth you reach the table.

Nothing.

BOOM

The loud explosions close to you are enough to destroy the rock walls and send you to the floor looking for cover. Eyes closed, not making a move, you hide behind the hidden part of the table, covering your mouth, trying not to make a sound with your coughs. Inhaling, and exhaling, you calm your state but are still stiff as a rock, you’re not sure where the explosions are coming from or if someone is near.

“Wanda, where are you?” You try again, thinking as hard as you can this time, remembering how it seemed to work a few hours ago, hoping it gets to her again.

Silence.

Eery silence.

Not even the wind makes a noise.

Opening one eye you can’t see any fire or smoke. In fact, everything seems exactly as it was before the explosions, the moon and the stars shining bright above you.

Carefully, you start getting up from your crouching position, sword at the ready. What the hell is going on? Your (e/c) eyes scan the area, looking for a sign of Wanda, at this point, for someone, anybody to appear.

“Welcome… Strisis” you remember well that voice.

It lulled you to sleep many times, but it’s impossible for you to hear it again right now. Turning carefully, one foot at a time, forcing your body to move, refusing to opening your eyes. Counting one to three in your head, you slowly bring light to your vision.

Truth is, it’s not impossible as it seems.

He’s standing there in all his glory, just like you used to remember him. Clad in all black, his blue eyes contrasting his sandy blonde hair, but his hair is well stylish and not as sweaty as normal, due to all the training he’d done. He’s sporting a small smile, the same one he reserved just for you.

“Aden” a whisper you’re not sure it came from your lips.

Tentatively you take a step, he’s the same height you remember him, except this time, you are taller than him. Although you’re not as tall as your mother, you somehow reached Clarke’s height, still, Aden, as you see him now, is shorter than you.

“I have been waiting for you” yet he doesn’t move nor make any intent to come closer. You look at your surroundings, but nothing seems different than when you entered this place.

“How… what… is it really you?” You refuse to believe what’s in front of you. The reality of having him here could mean just one thing.

“I am” he still doesn’t move.

“I don’t understand… am I?”

“Your betrothed holds a lot of power”

You frown at the mention of Wanda. Where is she anyway?

“No need to worry Sistris, despite unconsciously trying, she cannot enter where we are”

“What?” The fog in your brain is going away slowly. You recall the night, meditating, Wanda whining…

And the red sparks.

“We’re in my mind?”

“Not quite Y/N, we are in something similar to the City of Lights. I’m guessing this was a result of her”

“Wanda?”

“Is that her name? I always wondered. Mother used to call her the Lady with magic hands, not the best phrase is you ask, no wonder mom almost choked on her water”

His laugh is remarkable and something you wished to hear more often when he was alive. Wait, your mothers knew Wanda had magic? Is that why they accepted Stark’s offer? But, if they know she has magic, and certainly all her clan know, why would ask for your union? You don’t hold anything compared to Wanda’s abilities, so what can you bring to the table?

“A lot more of what you think sistris"

Continuing to ignore him, for your own sake, a lot of things haven’t made a lot of sense so trying to search for it, under the circumstances will just bring you a massive headache.

“You said we’re in the City of Lights but is not my mind”

“I said, we are in something similar. This is still part of your mind. Lady Maximoff can’t enter this space, more than anyone, you should know and it’s not because of the chaos”

Despite your best efforts, you feel a headache coming. Is that possible? Feeling a headache while inside your head?

“Sunrise is coming sistris”

“Wait, Aden… don’t go” The fear of losing him again makes you act on instinct, recalling the sensation you felt all those years ago, closing the distance an embracing him.

He smells like pine and wood, combined with some citric notes, a little bit different from what you remember. Back in the day, you always mumbled he smelled like rain, Madi taunted him saying you meant it was wet dirt, but to you, it was something fresh.

“I’m here”

Despite the height difference now, you feel his strong arms circling you and comforting you in a way only older brothers can.

You don’t want to let him go and refuse to close your eyes in case he disappears. What if he’s a fragment of your imagination?

“I’m real”

He takes your face and cradles it with his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Let us walk” he grabs your hand while you both walk, using his hand as an anchor to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Upon close inspection, you see now the lake where he used to take you and Madi.

“War is coming sistris, and nothing can prevent it, not even chaos itself”

This information is not a surprise to you. Maybe you knew it all along, feared it but hoped for a peaceful resolution. That feeling of emptiness you had and the restlessness you felt prior was a way of rejecting the truth.

“Mother has taught you well. You’re better than I was. No wonder the spirit of the prior commanders is calling and choosing you”

“Aden” the rest of your sentence dies there, hanging in the air because you well know that, if he would still be alive, the commander would have chosen him and you would have been a simple heiress, waiting for her turn to the throne.

Your only reward was avenging his death when you were of age. To be fair, it was a clean duel, Ontari should have known it was coming.

“I never had the flame but I feel them now. And they are all anxious for what’s to come. You have a powerful ally Y/N and your future wife can be the decisive key to win or lose, it will depend on you”

You let go of his hand and stay rooted in place. Wanda have a part in this?

“We are no wiser nor gods to decide someone's destiny”

“And yet here you are telling me I’m the one who will scale the balance”

“I’m just a messenger”

“You’re one of the judges aren’t you?”

“I’m not sistris. I’m here on your request”

What request? What the hell is happening? One sec you’re trying to meditate and the next you’re in some kind of extremely weird dream, talking to your deceased brother like it was a casual walk at your favorite lake.

And now Wanda has come into the equation.

At her mention or more of your thoughts on her, you see red fog covering some bushes at the other side of the lake.

Aden follows your sight.

“Chaos awaits. It destroys and creates, it can never be tamed or understood but it can be beautiful if loved”

“Why do you keep referring to the chaos?”

“Sistris…” his face is filled with genuine curiosity, frowning his eyebrows exactly like your mother. And not for the first time you’re considering, that in fact, you’re the adopted one of the family.

“What Aden?” Yet you don’t look at him.

“Your betrothed has chaos magic”

He’s expecting a reaction from you but it honestly doesn’t affect you the type of magic Wanda has, why everybody is making a huge deal out of this is beyond your mind. The red fog in the meantime seems to get bigger and bigger.

“Y/N” a whisper comes from the bushes.

Your eyes are still glued to the color red, and for a flicker of a second, a silhouette starts forming only to vanish right after. Curios.

“Sunrise is coming and we cannot be late” That makes you turn to him.

You’re back at the ceremonial place but it seems darker, the stars are far gone and the moon seems to hide behind clouds

“Y/N” the voice seems familiar, you hear it so close to you but yet so far.

Aden walks closer to you when he sees the same red fog getting closer and circling the ceremonial place.

“Curios” Aden’s voice seems now like a whisper.

He places his hand on your shoulders, the act making you face him. His face is serious, a carbon copy of your mother.

“There are things I’m not allowed to tell. The knowledge we possess is not carved on stone and there are things that escape my mind as soon as I want to say them”

“Will I see you again?”

“You will know the answer to that”

Feeling a pull, you notice the red fog is close just to you, it plays around your hand. Aden sees it as well.

“Curios indeed” and you feel his strong arms once again around you and you take the opportunity to absorb his scent, to feel secure in his strength.

“I feel the pain in your heart. Mother loves you, don’t doubt it”

Sometimes we just need encouragement to fuel the fire inside of us. Until this point, you never thought simple words could do that.

“Ste yuj sistris” he says almost in a whisper, kissing your forehead. “Yu laik ai kru, Oso laik wonkru. Trust us, trust the commander in you, and tell your betrothed I said that to her as well”

Opening your eyes you see him still in front of you but the red fog is pulling you towards it. You see Aden moving his lips but can’t hear what he says.

“Aden?”

Trying to walk to him your way is stopped by the fog.

“ADEN” you yell and feel the tears falling from your eyes, just like that night many years ago. “ADEN”

“Curios indeed. Ai hod yu in heinofi” his silhouette seems like it’s vanishing from your line of vision, combined with a tinted red from the fog around your body, feeling warm and not unwelcome at all.

And as soon as the words leave his mouth, you’re completely covered in the red fog… and all goes dark. … … … … … … … … …

You can hear noises but they are too loud for you to comprehend what’s happening. Your mind feels foggy and you feel tired, the pain in your head has become a migraine. You can feel the pressure on one side.

Feeling hands on your shoulders, slowly but surely the noises around you have started to get clear and you can identify voices, Madi, Octavia and Natasha are yelling and you feel pretty sure if you were to open your eyes, you can bet they’re doing some type of training.

“Y/N, please wake up”

“I told you to stay away from her!”

“Don’t you dare touch her if you want to keep your hand”

“Aden… don’t go” it scales as a whisper from your lips.

For a moment, you stop hearing Madi and Octavia and all you can feel are the hands on your shoulders, they feel warm and strong. You want to open your eyes but they feel heavy.

Hearing some rustling around you and the warmth from the hands is replaced by another pair, cold and callused, they feel foreign.

“Y/N… what did you say” Madi’s voice seems close now.

Getting up seems difficult. Groaning, you open your eyes, making your body sit up first. There’s a warm sensation on your forehead so you might as well open your eyes. Bringing your hand to the sour of pain you feel the thick and slick liquid. Blood indeed.

“Y/N you’re okay?” Her voice is worried and you detect a flinch of fear in it.

You look at her and see that Octavia has her sword out and is pointing it toward Wanda, Natasha in front of her, protecting her and you feel jealous. Why in the name of Gaia happen?

Madi is the one next to you, kneeling to see if you’re okay. Taking away her hand from touching your forehead, you seek impulse with your hands on the floor and stand up. Madi assisting you quickly. You look at her and nod, indicating you’re well enough to stand on your own, but she refuses to let you go.

“I’m okay”

Yet your words don’t seem to calm any of the situation in place and when you try to go and comfort her, Madi stops you. Seeing this, Wanda tries to go to you instead but is stopped by Natasha, who sees Octavia take one step towards her.

“Care to explain to me what’s happening? None of you should be here” trying your best calming voice.

“I could ask the same Heinofi” It’s been a while since you heard Octavia this exhaled and furious.

Nothing of this makes sense. With all the pain in your head, you find another solution and think as hard as you can, to instruct Wanda, if she can hear you and is ok, to tilt her head. Suddenly you feel a pair of eyes on you, effectively meeting her eye, Wanda’s frown is in place but she tilts her head, slightly but the move is there.

“Madi?” As stern as you can you utter the words.

She hesitates for a moment, probably because she never heard you using that tone or because you know your mother will arrive soon, if not sooner with all this apparent commotion.

“I was setting with Octavia the last supplies you’ll need to use at TonDC, when we heard a loud noise coming from here. When we arrived you were crashed in the rocks bleeding from your head and Wanda was standing a few meters away, her hands clasped around her magic”

“Y/N I wasn’t” but Wanda’s interrupted by Natasha’s hand on her hand. Now you’re the one feeling like seeing red.

“Octavia got the sword out and that’s when Natasha arrived”

“Glad I came when I did, two against one didn’t seem fair”

Now that makes sense. If you were blasted by Wanda’s magic that could explain why you kept seeing red fog but, didn’t Aden say Wanda couldn’t enter your mind? Then how you could see the red, characteristic of Wanda’s magic? Was she trying to enter your mind to see if you were okay, or she was unconsciously doing it?

“Octavia, please take away your sword from my betrothed”

“Can’t do Henofi”

“Octavia. I’m not asking”

That makes Octavia turn to look at you if barely, her eyes never leaving the pair of your guests. Madi’s hold on your body is doing nothing to keep you calm.

“Y/N I don’t think you understand”

“Octavia, em pleni!” And is the stern in your voice what makes Octavia fully look at you and Madi to loosen her grip on you.

“You vowed to protect and obey me”

“I vowed to protect the commander” Out of the corner of your eye you see Wanda taking a few steps out of Natasha’s reach, her eyes although guarded have a flicker of fear in them.

“Ai laik Heda, you like it or not,” you say between teeth. Masking your pain and foggy mind.

Funny things happen when the most calm and peaceful people raise their voices and utter strength into them. Madi lets you go but Octavia has difficulty relinquishing her guard and stance. You see the anger behind her eyes and finally, she puts her sword back in her scabbard.

“Yu laik ai kru” You speak these words towards Wanda specifically but mean to extend them towards Natasha and her clan as well.

Madi and Octavia look at you.

“Oso laik wonkru” you speak to them.

Hearing you speak trigedeslang is so foreign, since you barely use it, They’re more used to hearing from other people but not you, it makes them realize what the words you spoke convey.

“You are my people. We are one clan” you say for the sake of Wanda and Natasha and to make your stance very clear.

“War is imminent”

“Sistris”

“No Madi, it is. Aden told me”

“Aden?” Madi looks at you.

You can’t even if you tried, explain everything that happened inside your head (or outside) you’re still not sure where that place was or if you’ll go again.

“What happened was an accident. I startled Wanda. We cannot be divided. Ai laik Heda ”

The air feels heavy, and the implications of what you said, especially to Octavia, linger in the air. They never have seen you like this, Madi has a newfound respect for you if her kneeling in front of you indicates it. Octavia scans you, her scowl present but kneels.

“Jomp em op en you jump ai op”

“You are right daughter” You turn to see your mothers enter. Lexa was clad in her red stash and riding attire. Clarke is wearing a green cloak, you didn’t think she will travel with you.

“Octavia, Madi, rise"

“War is imminent. Aden has spoken to us”

What?

“Come Y/N, your ascension ceremony should take place today at noon”

Clarke looks at you and her eyes carry so much weight and sorrow.

“Mom?”

She just opens her hands, the flame is nested between the metal box you dreaded to see. What you don’t take into consideration is that there are two little boxes, meaning Wanda will get chipped too.

“Y/N, a flame-keeper has not been in our clans for so many years. Times are changing and for us, it changes as well in our traditions”

“Interesting use of words, Lexa. Remind me to learn to be as political and coherent as you” Stark's voice comes out of nowhere and suddenly you see a red suit floating. It’s close to the floor but you might have imagined it, you certainly will be confused after the blast.

“Natasha, be a dear and take the second box. You have been appointed to be the flame keeper, isn’t that exciting?”

So that’s a no on Wanda chipped but wait. Natasha?'

“With due respect Heda, I will use my right to duel and challenge Duchness Romanoff for the place of the flame keeper”

You all turn to see Octavia slicing her hand in a way that allows the hand to bleed minimally. Before anyone can say anything Natasha’s raspy voice accepts it.

“Lexa?” You hear your mom speak.

And then all goes silent, the calmness you felt before is there and you don’t have to look to see that Wanda has taken your hand and has interlaced your fingers… nor do you see the red magic coming from her hands and taking you once again into darkness.

-/-/-/-/-/

Tag List: @spongebobtentacles @wandamaximoff727 @cristin-rjd @aawake-atnight @msromanoffswife @juno-verse @wandastan-2 @wannabe-fic-reader @cd-4848

#ao3 author #a heiress in love #cross posted on ao3 #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #ao3 fanfic #wanda maximoff x you #they #the 100 crossover

[spoopydooblr]

Demons | Chapter 2

Pairing: Billy Butcher (The Boys) x Supe!OC

Summary: Over a year ago, Lilith Murphy escaped the experiments and torture of the Sage Grove Center. After laying low and stripping at Super Girlz, she’s found by Billy and The Boys.

Warnings: mentions of assault, grooming, cursing, drugs

AN: here we go againnnnnnnn!! super excited to be on this journey with y’all. as always please lmk ur thoughts 🫡

Taglist!!!!: @seeingstarks @a-rogue-tiddy-bot @scraftsku35

Lili clambered into the back of Butcher’s car, Hughie in shotgun. It smelled like take out food and cigarettes.

“Just so you know,” Lili mumbled. “If you’re trying to kidnap me, I can rip both your dicks off in a matter of seconds.”

Butcher grunted.

“Noted.” Hughie squeaked.

The rest of the ride was in silence, Lili shivering despite being wrapped in Billy’s coat.

A little while later, they pulled up to an abandoned apartment building. Lili followed the men inside, half expecting a collar and cage to be waiting for her. She didn’t trust either of them, and she probably never would (or could).

“This here’s the lair.” Billy said, opening the door to a dirty, old apartment. Inside, a few people sat, watching a movie. Lili was almost positive one of the movie-watchers was Starlight.

It looked like an old police station. Papers were scattered about, with pictures of Supes and crime scenes were hung on the walls.

The four people on the couch stood up, looking at Butcher expectantly.

“You got her?” Starlight asked.

He moved to the side, revealing Lili.

They stared at her, looking her up and down, probably confused why she was wearing Butcher’s coat.

“I’m Lili.” She whispered. The only person who looked relatively unthreatening was a taller black man standing to the side.

“I’m Star-I mean, I’m Annie.” Starlight said. “And this is Frenchie, Kimiko, and MM.”

“Nice to meet you, I guess.”

Kimiko started to rapidly sign something.

“She says she is excited to have another girl here.” Frenchie spoke up.

“I am too.” Annie smiled at her. “It’ll be nice.”

Lili furrowed her brow. Why were they being so nice to her?

Kimiko signed again.

“She says you can bunk with her.” Frenchie explained.

“Oh, um, thanks.” Lili pursed her lips. “So, uh, why does an anti-Supe group have supes?”

She sniffed the air. There were at least two other supes in the room.

Billy chuckled from behind her. “I be thinking the same thing myself.”

“We’re not all supes.” MM chimed in. “Just the girls.” He faltered. “And those two when they feel like shooting the V.”

Lili looked back to Hughie and Billy, who both seemed uncomfortable with MM’s answer.

Lili raised her eyebrows at Billy, who shrugged.

“Let’s crack on then!” He said. “More of this therapy session and I’m gonna fuckin puke.”

Lili tossed her bag in Kimiko’s room, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and searching for the closest rooftop. Fortunately for her, the top floor was a staircase away.

————————

“Knew ya’d be out here.” Footsteps followed by a gruff voice.

She took another drag. “Tryna bum a cig?”

Butcher laughed. “You’re a little young for dat, don’t ya think?” The way she sat there, cigarette in her lips, it reminded him of Becca. Butcher tried to push the thought out of his head.

“They didn’t have cotton candy vape at Sage Grove, sorry.” She breathed smoke into the air.

“Yer welcome, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Breakin ya outta there.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She shrugged. “You also shot down my friend.”

“Ya saw that?”

Lili nodded.

“I ain’t like killin kids.” Butcher sighed. “But it’s the job.”

“You like killing Supes?” She turned to him, a sly smiled on her lips. She was challenging him.

Billy took a step towards her. He smelled really good. “Sometimes.”

“Why don’t you kill me, then?” She was a good head shorter than him now that her stilettos were off.

“I ain’t done with you yet.”

Lili hummed, taking a drag of her cigarette and offering it to him.

He nodded, and she handed the cigarette to him. Their hands touched for a second, shooting a bolt of electricity through her body. There was no way Butcher didn’t feel it to. “What you got going on with The Deep?”

Lili froze. “Um, honestly?” She thought for a moment. What did she have going on with him? It was much more complicated than she could even comprehend. “I-I think he like groomed me or something.”

Billy’s face hardened and he took a long drag of her cigarette.

She wished she could take back what she said. Butcher didn’t need to be involved in her situation with The Deep.

They were both quiet for a second, Lili trying to think of a joke to break the tension.

“It’s like, it’s fine though.”

Billy looked at her questionably. It was definitely not fine. “What they do to ya in there, love?”

Lili took a long drag before answering. “You read my file. You tell me.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Please, Billy. When I lit my fucking body on fire you were the only one who didn’t flinch.” She turned, looking out at the sky. “The demon thing really takes most people by surprise.”

“I ain’t surprised by much anymore.” His hands wrapped around the ledge.

“Me neither.” She thought for a moment. “I didn’t know Temp V was even on the market.”

“It’s not.”

He flicked the cigarette off the balcony.

“Hey!”

“Shouldn’t be smokin those, love.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Billy turned to her. “I can call ya whatever the fuck I want.”

Lili stared back at him, giving him a devilish smile as she flashed her spiky teeth. “Sure.”

She took out another cigarette. “So…why me?”

“Homelander.”

Lili shook her head. “I can’t kill him.”

“Maybe not…but ya can try.”

“And why would I do that?” She lit a flame on her finger and lit the cig.

“Because.” Billy said. “From what I recall, you got a bone to pick wit tha twat too.”

Lili chuckled. “Doesn’t mean I’m strong enough to kill him.”

“I seen ya powers, love. Remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “What is with you and Homelander, anyway?”

Butcher faltered. Lili knew there was much more behind the surface of the man.

Suddenly, flashes of memories clouded her brain. Was she reading his trauma? She hadn’t been able to do that since she was a child.

Before Homelander killed everyone she loved.

Lili looked at him. “Your wife…”

“Got ya abilities back, eh?”

She rubbed her temples. Butcher’s trauma was pouring into her like sand, weighing her down.

“Ah…fuck.” She toppled over, shaking hands hitting the ground. Her vision went in and out, from black to flashes of Becca. Then there was the kid…

“Homelander’s son—“ She struggled to get the words out.

Billy grunted, catching her arm. “Don’t strain ya self.”

Lili looked up at him, tears forming in her now blood red irises. “I-I’m sorry.” She regained her balance, unpleased that Butcher had to help her. “You’re dying, Billy.”

He froze.

“Billy.” She pushed. He reeked of death.

“Aye, I’m fine.”

“Let me guess…” Flashes of Lili’s time in Sage Grove clouded her mind. They pumped her with everything they had. If she wasn’t as powerful as she was, the drugs would have killed her by now. “The Temp V fried your brain?”

Butcher grumbled in response. “Fucked me up real good.”

“Do they know? The Boys?”

He shook his head. “And they ain’t gonna know.” Billy looked at her expectantly.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Lili pretended to zip her lips.

Billy tried to suppress his smile. Her demeanor surprised him. He wasn’t expecting her to be so…alive.

They were quiet for a second, passing the cigarette back and forth.

“If we do this…I want Ke-I mean, I want The Deep, too.”

“Lili.” Butcher smiled. “If we’re lucky, we’ll fucking kill them all.”

———————

The next morning, Billy gathered The Boys and Lili for a meeting. Annie offered her a seat next to her on the couch. Lili appreciated the gesture, but was still wary of her. She was in The Boys now, but just a month prior, Annie was dating Homelander.

“How did you sleep?” She asked.

“Alright.”

Annie started to say something but Butcher interrupted.

“Okay you lot. I gotta plan fo today.” He pointed to a map on the wall. “We going back to Sage Grove.”

Lili’s heart dropped. Was he being for real?

“Billy—“

“When I got Lili’s file from Mallory she gave me a piece of key intel.” He pointed to another picture on the wall. It was some kind of chemical compound.

“This here is V Inhibitor. A drug that temporarily blocks powers.”

Lili felt like she was going to throw up. Even with her tender Butcher moment the night before, it was clear he was using her for information.

“Inhibitor works on any Supe.” Butcher smiled. “Even Homelander.”

“How do we even know this works?” Hughie piped up.

Billy’s eyes landed on Lili. “Patient zero is our very own Demoness.”

Annie looked at Lili, surprise and pity filling her face. “What did they do to you?” She breathed.

Lili gave Billy a death stare, keeping her eyes locked on him. “I’m not going back there.”

—————————

Sage Grove, 5 years ago

Lili was strapped to a cot, wearing nothing but a hospital gown. The straps electrocuted her every time she moved.

“Please…” she begged. “Don’t do this.”

To her left, a man wearing a lab coat and a mask fiddled with syringes. A nurse stood next to her cot.

The man grabbed a syringe filled with tar-like black liquid and tapped the sides. He turned to the nurse. “Hold her down.”

The nurse grabbed Lili’s shoulders and arms.

“Please!” She yelled. The doctor ignored her, taking her right arm. “I’ll be good!”

He ignored her again, pressing the needle into her arm and injecting her with the liquid.

Lili immediately screamed, fire flowing out of her mouth.

The cot shook as Lili continued to scream. The veins in her neck turned black, the injection entering her bloodstream. Instead of fire, she coughed up black sludge.

The doctor held a stopwatch, counting the seconds. “Five…four…three…two…”

Lili’s body went limp and her head smacked against the cot.

“Check her pulse.” The doctor said.

The nurse put her hand on Lili’s neck, “she’s alive.”

“Good.”

————————

“I’m serious, Butcher.” Lili stood up from her spot next to Annie. “I can’t help you with this.”

“The fuck ya mean?” He growled. “You told me ya wanted to take Homelander down.”

“Not like this.” Lili’s voice shook. “Inhibitor is not what you think it is.”

Billy laughed. “You scared of a little prick?”

“No.” Her face turned red. How dare he call her scared in front of everyone. “Think about the consequences! If Inhibitor gets out, people will die.”

“Supes will die.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

He nodded. Lili remembered what she saw in Billy’s trauma last night. He wouldn’t stop until Homelander got what he deserved. Frankly, Lili understood.

“Okay.” She said, sitting back down. “Fine.”

#billy butcher x oc #the boys #billy butcher

[rillils]

RILS, my love, how have you been? its been so long since i left an ask, honestly.. what do you think our boys are doing rn for valentines??

anyways, HAPPY VALENTINES!! I LOVE YOU <333 💛💛💛 😘😘😘

HONEYYYYYYYYY MY DARLING MY PRECIOUS, ILYSM!!! 😍💖😍💖😍 I cannot tell you how HAPPY I was when I logged in today to find one of your asks!! First things first, happy Valentine’s Day to you too, darling! 💕💕💕 I hope yours has been lovely :3 Second, I just wanna say you’re the sweetest cinnamon roll that ever cinnamon rolled, and whenever I see your url/icon around, my little heart just goes “!!!!! FRIEND!!!!! I LOVE YOU FRIEND!!! 💕💕💕”, so there’s that :3

Lastly, and I think I should warn you here – I’ve been thinking long and hard about what Steve and Bucky must have been doing today, and because I’m the most indecisive scrunklekadoodle out there and I can never make up my mind about anything, I thought I might offer you not one, but a few little scenarios :3 They’re just a few of the infinite possibilities, but they also happen to be a few of my faves, and I hope at least one of them is to your liking, honey!! 😘😘😘😘😘

ALRIGHT NOW TIME TO PUT MY CHEESY GOGGLES ON, LET’S GO

one.

I think there’s at least one timeline out there, where they get to do something like this before the war, and like–

end of the night, they’re coming home – just the two of them, just on the right side of tipsy, you know, warmth in their chests and a sweet buzz under their skin, and while Steve’s fishing for their keys in his pocket, Bucky meets his eyes for a moment and damn but he’s been a fool to go looking for stars up in the sky when they’ve been shining so bright right here in front of him.

So key turns in the hole, door swings open for them, and maybe tonight even their apartment is feeling good – maybe their old radio chooses to crackle back to life for a change, and they pull their curtains closed, they only leave the one lamp on, pick their little corner away from the window just in case.

And they’re supposed to be dancing, see, just a little box step like Becca taught them for laughs the last time the Barnes’ had Steve over for the holidays, but then. But then their eyes meet. And their noses, so softly – and their lips, and that’s so much softer somehow – and Bucky’s hand’s travelling up Steve’s spine, and Steve’s sliding his fingers in Bucky’s hair, and they were meant to be dancing, but they just end up making out for twenty-seven minutes straight instead.

two.

alright, there’s definitely a universe out there, in the always blessed post-CATWS timeline where CACW never happened, and just-- please consider:

Steve’s been planning tonight for so long, ‘cause he wants it to be special, wants Bucky to have a Valentine’s Day just like the stuff you see in the movies; and since he can afford it these days, he has precisely 1107 red roses (one for each day they have been together in the new century) delivered to their apartment, with a hand-scribbled note that reads, Hope to send you a million more.

He’s made a reservation at Bucky’s favorite place, and when Bucky steps out of their bedroom that night, with a fresh shave and his hair carefully pulled back, in tight-fitting black pants and that deep burgundy button down that hugs his shoulders just right and brings out the natural red of his lips, Steve nearly falls to his knees in religious worship.

He fits both hands around Bucky’s slim waist, heart drumming out a crazy beat in his chest, just where Bucky’s hands choose to rest awhile.

“You look like a million dollars, honey.”

Bucky smiles that one secret smile of his, the one that so rarely appears outside the safe walls of their home. His metal hand slides up to stroke at the nape of Steve’s neck, slipping tender fingers under the collar of Steve’s shirt to brush, kiss-soft, against his bare skin – and his touch is thrill and gooseflesh spreading down Steve’s spine.

His voice rumbles deep and warm, just a whisper away from Steve’s lips. “You clean up nicely too, doll.”

And I mean, maybe they make it out the door, or maybe they don’t.

three.

But like have you considered the possibility of Valentine’s in Wakanda, because I mean–

catch these boys living it up in their blissful little bubble like they’re on their own special kind of honeymoon, okay, making total goo goo eyes at each other all the time, and there has to be, there HAS to be a little moment somewhere in there, okay, like

it’s February 14th and- and I don’t think they’ve even checked the calendar in like a week, because who needs to know what day it is when they’ve been savoring their time together like this? Content to explore life on their little farm, going from one meal to work, to the next meal, to more work, and so on and so forth, and measuring their day in how many kisses they managed to sneak in between?

Come sunset, they find each other in the kitchen, and Bucky pulls Steve in by his beltloops and captures his lips all sweet-like, like a greeting and like a promise all at once, and Steve tells himself it’s well worth sweating all day long and chasing after stray goats and getting his work clothes all nice and ripe, if at the end of it all he gets to be kissed hello like this.

Bucky chuckles against his mouth, and Steve tastes the sweat off his whiskers, and the faint sweetness of the dried apricots he knows Bucky keeps on him these days.

“You smell like goat,” Bucky pulls away just enough to say to him, his whole face scrunched up with laughter, his eyes screwed shut, all happy crinkles and them mile-long eyelashes and if god has any mercy at all he won’t let Steve’s heart stop dead in his chest the way it feels like it’s going to do, nope, ‘cause Steve’s got so much more of this to bask in yet, so much more of it, so much more.

“You smell like goat shit,” he tells Bucky, and there’s a story somewhere in here left in the trail of clothes they strew across the floor, and a plot twist for sure where they knock over a lamp and a book and almost trip over Steve’s old boots, but the epilogue sees Steve hoisting Bucky up in his arms and stumbling into the shower with him, same way he keeps doing a little too often lately, and nowhere near often enough.

What they start in the shower, of course, they can finish in the bedroom; and if Bucky moves slow and languorous on top of him, and teaches their hips the old rock ‘n’ roll once more, just to make sure they both remember it still, well Steve has always loved to learn.

four.

Now I was thinking– how about a little bit of a romantic getaway? Maybe a long weekend out of town, perhaps in the mountains, to make the best of what’s left of winter. They spend the whole day going for walks around the local village, sipping on a cup of hot cocoa, playing in the snow just like they used to when they were kids, building a sadly short-lived snow dick together, sledding, until they’re tired all the way down to their bones.

That’s when they go back to their private chalet, proceed to slip out of their damp clothes and climb together in a nice hot bubblebath, where Steve sits himself between Bucky’s legs and lays back against Bucky’s chest, and they alternate between trading slow, lazy kisses and feeding each other the fancy chocolates they brought back with them, until the water’s gone lukewarm.

and I could honestly keep going, but it's getting late and I need to get up early tomorrow, so for now, happy valentine's day to both you and our favourite boys!!

#stucky just stucky #GOD BLESS YOUR PRECIOUS HEART HONEY #SERIOUSLY <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 #i'm sorry these are all pretty rushed but today's been busy and gasjfhdkfjh #thank you so much for always being so sweet honey #you're simply wonderful <3 #stucky #rillers scribbles

[eddies-puppet]

𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙄𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙚 | 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧 𝙍𝙚𝙞𝙙

When an old unsolved case falls back onto their desks, the BAU calls in reinforcements from Emily's days with Interpol. Becca's arrival stirs the case up, as well as the heart of a certain Dr Reid...

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1: 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵

Warnings: Descriptions of violence

Word count: 1,518

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

Becca sighed as the elevator came to a stop on the sixth floor, straightening her black dress as the doors opened slowly. Stepping out, she walked towards the large glass doors across the corridor. She pulled the heavy door open, the sound of people bustling around filling her ears.

"Excuse me," she smiled to the tall man pouring himself a coffee, towering over her even in her heels as he pushed his hair back from his face. "I'm looking for Emily Prentiss?" He smiled down at her, gesturing towards the far corner of the room.

"That's her office in the corner."

"Perfect, thank you," she smiled as she turned and made her way towards the open door. She paused in the doorway, smiling as she peeked her head around the corner. Emily was hunched over her desk, scribbling away at some paperwork. "Did someone call for an exhausted Brit?" She laughed, Emily's face lighting up as she heard her voice.

"Oh my god, it's so good to see you," Emily exclaimed, jumping up from her desk and running to the doorway, pulling her friend into a tight hug.

"You too Em," Becca smiled as she pulled away, pushing her long dark hair behind her ear. "I wish it were under better circumstances though," she added sadly.

"Yeah, true story," Emily muttered as she walked back around her desk, taking a seat and gesturing for Becca to sit down opposite her. "So how are you? I was really sorry to hear you and Adam broke up."

"Oh god, don't be! I'll fill you in some time, but trust me, it's a good thing," Becca laughed. "But I'm good, thank you. How about you?"

"Really good. The last few years have been a whirlwind, but I'm glad I decided to come back," Emily said, nodding slowly. "Thank you for getting here so quickly. You must be really jetlagged." Becca raised her eyebrows, nodding dramatically.

"Just a bit!" She laughed. "But if we can catch this fucker between us, it'll be worth it. How many times has he hit in Washington?"

"Two so far, but it's been a couple of weeks since his last kill so he's going to snap again sooner or later," Emily explained.

"I'm just glad your analyst managed to link them. Without her, we might never have spotted them all," Becca said.

"Garcia is the best of the best," Emily smiled. "She did leave the BAU for a few months, and I can't tell you how glad we all are that she's back. The team are waiting for me in the round table room, you ready to get started?" Becca smiled, rising eagerly from her seat.

"Let's do it. I can't wait to meet them with everything you've told me," she smiled. Emily walked from her office, gesturing for Becca to follow.

As she followed Emily along the raised walkway that ran around the outside edge of the room, she glanced around the large office. There were files lining the far wall, and banks of desks filled the room, people milling around busily, and a kitchen area in the corner nearest to the large glass doors.

She smiled to herself, picturing her tiny room in the basement of the Interpol offices in London, with its tiny window high in the wall that even if she was tall enough to see out of it, all she'd see was the back alley of the building. Very far removed from the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the walkway, with panoramic views of the Quantico complex.

As they reached the closed door, Emily paused, her hand on the door handle.

"Prior warning. Penelope is going to go crazy for your British accent," Emily laughed. "Also, don't try shaking Spencer's hand. He's a bit of a germophobe and believe me, you don't want his speech about it being safer to kiss."

"Noted," Becca laughed softly as Emily pushed the door open and strolled inside.

"Ok guys, our special guest has arrived, let's get started," Emily said loudly as she made her way to the large circular table and took a seat, Becca sitting down beside her.

"First, let me introduce you to Dr Rebecca Harding. She teaches forensic psychology in England and she consults for Interpol, which is how our paths crossed. Becca is here to work with us on some recent killings in Washington, and I want you to consider her a part of this team for as long as she's here," Emily instructed the team.

"If she's not too tired from her trip, I was thinking maybe Becca could join us all for drinks tonight?" Emily suggested, looking at Becca, her lips curling into a small smile.

"Count me in," Becca smiled.

"Oh!" Garcia exclaimed. "I love the British accent!" She grinned, clapping her hands excitedly. "Would you like some tea mate?" She laughed in a very bad attempt at a British accent, earning a snorted laugh from the Hispanic man sitting opposite Becca.

Becca already knew she and Garcia would become great friends. She was warm and friendly, her clothes bright and cheerful, even matching her glasses.

"I mean, that was more Australian than British, but I never turn down tea," Becca chuckled.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," Emily laughed quietly. "Let me just tell you who everyone is and then I'll let Garcia talk us through the case. To your left is Dr Tara Lewis, then Matt Simmons, Jennifer Jareau, Luke Alvez, David Rossi and Dr Spencer Reid," Emily introduced everyone, all smiling warmly at Becca as Emily pointed to them in turn. She recognised Spencer as the tall stranger who she had spoken to when she first arrived. "And this delightful creature is Penelope Garcia, our tech analyst."

"And knower of all things both knowable and unknowable," Garcia chirped, bouncing out of her seat and across to the large screen at the front of the room, her bright blue heels clicking against the ground as she went.

"Well, my fine furry friends, we have a doozy for you today. Six years ago, the BAU consulted on four murders in Los Angeles," Garcia began, pressing buttons on the remote control in her hand, bringing up the pictures of four women on the screen. "This charming unsub likes to mutilate the genitals of his victims before stabbing them precisely thirteen times in the chest and stomach before slitting their throats and cutting their tongues out," Garcia grimaced, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Talk about overkill," Tara muttered. "This guy is angry."

"Garcia, were the victims sexually assaulted?" Matt asked.

"The M.E. found it difficult to say for sure because of all the, cutting," Garcia stuttered, scrunching her nose in disgust. "But he believes they were raped beforehand. No DNA left behind though." Matt nodded slowly, chewing on the lid of his pen.

"So, we're looking at a very angry sexual sadist," Luke said quietly.

"You know, I think I remember this case," Spencer said, leaning forward in his seat. "I didn't work it but I remember Hotch and Morgan discussing it. The unsub left the bodies in public parks posed under trees, right?" Garcia nodded, pressing the remote again, bringing up a new image on the screen of one of the victims at a dump site. "If I remember correctly, the unsub then fell dormant. There were four victims and then it all just stopped."

Becca watched Spencer as he spoke quickly, his hands gesturing with every word. His hair was longer, falling in soft chocolate waves that stopped just below his ears and often fell across his hazel eyes. His style was a little different to her normal type, although she did like his combination of a suit and Converse high tops, and she had to admit he was cute. And painfully smart from what she could remember Emily telling her about him.

"You're partially correct, boy genius," Garcia said. "The killings stopped in L.A., but two months later, similar murders started in London, England. Which is where Dr Harding comes in," Garcia explained, smiling as she gestured towards Becca.

"I was called in by Interpol to help with profiling this delightful guy, which is how I met Em," Becca explained, smiling at Emily. "The murders in London were basically an exact replica of the L.A. ones. Same victimology, same M.O., same timeline. And they stopped just as abruptly a year ago."

"We got a call from the police department in Washington a few days ago about a suspected serial," Emily explained. "When Garcia ran the details through ViCAP, she noticed the links between all of the murders, and I called Becca. Thank you again for dropping everything," she smiled at Becca.

"You think I was gonna pass up the chance to work with the BAU?" Becca laughed. "Not likely!"

"It's getting late, and I'm sure this one would like a nap before we hit the bar, so head home. We'll get started in the morning," Emily said, rising from her chair. "I'll text you the address for the bar," she smiled to Becca.

"Perfect, can't wait," Becca smiled.

Chapter 2

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #pretty boy #boy wonder #boy genius #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fiction #spencer reid x original female character #fanfiction #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #luke alvez #matt simmons #tara lewis #jennifer jareau

[thequeenrains]

"Let me get you home."

Another one shot for you people out there :>

Tags: bar; night out gone wrong; Hiro being a mysterious hero

Summary: aside from the stress that you accumulated from finals, your ex was a douchebag and well, you both broke up. So, to destress and to welcome summer break, you and your friends decided to spend the last night in a bar. But things somehow went south.

Word Count: 1955

Touching up the last finishes on your lipstick, you grinned widely as you stood up straight and eyed yourself from the mirror. Outfit a tad bit revealing from what you usually wear, hair styled to perfection, face beautifully enhanced with makeup, height towering than normal because of heels.

Perfect.

Now, this is the time to party and get yourself to live a little since college really demanded a lot of you.

And so did your ex.

But he wasn't as relevant right now. So, you shook the thought off and headed straight to the door, grabbing your purse and your keys on the way out.

Off you go to the party.

The loud music blared from the four walls of the place, rousing your adrenaline levels. Anticipation and giddiness were slowly bubbling its way to the surface as you slipped passed the bouncer, together with your friends.

You took a table that was near the bar since some of your friends were ready to get wasted and dance off the stress that finals brought. Besides, tomorrow was summer break so they decided to make the most of it.

You all sat on the couch, one of your friends went to the bar to order your drinks and food. Whilst sitting, you can feel the vibration of the loud sounds reverberating around the place. The smell of mixed alcoholic drinks and cigarettes filled the air as you craned your neck to look for some familiar faces that you'll surely take note to avoid for the rest of the night.

"Who are you looking for? Him? Pssh, how sure are you even that he's here? He's quite the uptight little sucker," one of your friends commented as soon as she noticed that you were craning your neck around.

"What? I wasn't looking for him," you denied. "I was looking for familiar faces around the crowd just so I can take note to avoid for most of the night," you reasoned.

Another friend rolled her eyes, "Don't worry about that. You've been such a kind lass for the past months. Let loose just this time!"

You bit your lip and contemplated, "I guess you're right."

She flashed you one of her most charming smiles, "I'm always right."

You both laughed to that.

"Alright! I got the drinks, girls!" One of your friends set the tray on the table. It was filled with martinis and tequilas.

Each one of you grabbed your drinks and raised them up in the air.

"For this gal right here—" one of your friends gestured to you, "For breaking up with that douchebag of an ex and also for summer break!"

"Hear hear!" You chorus with them before downing your drinks. The alcohol in your system suddenly gave you a rush.

All of you gathered around the table, chatting away and catching up on time that was taken away from complying for the requirements, the final exams and all those things.

"So, apparently, my professor almost dropped me out..." one of your friends started, whilst doing so, she was picking up the fork to taste some of the food on the table, "But I totally got that covered."

"What did you do?" You questioned. The others also nodded in curiosity.

She winked, a sly smile stretching the edges of her lips.

All of you fell silent as you watched her eat a piece of the food on your table.

"WHAT THE HECK, BECCA?"

"HOLY SMOKES, WHAT?!"

"BECCA YOU ABSOLUTE MAD CHILD!"

"OH MY GOSH!" The table went hysterical, but your friend in question only laughed at your expressions.

"Relax girls. I wouldn't stoop that low. BUT, I did use my charms," she threw chips at all of you, "You dirty minded idiots!" She accused.

"What? Like it's you we're talking about! What should we expect?" One of your friends defended herself. You laughed in agreement, nodding your head as you went to pick up your glass of martini, bringing it up to your lips.

"My gosh Madison. I am not that insane, okay? Although, he's hot and all but he isn't my type," she waved her off and casually took a sip of her tequila.

"What about you? What happened with that douchebag of an ex?" Another friend nudged you a bit.

You only rolled your eyes and placed your glass back onto the table. "Well, I was busy with all my requirements. You know, hell week and all. I had a term paper due tomorrow, a lot of assignments, and I had to memorise an entire table that was so complex, it was stressing."

"So as a way of trying to destress, or just clear my mind for a moment, you know, a breathe of fresh air just for a second, I decided to surprise my boy—EX! My ex, with pizzas and a couple of sodas. Turns out he already had company."

Your friends frowned at you.

"He was making out with some... girl. I don't know. I threw the pizza to the both of them, but I also threw the soda cans! And guess what, someone might be having trouble explaining the bruise on his face to his parents," they all laughed.

"He deserved that!"

"You know, you deserve better. He was nothing but obsessive and rude and just... he was toxic! We're glad that he's out of your hair."

You grinned at them, "Awww, thanks girls!"

"Group hug!" Immediately, you were engulfed into pairs of arms. Laughter erupted from your happy hearts at the moment.

They let you go.

"Well, what are we still doing here? Let's dance!"

The night consisted of that.

A few hours later, you were sat on the seat of your table. Legs were sore from all the dancing. Your friends however, were still on the dancefloor trying to snag a date. Or a fling for that matter.

Your bladder was whining that it was full already. So you stood up, taking your purse and phone with you and made the trip towards the comfort room.

You entered a cubicle, and after emptying and satisfying the needs of your bladder, you approached the mirror and decided to freshen up. You opened your purse for your powder.

Whilst retouching, you can feel the heat rising, the temperature steadily rising. You furrowed your brows, immediately focused. You weren't a lightweight, so the alcohol had little to no effect on you as of the moment. And you didn't drink that much... or so you think.

You stuffed your powder inside your bag, and same with your phone, and you sauntered out of the bathroom.

Only to find people screaming, filing out of the door, stampeding. Then you found the reason why.

A fire was engulfing the bar. It luckily still hasn't reached the bathroom yet but it was on its way to blocking your exit if you didn't think fast enough.

Tapping your heels on the floor, you made sure it wasn't on its breaking point. Your furrowed your eyebrows, took a quick deep breath and took off running, sliding under a fallen beam that was on fire.

But the ceiling above you was being engulfed in fire, the lights were giving. You gasped as you braced yourself, waiting for the heavy metal to collapse on top of you. Fortunately, someone caught the hot piece of machinery.

You let out a squeak then looked up to be faced to faced with a robot.

"Hello. I am Baymax. I was programmed to help," it— whatever the thing was— said as he threw away the heavy metal.

You didn't notice the guy that was riding the robot.

"You okay miss?" Your eyes snapped up to where he was. 

Reluctant, you nodded. Still not sure whether or not you're okay. But you were breathing so that's a start.

Adrenaline was still slowly coursing through your veins. The robot lifted you up, eliciting a shocked sound from you.

The guy from behind the robot eyed you and uttered, "Let's get you out of here first."

∘◦❁◦∘

The firefighters were now on the scene, controlling the flames that continued to engulf the building.

You stood by the paramedics, a blanket was wrapped around your body. A few ashes may have caught upon your hair and you reeked of smoke, but that didn't hinder the paramedic to efficiently do her job. She checked you up, noticed that you were good, and she left you with a sign that you were good to go.

You took a deep breath, you eyes were fixated to the ground. You wondered how you were going to get home since your friends were being questioned by the officials since they were there when the fire started. They're preoccupied. And you're afraid that you'll just have to catch a cab home.

Your eyes widened as soon as you remembered your purse. Your arms cupped your body, trying to find signs of the purse but much to your dismay, it wasn't on you!

As you were about to go hysterics, a familiar colored purse was being handed to you. Your eyes widened as soon as you traced the origin of the arm that was holding your purse.

"T-thank you," you managed out. A quivering hand reaching up to accept the purse.

"You're welcome," he said through his visor. You can see the faint traces of his smile from beneath the tinted visor of his helmet.

A bit crestfallen, you smiled at him, "Glad to know that I'll still somewhat have a way home." You shook your head, a small sad laugh eliciting from your lips as your waved your purse in the air.

Then finally, your demeanor broke. A sigh escaped your lips.

"You okay?" He asked.

"I'm..." you stopped for a moment, eyes trailing down on your heels. "I don't know."

Concerned, he eyed you, "you need to shower up. Get rest. Better than fatigue getting to you."

"Yeah. I should," you trailed off. The happenings finally sinking in.

"Too much action for ya?" He asked, taking his seat beside you. His eyes were fixated on his friends that were talking to the police.

"Too much to take in. Thanks for saving me back there. I could've gotten a nasty head injury," you said, hugging the blanket closer to your body. You got that from the paramedic.

"No problem. That's what I do."

"Are you compelled to do so or...?"

He shook his head, a chuckle eliciting from his lips, "Nope. I just... I just want someone to live through what I do."

You smiled a bit, "That someone must've been important huh?"

He smiled, nostalgia and a tinge of hurt hit him, but with happiness, "Yeah. Very important."

You sighed, a small smile stretching your lips. You stood up and folded the blanket. "Well, I better go home. This has been too much. I just... I just want sleep." You faked a smile and bid him goodbye.

He nodded.

But a few steps later, "Hey wait!"

You stopped dead in your tracks and faced him, confused, "Is there anything...?"

"No. Let me take you home."

You blinked, "W-what? There's no need! You already saved my life so that's enough hassle!"

He shook his head, you can feel him smiling from underneath, "With that dress? Walking down to hail a taxi? Nope. Let me get you home. The city isn't safe at night."

You blinked, feeling a bit warm. A smile was breaking to your lips so you looked down on your feet, biting your bottom lip to conceal the smile.

"You look prettier when you smile. Come on. Let's get you home."

#big hero 6 #hiro hamada x reader #hiro hamada #hiro hamada fanfic #bh6 hiro #bh6 #reader insert #reader #fanfiction #big hero six

[thefanficmonster]

Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all. 

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

                                                             *  *  *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But  then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret. 

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

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#corpse husband #corpse #corpse fanfiction #corpse fic #corpse fluff #corpse fandom #corpse fanfic #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse x reader #corpse imagine #corpse imagines #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fluff #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband fic #corpse husband is ruining my life #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #corpse angst #angst #request #requests open #x reader

[livexdolan]

what happens in part 5? do they start dating?

A/n: slow your roll bud...all good things come to those who wait 😌

Masterlist

Previously (Pt. 4)

Back pressed into a cold counter and both of you pulling each other impossibly closer. Grayson bites your bottom lip slightly, then pulls back, looking you in the eyes.

Panting, you watch him with hungry eyes and grip the hair on the back of his neck a little harder, pulling him back down to meet your lips.

“Honeyy, I’m home!” Mando’s voice sings as a door starts to open and Grayson pulls away so quickly he bites your lip again, this time hard.

“Ouch!” You yelp, hand going up to your lip as Mando and a group of people walk in.

He raises his brow at the two of us, a knowing smirk starting to form. Grayson swallows nervously, “Y/n uh-“ Grayson runs his hand through his hair, “she ran into the doorway. Busted her lip open. I was going to help her with it.”

You give Grayson a look that says, ‘that’s the best excuse you could come up with?’ and Mando just hums, crossing his arms, “Mhm, sure.”

“No, seriously!” You say, trying to sound convincing, keeping your hand on your lip, wincing in fake pain, “You know me- always running into things.”

Grayson laughs and you join in, the two of you looking at Mando and praying he doesn’t press the issue, “Riight,��� he drawls.

Before he can say anything else, Ethan and everyone from the backyard comes back in and start greeting the new people. That’s when you really start looking at the rest of the group.

It’s Mando, Dylan, and Chase. Followed by Leah, Kayla, and Aly. You try not to groan outwardly at the sight of Kayla. She’s been trying to get Grayson to make her his girlfriend since sophomore year of college and even though he turned her down at least three times she hasn’t gotten the message.

It doesn’t help that you know, for a fact, that Grayson’s fucked her twice. That’s what started this whole thing because he was known for never sleeping with the same girl twice. In his defense, he only slept with her again because he was so drunk he thought she was our other friend Becca. But Kayla doesn’t know that, or she does and ignores it, either way she annoys the shit out of you.

“Alright! Let’s get everyone into their rooms,” Ethan announces and everyone gathers back around the island, Grayson, Ethan, Kristina, and you all standing on one side. Ethan pulls out his phone and goes to a list in his notes.

“We already wrote out who was staying where but if you want to switch rooms, it’s no big deal,” Grayson adds and Ethan nods in agreement.

“There’s two master bedrooms and then four separate bedrooms with two bathrooms to share. Me and Kris are in one master and Gray and y/n are in the other, Mando you’re with Ryan-“ Ethans voice is cut off by a cough.

He looks up from his phone and we look at an awkward, blushing Mando, “I was- uh- I was actually hoping to share with- um- Mia,” he stutters out and Mia blushes too.

You smile at the two and Grayson chuckles, “Thats fine, Mando. The room chart isn’t set in stone,” Ethan smiles too and erases something on his phone, typing something else.

You eyebrows furrow as what he said finally hits you. Oh hell no, “Okay, now-“

“Where’d you say I was sleeping?” You cut Ethan off and he over with raised eyebrows and Grayson blushes.

“You’re sharing with me,” Grayson says and you scoff.

“No, I’m not.”

“C’mon, y/n, it’s not that big of a deal. We’ve shared before,” Grayson sighs.

“Can’t I just share with Ryan?” At the sound of his name, Ryan coughs on his drink.

“I’ll share with him,” Kayla has the nerve to squeak out, raising her hand like we’re in a fucking classroom or something. She glares at you, then cuts her eyes to eye fuck Grayson, “If y/n doesn’t want to.”

Grayson looks at you, eyes pleading, “please, y/n. Please,” he whispers and you roll your eyes.

Sighing, you shake your head, “Nevermind. I’m fine, actually. Sorry to interrupt.”

Kayla scoffs and had the audacity to look offended, “seriously?”

You raise your eyebrow at her, “seriously.”

Ethan coughs and starts again, “Alrighty then- Mando and Mia- first room on the right. Ryan and Chase, second room on the right. Dylan and Aly- you okay with sharing a room?” He looks at the two siblings and they nod, “Okay, first room on the left. Kayla and Leah you’re in the second room on the left. Go off and do whatever,” Ethan dismisses everyone.

“Where’s our room?” You ask as everyone starts to disperse.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you,” Grayson says.

“Oh, ok,” you say dumbly.

Grayson heads back over towards the door and grabs our bags. He nods his head in the direction of the hallway everyone walked down and you follow him. Heading down the hallway in silence, you realize he’s walking past all the rooms. We turn at the end, coming to a staircase, “I thought all the rooms were on one floor?” You ask, very confused.

“No, the main master was originally on it’s own floor. It was my dad and ma’s but when dad got really sick and couldn’t walk upstairs-“ He pauses for a second, you place your hand on his arm gently, knowing it’s hard for him to talk about it, “They converted two of the other rooms downstairs into one master,” Grayson finishes as we get to the top.

There’s a small hallway, two doors, one on the left down further and a double door to our right, “What’s down there?”

“The study,” Grayson says bluntly, and you know not to ask more about the room.

Instead, he opens the large double doors, “Oh my God,” slips out of your mouth as you walk into the large room.

Large doesn’t even begin to describe it, though. The ceiling’s vaulted with a dark wood. A California king bed sits on one wall, then on the same wall as the double doors there’s a leather couch, it faces a stone fireplace with a flat-screen above it, a bookshelf on one side, meeting up with the wall-of-windows that is across from the bed.

“Go look at the bathroom and closet,” Grayson says, obviously amused by your reactions.

Walking to the second set of double doors, you gasp audibly when you see the bathroom. The bathroom’s dark grey and emerald green. The whole left wall is a counter, two sinks and a built-in vanity at the end. The glass shower’s to the right, taking up almost the whole wall, there’s two rainfall shower heads and six other shower heads spread out on the walls. At the end of the shower, there’s a small partition with the toilet, giving it some privacy but not messing with the airiness of the room. The best part of the bathroom though, is the large window looking out at the mountains, above an egg-shaped tub big enough for almost everyone downstairs. Off to the side, after the toilet, is a door. Opening the door, you’re confused as you come into another room. This one’s smaller, but still bigger than your bathroom at home. There’s a seat in the middle, a ceiling-to-floor three-way mirror, and a door that leads back into the bedroom.

Seeing two more doors you open one, seeing a regular-sized walk-in, with wood drawers and shelves. There’s a few clothes already in here. Opening the second door, you stop in your tracks, “Holy shit.”

The closet is in an L-shape, a mini-crystal chandelier hangs over the middle of the room between two small, square islands. The walls are head-to-toe cabinets, drawers, and racks. It’s all in a lighter wood than the rest of the bathroom and there’s mint green instead of emerald. The seat in the middle is even mint green. Damn, Lisa boojee as fuck. Walking back out, you see Grayson putting his stuff in the smaller closet.

“Nice, isn’t it?” He asks, not turning around to look at you.

“How did your parents afford this?” It’s the main question that’s been on your mind since learning they owned it. Everyone knows the twins are upper-middle class but this? This is upper-upper class standards.

Grayson glances over his shoulder at you, “When one of dad’s old friends found out E and I were going to school out here, he gave the house to my parents for like, a fourth of what it was worth,” he shrugs and turns to you.

“That was so awesome of him.”

“Are we just going to ignore what happened earlier?” The edge to his voice takes you by surprise, looking up at him you see his expression is guarded but you can see the fear of rejection in his eyes.

“I-uh,” you bite your lip nervously, looking down at the ground before glancing back up at him, “I don’t know,” you shrug.

He narrows his eyes at you, “You don’t know?”

“Do you want to ignore it?” You try to sound unaffected but you can hear the emotion in it.

Grayson’s facade cracks slightly at the sound of your voice and your nervous attitude. He doesn’t want to intimidate you, “Look-“ he runs a hand through his hair, “Let’s talk about this in the bedroom.”

You nod silently and follow him out of the closet and the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits on the arm of the couch, facing you. Looking out the windows you still can’t believe you get to wake up to this view everyday for two weeks. It’s also a nice distraction from the 6’0 buff god staring at you.

“Are we going to talk about this like adults or are you going to run away again?” Grayson’s voice cuts through the tension in the room and you flinch at the slight infliction in his tone.

You take a deep breath, looking at him. Something in your gut tells you this is it. You are face-to-face with a fork in the road. Nothing is ever going to be the same and once you start down one road, you can never turn back. And as much as you want to ignore it and pretend everything’s fine- this talk is long-overdue.

You close your eyes for a moment, all your best memories together flashing through your mind, before taking you back to that party a few weeks ago. The memory is sobering and you open your eyes.

Staring into the green-and-brown abyss of Grayson’s eyes, you state, “Let’s talk,” in a voice calm enough to make the Dalai Lama think ‘dang, that’s a calm girl’.

A/n: okay okay i am so sorry for the long wait!! I hope you enjoy this part because it was so hard to figure out where I wanted it to go. There’s only going to be a few more parts but I am very very excited for what’s to come. Once again- thank you for the patience, love, and support I’ve gotten. It truly means the world! Also you know I had to leave y’all on a cliffhanger for now ;)

#grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson #grayson dolan imagine #frat!gray masterlist #my writing #frat!gray #asks #anon #concept #grayson dolan concept #sophs blurbs

[mrslilyrogers]

Betrayal Part 7

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s notes: I’m so so sorry this took so long! I redid the whole thing. We’re going to back up a bit in this chapter and visit the past. Please check the warnings before reading. Also, my requests are open. Send ideas if you’re feeling particularly angsty! Or even fluff, I’d like to try my hand at it. As always, let me know what you think of this chapter! For tags, please send in ask! 

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, Abuse, Swearing

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

2 years ago.

Bucky tapped his fingers on the table as he checked his watch again. 8:15. Forty-five minutes late. Again. He let out a huge sigh, barely able to hold himself from scratching his eyes out. The curly-haired waitress went back to him with an apologetic look on her face, “I’m sorry, sir. My manager told me I really need to take your order now. There’s already a line waiting outside…” she let her sentence trail sheepishly. Bucky tried to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks and gave her an unconvincing smile instead, reciting his order. When she left with visible relief on her face, he picked up his phone and called his wife again. He had tried to call and text her earlier but she hadn’t picked up.

“Hello?” Y/N answered, sounding frazzled and irritated as she cleaned up after her rude customer. He just had the audacity to leave a mess after complaining and whining about the wifi three times. She could barely keep her eyes from rolling. 

“Hey, babe. Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you at the restaurant,” Bucky’s defeated voice on the other line replied. 

“Oh shit!” She shrieked, attracting the heads of the other customers as she glanced at the clock on the wall. She had lost track of time. Bucky had been waiting for her for almost an hour. On their anniversary. Oh crap, crap, crap. 

“Oh my god, baby. I’m so sorry! I’m understaffed and I lost track of time! Could you please wait for me? I’m so sorry!” She quickly took off her apron and changed into the dress she had brought with her that morning for their date. Bucky had been planning this. He arranged for Lizzie’s babysitter and everything, practically bouncing off with excitement for this night. He wanted to try out this new restaurant and between raising Lizzie and making sure Winter Bakery was still making a profit, they haven’t seen much of each other lately. She just couldn’t find the time whereas Bucky’s stable position in Shield gave him more authority to delegate. And he literally had been trained for this for years. All those late-nighters at the university and all the grunt work he and Steve went through have finally paid up. They were at the top of their game, one of the youngest to acquire their positions. They were heroes in the investment banking world. Life was easy for him now, cherry on top of the cake. He only wished Y/N could be there with him. But she was still on shaky ground with her business and he fully understood that. 

“Of course! I already picked our appetizers though. They were trying their best to kick me out gently if I didn’t order anything,” 

“Oh, my poor Bucky. You should’ve flashed them your smile, charmed your way. They would’ve made you stay,” she replied, fixing her ponytail, not having the time to retouch her makeup anymore. This’ll just have to do. 

“Really, now. It was a waitress, you know.” He teased back. 

A beat before Y/N replied in mock seriousness. “In that case, don’t you dare. I’ll be there in 15!” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. See you, babe. I love you--,” 

But before he could even finish his sentence, the line had dropped on the other end.  

_______________________________________________________________________

1 year ago.

“Daddy, look, apples!” Lizzie pointed from her seat in the grocery cart. Her legs swinging as she giggled at the heap of apples on their side. “Yeah, baby, you’re right.” Bucky replied absentmindedly, not even bothering to look as he stared confusedly at the bunch of green vegetables in front of him. The list Y/N gave him said scallions, but how the hell was he supposed to know which was which? Scallions, spring onions, green onions, they were all the same right? He suddenly regretted volunteering to do their grocery shopping alone, having no clue what half of the list Y/N prepared even meant. It was the weekend, they were all supposed to go together and then have a quick visit to the toy store after, for one more of Lizzie’s birthday gifts. She had just turned 3 a week ago and he couldn’t help but promise to let her pick out another doll. When Y/N had given him a pointed look while Lizzie clung on and gushed to him, he couldn’t help but to just give her a tiny shrug. He grew up with nothing, he was gonna give his little girl everything. But that morning when he thought the three of them finally had time to spend together, Y/N couldn’t make it again. She was having problems with her manager and had to go into work unexpectedly. Now, she wasn’t even answering his calls when he had to ask her about the most complicated grocery list he’s ever seen in his whole life. 

“Daddy, when are we getting my doll?” Lizzie asked again, looking up at him as she clutched her favorite white wolf stuffed toy. 

“After this, sweetheart.” He answered, preoccupied and calling Y/N again. This time when she didn’t answer, he gave up, grabbed the one nearest to him and hoped for the best. 

When he’s gotten halfway through the list and let Lizzie point at the snacks she wanted for school, he let his mind wander, when the hell had they become like this? He barely saw his wife anymore. Her problems with her bakery cafe, always dragging her away from them. He wished she could find competent people who would stay but if it weren’t her manager, it was her baker and so on. And if she was finally free, he’d be the one who was busy. It was hard and annoying but coupled that with taking care of an over-enthusiastic three-year-old, it was also exhausting.

He missed Y/N and he wished he could spend time with her. He completely understood that she was always needed at work. He had been through that in their early 20s, but they didn’t have a kid then to compete for their time and understanding it was different from actually living it. Their marriage had become stagnant. The banality of their everyday life, a stark contrast to how they used to be when they were just a couple of kids off college who rented a too-small apartment with his little sister, Becca. Time has flown and he’s finally achieved the life he’s always wanted; a big duplex apartment, a steady high-income job and a family he had always yearned for but never really knew he needed. All of the things he promised himself when he was younger and had nothing, he had now and more, yet there was still something missing. He missed the thrill of his life, chasing his dreams had always kept him motivated, distracted. Now that he had it all, he was at his wits’ end. Maybe it was because they were also growing apart, he could feel it. Y/N had always been able to make him happy and whole; he had always been able to rely on her emotionally. She was the better part of him and now that she was becoming distant, he hung onto her like a lifeline but his insistence on going on vacations as a family wherever his wife and daughter wanted went unheard, all his attempts at romancing cancelled. 

Even as he lined up now for the cashier, he whipped out his phone to text her. His hands had been busy typing when a brooding, dark-haired man stood behind him dressed in all black. His arms were muscled despite his age and the sagging skin on his right arm holding a tattoo of an odd skull with tentacles extending out of it was barely covered by his shirtsleeve. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Bucky,” a familiar husky voice mocked from behind him. 

Bucky immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the voice sending a deep chill down his spine, making him go rigid as he slowly turned around, the blood draining from him when he went face to face with the man who had made his life a living hell, the man who not only broken him physically but in spirit as well. Repeatedly. 

“You some errand boy now? I didn’t raise you to be like that, you know,” He continued to mock, tipping his chin to the cart with Lizzie still on it. 

“Do you know him, daddy?” She asked, holding her little wolf tighter as she watched the stranger warily. 

“Hey there, sweetie. Your daddy didn’t tell you about me? That’s weird. I raised him and your aunt Rebecca a long time ago. My name is Rumlow,” he flashed her a chilling smile, stepping closer to offer his hand. That’s when the fog in Bucky’s brain cleared. He moved with a lightning fast reflex, stepping in between them as he got in Rumlow’s face, fisting his collar harshly in one hand, 

“Don’t you dare go near her,” his dark and low voice had threatened, dripping venom. His eyes had dilated, almost turning black as he shoved him hard. Rumlow’s grating laugh echoed around them, bringing back all those awful memories he had buried deep inside his head. 

“I’ve taught you well, boy. Can’t say I’m not proud,” He clapped and actually smiled at him smugly. At this point, Lizzie had started crying making Bucky even more furious. 

“I don’t ever want to see your face again. And if you go near my daughter again, I’ll make you fucking regret it. Do you understand?” His threats went on deaf ears as Rumlow broke out into a full-fledged grin. 

“I’d love to see you try, James. You’ve grown soft,” He accused, eyeing Lizzie and the grocery he had still lined up, several heads already looking at them. 

“Lucky for you. I have a new son here,” He continued, tilting his head to the boy standing by his mostly empty cart-- save for the beer and the liquor. Bucky flicked his attention to the boy and he felt his world spin as he saw himself in him with his eyes haunted, wary and afraid. He couldn’t have been older than eight. Rumlow smirked at the look on Bucky’s face, already detecting the turmoil brewing inside him. He had succeeded. He always knew Bucky was weak, his emotions his downfall. The fear and guilt clearly written in Bucky’s eyes made Rumlow gloat as he talked to the boy, 

“What did I say, Bert, huh? You’ll only have food if you go get it yourself. Why are you still standing there?” 

The boy looked around the big grocery store, mentally taking note of the stalls and where they were currently at, memorizing it in case he got lost but still, he didn’t move. Bucky looked at Rumlow and he saw the same look he’d always had directed at him before, his taunting eyes daring the boy to go or face the consequences. 

“But I’m scared,” the boy replied, his voice small and frightened. Rumlow moved to him, bending his knees to get to his eye level. “Well then, you just won’t have to eat,” he told him in a hushed voice, pouting and mocking. 

Bucky didn’t have to hear it to know the exact words, buried memories rushing back to the surface. He heard it countless times directed at him. The boy ran to the nearest stall, his heart pounding and hoping Rumlow would still be at that same spot when he came running back. Bucky knew the feeling, it was like he was living it all over again. As much as he wanted to help, he was rooted to the spot, even Lizzie’s crying couldn’t move him. Rumlow stood back up and faced him. “You were always my favorite,” he told him proudly as he pushed his own cart away from them, no doubt to give Bert an even harder chance of finding him. 

Just before he got too far, he swiftly turned around, feigning innocence as he said, “Oh and by the way, say hi to Rebecca for me,”  His lips twisted up into a sneering smirk as he left, whistling without a care in the world. And just like that Bucky was moving, grabbing Lizzie and getting out of that store as fast as he could, hoping Rumlow would stay out of his life forever. 

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“I’m never letting you do the groceries again!” Y/N screeched, a horrified look on her face as she stared at their fridge. After the incident with Rumlow, Bucky had brought Lizzie to the toy store, allowing her to buy all the stuffed toys and dolls she wanted instead of just the previously promised one doll. They had gone to lunch after, he kept Lizzie distracted as much as possible to forget the man she had just met. When she brought him up again, he told her it was just a friend he didn’t like very much and that she shouldn’t bring it up to her mom because it was nothing, he promised he never had to see that man again. Lizzie seemed satisfied with his answer and went back to her usual chirpy self. On their way home, they passed by another grocery store. He had mindlessly strolled the aisles and grabbed whatever he thought they needed, his head at a different place, much as it still is now.

“Bucky, we don’t need four cartons of milk, why would you even get this?” Y/N asked incredulously, shaking her head as she chuckled. 

Bucky had been staring off into space, not hearing what his wife had been saying. “Uhm, hello Bucky, you still with me?” she teased, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Oh sorry, what was that?” He asked, glancing up at her from his perch by the kitchen counter. The coffee he had brewed, now cold in his hands. 

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, looking at him with concern in her eyes. 

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” he waved dismissively. Y/N felt a pang of guilt. He’d been bugging her to spend more time together, planning outings and dates that she never seemed to find time for. 

“Well, I finally have the day free. Why don’t we go out, watch a movie or have a picnic? It’ll be fun,” she suggested, draping a hand over his shoulder while her chin rested on the other, her elbow propped up on the countertop to keep an eye level with him. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry, babe. I promised to meet up with Thor,” he moved away from her touch, standing up. Y/N looked at him confusedly, “Okay, how about after?”

“Gotta go over some accounts with Sam, sorry love. I’ll be back before dinner,” He gave her a quick kiss to the cheek before heading out. Y/N stared after him, brows knitted, before shrugging. She’ll just get her errands around the house done then. 

After pounding the punching bag in Thor’s gym incessantly, Bucky found himself aimlessly walking around the streets, he just needed to clear his head. The little boy’s face was still etched in his mind as he opened the door to a bar. A little too early, he knew but he couldn’t shake off the nagging thought plaguing his mind. 

How could he have let that monster roam free while he had lived his life without even a glance back? 

_______________________________________________________________________

Years ago.

Bucky held Becca’s hand as they ascended the rickety steps of their new home. They had just lost their parents and were now moving into an unfamiliar house. The case worker had told them they were lucky not to be separated and that they shouldn’t worry; they were getting a good foster father who would take care of them from now on. 

“I had interviewed him myself, you see,” She told the children, beaming with pride. 

“I couldn’t have found a better one for you guys, why, this area is still very close to where you grew up in. You could still visit your old haunts,” She ruffled Becca’s hair, trying to lighten the mood while the little girl just moved farther away, hiding behind her big brother. The worn-out door which at once might have been painted pristine white but now had chippings hanging off of it suddenly opened with a creak, a man with a charming and easy nature stepped out with a warm smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“You guys are here! Welcome, welcome, please come in!” He gestured humbly to his house. Becca squeezed Bucky’s hand tighter which he squeezed back in return, reassuring her. There was something about this man that wasn’t quite right. He seemed relaxed and easy-going, a smile continuously plastered on his face but there was a lethality to him that the children couldn’t seem to shake off, almost as if it was buried deep inside waiting to be unleashed. The case worker hung on his every word, giggling as they talked. She slapped his arm with the horrible looking tattoo that gave Becca a fright. The children barely moved from the sofa they were seated at after the introductions. 

“It’s usually like this. Don’t worry. They start to open up after a while,” the case worker sympathized with Brock, the man who introduced himself as their new foster father; he would treat them as his own, he had promised. 

“It’s alright. I understand. After my wife, I’ve been all alone and this, this is a blessing to me,” He told her as he turned to the children. Her hand strayed to his arm again and lingered there. 

“Oh, Brock, you are a good man. They’re great children, they won’t give you trouble.” She replied, patting his arm for reassurance. It didn’t miss Bucky how she hung off his every word. 

“But I should get going, I will check up on you in a week. Children, be good. You have my number if you need anything,” She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles on her blazer.

“Wait, you’re leaving us already?” Bucky couldn’t help the whine that escaped his voice. He didn’t miss the darkness that spilled over Brock’s face for a split second before he carefully put his smile back on again. 

“I’ll be back in a week, Bucky. Don’t you worry,” the case worker smiled before she walked out the door leaving him and Becca to a stranger. 

When she was out of sight, Brock had suddenly changed his demeanor. The smile on his face had turned into a scowl when he faced them. “Alright, listen up both of you,”  he boomed, his voice cruel. “Grab your things and get on to your rooms. I don’t want to hear any noise. No running around, and if I see you making a mess. You bet your little asses, you’ll pay for it,” He stood up and left them to their bags. 

“But Mr. Brock, I’m thirsty,” Becca piped up, looking up at him timidly. The man’s grating laugh rumbled as he threw his head back, shaking it.  

“That’s Rumlow to both of you, you hear me?  Don’t make that mistake again. Now, come here,” He said, beckoning both the children to come over. Once they reached the kitchen, he pointed to the high cupboard. “You see that?” He asked Becca, dropping low to get to her eye level. When she just nodded her head, he continued, “That’s where the glasses and the plates are. If you want something in this house, you go get it yourself. I’m not your nanny,” He held Becca’s face in his hand roughly. His fingers wrapped around her cheeks tight as he held her by the chin. Bucky felt his fists clench at his sides, pushing Rumlow as far as he could with his eleven year old might.  

“Stop that!” He screamed. Their parents never hurt them. How dare this man think he could do this to his little sister? 

“Oh you wanna be the man of the house?” Rumlow jeered, shoving Bucky back making him fall to the floor. Becca’s sniffles grew louder as she tried to stop her crying, her shoulders shaking from her effort. As Bucky lay sprawled, Rumlow scooted down menacingly to him, 

“You dare push me when you were just whining like a little bitch a while ago, you wanna man up? Alright, I’ll allow it,” he taunted, pondering it for a moment before his sinister smile came back on. “Let’s see how long you’ll last protecting your little sister.” He gripped his face by the chin, fingers squeezing exceedingly tight on his cheeks before he pushed him off and he hit the floor. 

“I won’t be some parent to you that you could twist around your little fingers, no. I’ll make you into the best man you could be. I will teach you about order. And order only comes through pain,” He drilled into him like a soldier as he stretched his legs back up, his measured steps going to the fridge to fish out a beer. He took a long gulp before he continued, 

“And the sooner you learned that, the better,” 

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Bucky sat alone at one of the benches by the field at his school, choosing solitude over the roar of the cafeteria after a particularly bad morning at home. Their foster father had woken up drunk and had haphazardly thrown things at them when Bucky accidentally burnt the eggs he had been cooking for his and Becca’s packed lunch for school. He picked on the peanut butter sandwich he prepared, not having the appetite to eat when he heard jeering voices from a group of boys and sounds of flesh being hit again and again with accompanying grunts of pain. He felt his feet move on instinct when he found them by the bleachers, a scrawny boy at the center of a group huddling over him, they were laughing as he tried to fight them off, not once being able to land a punch. The blood pumped in Bucky’s veins, a constant beating in his ears, as he grabbed the biggest of the bullies by the collar and harshly yanked him off the tiny, blonde boy now sprawled on the floor with his skinny arms covering his face. When one of the other kids tried to punch him, he deftly moved out of the way and delivered a swift blow to his stomach, making sure to spare his face so as not to get in trouble. That was how Rumlow did it, might as well use the same trick right? 

“What? Who wants to go next?” He threatened, loving the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the power he had with defending someone so helpless. The lanky blonde boy stood up beside him, blood dripping from his mouth as he held both his fists up, “I can do this all day,” he said, catching his breath but his stance clearly indicated he could barely stand up straight. Bucky just looked at him weirdly, not knowing whether to find him stupid or brave. The bullies stood against them, unsure. Bucky was the same age as them, only slightly bigger. Him and the blonde boy were still clearly outnumbered but Bucky’s eyes held a lethal strength in them, his body coiled with unleashed brutality, ready to fight. The bullies scrambled out of there as fast as they could, their feet tripping over them. 

“Yeah next time, pick on someone your own size!” he hollered before looking back at the blonde boy who looked younger than them but held himself with such maturity that it didn’t seem possible. He decided right then and there he was going to make him his new friend. Rumlow had always taught him about his belief of the natural order of the world, that strength and might always won the day and that order could only be achieved through pain. If you could inflict it on others, you were stronger, better. Weaker men were useless, had to be beaten up and put in their place. “That’s just the way of the world,” he had said. But Bucky was old and smart enough to see right through his facade. He was a bully, feeding off of people who couldn’t fight back. Bucky was going to be different, he wouldn’t bow down to his will. He just needed to protect his sister, spare her from the taint of Rumlow’s anger and prove that he wouldn't become the man Rumlow has been conditioning him to be. 

“You alright?” Bucky asked the boy standing beside him who was touching the bruise forming on his forehead.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me,” he replied sheepishly, ashamed he couldn’t fight for himself.

“Next time, just don’t provoke them, they aren’t worth it.” 

“But they were wrong. Bullies, I’d always stand up to them,” the blonde brushed his hair back from his forehead, determination steeling his voice. Bucky smiled, maybe he could learn a thing or two from this boy too. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Steve, what’s yours?”

“Bucky. Steve, you’re a little punk. You know that?” he said teasingly, laughing. 

Steve grinned back, “Jerk,” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Present

The light filtered into the room as the curtains were drawn back harshly causing Bucky to groan on his bed, flitting a pillow to cover his eyes. 

“Buck, come on. Get up,” Steve’s firm voice spoke through the fog in his mind. 

“Get out, Steve, I’m sleeping.” he replied, turning his back to the hand shaking his shoulder.

“How long are you going to do this? It’s been two weeks. Have you even talked to your family yet?” Steve’s judgmental voice rang out, hard and unforgiving. 

“She doesn’t even wanna see me,” he huffed, anger at himself boiling in his veins. He hasn’t seen his daughter in two weeks. Y/N’s short, cold replies to his messages were just updates on how Lizzie was doing, anything regarding Y/N, he had no idea about. He didn’t even know what sort of excuses she made up for Lizzie, how his “work trip” kept getting extended. When the hell could they keep that charade up? He was lucky enough she was letting him talk to his daughter on the phone for a few minutes every once in a while. He sat up on the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he reached for the bottle of whiskey at the bedside table. These days he could only fall asleep when he’s had one too many to drink and even then, he’d still wake up with a headache that could only be dulled by alcohol. He barely even made it to work everyday. Sam had been good enough to cover for him, staying on neutral ground with everything that’s happening to his marriage although his eyes said otherwise, disappointment etched in them. All the while Steve had ignored him the entire time since the hospital. No amount of apologies moved him from his stance except today, when he suddenly barged into the hotel room Bucky has been renting like he owned the place. 

“Jesus, Bucky, stop that!” He swiped the bottle Bucky held between his lips, splashing amber liquid on his shirt and bed. 

“Damn it, Steve! Look what you did!  Give that back,” Bucky held his arm out, his reflexes slow as he tried to grab it from his friend. 

“Jesus Christ. You smell terrible. How much have you had to drink last night?” Steve fanned the air around him trying to rid the stench of alcohol and sweat.

“How the hell did you even get in here?” Bucky’s pissed off voice grumbled but one look at Steve’s intense stare with his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, standing straight as a drill sergeant, arms crossed at his chest with his muscles bulging out of his fitted gray Under Armour shirt; he knew. The punk had intimidated his way in. No doubt leaving a poor breathless, flustered receptionist in his wake. 

“You could get that receptionist fired, you know?” He tried appealing to his best friend’s better nature.

“You wouldn’t tell. Plus, it isn’t as if she didn’t get a hefty tip. Go take a shower, Buck, you stink.” Steve didn’t budge, staring him down with a disgusted look on his face. Bucky just scoffed, 

“And then what? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Y/N kicked me out, man. Just go home, you’re wasting your time.” 

Steve’s hardened face softened as he looked at his friend. His eyes were puffy, his skin pale as he scratched his wildly unkempt beard, his greasy hair sticking out on one side. What the hell had happened to Bucky? How had it gone so bad for his friend in a matter of days? He suddenly moved out of instinct, collecting clothes strewn everywhere and packed them into the suitcase at the corner of the room. 

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” Bucky exhaled loudly. It was too early for this. Where the hell was his drink? 

“Get your ass moving, Bucky. You’re staying at my place,”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #steve rogers #betrayal #marvel fic #marvel x you

[chans-baby-girl]

Who’s the champ now?

(Competitive Hyunjin x Competitive G.N reader)

Description: After a long wait for laser tag you were excited for an game against teams, until one “champ” flaunts his win and his so called “skills” down your throat. That makes you go from a team game to a cat and mouse “Free for all” and you were determined to knock him down a peg.

⚠️Warnings⚠️

Nothing much but a lot of swearing as well as back and forth insults.

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Authors Note: I quickly wrote this based on what happened to me today. Except this guy was much older and ugly and nothing romantic happened but other than that this plot is completely mine as it is based on a real life event and I will not tolerate any replicas of my work. I would also like to add that any similarities this story might have to others is pure coincidence!!! Also that yes I use the word Princess a lot but I still use a GN reader cuz I used to call boys princess as well and they really liked it. So I say it goes anyway! But I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave me any feed back by either an ask or PM!

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It was along wait and quite frankly, you were not having it. You and your family just finished a movie and you had went to play a round of laser tag for the night as you had been wanting to get in one more final round before you went home. But when you got there sadly, they told you that they were full and that you and your cousins had to come back at 10:40. You reluctantly leave with a grumpy expression painting itself on your features when you check your phone: ‘10pm’. Your cousins all groaned and as you exited the glow in dark hall full of disco lights, only to enter a dim lighted hallway.

“Well now what! We got an more than a half hour left!”, you pause to glance around at whatever else was in the hotel. You groan in defeat when your view was jam pack with bars all around the hotel. You were on the verge of giving up and going home u til you spotted a glowing room filled with flashing lights: an arcade!

“Hey guys!”, you cried out in glee,”there’s an arcade over here we can just chill here until the game starts!”

“Works for me!”, your cousin, Becca replied with a grin. You were prancing around with excitement towards the arcade. Finally something to cure your boredom, you had heard there was a Pac-Man machine there! You haven’t played that game in ages and now you were excited. You grabbed your cousin hand in hand and made your way over.

“C-closed?….are you shitting me?”, you question with a sad sigh, eyeing the closed sign that was placed mere moments before you arrived at the arcade door. ‘So much for that idea!’ you thought, already feeling dejected that this too was ruined. You felt like the universe was conspiring against you. You walked a bit further up the hallway until you spotted a seating area with a snack bar near it. You started walking towards it in hope that Becca will follow. Sure enough when you turned around she was following your path. A grin slapped on your face and an extra kick in your step at the prospect of getting some food, you made your way down the narrow and long hallways to the nice marble counter of the snack bar. You eyed the hotdogs with a passion, your mouth already salivating when you took in that meaty hotdog smell. You look around for the cashier with a sense of determination. You walked around the snack bar with hast until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Y/n! It’s closed too!”, Becca regressed pointing at the sign that was against the wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”, you practically screamed gaining the attention of a family to the right of you. Two of the adults circling around the kids gave you look and you returned an apologetic bow. ‘Then what was that hotdog smell?’, you thought to yourself, sad that you missed out on it. Upon turning around you find a boy from the small family had a half eaten hot dog. He made his way over to a trash can and dumped it away. You wish you could’ve snatched it and savored even a bit of a juicy hot dog.

“This is fucking bullshit!”, you whisper yelled to Becca already defeated. She gave you a blank smile and replied ,”Hey at least all this prancing around gave up time to kill !”,She replied showing you her phone in an attempt to cheer you up, “It’s 10:32!”

You could only smile in return as it was almost time for the only thing that could possibly cheer you up at this point: laser tag! You made your way to those all too familiar doors that read: Kid Palace!

Excitement bubbled in your veins and you nudged Becca forward. She slide both of your laser tag passes to the clerk in front of you with an expectant smile splayed on her coffee colored features. The clerk however had a regretful look as they scrolled through their list and told the two of you that someone had an accident and that the match was rescheduled for 11pm. You smiled and reassured the lady that you would be back. Upon exiting the building once more you were pissed, today was just targeting you. You of course were not going to take it out on the poor worker: it wasn’t her fault shit happens. You walked to the wall on the side of the entrance and plopped down with an angry thud, Becca following suit.

“Guess we can just…”, you sigh letting your shoulders relax ,”chill here… it’s only twenty minutes!” You reach around your back pocket to grab your headphones. You scroll to your playlists and let the music fill your ears. You start to zone out and lightly mumble words from the song and before you know it you’re dozing off.

“…et…u…stu…d…..its…tme”, you weren’t sure if you even heard coherent words and then you had to remind yourself that you had headphones on. You reluctantly opened you eyes and ripped the earphones out.

“What?”, you croaked out, half awake from your tiny nap.

“I said! Get up stupid it’s time dumbass! It’s 10:55!”

“SHIT LETS GO!”

You hopped up with a big grin on your face and you walked up to the door that was a few feet away. Becca placed your passes on the table and you both crossed your fingers that this would go well.

“Alright you guys are our last game for today! Let me go get the others in the arena that just finished their game.”, the clerk smiled, and motioned for you to lift up your wrist so she can place a wristband with the Gaming logo and the date on it. The she motioned for you both to finally go down the ramp and enter the lobby. You and Becca skip there with haste and you find two other girls there but they didn’t make a move towards you, so you two just stayed in your spots, mirroring them.

The worker walked past you and went into the laser tags maze themed arena and came out with a group of 8 cheering and screaming boys all running to check the leaderboard. They all surrounded the screen you both took a second to admire their handsome features.

“Oooh I wonder if we could do teams with them they look rad as fuck!”, you added taking notice that they looked like they were in your age range.

“Whose ‘Electrical’?”, a boy with freckles asked, eyeing the number one spot that was taken by whoever ‘Electrical’ was.

“That would be me ‘Lix!”, a gorgeous man pushes through the crowd. He had his beautiful blond hair tied back into a ponytail that perfectly framed his pretty pale features. He had a mole underneath his left eye that you thought was cute. He took one look at his name on the scoreboard before baring a shit eating grin across his already smug face.

“That’s right boys! Read it and weep for I AM THE KING! THE CHAMP!” He jumped around pushing the other guys around while simultaneously flailing his arms around.

You rolled your eyes and didn’t even make an attempt at stifling a laugh despite the harsh nudges you got from Becca.

The group turned to you with amused smiles on their faces and the blond boy turned on his heel with a smirk before walking to you in a confident manner.

“What…got something to say princess? You think you’re better to me or something?”

“Please…”, you glance at the board to look at his stats before laughing loudly ,” you may have gotten first place asshat, but your hit rate is only 15% so please it’s just points that got you that spot not skill.”, you spit in matter-of-fact tone smirking at the grin that fell from his face when he heard the collective ‘oooohs’ that echoed throughout the building. He eyed you with a distasteful look on his face before replacing it with a challenging smirk.

“Well guess what sweetheart I obviously proved that skill isn’t needed to win. So don’t mess with the champ unless you really wanna eat your words princess”, he winked flirtatiously and you couldn’t help but admit he was breathtaking as much as you hated that thought. You quickly replaced your flustered expression with a scowl,

“Fucking suck it ‘Electrical’ anything can happen next round, you got lucky for this one so what that doesn’t mean shit!”, you cried out already letting that pent up frustration from earlier spill out.

“Hyunjin…cutie…that’s my name…but you can always call me…”, he leaned in to whisper in your ear,making you blush from how close he was,” the champ baby!” You were moments away from slapping the shit out of him but the laser tag worker stepped back out from the arena,

“Already everyone I finished disinfecting all the vests so you can all step in!”, she smiled and stepped to the side to let everyone in. You used that opportunity to zoom right in: you wanted to make this guy pay. You ran into the room first not caring if you bumped into anyone and quickly search the vests until you found the one you needed. You placed it on and stood silent as everyone else filled into the room. The group of people (your cousin and the girls included) walked to the vest rack and grabbed the first ones they could find except for one.

The annoying boy Hyunjin from earlier was walking around the room looking at each Individual vest on the rack as if he was looking for a specific one. You silently laughed to yourself and kept walking further away from him so he wouldn’t notice you. The clerk from before came in to explain the rules to everyone she stated that instead of teams she decided for the last match to be a free for all, you and Becca looked at each other and frowned but then just went to go in line the worker then used her own blaster to sign everyone in and then announced she would let everyone in one by one to get a chance to hide before the match started. You went to the front and she shot at your chest plate with the blaster and motioned for you to go in. You ran into the familiar two story maze and immediately ran towards the ramp that led you upstairs after avoiding random and sudden walls along the way. Once you were upstairs you secured your spot in a corner and waited. You tuned into the ladies voice even from far away, wanting to listen to how many footsteps you could hear coming in. After a few minutes you heard a noise on the loud speaker:

“Attention all soldiers the match will be starting in 10,….9……8……7…….6……5…….4…….3……2…….1…. Begin!”

Adventurous and upbeat music blasted through the loud speakers and you felt the vibrations of the footsteps that were running around the top floor. You peaked out of your corner and spotted your cousin with her back turned. You aimed at her back and shot directly into the center of her vest before cowering back into your hiding spot. You tuned around and began moving to the other wall next to it spotting two more people. You shot them right away and ran to another spot before they could respawn. As soon as you left your corner you felt your vest vibrate and you know someone shot you but you couldn’t see who so you kept running until you ran down the ramp leading to the ground floor. You felt the buzz happen again and once again no one was in sight. You ran to a secluded area and saw someone in front of you that hadn’t seen you.

Using this to your advantage you were about to shoot them until you felt your plate vibrate and you let out a loud “WHAT THE FUCK!” and the person in front of you turned around in surprise. It was the freckly boy from earlier. He ran away like a deer would from a hunter and you kept moving forward and every step you took you felt your vest vibrate and you were livid at this point. Sure enough though, you found solace in a secluded area and used that opportunity to take put others in the area. You had just shot down a whole group that came for you and the loud speaker sounded “‘Electrical’ is ahead by 20,000 points”, you smirked to yourself because you know that would send a message to that stupid boy wherever the hell he was.

You got shot once more and you turned around giving up instead you went searching for the asshole who was playing hide and seek with you. It wasn’t until you went to a purposefully open part of the maze that you were able to see who shot you when your chest vibrated once more. You made eye contact with the one boy you didn’t wanna see: Hyunjin!

“YOU FUCKING PRICK YOU WERE TARGETING ME THE WHOLE TIME!”, you screamed loudly trying to outshine the already booming music.

“That’s what you fucking get for stealing my tag!”

“Fuck you bitch you don’t own it ok? it’s fucking on!”, you declare and shoot him while he’s distracted. He looks at his vest and breaks out into a run not paying attention to you who was following suit. You chased and shot only at him, paying attention only to him not caring about the others who shot at you. You shot and you shot with anger in your veins. He led you upstairs when you tripped on a part of the ramp fell on your head. You felt so dizzy and you instantly shot up wanting to get that asshole Hyunjin, but instantly fell back down.

“Woah wait wait are you ok princess?”, you turned your discombobulated head towards the voice.

“Fuck you i DO NOT want your stupid pity or your help!”, you try to push him away but he grabs your arms and pulls you up to help you stand.

“It’s not gonna be much fun if your dead I guess”, Hyunjin replied with a smile.

“Fuck you!”

“Gladly what time sweetheart!”, he replied.

“Oh real mature!”

“Only as mature as you were for starting it!”

“I’m going to castrate you!”, you rolled your eyes trying to feign annoyance. You felt your mind at ease again.

“Oooh kinky!”

“Shut up !”

“No Asshole you make me!”

“Oh really now?”, he raised an eyebrow at you not caring that you had started shooting at him once again. His arm around your waist to support you in case you were to fall again.

“Yeah! Make me since you’re so big and bad huh?”, you spat.

“Ha say that again!”, he challenged shifting himself so that his face was in front of yours.

“Make m-“, he pressed his lips against yours while pulling at the arm that was around your waist closer and the first thought to pop in your mind was ‘what the fuck is happening? Didn’t I not like this guy?’ Truthfully you just felt like he was too much like you that he made you feel so annoyed. But he was very hot and honestly you liked how chased after you and how he was just competitive as you. Needless to say you just gave up and admitted you found him attractive.

Pulling away you look at him with a flustered expression before turning away and not facing him knowing he probably wore a stupid cocky smile. You just aimed your blaster at him and kept shooting.

“Well even if you won’t saying anything I liked our kiss sweetheart!”, he takes a bold risk now that he knows you can fully stand on your own and places his arm around your waist once more, looking at your face for any signs of discomfort before leaning back and using his blaster to start shooting at you too.

“I guess I liked it… it was w-whatever…I’ve had better”, you lied but you didn’t want him to know that it was your first kiss.

“No I know you loved it, everyone wants a taste of the champ.”

“Whatever I knew you were a player!”, you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand off of you. You knew that you just met him but he did kiss you and then just act stupid.

“Relax it was a joke, and the only player I am is that of the video game variety. I don’t go around kissing anyone cutie.”, he smiled before facing you.

“Bitch we just met Im pretty much ‘just anybody’”, you questioned and gave him a look.

“Yeah but idk I liked how you outspoken you are and how competitive you were with me… it’s attractive!”, he stated matter-of-factly,” you are attractive and that’s why I did it.”

“Hyunjin… you don’t even know my name!”, you laughed loudly.

“Well while you maybe right I don’t care I know how I feel!”

“It’s Y/N you dumb ass!”

The loud speakers interrupted you and broke the tempo of the music ,”30 seconds remaining”, upon hearing that you and Hyunjin began shooting at each-other until the timer ran out and you all had to make way to the front lobby. Hyunjin wrapped his arm around you and you as you walked and you tried your hardest not to swoon at his forward and bold attitude. When you arrived at the front you both removed your blasters and vests and rested them on their original racks before walking further and spotting everyone else by the score board.

You looked at the board and your eyes widened. You looked at Hyunjin who looked utterly shocked.

“I got 6th place!”, he shrieked In terror and you laughed at his annoyingly dramatic behavior. But you plastered on a shit eating grin,

“Hey Hyunjin fucking suck it!”, you pointed to the board that read

1st place: Electrical

Points: 100,000

Hit rate: 97%

You felt like you were untouchable and you felt good. You detached yourself from his arm to face him before sneakily replying “, HA WHO’S THE CHAMP NOW!”

Everyone turned to look at you and Hyunjin and you proudly declared that this time you were electrical and that you were the new champ. The boys walked up to Hyunjin all clowning on him for losing while he faked cried and stared at you.

Becca walked up to you and asked you to take her home because she was very exhausted. You reluctantly agreed and walked up to Hyunjin who stared at you expectantly.

“I uh… have to go now!”, you replied not knowing what to say.

“Awww that’s too bad but can I have your number then?”, he asked with a hint of sadness. You only nodded back at him before putting your number in his phone with a smile.

“Wait…”, you called to him when he was about to walk away..”, let me have your wrist band… for memories…unless your boring ass thinks you’re too good for it!”, you playfully nudge him. He smiles and slides it off with a bit of a struggle he hands it to you and gives you a peck on the cheek before winking and walking away.

“What the fuck happened in there!”, Becca spoke up, clearly confused as to what transpired in that maze. You just shook your head and looked back at the smiling Hyunjin showing off the fact that he had your number to the other boys that were with him. He turned to face and gave you a nice wave. You waved back and made a ‘call me’ motion with your hand before leaving the Laser tag establishment. You smirked to yourself when you felt your phone vibrate. ‘Man maybe it was worth it after all.’

****************************************************

Bonus:

You sat on the floor of your empty living room and began unpacking all of yours and your newly wed husbands decorations to hang in the living room. You open a box labeled: Framed items and started sorting through them until you picked up an old picture frame that had two pressed wristbands with a gaming logo and a faintly readable date on them. You smile widely and recalled the fond memories you made a few years ago and how happy one fateful say had made you.

“Hey Honey come look!”, you call out with a certain collection of happiness and desperation laced into your tone. You heard foot steps approach you and you turned to face him before shoving the frame in his face. He picks it from your hands and plops down next to you.

“I remember this…this is from where we first met right?”, he inquired even tho he knew the answer. He leaned closer to you and gave you a peck on the lips.

“Yeah it’s the day I beat your sorry ass… you never stood a chance!”

He gasped loudly ,”how dare you! You know what I don’t even remember that!”, he stated proudly cashing you to erupt in a fit of giggles. You leaned over and ruffled his hair before replying with “Sure Jinnie, sure!.”

*******************************************************

Hello I just wanted to thank all of you amazing humans who have made it this far! Sorry if it’s not the best but I tried :). @bangchan-fairy shoutout to Bee for always being so supportive of my work I love ya bee :)

#skz #stay skz #skz icons #stray kids #hyunjin #hyunjin skz

[averykedavra]

All I Want is Serenity

*ahem* Yes, thank you for gathering here tonight. I know I’m supposed to be working on my millions of unfinished fics. However, let me propose some, *ahem ahem* Roman angst? Perhaps, perhaps. Thanks to @becca-becky for not judging when I asked for “weird crab facts, stat.”

You can find this fic on Ao3 here.

(Title is from 'dreamin by The Score.)

Words: 13019 (I’m so sorry, I swear this was supposed to be like 5k)

Pairings: platonic DLAMPRT

Warnings: food mentions, missed sleep, missed eating, self-deprecation and self-hatred, sympathetic everyone including Remus, disassociation, brief suicidal ideation (although only referring to “ducking out”), slightly unreliable narrator, verbal abuse, anxiety, panic attack, sensory overload, spiraling thoughts, discussions of time and losing track of time, touch-starvation but it’s pretty brief, extra limbs but also very brief, maybe some light PTSD? The sides are portrayed as somewhat unsympathetic in Roman’s own mind, but they are not, he just views them as more hateful than they are. (I want to say this isn’t as bad as the warnings make it sound, but...it’s not great. There’s a happy ending, though, I promise!)

Summary: Roman knows the only way to keep the Sides from hating him is to make sure he’s perfect. He needs to say the right things, act the right way, and smile at the right times. But his endless practicing, high standards, and ugly thoughts are only making him screw up more. He needs to get a handle on things and become the perfect prince they want, or he’ll be kicked out for good.

It was cold in Thomas’ living room. Roman shivered as soon as he rose up. He’d try and fix the temperature, but there wasn’t time, not with everyone’s eyes on him.

Usually he loved attention, or was good at pretending that he did. But with Logan’s cold stare, Virgil’s glower, Patton’s shaky smile, and Thomas’ blank expression tearing through him, his skin crawled and he hid his shaking hands behind his back. He was ready for this. He was.

“Greetings,” he said, trying for a smile and his usual confidence. Was that the right way to go about this? Could he even maintain the facade anymore? Should he just let down his guard and stop being so insufferably extra all the time?

“Roman,” said Janus, and Roman flinched. Why did he do that? He knew Janus would be there, a few feet from Logan, yet he found himself unable to even look in Janus’ direction.

“We need to talk,” Thomas said, and Roman nodded. He knew.

“About the last episode.” Logan adjusted his glasses and Roman felt a little flicker of comfort at the familiar motion. "Clearly there are some things we need to sort out.”

Roman opened his mouth to apologize. Was that the right way to do this? Apologize right off the bat? The idea rankled at him, the fragments of his pride trying to stop him from throwing it all away, but maybe it would help to get everything out of the way.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I was rude and very unprincely towards Janus, and I hope he can forgive me.”

Janus watched Roman for a moment before inclining his head. Not forgiveness, but acknowledgement, which was better than Roman expected.

“That’s good, kiddo,” Patton said, his smile growing a little more real. “Now what about the rest of us?”

Roman swallowed. “The rest of us?” he repeated, wishing desperately he had chosen to do anything else, wondering why he thought this was ever a good idea.

“Well, yeah.” Virgil’s arms were curled around his knees and he was sitting instead of standing on the stairs. Rather out-of-character for him, but it helped ground Roman, not having everyone here be perfect and unaffected by the situation. “You’re...y’know...”

Virgil blew his bangs away from his eyes. Now that was classic Virgil, and it made Roman’s heart clench.

“You need to apologize to all of us,” Virgil finished, shrugging. “Sorry, dude, but...you messed up. Big-time.”

“I...” Roman nodded. “Of course. Logan, I am so sorry for insulting you by pushing the Ignorant button. That was a rude and insensitive joke and I’m sorry.”

Logan’s eyes softened, just a little bit.

“Patton, I...” Roman bit his lip. “I’m sorry for pushing you so much. We went into territory you were clearly uncomfortable with, and instead of hearing your concerns, I led you to have a breakdown.”

Patton’s eyes flashed. Okay, bad choice of words. Roman made a mental note to avoid calling it a breakdown.

“Thomas.” Roman tried to remember what to say. He’d wronged Thomas, hadn’t he? How? “The wedding,” he guessed, hoping Thomas would give him a cue.

Thomas nodded slowly.

Okay. Good. He was on the right track. “I shouldn’t have forced you to go to the wedding,” Roman continued, keeping his voice level. “It wasn’t what you wanted to do, and I let my own fears of siding with Janus get in the way of doing the right thing for you. I sacrificed your dreams, and for that, I apologize.”

Roman could have made a snarky comment about how they were his dreams too, and really he was only trying his best, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well. Maybe he’d try it later, when he was tired and looking to let out some anger, but for now he was giving this his best shot.

“And Virgil.” Roman let all his sorrow and guilt flood his voice. “Virgil, I...I’m so sorry for ever treating you like the villain, for not listening to you, for being so prejudiced against the ‘Dark Sides.’ I’m sorry for even making up that name. I’ve been a terrible prince and an even worse friend, and I hope you--all of you--can forgive me.”

For a second, Virgil looked about to smile. Had Roman done it? Had he made his way through with no mistakes?

Then a sharp voice cut through his fog of hope. A sharp side to cut through all the bull. A sharp tongue and sharp eyes, slicing Roman back down to size.

“Why would we?”

Roman’s mouth went dry. He swallowed a few times. Stay tall, Roman. He was born for the stage, the spotlight. He was a master of improv. So why did this specific scenario get him so off-kilter?

“Why would we forgive you,” Janus continued, stepping forward, “when you’ve been lying this whole time?”

“What?” Roman whispered.

“You’re not actually sorry.” Janus’ voice was louder than Roman’s heartbeat, but only by a little. “You’re just apologizing so we’ll forgive you and you can start getting what you want again. I can taste lies, Roman, and you’re coated in them.”

“I-I’m not...” Roman took a step back. “I’m not lying!”

It was a weak line. A weak comeback. But Roman had always been weak.

“I’m not going to forgive you,” Janus said, and there it was. A simple statement that stabbed into Roman’s heart. “You’ve apologized before and you’ve never tried to change your ways. The fact is, you can’t change, because you don’t even believe you’ve done anything wrong.”

“How could you say that?” Roman protested. Yes and, his own mind whispered at him. Improvisation is yes-and, not blind denial. But how could he agree to that and still survive this? How could agree to that and get the good ending? “I’ve done so many things wrong! I’ve--”

“You have,” Janus agreed, stepping forward again. Roman felt his back hit the wall. The TV was between them, he noticed dimly, and cursed himself for the thought. Janus wouldn’t attack him! What kind of unsavory fear was that? So much for thinking of Janus as a good guy.

Still, even if the real Janus would never attack him, Roman had a sickening feeling that right now, all bets were off.

“You’ve made a million mistakes,” Janus said. Something we’re both familiar with, Roman remembered, but that was just a line to flatter Roman, make him let his guard down. There was no flattery now. “But you’re not sorry. I can tell.”

“Of course I am! I--” Roman paused, doubt squirming into his head. Was he sorry? Sure, he acted like he was, he told himself he was. But was he really apologetic? Or did he just want to get rid of the guilt that ate him up every night, the loaded glances everyone gave each other when he entered the room, the bite in everyone’s voice when they greeted him? Was he so selfish that he didn’t care about his friends’ feelings, only his own?

“Finally, an epiphany.” Janus smirked. “I knew it would take a while to get through that idiotic head of yours. But now that you’ve finally caught up with the big kids, do you know what it means that you’re only thinking of yourself?”

Roman knew. Roman knew. He didn’t want Janus to say it, but Janus was going to, because everything was out of Roman’s control. Why had he wanted it like this? Why did he think he could handle it?

“Evil,” Janus said, relishing each letter. “You’re the evil twin, Roman.”

Roman glanced around wildly, hoping for some scrap of support. He knew there wouldn’t be any. He knew their faces would cut him even deeper. But he looked around anyway, and he hoped, because Roman had always been pretty stupid.

Logan’s face, stern and cold, eyes flashing. Virgil, glaring at Roman like he did long ago back when they were enemies, baring his teeth. Patton, smile finally slipping off his face, looking at Roman with furrowed brows and a pout. Disappointment.

And Thomas. His Center. His person. The one he did everything for, the one he dreamed for, the one he lived for. Thomas looked at Roman, shook his head, and looked away.

Roman tried to scrounge up some sort of fight. He needed to get them to forgive him! Or at least continue the conversation! He couldn’t just give up now. Giving up wasn’t something heroes did, and if Roman wanted the slightest chance of success, he had to brave this out.

But Janus’ eyes were gleaming and sharp like the edge of a knife. The script had been torn to pieces long ago, and the more Roman stood among the people that resembled his friends, the more it tore him up inside.

He sighed, slumped against the wall, and waved his hand. “Cut.”

The room dissolved around him. He sunk to the ground, or what might have been ground. It was hard to tell when the Imagination was between worlds. Everything was the same shade of parchment white. He ran his hand down the wall and felt the roughness. Usually this place invigorated him, an empty canvas, a blank slate to create wondrous worlds and spin scintillating stories. Now it just reminded him of his failure.

Ugh. The first round was always the worst, but he thought he’d be able to handle it a little better than that. But no. He’d frozen, choked, run dry. One malicious monologue and he got tongue-tied? Pathetic. And he was supposed to be an actor.

Well. Maybe it would take longer than he expected. Ten rounds instead of five, maybe even twenty or thirty. But he’d figure it out. He’d be able to brace himself for the hatred. Or better yet, find the good ending. If there was one to get at all. He certainly didn’t deserve their forgiveness. Perhaps, though...perhaps if he found the right words, he’d manage to salvage their tolerance.

Either way, he knew when he finally had this conversation in real life, he’d be prepared. He’d be insulated from the harm of any stinging words thrown his way. He’d be fine.

Practice made perfect, after all.

Roman hauled himself to his feet and waved his hand, building the living room from scratch. He put the finishing touches on Virgil’s patchwork hoodie, Logan’s striped tie, Janus’ scales, Patton’s smile. Maybe it would hurt less if he made it less realistic, didn’t pour all his love and knowledge into each creation, but it was supposed to hurt. It wasn’t practice if he didn’t feel the weight of the real situation, didn’t feel the pressure on his lungs and the shake of his hands, didn’t feel the shame of being ridiculed.

“From the top,” Roman muttered, clapping his hands. And the scene started again.

“Greetings,” Roman said, smiling as wide as he could, ready for another try.

“Logically, there is no reason to forgive your apology. I hold no affection for you and you have sidelined me on multiple occasions.”

"Cut. From the top.”

“Kiddo, I’ve always supported you, but don’t you think you’re getting in Thomas’ way? I really think I should take the driver’s seat on this one. Maybe you can take some alone time and think through how you can be better.”

“Cut. From--from the top.”

“Oh, hey, bro! Whatcha up to? See, we’ve decided you’re not really all that, so we’re trying the other Creativity out as the good twin. Just take a backseat and be a nuisance, which shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Cut! From the top!”

“Jeez, Princey, can you pump the brakes? And I thought I was a bad guy. Hate to say it, but maybe you should just duck out and stop corrupting him.”

“C-cut. From...from the top.”

“You’ve never been my hero, Roman, and you never will be.”

Roman couldn’t even say “Cut” after that. He was too busy crying.

Eventually, though, after a million wrong choices and a billion broken smiles, he found his way to some semblance of the good ending. No jolly good fellows and cheering citizens, no happily-ever-after, just a version that didn’t make Roman want to curl into a corner and hide forever. His fake smile got better with every round. His apologies grew more polished, and even though they felt less and less sincere, they got better and better results. Soon he was just running through the words like he was reading off a teleprompter, bobbing his head along to a script he knew by heart.

He knew what to say. He knew where to pause, where to let his voice crack, when to smile and when to let someone else talk. He learned to wait his turn, to accept the first two insults from Logan but push back at the third, because if he didn’t, Janus would accuse him of taking things lying down which would lead to an entire diatribe from Virgil about Roman never fighting for himself anymore. It was a delicate balance between meek and egotistical, quiet and loud, apologetic and confident. One slip of the tongue and he’d be berated again, kicked out, encouraged to just duck out and save everyone the trouble of his company.

Still, it stung less after the tenth time. Roman barely even flinched after the twentieth. By the thirtieth, he was able to just nod and smile, swallowing the hurt. By the fiftieth--fortieth? Fiftieth? How many times had he remade this room, polished up these characters, and tried again? He didn’t remember--by the time he stopped, it didn’t hurt at all.

He was tired, he realized as he finally put away the living room for good. His eyes ached and his head swam. He must have been doing this for several hours. Time was hard in the Imagination. Well, no longer should he deny himself his beauty sleep! Usually he’d have a walk into town to reward himself for succeeding, have a chat with some characters or slay a mighty dragon or just enjoy the wind on his skin. But he didn’t really feel like he deserved a reward right now. And he definitely wasn’t up for any dragon-slaying. Or socializing.

Roman summoned a quill and scratched out a door in red ink. Maybe it was overkill when he could just sink into his room, but he enjoyed watching the ink spread over the surface of the wall and sink into a three-dimensional figure. It was one of his favorite parts of the Imagination, the way he could will anything into existence, plant a seed and let it have a life of its own.

Or it usually was. Not when the Imagination supplied biting words and cold eyes, going above and beyond even Roman’s worst fears, forcing him to confront every possible worst-case scenario.

Other than that, though, it was a fun place.

Roman opened the door to his bedroom. It was dim and empty, smelling almost stale. How long had been away? Didn’t matter, he was tired. And hungry, he realized as his stomach growled, but sleep before food. Did he even have any food? He’d been storing as much as possible under his bed so he wouldn’t have to attend meals too much, but he was pretty sure he’d eaten the last chicken wrap this morning. Or maybe yesterday morning.

Roman collapsed on his bed with a sigh. The food issue could wait for now. His eyes were already closing. He pulled his quilt over him and sunk into his pillow, breathing another sigh of relief. Goodness, he felt like he could pull an Aurora and sleep for a hundred years. All that crying must have been exhausting.

But just as Roman drifted off, he felt a tug in his chest.

Thomas.

Oh, no.

Roman’s eyes flew open. He thought he still had a day before this! That’s what Logan’s schedule said, and Logan’s schedule never lied. Why would they push it earlier?

Roman glanced out the window at the sunny day. His alarm clock read 4:30. The little red x’s over the previous days on his calendar proclaimed it to be a day before the Talk. Maybe he’d gotten the date wrong, misread it somehow. That would be just like Roman, to be such an idiot he messed up a simple date.

Well, no time to worry about it now. Thomas was summoning him again, the tug stronger and almost painful. Roman quickly jumped out of bed, waited for the room to stop tilting, and strode over to his full-length mirror. He looked like a hot mess. Nay, not hot, cool. Nay, not cool, uncool. An uncool mess.

Roman quickly snapped his fingers and straightened the wrinkles from his outfit, combed the tangles from his hair, and dried the tear tracks on his face. He practiced a smile, a grand pose, and recited his part in his head. He knew what he was doing. He was ready, he was prepared, he was numb. This would be fine.

When he felt another tug he took his chance, rising up in the real world and beaming at everyone. “Greetings,” he said, going a little quiet on the second syllable and purposefully softening his smile when he was done.

It was warm. No surprise, it was late spring in Florida, but Roman had gotten used to the icy chill of the Imagination. He’d never bothered to fix it. Maybe he should have, because the warmth was throwing Roman off, reminding him that this was the real thing and if he messed up, he got no do-overs.

“Hi, Thomas,” he said after a two-and-a-half-seconds pause. “Everyone.”

“Roman.” Janus’ voice cut in, right on time.

Roman nodded at Janus, lifting his lips slightly. Janus didn’t smile back, but he didn’t until later. So everything was going to plan.

“Where have you been?” Thomas burst out, his eyebrows furrowed. “Nobody’s seen you for days!”

Oh. Okay. That was off-script.

“I’ve been in the Imagination,” Roman said quickly. Not a lie, so Janus couldn’t see right through him. Just a layered truth. “What would you like to talk about, Thomas?”

Thomas pressed his lips together. “I think you know.”

Roman carefully let his smile fall, just a bit. “I know.”

“Yeah.” Thomas looked around. “We need to talk about the last episode, Roman.”

“We’ve already spoken about it,” Logan said carefully. “Just...not with you.”

“You weren’t answering us,” Virgil said, curling into himself, just a bit. “We, um--I. I was worried. But you’re here now, so--so that’s good.”

“So.” Patton tugged at the sleeves of his cardigan, looking nervous. The same nervous smile as Roman expected. “I--”

“I’m sorry,” Roman said, reciting the speech he perfected, the one tailored to ruin his friendships with the least people. “I messed up, and I’m sorry. Janus, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name--I actually like it, it’s very dramatic and it suits you.” End the compliments there, before Janus thought he was laying it on thick, or worse, figured anything Roman liked had to be terrible. “Patton.” Pause for emphasis, keep his voice level. “That video was kind of a mess, and that was my fault.” Don’t add any ‘maybes’ or ‘partiallys’ or ‘kind ofs’. Don’t imply it was Patton’s fault or everyone will get mad. “Logan, I’m sorry for cutting you off. I do that far too much--” Not ‘we’, ‘I’, because the last time he said ‘we’ Virgil got mad that Roman thought Virgil ignored Logan. “--and I would benefit from listening to you more.”

It was Virgil’s turn now. Roman didn’t have to say much to Virgil--too much, and he’d send Virgil into a panic attack like he did in the Imagination. “Virgil, I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been cruel to you. I haven’t ever apologized for those before, and that was my bad. You’re...you’ll always be one of us.” Oh, no. He’d gone off-script. But he just couldn’t help it! Hopefully the extra compliment wouldn’t be seen as too forthright, and no one could get mad at Roman for assuming that there was an “us” and Roman was part of it.

Everyone was silent. Roman let his words ring for a second or two. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, instead turning to Thomas. Thomas had an unreadable expression on his face, and Roman knew how quickly it could turn to anger, disappointment, fear, disgust. He had to do this right.

“Thomas.” Roman carefully shifted from one foot to another, a small sign of weakness that would make him seem a little less egotistical than usual. “I...I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t add anything else. No chances for misunderstandings with Thomas. He was a part of Thomas, all of them were, and Thomas would know exactly what he meant.

And Thomas did. His eyes softened. “I forgive you, Roman. Thanks for saying that.”

“Great!” Roman knew a cue to leave when he heard it. Sticking around too long had never ended well. They’d gotten their apologies, which meant he was no longer necessary. “Now, I’m afraid a noble quest awaits me, so I shall take my leave. Farewell!”

He gave a little flourish of the hand and sunk out, leaving the rest of them frozen in the living room.

“Wait--” Virgil started to say, but Roman was already gone.

Roman spent the rest of the afternoon dozing, watching TV, and scribbling down the first lines of stories he knew he’d never finished. At some point, maybe two hours or so after the dinner he skipped by insisting “I ate earlier, Padre, and I’m awfully busy right now,” he learned why the Talk had taken place a day early. Or rather, that it hadn’t. He’d been in the Imagination for a whole day without realizing.

Well, that happened sometimes. A day or so, and Roman would be back to his fabulous self. And he’d navigated that conversation with barely a hiccup, a real achievement. He usually messed up somewhere, the panic getting to him, lashing out at someone or feigning too much confidence and coming off as egotistical. And of course, before he started doing this, he’d been a mess.

He’d gotten the idea during Can Lying Be Good?, and although that episode was a disaster after Deceit showed up--Janus, his name was Janus, a change that still sent Roman’s stomach tumbling whenever he was reminded of it--it was still a good idea to work through possible options before making a choice.

So it started small. Roman practicing monologues on an empty stage, Roman working through a few different scenarios before deciding on the play to audition for, Roman conjuring up another Side and practicing asking them for help or thanking them for their assistance or apologizing for a wrongdoing. Slowly he started building worlds, polishing off characters, holding full conversations. There were more and more choices now. Everything was a choice. Every word was a choice that led to good or bad, happiness or hatred. Was this how Virgil saw the world, every sentence a pitfall? Roman hated it.

Yet made things a little better, made Roman feel a little better, a little more in control. Like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure story, paging through each option before making his choice, messing up and being able to stumble back to the last moment of solid ground, searching for that good ending. Like a video game with infinite lives.

Ugh, a video game. That carried bad memories thanks to the disastrous episode after the wedding. Roman had gone in there completely blind, since he had no time to prepare with a few run-throughs, and it had gone off the rails. What was that analogy with Thomas’ dead friends? Why had he pushed Patton into blowing up? Why had he even tried to contribute to a discussion about morality, which he knew wasn’t his area of expertise? And why had...why had he laughed at Janus’ name?

He’d panicked. That’s what he’d done. He’d panicked and made all the worst choices he could. He’d panicked and showed his true colors as a thoughtless, heartless, egotistical villain. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn’t been kicked out of the Light Sides on the spot.

But it was fine now. He’d managed to scrounge up some compassion from the others, they’d forgiven him, and it was fine. Well, he hadn’t stuck around to see whether they’d forgive him--expecting something in return wasn’t very kind of him. He didn’t need them to forgive him. Thomas forgave him, and that was more than enough.

So now all he had to do was not mess it up again.

Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.

Roman was already avoiding the other Sides as much as possible, but he dialed it up to eleven. He sneaked into the kitchen and stole a week’s worth of food. For some reason, it was depleted in three days. Either he’d miscounted the food or the days. But it was fine. He ate in the Imagination, and he felt full in there until he left, upon which his stomach would feel like it was trying to devour itself. After the third time he fainted, he figured he might want to start eating dinner with the others again.

So he spent half the afternoon practicing, ranging from best-case scenario of being politely tolerated to worst-case scenario of being stabbed by a fork. At least, he thought it was half the afternoon. It turned out to be twice as long as he’d aimed for. He’d missed dinner altogether. So Roman spent another night starving until he stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of cereal. He hoped that no one would be there. But Patton was already flipping pancakes.

When in doubt, he’d learned from all the scenarios he’d ran through, smile and nod. So Roman smiled, nodded, and started to take his cereal back to his room.

“Stay,” Patton insisted, looking far happier to see him than usual. That probably meant trouble. “The others will be down soon, and we’ve all missed having you here for breakfast!”

Okay, that definitely meant trouble. And engage in conversation before finding the right things to say? Roman would be kicked out before anyone had the chance to finish their pancakes.

“I appreciate the gesture,” Roman said, trying for an ingratiating smile, “but I truly do have things to attend to--”

“You’ve been saying that for days.” Patton slid a few pancakes onto a plate. “Kiddo, what’s going on in that head of yours? There’s no reason for you to be working this hard.”

Ah, there was his angle. He was wondering what Roman was up to. As Thomas’ Creativity, any issues with creative output could affect everyone. That made sense, and that was a conversation Roman knew how to handle. He’d practiced this very scenario, what, two weeks ago? One week? It had been a Tuesday, he was sure of that, but he didn’t know which Tuesday. Well, whatever, he remembered how to handle this. Assure Patton that everything was fine on the creative front, that as far as he knew there were no issues with burnout, and thank him for his concern.

But then Logan stumbled into the room, yawning, and Roman’s plan went out the window. Logan was a new variable, and a volatile one at that. Logan hated him. Logan thought he was dramatic and worthless and annoying. More than once, Logan had ended up yelling at him in the Imagination. And in real life, if Roman was being honest. He couldn’t blame Logan, but sometimes it got on his nerves how seriously Logan took every little jab.

Still, it was just Patton and Logan. Logan would surely react well if Roman spoke of organization, promised to follow the schedule, and maybe slipped in a compliment or two. It was kind of sad how much Logan was flattered by compliments, even backhanded ones. Still, it wasn’t Roman’s place to check on his self-esteem. All Roman had to do was play into Logan’s hands.

This was fine. It was only two of them, it was only breakfast, and things would be fine.

And then Virgil slouched through the door, sat on the counter, and poured himself an ungodly amount of coffee.

Okay. Problem.

Virgil, for lack of a better word, was the most confusing side. He was run by a myriad of internal inconsistencies and perfected paranoia, his operating system a hodgepodge of self-consciousness, worry, and a million little tweaks and complexities. Roman could make a good imitation of Virgil on the outside--just slap in some gravely remarks and a general I-would-rather-be-sleeping attitude, and he had himself a decent Anxiety--but on the inside? He was lost. Virgil followed his own rules. There was no telling whether Virgil would freak out over something, no playbook for whether or not he lashed out, no step-by-step manual for how to keep Virgil happy. Virgil was always on edge, always on his toes, and always saying just a fragment of what he really thought.

Roman liked that, in a way. Virgil was different, but he liked that Virgil was different. Virgil could surprise him. Virgil could understand him. Virgil was a good friend.

However, with Patton and Logan already in the room, Roman really did not want to have Virgil around, too.

He cast around for an excuse that would be nice enough for Patton, serious enough for Logan, and not too suspicious so Virgil wouldn’t narrow his eyes and ask “who did you think you were fooling?” That had happened...more than once in the Imagination. Sometimes it was paired with a crack about Roman’s acting skills, which always stung.

Before Roman could find an adequate alibi, the door opened again.

“Apologies for being late,” Janus said, sliding into a chair, Remus following like a lost puppy. A puppy covered in green slime and sucking on a jar. “Remus wouldn’t stop throwing octopi at my head.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now!” Patton slid plates of pancakes onto the table. “Enjoy, kiddos!”

Roman looked around at the room. Five people. Five chances to mess up. He couldn’t do this. He hadn’t practiced. There was no safety net to keep him from falling off the tightrope.

“Roman?” That was Janus’ voice. Smooth and suave and seeing right through him.

I can taste lies, Roman, and you’re coated in them.

Roman stood up abruptly. Everyone was looking at him now. Why had he ever grabbed the spotlight? This clinging attention made him want to curl up and hide.

“I-I need to go,” he stammered out. Before he could receive the consequences for his rudeness-abruptness-hesitance-everything, he sunk out. He left the bowl of cereal half-empty on the table.

The rest of his morning, which he’d planned to use to write, ended up alternating between hyperventilating and staring at the ceiling. He was doomed. Absolutely doomed. He’d made a fool of himself and probably offended, annoyed, angered or upset everyone there. Why had he even tried? Such a ridiculous idea, inserting himself in their lives like he belonged, like he was worthy to sit at their table and take up their time.

But he was greedy and selfish and didn’t want to just hide forever. It would be easiest to cut himself off. It would be easiest to lock his door and stay in his room unless summoned. It would be easiest to--no. He wouldn’t duck out. He couldn’t. He might be a defective Creativity, but he was the only Creativity Thomas had. Other than Remus, and Roman did not want to leave Remus in charge.

Then again, he couldn’t possibly mess up more than Roman had. If Roman wasn’t the hero, maybe Remus wasn’t the villain, and maybe Roman should just--

Ugh. Roman rubbed his eyes and tried to scrub the thoughts from his head. They’d always lurked in the back of his skull like an itch he couldn’t scratch, but ever since the court case, they’d returned with a vengeance. And after the latest episode? It took all his power to keep them at bay.

Well. Breakfast may have been disastrous, but this wasn’t the end of things. He would just have to practice more, is all. He wouldn’t freeze up if he had a better handle on how his friends really acted. This would be fine as soon as he was perfect at it.

So he practiced. Every day, he practiced. He did the work for Thomas and ate a meal or two, then spent the rest of his time fabricating conversations. He had one-on-ones with all the Sides. He talked to them in groups. He practiced dissolving tense situations and coming to compromises and not getting yelled at for being an idiot. He learned his way around Patton and Virgil and Logan and Remus and Janus and Thomas. He found the best cadence, the best tone, the best vocabulary.

And he messed up. Over and over and over again. At his best, he managed to avoid full-on blowouts, but after he got tired? He was berated. He was mocked. He was laughed-at and shunned and told to “just leave and make the world a better place.” He cried and that just made the situations worse, he said “Cut” and felt like a coward who couldn’t face the truth, he ran out of the Imagination and curled up on his bed and tried to get his breathing back under control. Some days, it was like a nightmare he could never wake from.

But it was worth it. On the miraculous occasions when Roman did everything right, he would get praise. Patton would beam at him. Janus would apologize for hurting him. Logan would give him a little nod. Virgil would smirk and say he “really wasn’t so bad.” And Thomas...Thomas would look at Roman the way he used to, like Roman was still his hero.

Once he even got a hug from Patton. It made his arms burn and his insides go cold and hollow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. Patton used to mandate group hugs, but everything was so tense now, and everyone avoided everyone else. Or perhaps they just avoided Roman. That would make sense.

When Roman played his cards right, he got the good ending. Which meant it was possible to get in real life, too. It was possible to maintain peace and remain accepted and even manage to be a good friend. However, the real world always threw Roman off. He panicked, froze like a deer in headlights, and his tongue curled up whenever he had to speak. He fumbled through conversations, conscious of the weight of the eyes on him, and retreated to the safety of his room.

He just needed more practice, he told himself. It would be fine.

He spent whole days in the Imagination. He brought his lunch in there with him, so he could practice eating and talking. He slept in there some nights, conjuring up a bed because he was too tired to make his way back to his real room. Sleeping in the Imagination was strange because he never knew when he’d woken up again. Everything was dreamlike and artificial. He’d stumble into his real room and pinch himself over and over again until he was sure he’d woken up.

Logan assigned Roman a brainstorming session. Roman made a note of the date and spent the day before it prepping. He had a few ideas, none of them fantastic, but hopefully Logan would be able to expand on them.

“Where have you been?” Logan asked when Roman showed up in the living room. “The session was supposed to be two days ago.”

“What?” Roman blinked and mentally ran through what he’d been doing for the past week. Oh. He must have lost track of time in the Imagination again. “I...it’s...what day is it?”

The date he got in response, along with a confused expression, cemented the truth. He was two days late.

“I'm so sorry,” Roman blurted out. “Completely lost track of time.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Logan said, but he was still eyeing Roman suspiciously. Roman quickly quieted to hear what Logan was going to do.

“I’m free now.” Logan patted the couch next to him. “We can brainstorm now, if you would like.”

Which answer was the correct one? Logan could be annoyed about the whole thing and looking for a chance to insult Roman. But he looked earnest enough. He probably wanted to get things over with and give Thomas some good ideas. Okay, that was fine. This was fine! Roman was doing great already. The ‘missed the date’ thing wasn’t optimal, but other than that, this was going so much better than it usually did.

So Roman shared his ideas. He made sure to hesitate before each one, so Logan could stop him if need be. He peppered in a few compliments, kept his voice level, and pointed out the flaws before Logan could. Everything was efficient. Logan tried to make conversation at some point, but Roman knew that was a trap and would just lead to Logan getting annoyed at Roman “getting off-track” or “not taking this seriously.” So Roman didn’t take the bait, only talking about the ideas. Logan frowned a bit but followed his lead.

As soon as the ideas were finished with, Roman cleared up his space and stood up. Lingering after he was needed never ended well.

“You’re leaving?” Logan asked.

“We’re done, are we not?”

“Of course,” Logan said, but he didn’t look convinced. Oh no. Roman had done something wrong and now Logan was going to yell at him.

“Is there something you need?” Roman asked after a few seconds of silence. He tried to sound polite instead of dismissive, but the tone didn’t come off how he liked, and he winced.

“No, I--” Logan paused. “We’re...we’re watching the filmed version of Hamilton tomorrow night. If you’d like to join us, that...would be adequate.”

“I--” Roman tried very hard to keep from squealing and jumping around the room in excitement. “Sure! I’d love to.”

Was that too eager? No, Logan just looked...relieved. Almost happy. Patton had put him up to this, probably, and he didn’t want to fail at even a simple task. Well, Roman was glad he could give Specs an ego-boost for the day.

Roman quickly excused himself before Logan could take the invitation back. He closed the door behind him, hopped up and down, and squealed. He shook his fists and twirled around and hummed a few lines of Hamilton. Because it was Hamilton! And someone wanted him to be there! He would get to watch Hamilton with his whole fam-ILY!

He was going to watch Hamilton.

With everyone.

Oh, no.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. It was tomorrow night. He would be watching the Hamilfilm with everyone. So, so many chances to mess up. And  he’d never practiced a movie night scenario before. He’d figured it would never actually happen in real life.

But here it was. He was invited. And he only had a day to prepare.

So Roman spent an entire day in the Imagination, watching Hamilton over and over with the other Sides surrounding him. He practiced eating just enough popcorn, laughing quietly, and making jokes. What he found? The best way to maintain peace was to simply shut up. No snippy comments, they annoyed Logan, who was trying to focus. No singing, it got on Virgil’s nerves. No trying to talk to Patton, who sat next to him. Patton didn’t want to talk to Roman. Every time he opened his mouth, things went wrong, and he was left curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and Lin-Manuel Miranda singing onscreen.

It was a good film. The close-ups were fun and the choreography was top-notch. Maybe Roman would watch it on his own later and actually get to sing along. Then again, he’d seen it ten times or more now, thanks to all his run-throughs of every possible scenario. Any magic the show possessed at first had drained away.

He wasn’t late to the movie night, thank goodness. Patton smiled and made room for him on the couch. Roman took just the right amount of popcorn, ignoring the yowling of his stomach, and settled in to watch. They were all in the positions he’d practiced with. Patton curled up on the couch, Virgil perched on top of it, Janus sprawled on the floor, Logan in the chair nearby, and Remus behind the TV. Patton was giggling over all the puns, Virgil was trying not to look excited and failing, Logan was monologuing under his breath, Janus was rapping along, and Remus was digging around between his toes.

And Roman stayed silent. He tamped down his excitement and simply nodded along to the music. He let Logan rant about the costume design and Virgil poke fun at some of the jokes. He let Janus hum the tunes and Remus shout out all the innuendos. It ached to just sit there, almost as if he wasn’t present, but he knew that being invisible was the only way he could leech off this comfort and familiarity. He had been included, and he wasn’t going to mess this up.

“Hey, Roman?” Patton asked during the intermission. “You doing okay?”

“Of course!” Roman declared. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been kind of...quiet?” Patton’s eyebrows were furrowed. “I thought you’d like this. I know how much you love Hamilton.”

And what could Roman say? That he’d already seen this exact film a dozen times in preparation? That he’d seen every ending where he spoke up, and none of them were good? That he really wasn’t in the mood to be yelled at when he couldn’t just stop the scenario and cry on his own?

“Apologies,” Roman said instead. “I’m...I’m just tired.”

Patton looked about to continue the conversation, but What’d I Miss had begun to play, so he turned back to the TV and let it be. Roman settled in for the second act. He really wished he could just leave, but he still liked being surrounded by his friends, and they’d think it was rude if he said goodnight early.

He kept quiet, despite Patton’s confusion. He caught Virgil giving him weird looks, Janus pausing before every song like he expected Roman to join in, and even Logan eventually ran out of steam and fell almost silent.

“This is such a good song!” Patton exclaimed, humming the upper part. Janus took the lower. “Does anyone else want to sing with us?”

It was a completely transparent attempt to get Roman to sing. But no. Even if Patton seemed to want it, he’d quickly tire of Roman’s dramatics, and Virgil and Logan would hate Roman for being such a nuisance. So Roman just shrugged and smiled, enjoying Patton’s cheerful humming and Janus’ smooth vocals, pretending he didn’t wish that he could slip in between them and sing along.

Pretending was all Roman was good at, wasn’t it?

When Hamilton ended, Patton smiled and said “Wanna watch something else, guys?”

“How about Disney?” Virgil asked, watching Roman carefully. “I know one of us would like that.”

“Actually,” Roman said, standing up and stretching, “I'm quite fatigued, and a prince needs his beauty sleep. You can continue without me! I hope you have a wonderful night.”

Everyone shared glances, but Roman didn’t stick around to figure out what they meant. He waved and sunk out, returning to his room and sitting on the floor for a long, long time.

That was all he’d ever wanted. A chance to be part of the group. And he hadn’t even messed it up. So why did it feel so empty?

Roman was struck with a horrible thought. Had he left the Imagination? Was that the real movie night? Or was it just another scenario? Maybe he hadn’t watched the real Hamilton at all. That would explain why everyone was acting so strangely, all quiet and hesitant. No, it wouldn’t, because they would act the same as he expected, that was how the Imagination worked--

Roman reached out and ran his fingers over the carpet. This was real. That was real. Everything had happened for real. He couldn’t imagine the little details, like the reflections of the TV in Patton’s glasses, the threadbare edge of Virgil’s hoodie, the time Logan started singing along and immediately flushed bright red.

Still, the next morning, he casually mentioned to Patton the Hamilton movie. Just to make sure.

And Patton laughed and agreed. So it had really happened. That was good.

It apparently hadn’t a week or so later, after a long session of possible-movie-nights so he could be prepared if he was invited again.

“Did you know female crabs lay between 1,000 and 2,000 eggs?” Remus asked in the middle of lunch. “What I’m saying is, there are enough crabs to take over the world and make us all their servants.”

“You already told us that,” Roman said, smiling.

“I did?”

“Yeah, during Moana, remember?”

That got Roman a long, blank stare. Then Remus finally said, “I haven’t watched Moana in months, bro. And I’ve never watched it with you.”

“Huh?” Roman thought back to when he’d seen Moana. It was a dark night with storms on the horizon, and Patton had fallen asleep during the first song, and Logan had gotten annoyed at Roman hiccuping so Roman started over--

Oh.

“Whoops!” Roman laughed. “That didn’t actually happen. My bad.”

Remus was looking at him like he was insane, which was strange, because usually Remus was the one who was probably insane.

“Gotta go,” Roman said quickly, and disappeared. He spent the rest of the day berating himself for being an idiot and telling himself everything was fine. He’d just gotten a little confused, is all. He’d get some sleep tonight and he’d be fine tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning, he hadn’t slept a wink, and he wasn’t even sure it was tomorrow morning. Time was starting to blend together. Roman woke up and he didn’t know what day it was. Roman forgot he could say “Cut” in the Imagination because he forgot it was the Imagination. Roman said “Cut” in the middle of a conversation in the real world and had to quickly cover for it. Roman showed up for a deadline a week early. Roman made a joke about something Virgil hadn’t actually said. Roman flinched when Patton entered the room after a long lecture from Patton that hadn’t actually happened. Roman assumed one conversation hadn’t happened until it was referenced again and he realized it was real. Roman found himself panicking in the middle of the day, unable to name whether things were real or not.

Yes, he could feel everything around him, but was he really here? Was this the Imagination? He felt disconnected from his own body, unable to make any choices, unable to settle his thoughts. He found himself curled on the floor, shaking, running his hands over his outfit and trying to tell himself it really existed. Trying to stop himself from crying.

Everything was fine. His interactions with the Sides were good, nobody hated him, everything was peaceful. It didn’t matter if Roman felt like the world was careening around him. All that mattered was serenity for the Sides and success for Thomas. If everyone else was happy, it was fine.

Roman tried mentioning it to them. In the Imagination, of course, so there would be no real-world impact. Everyone was mad.

It was Janus who stuck out to Roman the most, because Janus was the one who grabbed Roman by the arm and said he was being selfish, didn’t he want to be better than a villain, clearly they had made a mistake allowing him to stick around. And he tossed Roman into the Subconscious, screaming. That would be where Roman woke up, if this was a nightmare, but it wasn’t. He had to snap his fingers and crumple to the ground in his room, gasping for breath.

Janus showed up at his door a few days later. Roman said “Just a minute!” so he could run through some breathing exercises and calm his shaking hands and recite the pointers for interacting with Janus. Let Janus have control of the conversation, apologize whenever necessary, and don’t rise to any of his bait.

“Roman?” Janus asked.

“Why, hello!” Roman said, opening the door just a bit so Janus couldn’t see the mess. He hadn’t spent any time cleaning his room. He’d been busy practicing. “What brings you here, Janus?” No clever nickname. Clever nicknames had been generally frowned upon in the Imagination.

“I...” Janus looked uncharacteristically...nervous. “I wanted to talk to you. Check on you.”

“Oh?” Roman asked, his stomach dropping. “And why is that?”

“I can sense lies,” Janus said. “As you know. And...I--you--”

Roman froze.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Janus said quickly, “I’m just concerned. We all are. I know you’re upset with me for what happened, and I’m truly sorry about that. We all are. Just...we would appreciate, even if you can’t forgive us, for you to tolerate us? You haven’t been yourself lately, and we’d appreciate--I’d appreciate--to know how we can make it up to you.”

Roman needed to answer. But all he could see was Janus grabbing him with an angry light in his eyes, Janus snapping at him when he said the wrong thing, Janus saying he was selfish and evil and not worth anyone’s time, Janus laughing at Roman’s discomfort, Janus calling him the evil twin, Janus sending him to the Subconscious and telling him to never come back--

“Roman?” Janus was stepping forward, concern on his face, but all Roman heard was the rushing of blood in his ears. All he saw was Janus’ twisted smile as he tore Roman down.

“I--” Roman stumbled backwards. “Don’t--”

“Don’t what?” Janus asked.

“I have to go.” Roman turned away so Janus couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. He fumbled with his doorknob and slammed the door in Janus’ face, sinking down as soon as it was closed, leaning on the wood. Breathe. He needed to breathe. Count from one to ten and back to one, in and out, big breaths. He needed to stop crying.

“Roman?” he heard from the other side of the door. Oh, no. He’d forgotten to make sure his room was soundproof.

Janus had heard him. He’d heard him crying.

Roman dug his fingers into his arm. Stupid.

“Roman, are you okay?”

Roman tried to muster up a “Yes, sorry, I’m busy/tired/alright.” Tried to find the perfect cadence and the perfect words. But he was so far from perfect right now.

“Go away,” he said to the door.

“Roman--”

“Go away!” he screamed. “Leave me alone!”

There was silence. Maybe Janus had listened to someone else for once in his life. Roman laughed a bit and found himself crying again. He’d messed up. He’d messed up for good. He hadn’t followed the script, he’d allowed himself to be weak, and now Janus would never talk to him again.

Roman didn’t even bother to practice that night. He curled up in his bed and listened to his playlist of breakup songs and cried his eyes out. By morning, his face was red and blotchy and the searing pain in his heart had turned to a dull ache. He wasn’t ready to face the other sides by any means, of course, but he felt a little more prepared to accept his fate.

So when he heard a hesitant knock on his door and a “Kiddo, can you come downstairs for a bit?” Roman braced himself and obeyed the order.

He immediately stiffened when he saw all five of the Sides, plus Thomas, sitting in the living room. Great. Thomas was here. He could be told by his Center that he was useless. All he’d ever dreamed of.

“You okay?” Patton asked. “If--if you just want to talk to one of us, or only some of us, that’s fine. Just say the word, kiddo.”

“It’s fine,” Roman said, even though it wasn’t. “Where do I sit?”

Virgil gestured at the middle of the couch. Roman slowly sat down, surrounded by the people he used to call friends, the same organization as movie nights. As all the fake scenarios he’d run. He felt so unprepared now, so naked, laid bare for everyone to see. He hadn’t even bothered to make sure his face was clear. At least he wasn’t panicking. He just felt numb and adrift.

“Greetings,” Roman said, smiling at everyone.

“Roman,” Janus said, and Roman flinched.

“We need to talk,” Thomas said, and Roman nodded. He knew.

“Clearly there are some things we need to sort out.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “About last night, and, well, the past few months.”

Roman swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m--I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Virgil frowned. “What’re you sorry for? We were gonna say that we were sorry.”

Roman lost his train of thought. “What?” he finally stammered, looking around for a clue.

“We’re sorry,” Thomas said. “Clearly you’ve been hurting and angry with us, and we assumed that would change on its own if we gave you time, but--”

“It just made things worse.” Patton smiled softly. “So...we’re sorry. Really sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” Roman repeated blankly. “All of you?”

“I know it doesn’t mean much.” Roman looked to Logan, who was fidgeting with his tie, staring at his feet. “But we hope we can make up for...mistakes. We might have made. Prior.”

“That episode was not ideal,” Janus said. “And despite my anger, I should not have said the things I did. So yes. We are sorry. I am sorry.”

“I’m not apologizing,” Remus said from where he was sandblasting a sculpture of male anatomy. “Didn’t do anything wrong. But seriously bro, you’re acting really freaky and not in the fun way, so yeah. Talk it out or whatever.”

“Thanks, Remus,” Patton said, and he actually sounded thankful.

“I--” Roman regretted opening his mouth the moment all heads swung back towards him. “What?”

“Um, we’re sorry?” Virgil gave him a weird look. “Thought we made it pretty clear, Princey.”

Roman looked at each of them. They all looked sincere. They all watched him with varying degrees of concern and apologetic hesitation. Their eyes burned into his skin. He felt like he was floating off the couch. He dug his hands into the fabric but he couldn’t feel it between his fingers.

“I...I forgive you,” he said slowly, the movements of his mouth not matching the words. Why did everything feel like it was underwater? Why did everything seem so far away? He tried to figure out whether he was breathing. Yes, he was breathing, his chest kept contracting. He didn’t feel like he was breathing.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong, something was wrong, something was wrong--

“Roman?” Logan asked. Stood up. Stepped forward.

Roman pressed himself back against the couch.

Logan stopped. Held up his hands. Did Roman look scared? Was Roman scared? Maybe. He should be, he knew that, but everything was spinning.

Was he breathing?

No. He wasn’t breathing. He tried to take a deep breath but it turned out he had been breathing all along, and now his chest hurt. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

Virgil was saying something. Roman flinched away from him. He didn’t want to get yelled at. Not yet. He just needed some time to remember how to move. He’d moved a second ago. Why wasn’t it working now?

“Roman!” cut through the haze in his mind. Virgil was sitting in front of him. That was weird. Virgil had been on top of the couch a second ago, right?

“Breathe,” Virgil was repeating. He reached for Roman’s hand and Roman flinched away involuntarily. A little spasm of hurt crossed Virgil’s face. Ugh, he’d made Virgil upset, stupid, stupid--

“Breathe, Roman, breathe!”

He was breathing, why couldn’t they see that? He was breathing fine.

“I’m fine,” Roman forced out. It felt like a punch in the stomach. And all of a sudden, everything fell back into place. His hands, clenching around the couch for dear life. His knees pressed together. His shoulders tensed. Virgil sitting near him, trying to get him to breathe, Janus and Logan and Patton and Thomas staring at him, shocked and worried.

“You’re not,” Virgil said.

Roman tried to fight back.

But he hadn’t been breathing this whole time.

And his chest was too tight to form words.

“Breathe,” Virgil said again, and Roman closed his eyes and breathed.

It hurt. It shouldn’t hurt this much to breathe. It shouldn’t make his head spin and his eyes water. But he breathed. He breathed in and out and let the air fill him up, travel to every corner of his body. He could feel everything now. Everything was real. Everything was too real, grating on him, pressing down around him. He could feel a million things. The air smelled like a million scents.

That exercise. Name five things, four things, three things. He felt everything. He heard everything. He tasted too much.

Everything was way too much.

It took too much effort to raise a hand.

He sunk out.

He crept into the Imagination, white upon white, nothing there but possibility and emptiness. He sat there and let the itchy wrong pour out of him, until he was wrung out on the floor, empty and exhausted. He curled up on the ground and slept. He could have gone to his bed, but he didn’t want the choking cover of sheets over him, the rustles of air around him. Here in the Imagination, it was quiet and still and he could just wait.

When he woke up, he’d crafted the living room in his head while he slept, because there was everyone right before he’d sunk out. Concerned and frozen and helpless. They were just trying to help, and he’d panicked for no reason.

Although. Now that he was awake, the whole situation was just weird. They were apologizing. To him. Why? Why on earth would they try to apologize? And why had Roman felt so off-kilter from the start? Why was everything so wrong?

Unless--

It hadn’t really happened.

Roman looked around at the facsimile he’d created. Down to the smallest details, it was perfect. He wouldn’t be able to tell the difference if he looked at it and the real room side-by-side.

It hadn’t happened, had it?

Roman didn’t know why that felt like such a blow. Of course it hadn’t happened. Why would it? There had been no signs of it happening before then, and it didn’t match what any of the Sides really thought of him. They wouldn’t apologize to him. They’d done nothing wrong! And they wouldn’t have been so scared and worried when Roman freaked out.

Great. His subconscious was desperate for validation and made him a nice little scenario. He didn’t realize he was that much of a pathetic, selfish, greedy mess.

But this was good! It meant there wouldn’t be any humiliation or strange looks when he returned to the real world. He could continue maintaining his facade, and none of them would judge him for his weakness. Or worse, feel forced to tolerate him out of pity.

Roman’s stomach growled. Well, fantastic. He didn’t want to face the Sides again, but he’d probably faint if he didn’t have any food. Was it even breakfast time? Maybe not. Time was an illusion anyway.

Well. He climbed to his feet, vanished the living room, and stretched his arms and legs. Then he tore a little door in the side of the Imagination and strolled into his own room. He checked himself in the mirror. He looked surprisingly good for someone who just had a breakdown surrounded by manufactured figments of his imagination that resembled the other Sides.

The kitchen wasn’t empty like he’d hoped. Patton and Logan were having a hushed conversation, Janus was occasionally adding to it while fixing up several mugs of tea, and Remus and Virgil were sprawled on the floor together, watching what seemed to be Coraline on Virgil’s phone. It was really sweet. Roman smiled to himself as he walked in, stepping carefully over Remus’ feet.

Patton and Logan froze as soon as Roman walked in. Janus looked around and almost dropped the mugs.

“Hello!” Roman said brightly, opening the cupboard and grabbing some cereal. “Sorry to disturb you, I’m just getting some cereal. Carry on!”

Virgil made a small choking noise. Roman looked over and saw that he was struggling to his feet, staring at Roman with wide eyes.

“What is it?” Roman asked after a few seconds when it became clear Virgil wasn’t going to talk. “Is there something wrong?”

“Where have you been?” everyone yelled simultaneously.

Roman blinked. “Oh? I--how long have I been gone? I truly didn’t mean for it to be that long. Is there something I missed?”

“We were so worried!” Patton was babbling, running up to Roman and looking him over. “You just sunk out, and we couldn’t find you anywhere, and Remus said you weren’t letting him into the Imagination, and--”

“What?” Roman asked. “When did I sink out?”

“Yesterday,” Logan said. “After our conversation in the living room? You appeared distressed and sunk out before we could continue it.”

“Our conversation in the--” Roman froze. He thought he’d left the Imagination behind! Had he only fooled himself into leaving? Had he just sliced through one layer and tumbled into another, tossed between different pages of a book? Perhaps he was still dreaming, even. No, even his lucid dreaming wasn’t as realistic as this.

“Roman?” Patton asked, reaching forward but stopping himself, the concern painfully obvious in his face.

“Cut,” Roman murmured, waiting for the scene to change.

Nothing happened.

“What did you say?” Logan asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” Roman blurted out, stepping backwards. He tried to mentally tear the scene apart, go back to the start, rewind, pause, anything. There was no movement. All the Sides continued to stare at him.

There was something wrong. Why wasn’t the Imagination answering him? It was attuned to his every thought, molded by assumption and creation, a place where Roman was in complete control. It wouldn’t just not listen to him. Unless--

Unless this was real after all.

Which meant...

“We talked yesterday,” Roman said slowly, gauging the reactions. “That was real?”

“What?” Virgil asked. “Of course it was real, what are you talking about?”

It was real.

He’d really been in that room. They’d really apologized to him. And he’d really had a breakdown on the couch in front of everyone he knew.

“Wonderful,” Roman said. “Fantastic. Amazing. I have to go.”

“Wait,” Janus said.

Roman did not wait. He turned on his heel and practically sprinted out of the kitchen. Cereal be damned. He should have sunk out, but his thoughts were too fragmented to picture his own room, and he was afraid that the shifting of worlds around him would throw him off again. He’d just managed to get a handle on reality. He wasn’t in a mood to mess with it.

That was his mistake, though. Because as he bolted down the hallway, a figure collided with his chest and sent him to the ground.

“What--” Roman rubbed his shoulder and stared up at Remus. Remus stuck out his tongue, hands on his hips. Two octopus tentacles wrapped around Roman’s chest and held him in place.

“Remus!” Roman cried in annoyance.

“Got him!” Remus yelled.

There were footsteps behind him. Roman looked around and saw the other Sides approaching. He tried to wriggle out of Remus’ grasp, then tried to sink out, but the stupid slimy tentacles kept him in place.

“Let me go,” Roman complained as a bit of goop slipped down his leg.

“Only if you promise not to run again, bro.”

Roman sighed. “Promise. Now let me go.”

The tentacles made a little slurping noise and disappeared into Remus’ back. Roman jumped up and started wiping the slime off his uniform. Ugh, it was a mess. He’d need to conjure a new costume now! Yes, he could just snap the stains away, but he’d still feel the uncleanness in his soul.

“Disgusting,” Roman said as his fingers came away green and slippery. “Seriously. Did you have to do that?”

“You high-tailed it the heck out of there,” Patton said apologetically. “And we really need to talk.”

Roman bit his lip. “Yeah. I--I know.”

“Do you think...” Logan looked around. “Speaking in the hallway is not an optimal place. Perhaps we should go to the living room.”

“Or the real world.” Virgil curled into himself the moment everyone looked his direction. “What? I think Thomas should be there.”

Roman flinched at the mention of Thomas, and now all eyes were on him again, cloying and cloaking him in concern.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Virgil added. “Duh.”

“I--sure.” It would hurt to see Thomas, to have Thomas finally condemn him, but it was best to get everything out of the way at once. Like ripping off a bandaid or the sword from the stone. “That works for me.”

“Is he busy?” Patton asked.

“He’s watching Parks and Recreation,” Janus said. “Honestly, I think we’ll be doing him a favor by interrupting.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Logan said firmly. “This is important.”

Roman swallowed down the lump of ice in his throat. Yeah, he supposed it was important. They’d finally seen how weak and worthless his Creativity was, and they needed to decide what to do immediately, before Roman’s problems affected Thomas’ creative performance.

“Glad we’re decided.” Janus clapped his hands. Half of them rose up in the living room and the other half appeared in the living room. Roman was in his usual spot by the crooked lamp, Virgil stood by the stairs, Logan in front of the kitchen, Patton by the blinds. Remus sprawled on the floor near Roman and Janus stood by the sofa.

“Thomas?” Logan asked.

Thomas, true to Janus’ word, had been watching Parks and Recreation. When Logan called his name, he paused the TV, jumping up.

“Hey, guys!” Thomas said. “What’s the matter? Thought we didn’t have that filming session until later.”

Virgil winced. “Yeah. Um. There’s...there’s a bit of a...situation?”

“A what?” Thomas looked around and seemed to finally see the serious looks on everyone’s faces. “What happened?”

“Who’d like to tell him?” Janus asked, his eyes lingering on Roman. A clear invitation.

"I--” Roman’s voice cracked, and he swallowed. “I can regale him with the tale, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Go for it, kiddo.” Patton’s usual encouraging smile was nowhere to be found. It made Roman feel strangely empty.

Roman could easily tell a lie. Leave things out. But Janus was staring right at him, so he knew even a lie of omission would be detected.

And besides, they deserved to know just how much of a screwup he was.

“So.” Roman placed a hand on his chest. “I, as the prince of your dreams, possess a land known as the Imagination. It is a place where I can conjure creations and sift through stories until an idea sticks. Remus has his own version.”

“Damn straight,” Remus agreed, sticking a lollipop up his nose. “Mine has all the cool stuff. Roman just uses his for rescue missions and heroic quests or whatever.”

“They’re fun,” Roman argued, before he remembered talking back was not the way to handle any conversation. Thankfully, Remus seemed occupied with shoving the lollipop nearer to his brain, and didn’t fight him on it.

“Well, yes, that’s the general idea,” Roman continued, turning back to the others. “I also use it, sometimes, to practice. Run through scenarios. A rehearsal of sorts before any big discussion.”

“Like what we did after I missed Joan’s performance?” Thomas asked.

“Exactly! That was what gave me the idea, actually.” Roman waved a hand. “It helps me feel more in control of the situation and avoid messing things up. I can predict how you will all react and find the best way to navigate a conversation.”

“Okay,” Virgil said slowly, “I can already predict where this might go wrong, but keep talking.”

“Then, you know, we had...” Roman scratched at the back of his neck. “The most recent episode. In which I said some rather unsavory and unprincely things to our snaky sixth side, which I am truly and deeply sorry for.”

“You’re forgiven,” Janus said almost instantly. Everyone stared at him. “What?” he asked. “It’s been months. Roman was upset and lashed out, I understand he didn’t mean to hurt me. Quite honestly, I was more concerned that he hadn’t forgiven me.”

Roman tried to hide his complete and utter shock. He didn’t realize Janus was such a good person as to feel guilty for that! Well, Janus needed all the Sides to tolerate him in order to help Thomas, that was probably the reason.

“Of course I’ve forgiven you!” Roman declared. “You were upset and you fired back, and the jab was not uncalled for. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Janus frowned slightly.

“Anyway,” Roman said, looking back at Thomas. “After that, I started practicing more often, and...I began losing track of time? Also, being exposed to that amount of rejection a day was--draining. My creative processes have suffered thanks to the amount of time I’ve spent improving my interpersonal expertise. So I apologize for that, deeply and sincerely. I promise I’ll be on-track soon--”

“Wait.” Logan looked deep in thought. “What do you mean, ‘that amount of rejection?’”

“Oh.” Virgil winced. “Knew it was gonna be something like that.”

“What?” Patton asked.

“Okay, Princey. Tell me if this sounds familiar.” Virgil blew his bangs out of his eyes. “You’re basically running through worse-case scenarios. Sure, you tell yourself they’re all accurate, but they’re the worst kind of accurate. They’re the stuff that wouldn’t actually happen. Probably on some level you get that it’s completely ridiculous to think you’d ever get that response or be in that situation, but it still seems plausible, so you keep doing it. And you start overthinking every little choice until you’re convinced you’re doomed to failure and think everyone hates you even though in real life, everyone thinks you’re great.”

Roman stared at Virgil for a very long time. There was a lot to unpack there. “How did you--”

“I’m literally Anxiety,” Virgil said, smirking. “That’s exactly what I do. Like every day.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound healthy,” Patton murmured.

“No, it isn’t,” Virgil said, giving Roman a pointed look. “Anyway. Continue.”

“Um. Alright.” Roman braced himself. “So I was having the conversation with the other Sides and you and I may-have-not-known-whether-it-was-real-or-not-and-it-was-rather-terrifying.”

“What happened?” Thomas asked quietly.

“He had a panic attack,” Logan said. It could have been blunt, but it wasn’t. It was hesitant and soft, softer than Roman had ever heard Logan be, save for when Virgil was upset.

Thomas looked at Roman, and Roman pointedly stared at the floor, clasping his hands behind his back and trying not to bounce nervously.

“He’s been acting strangely for a while,” Janus added. Again, his voice was strangely soft. “It would...it would make sense, his apprehension whenever we talked to him, if Virgil’s theory is correct and he’s worried that we hate him.”

Roman frowned. “Wait, you don’t?”

That got everyone’s attention. Roman’s stomach dropped to the floor as Patton made a little sad noise, Virgil grimaced, and Logan stepped back like he’d been punched.

“No!” Thomas exclaimed. “Of course not!”

Roman laughed a little, waiting for the punch line. None came.

“We don’t hate you!” Patton managed, his eyes filling with tears. “Oh my goodness, Roman, we love you!”

“You’re fun to stab,” Remus said from the floor. “And, like, fun. In general.”

“You’re intelligent and thoughtful and creative...” Logan waved his hands. “I envy you and your ability to fight for your ideas and create such impactful stories. I have always valued you.”

“You’re...” Virgil swallowed. “You make us better. Make me better. Always.”

“I--” Roman covered his mouth. “You’re lying. You can’t--”

“I can taste lies, remember?” Janus smiled at Roman, a smile so different than his usual smirk, reassuring and steady. “They’re not.”

Roman couldn’t stop a little whimper from escaping. “I didn’t mess up?”

“No,” Thomas said, face open and caring and so, so soft. “You’re still you. You’re not perfect, but none of us are. You’re clearly so remorseful about your mistakes. Roman...you’re my hero. Always have been, always will be.”

Roman tried to take a deep breath and steady himself, but it caught in his throat. “You--” He shook his head and found words spilling from his lips. “I thought I ruined everything, you said I did, you said I was selfish and evil and worthless and I should just duck out and--”

“We never said any of that.” Logan shook his head. “We would never say any of that. Those are blatant falsehoods.”

“That’s not us,” Virgil said. “That’s what you were telling yourself.”

“The Imagination isn’t realistic.” Remus gave Roman a long look. “Never has been. It’s not what life is really like. It’s always warped by how we see the world. So basically, Raggedy Ann is right. That stuff you thought we’d say to you? Total bull. You unreliable-narrator-ed yourself, bro-bro.” Remus smiled a little bit. “Happens to the best of us.”

“You’re amazing.” Patton’s jaw was set. “You’re wonderful and special and worth the world. I love you. We love you and we need you here. And--and I’m so sorry we didn’t see you were hurting.”

“It’s not your fault,” Roman said. “I’ve always been a good actor, right?”

That got another long silence.

“Kiddo,” Patton said, “would you like a hug?”

“What?” Roman asked.

“A hug,” Patton clarified, but that didn’t make any more sense. Why would Patton want to hug Roman?

“Hugs have been scientifically proven to increase mood,” Logan added.

Thomas just opened his arms.

Roman stumbled forward, waiting for Thomas to pull away from him, but nothing happened.

Roman sunk into Thomas’ arms.

Warm. Fire. Burning up and down his skin, heating him up from the inside. Roman buried his face in Thomas’ shoulder as Thomas’ arms came up and circled Roman. Thomas rubbed at Roman’s back. Roman whined--embarrassing, but it felt so good.

And then there was more. Patton, wrapping around his waist and pressing his cheek into Roman’s sash. Logan, running his hands through Roman’s hair. Virgil, curling up into Roman’s side and pressing against his chest. Remus, a little exuberant but surprisingly gentle, ruffling Roman’s hair and placing his head on Roman’s shoulder. A gloved hand traced Roman’s cheek, and Roman reached up to hold it. Janus smiled back at him.

“Guys, you--” Roman choked on his own words and realized he was going to cry. Great. Just what the moment needed--Roman ruining it by being sensitive--

“Hey.” Thomas squeezed him tighter. “It’s okay, Roman. Let it out.”

“Really?” Roman asked, his voice small.

“You seem to need it,” Logan said.

“So go ahead.” Virgil smiled. “No judgement here.”

Roman closed his eyes and a few hot tears dripped down his face. He took a deep, shaky breath. Then Janus ran a thumb across his cheekbone, burning and soft, and Roman broke. He sobbed into Thomas’ shoulder, holding onto his friends--his friends--for dear life. Patton made a few little encouraging noises, and Thomas whispered little things. It’s alright. It’s okay. You’re safe, we’re real, we love you.

Roman grasped on the words like they were his lifelines.

He didn’t really believe them. Not yet. But oh, how he wanted to.

“We should...” Logan said after a long time, after Roman’s tears had long dried but he’d remained in the hug to soak up the warmth. “We need to talk about this. We need to...make a plan. Find out how to be better.”

“Later.” That was Janus. “For now, I think we could all use a movie night.”

Virgil snorted. “It’s like ten in the morning.”

“Movie morning, then.” Janus looked to Thomas. “Does that sound good?”

“It sounds great.” Thomas smiled as Patton snapped his fingers and onesies replaced their usual outfits. Even Logan was wearing his unicorn onesie. “What do you guys want to watch?”

“Uh--” Roman waved a hand hesitantly. “Um. Can I--”

“Go ahead,” Patton said.

“I’d...I’d like to watch Hamilton? I...I knew--I thought. I thought you wouldn’t like it if I sang, and I, um. I didn’t enjoy it that much.”

“Neither did we,” Virgil said. “Missed having you rapping along.”

“That sounds adequate,” Logan said, flashing Roman a smile and leading the way to the couch. “I’ll get it ready. Thomas, some snacks?”

Thomas walked into the kitchen with Patton, and they pulled some snacks out of the cupboard. Roman sat down with Logan, Remus, Virgil, and Janus. Virgil sat by his shoulder and pressed his leg against Roman’s side. Janus lay a hand on Roman’s. Remus lay across Roman’s feet. And Logan bumped shoulders with Roman. The touch was warm and fiery and made Roman want to giggle uncontrollably. So he did, just a bit. Nobody seemed to mind.

Thomas and Patton came back with snacks, distributing them. Logan turned on the TV. And the first lines of Hamilton started to play.

It took Roman three songs to work up the courage to sing along. When he did, Patton’s smile lit up the room. Janus dipped lower to harmonize. Virgil huffed happily. Remus clapped his hands. And Logan consented to add a few notes in, here and there.

Thomas just stared at Roman, and for once, the attention wasn’t stifling. Because for once, Roman knew he wouldn’t be judged.

“This is real,” he whispered to no one. “Right?”

"It’s real, Princey.” Virgil reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “We’ve got you.”

Roman smiled.

And for the first time in months, he felt at peace.

Taglist (ask to be included or removed!):

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@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

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Taglist as sourced from @the-taglist-repository:

@k1ngtok1 @just-your-typical-trans-guy @itsabsurd-and-terrifying @cottonwoolsocks @idont-freaking-know @hitmewiththatfanart33 @legendsgates @nonasficcollection @enby-phoenix @evoodo123  @hekking-happy-nonsense @demoniccheese83  @rainbowbowtie @10moonymhrivertam @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @ananonsplace @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd @callboxkat @potatsanderssides @just-a-random-enb  @demoniccheese83 @somehow-i-got-an-account @silverobsidion-speaks  @a-fandom-trashdump 

#yes i did just see the hamilfilm and yes i am projecting my excitement onto roman #it made me happy in my soul #averywrites #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #platonic dlamprt #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders fanfiction #ts roman angst #tw anxiety #tw panic attack #tw self-hatred #tw disassociation #sympathetic janus sanders #sympathetic remus sanders #sympathetic logan sanders #sympathetic patton sanders #sympathetic roman sanders #sympathetic virgil sanders

[nexusnyx]

nyx sweetheart… im literally in tattered pieces from your writing. i made the wretched mistake of not taking any notes from reading this past chapter bc i was too trepid in anticipation of whatever pain you were soliciting so now here i am like a clown rereading this in agony to give you feedback and also cry over my own experiences LMFAO

some things that have already been acknowledged:

- that side hustle red herring… yeah you did phenomenal in leading me into that trap only to smack me around like the sensitive bitch i am with the true pain of a breakup (?) at the end there… one that im all too familiar w myself rip

- seeing all the others who identify w bucky in that they feel overwhelmed w emotions so they retreat in an attempt to spare others their feelings… yall doing more damage than you think PLEASSEEEE

- the margaret atwood quote and how it literally parallels bucky’s own doings… yeah im not ok and i don’t think im recovering from that thank u nyx that will cost you one fluffy blurb in the future my therapist said so

moving on to my little analysis:

- the way steve inquires about bucky taking reader to the sushi place… i sense that its bc its some place important to our favorite mechanic. and clearly she is and bucky is fully aware of that but is such a little shit for letting his hermit tendencies get in the way of exploring the possibility of a fulfilling relationship. we all know your capable of it sarge. just let down your walls a little… its FINE

- also just steve in general!!! i love him with my entire heart. his inviting demeanor just warms my heart and its no question as to why he gets along so well w reader and its probably a testament to how reader and bucky got along so well too

- the birthday thing. with what we know about buckys reclusive nature and tendency to shell himself in when emotions happen, its so characteristic to also not let someone know when his birthday is like!!!! deadass one of the first things i like to know about someone is their birthday so i can go full zodiac hoe and have fun w them yknow.

- and now… moving on to the elephant in the room. oh james. the man who doesn’t think he can offer the companionship and love that reader deserves even though he kinda already was is sheltering himself from the potentiation of hurting her. man if i haven’t heard that before. as if i didn’t have my first love break my heart in the exact same way… just without the actual tenderness bucky attempts to provide. for bucky to have opened up about something so personal and traumatic as his experience with kim and to retract all of that demonstrates a fear of trauma dumping that could lead to the receiver also being hurt by his own baggage. its a fear that leads him to make a choice that wasn’t for him to make. its also obvious that the added strain of becca not going to the museum also just grounds bucky in his own ideation that he’s possibly too much for reader and he can’t possibly bring her into that kind of world. a world that she already has been ingrained into and where she so clearly feels comfortable in. and wowie is my heart breaking and im crying and i should definitely not be listening to beach house’s take care rn

- i’ve already briefly talked about bronte’s moment in a reblog, but my GOD does bucky deserve a few pinches on the cheek. to think you’re doing someone a favor of shielding them from a future heartbreak at your hands can be so unbelievably selfish and heartbreaking in it of itself. also not to get personal on anon but like i’ve been on the receiving end of when my first love opened up to me about a particularly traumatizing event for him to which he went quiet for a while and the whole entire thing ended when he decided for me that he didn’t want to see me hurt in the long run by the circumstances of our relationships one of them being that he didn’t believe he could give me what i deserved of a relationship how terribly ironic and similar to poor reader n buck and i was left so scorned and hollow from it all in the exact same way reader does and yeah great now self control by frank ocean is playing and he’s crying about wishing the timing was right oH GOD and now im rambling and in earnest fear of this next chapter UGHGFNJDJN

nyx pls put back the broken pieces of my heart im begging you. i’m dancing w tears in my eyes fr. no pressure though i love you and will wait until the end of this earth to hear back. 🤍🤍🤍🤍 -🌙

Moon! 🤍

Good gods, I love reviews like yours.

So first of all, I'm happy you got to relate to it so much. It's why I decided to do my practice through reader inserts in the first place: reading is all about how people relate to it, and I'm glad it's working.

Lemme keep up with your points!

Her side hustle is everything 🤍 to me. LOL I love the idea of people learning how to love their bodies through any means it makes them comfortable, whether that's exercise, fashion, sexy pictures. I think being comfortable in your own skin is what everyone deserves, so yeah!

The Atwood quote! I'm so happy someone loves it as much as I do! Honestly, every book and quote in this story was put there for a reason, so I'm happy it's worked hehe. I'll pay in fluffy blurbs, tell your therapist I wrote it down.

We'll be back at Nakajima next chapter! You'll all know why it's so important, worry not.

Bucky had one of the worst bdays ever (IT'S HIS FAULT NO ONE FEEL BAD FOR THE IDIOT) but! One of the future blurbs for CIH will be his birthday next year. He'll make up for it (and be rewarded, as well).

Bucky's been properly slapped in the cheek by his friends in the next chapter, which I hope you like, Moon. <3

I adore you. Thank you so much for taking your time to tell me how much you like my story. It means the whole world to me 🤍

#🌙 nonnie #nyx mail #feedback

[rebsrams]

Crumble (Ethan x F!MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Rebecca Valentine)

Warnings: NSFW/18+, swear words

Summary: She has a date. It’s not with Ethan. Yet somehow she happens to show up at his doorstep, that same night.)

Word count: 2,468 (sorry!)

Author’s notes: My first time ever writing smut. Don’t really know what came out, actually. Like a lot of smut but with that touch of fluffiness in the end. Also, I’m not a native speaker so please report any mistake, I’m here to learn!

Song: Crumble by Jeremiah Daly

The air in his apartment was thick with resentment, disappointment and a bit of disbelief.

Just knowing her out with some other moron made the blood boil in his veins so hard that he could feel the heat radiate under his skin.

He could clearly see her, her legs crossed, portions of her firm thigh showing up further and further as she laughed at the asshole’s jokes, causing the hem of her skirt to slightly roll up.

He saw the asshole’s filthy hand casually resting on her thigh, on her shoulder or caressing her cheek.

Trying to think about anything else, his fists clenched involuntarily.

His mind, however, reluctantly perched on the color of her eyes, her hair in the sunlight, her plump, freckled lips all over him. Him, and only him. Anyone else was just a waste of time, for both of them.

The very thought of it stirred his soul to its very foundations, making him think and feel things that he should definitely not think and feel about an intern.

A sudden urge began to show up, which he promptly had to cast out with a cold shower and a glassful of his newly opened scotch whisky.

Half an hour later he found himself once again laid on his sofa, face facing the white ceiling and counting hours until his next shift, when a timid bang on the door awakened him from his unpleasant reverie.

Then he found her, dangerously glaring in her garish green dress, which was perfectly matching her ivory complexion while divinely exposing her décolleté and emphasizing the morbid curve of her hipbone.

He couldn’t help but taking her in, staring at her and gulping not so lightly at the sight.

“Rookie.”

“Hi.”

She gave him an uncertain smile, as if she was badly regretting the decision that brought her in front of him, whatever the hell that was.

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here, I... G’night, Ethan. See you at work.”

She literally blurted out the words, her face becoming one with her ginger hair.

He could clearly see that awareness was dawning on her, the awareness of not having a single logical reason to be there, on a Saturday night, while a random guy, in all likelihood questionably dressed, was probably waiting for her somewhere else.

Feeling bold enough, Ethan decided to let go of the rules of logic for once in his life and took her wrist before she could step away aiming for the elevator.

“Rebecca, what happened?” he needed a moment to be able to pronounce the next sentence.

“Did he hurt you?” he let out, his voice almost a whisper.

She shook her head, lowering her gaze, and he immediately let out a sigh of relief.

First of all she was fine, and second (if he had to be completely frank with himself), he was a little too out of practice to smack a random douchebag’s nose without any inch of hesitation.

His eyes turned concerned, impatient and, if he had to say, a bit curious to learn the real reason she found herself at his doorstep in such a particular occasion.

He didn’t need to ask further questions  because she explained the situation in such earnestness that made her look absolutely endearing to his eyes, making him forget entirely that he was mentally cursing her for the sweet lines of her body and her bitchy attitude just a handful of minutes before.

“I left. I just couldn’t and, I don’t know, I felt like you needed to know this. I really don’t know what came over me, actually. That’s all. I think I need to go to bed right now.”

He couldn’t help himself from taking those words as a clearly invitation, moving a step forward and firmly grabbing her waist with both hands, his face just a breath away from hers.

“Yours…” he breathed “or mine?”

The spark was ignited.

In a split second their lips came crushing over one another, entangling themselves in a complete mess of ragged breaths and exploring tongues.

They kissed eagerly, urgently, and stopped only to regain some air and not suffocate in their almost strangling passion.

She clumsily shoved her hands under his already loosened shirt, teasing and scanning every inch of his skin, occasionally digging her red nails into his flesh.

The low and growled moans that escaped his mouth at the contact shook her at her very core, waves of warmth spreading across her body.

Soon enough, the door slammed behind them and she found herself pinned to the closest wall, medicine books, novels and fishing magazines tumbling down the bookcase.

His hands easily found their way to the zip of her sparkling dress, now laying on the shiny cedar parquet.

His fingers dug as deep as they could in the flesh of her ass cheeks as he lift her up, clinging to her as if his whole existence depended on it.

She kept her arms wrapped around his neck, tracing with the way from his collarbone up to his earlobe with heated kisses, biting the latter and making him moan loudly.

She then proceed to suck the tender spot just under it, soothing it with her tongue immediately after.

An allegory of what their relationship was.

Hurting each other but being the only one capable of soothing each other’s pain.

“Rebecca,” he groaned “what is it that you do to me?”

She got on her feet and grabbed boldly the protruding bulge now visible through the tight fabric of his pants, which he felt rather uncomfortable.

“You tell me, Dr. Ramsey.”

Letting himself escape a moan, he hastily got back to his mouth’s ministrations on hers, while his hand slipped between her thighs, caressing the tender spots agonizingly slow.

“Ethan…” she begged, thrusting her hips in response.

He once again swooped her off her feet, kissing her thoroughly while walking to reach his wide double bed.

They tumbled on it quite unceremoniously, hands in each other’s hair, trying to come even closer than they already were.

Her hands made their way to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them all and letting the item of clothing fall off his shoulders and on the floor.

His hands swiftly reached for her underwear instead, sliding  the black silky garment down her milky thighs, lightly tickling her already sensitive skin.

And instant and powerful surge of hassle shook him at the thought of her wearing that kind of panties while going out with some kind of haphazard jerk, but then he realized he was the one laying in bed next to her. The bed of his apartment, where she practically ran to when the evening hadn’t even taken off.

“Rebecca,” Ethan breathed between open mouthed kisses “spread your legs for me. I want to watch you.”

She gulped at that words, doing as told but never breaking eye contact with him, blue in blue.

“God Almighty,” he moaned in satisfaction, taking in the view in front of him “you’re so wet for me already. So amazingly wet, Becca”

With that words his fingers ran up her inner thigh, unable to contain themselves, and began to part her folds in light but firm, little circles, while he was losing himself in the sound of her moans muffled again his shoulder and the feeling of her sex wrapping around him, while he entered her with the first finger in a single, swift movement.

“Ethan…”

He could feel that she was trying her best not to scream his name out loud, keeping her eyes shut and her head tilted back as a sign of surrender.

“Becca, honey, I want to hear you” Ethan said, sliding another finger inside of her and making her back arch and her voice increase significantly.

“Look at me” he whispered on her lips, while the pleasure was unsteadily building inside of her at the slight curling of his fingers.

She opened her blue green orbits and looked at him through heavy lids, gasping loudly when his thumb find the way to her clit, circling and nudging it gently.

He then began to worship every inch of her upper body with his mouth, spreading wet kisses all over the line of her neck, her collarbone and down to her breasts and nipples, biting carefully through the thin lacy fabric of her bra.

Getting rid of the latter rather skillfully with just one hand, maybe making her wonder how many times did he do such a thing recently, his torso finally met hers without any barriers and almost melted with it, the feeling ethereal.

He progressively increased the pace of his hand on her, loud moans escaping from both mouths. His fingers seemed like dancing inside her cavity, knowing every single step of the way to her disarming climax.

Just then, the roughness of his stub brushed against the smoothness of her  inner thighs in the sweetest of contrasts and his supple tongue reached inside of her, his fingers still aiming for the spot that was slowly driving her to completion in sure, frantic movements.

“Come for me, Rebs. I need you to do this for me.”

Soon enough, everything that kept her aware of some kind of existence of the outside world shattered around her, the fierceness of her orgasm claiming her senses completely.

He looked up at her, ocean eyes sparkling with gratification, watching her chest rise and lower while she was trying to normalize her breath with her eyes kept almost stoically on the ceiling.

Usually, in moments like this she liked to keep her hands tangled in his hair, always complaining about him cutting them every month.

Ethan’s gaze immediately turned concerned at the wide gap between the two situations.

“What is it?” he asked, trying to hide that little sting of fear in his voice for what he was going to ask next.

“Do you regret this? I’m sure that prick is already having fun spending his night elsewhere, if this is what’s troubling you.”

It took an unfair amount of effort from Ethan to sound as much disinterested as possible, but the truth was he was so interested that he could even let himself go and cry at her affirmative answer, such was the emotional impact that certain moment was having on him.

“Of course not, Ethan.”

Once again, he had to put down the urge to breathe a sigh of relief at her words, though he couldn’t help but wonder what was really troubling that amazingly cumbersome mind of hers.

He didn’t have to speak, because the quizzical look in his eyes drew out all the explanation he needed from her.

“You know I don’t. How could I? It’s just that every time you hold me, every time you keep me in check like this I… I feel like I’m going to crumble in your hands, sooner or later, and that I will not be able to put all the pieces back. I feel like I’m running at full speed to self-destruction because every damn time that we hook up or make love or simply dart our eyes at each other through the corridors, you could regret everything and shut me out again after all the struggle I’ve been through to finally deal with it once. So no, I don’t regret a thing and I never will. But maybe you do and the thought of it makes my heart clench every time.”

By the end of her speech, her eyes were reddened and glistening with tears that threatened to fall at any time, while he just gaped for a second before gathering the nerve to speak.

“I’m not going to regret this, Rebecca.”

He finally managed to say, and he meant it so profoundly that his voice almost broke.

“Then show me”

She couldn’t finish the sentence that his lips were once again all over her, his teeth occasionally scraping sensitive portions of skin.

She kissed his neck eagerly, wanting more, more than she had that night and more than she ever had with him.

She wanted his soul, completely, without restraints or the fear that he could suddenly get cold feet and walk away. She wanted him whole.

“Ethan,” she breathed out, limbs aching to stay the closest she could to him, “I want you.”

She straddled him in a neat movement, pressing herself against the bulge still inside his pants while trying to get him out of them by clumsily loosen his belt.

He then lift her up impatiently, placing her on the bed as gently as he could given the urgency of the situation, and freed himself from the torture that his trousers and underwear were since the moment she showed up at his apartment in that damn golden dress, hugging her like a second skin.

A few moments later he was already placing himself at her entrance, thick and hard with the most ardent desire he had ever felt in his whole life, and scanning her face for some kind of sign to go on.

She nodded firmly and he entered her slowly, inch by inch, savoring the bliss that the feeling was bringing to the both of them.

After a few, slow thrusts, he began to increase his pace more and more, letting himself escape a nearly infinite number of low groans while she was repeatedly calling his name, as if to have some kind of guarantee that he was not going to vanish in her arms.

She began to feel once again her muscles clench around him and the tidal wave of pleasure reaching for her, drawing out cursing words from Ethan’s mouth.

“Fuck, Rebecca, I’m close,” he somewhat managed to say, panting heavily and occasionally moaning her name through her coconut scented hair.

Suddenly he lifted both of her legs over his shoulders for a different angle, thrusting deeper than ever and reaching the spot that made her finally crush down, crying out in pure delight.

He followed immediately after, hips rocking frantically while gripping at her hipbones, probably hard enough to bruise her.

They remained intertwined for what felt like a fragment of infinite, finally collapsing into each other’s arms with their eyes half shut from the exhaustion.

She kissed her forehead while he watched her drift into sleep, finally letting go of the brake that had her clutched to the conviction that he could ever regret something like this.

Things weren’t easy and they still couldn’t come out of the closet, not yet at least.

But there she was, safely wrapped in his arms and snoring lightly, making her the most endearing little thing he had ever seen.

The world around them could have crumbled down, but she would have always been intact as long as she was with him.

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

Told you the end was quite cheesy, I guess it’s kind of my trade mark ✨

#ethan ramsey #doctor ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #Ethan Ramsey x reader #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #Open heart book 2 #open heart fanfiction #playchoices #my writing #my fic #my masterlist #my thoughts

[coeurdastronaute]

The Story, Ch. 3

Previously on The Story

The heat roared into July without a bit of relief. Days stretched onward without the slightest speck of a cloud in the sky, without the slightest taste of rain for the county. The lawn lost its blush of green, lost its softness, instead growing dry and brittle and angry. The grounds seemed to sweat under the sizzling sun, thwarted from any relief by the burdensome layer of humidity that seemed to weigh everything down further. 

Over the course of the week, Dani noted the change in the way the gardener moved through the grounds. Ever with a weary eye no the horizon for any sort of break, she seemed to grow slightly more hopeless with every set back as she attempted to save all of her hard work. Still, day after day she toiled along, and Dani ran out of reasons to see her most days. 

The week became a grind where nothing went quite right, though there were no major catastrophes. The kids were slipping back into a mood, despite Dani’s best efforts, and the mythical heat wave didn’t help at all. Lessons weren’t going quite right, and the days were longer, nothing left to do. 

So, for the first time in perhaps her life, Dani decided to do something, to make her own moment of happiness. She did this, of course, by prowling the halls while the children were reading their assigned chapters to themselves. She did it with purpose and while almost admitting to herself that she enjoyed her time with the gardener. She hid it in benevolence and worry though, creating excuses in her mind to appear in the tiny room off of the back of the house, the glass roofed green house where a certain gardener could be seen prowling at any given moment. 

“It’s boiling in here. I don’t know how you do it,” Dani murmured, making her way down the few steps, careful and with hands full of sweating glasses that dripped on her feet. 

“I sweat my bloody tits off, that’s how,” Jamie retorted, not looking up. 

“Thought you might need to cool down. It’s lemonade. Don’t worry, Hannah made it.” 

Jame cracked half a smile. That might have been Dani’s favorite one, and with that realization she recognized that she must have been cataloging them. 

“It’s much appreciated. You’d take the time to think of little old me out here toiling away.” 

“It was actually the commotion you seem to make that reminded me.” 

“Well, whatever I gotta do, right?” Jamie smiled and accepted the glass, taking a long, long drink and sighing with the relief it brought. 

“Seems like it’s been a rough week for you.” 

“No rougher than the one before I imagine,” she shrugged, pulling her gloves back on. “Or the one to come.”

Dani watched her shoulder flex, not huge and built, but prominent and there, the muscle slivering beneath her skin. She watched her bicep move with purpose as she dug around. And finally, perhaps most importantly, Dani shamelessly watched the tank top ride up a few inches as Jamie reached for something on the shelf. And Dani gulped before blinking and staring at her drink. 

“Haven’t seen you around much.” 

“Not much for me to do, unfortunately. Just watering everything I can, all damn day.”

“Your starts are lovely though. I mean, your hard work shows. I’m sorry it hasn’t been easy.” 

Dismissive of any form of praise, Jamie just shrugged and returned to the pot. 

“They’re accustomed to this kind of thing, you know,” Jamie explained, elbow deep in a pot of soil. “Drought. Sun. Wind. Even the most fragile thing was made to withstand more than it thinks. I’m just trying to help them along as best I can.” 

“It’ll break soon.” 

“Now you sound like me.” 

“I like to believe in the inevitably of rain. Even now, it feels like one of the few sure things in life,” Dani decided, earning a smile. 

Jamie dragged her forearm against her brow, a streak of dirt appearing above her eye. She searched the au pair, to see if there was a hint of teasing in the line, but recognized the hope she once felt, as well. 

“You okay, Poppins?” 

“The kids are a little off. They’re bickering more than ever, and I’m getting more attitude from Miles than I have before. I offered to take them swimming in the pond again, and they about lost their minds--”

“This pond? Here?” 

“The one behind the old stables,” Dani nodded, furrowing at the look Jamie gave her as she paused her digging. 

“Did no one tell you about Becca?” She shook her head and Jamie sighed. “We found her body in the pond. That pond. Or rather, Flora did. They won’t go back to it.” 

“Jesus… I didn’t know.” 

“I don’t know if I would ever go back in. I don’t even like looking at it, I get so mad.” As if to accent her words, she shoved more dirt in, pushing harder. Dani felt her attempt at cheering up the gardener begin to backfire. “When I pulled her out… there was just… We did what we could.” 

“I thought I was escaping tragedies, and I keep bumping into them it seems,” Dani bit her lip, tightening them as she fret over it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

The guilt bubbled up, for bringing it up, for learning this about Jamie when Dani doubted she wanted it to be known. She thought of the gardener, soaked in her overalls, carrying the body of the former au pair out of the water. The way that must have hurt. 

“I’m alright. The kids are doing better. You came along and have really done a number on the whole place, if we’re being honest.”

“I don’t know if I can take any credit.” 

“You should. You have. Even for me.” 

From her spot leaning against the work table, Dani fiddled with the worn wood, ran her thumb along the knots and grooves. She knew she was blushing which she also knew, for some reason, only made Jamie look at her more intently. 

“I don’t know what to do for them now, though. They’re just…”

“Cooped up kids in a long, hot summer. Just let them be kids.” 

It wasn’t exceptional advice, but Dani felt better for hearing, for learning that sometimes there wasn’t a solution, or worse yet, perhaps there wasn’t even a problem for her to solves. 

“There is a place for a swim though, if you’re up for it,” Jamie offered without looking up from the pot she was arranging. “Not really appropriate for the wee ones. A little bit of a hike.” 

“I don’t know if I should leave them for any amount of time. They’re about to burst.” 

“You worry too much, did you know that?” 

“I worry just the right amount, actually.” 

Jamie laughed, one big ha. 

“You fret. It’s adorable, but you do.” 

“It’s not-- I don’t-- They’re my responsibility.”

“Hannah can watch them this evening, and you know it,” Jamie reminded her. “You haven’t left the grounds since you arrived. It’s been three months of being an au pair. You can have a moment.” 

“You’re a rotten influence. I came in to cheer you up, and I’m corrupted now.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Jamie nodded. Her spirit had been lifted. “I’ll meet you at the front gate at eight tonight.” 

“I have to see--”

Somehow, Dani realized too late that Jamie was so close, in her space, eye to eye and intimidating in a way that made the au pair want to never move again because it was incredibly thrilling. It’d been a stretch to go without human connection. 

“You can’t just fix everyone here, and not allow yourself some of that. I’ll see you at eight,” the gardener insisted, reaching around the frozen body, snagging a large sack, swinging it over her shoulder in one fluid motion. 

She backed toward the door outside of the green house as Dani just watched it happen. 

“I heard you were a good time once.” 

“Eight.” 

“Eight.” 

Before she could say anything else, to argue or confirm, Jamie walked out with a smile over her shoulder. Dani watched the gloves in her back pocket bounce and sighed, for the first time, audibly and defeated as sweat ran down her back in the sweltering room. She was still running, even if she didn’t realize it. Jamie made her see alternatives. 

In the distance, Jamie disappeared behind an ivy wall, and Dani finally made herself leave the green house. The tickle at the base of her sternum felt nice. 

XXXXXXXXXX

In the dark, Dani stood at the front gate, monstrous and wrought as it was, unsure of what she was doing there, leaving the grounds and the children, off to some undisclosed location with a relative stranger. Though, Dani reasoned with herself, Jamie didn’t particularly feel like a stranger. She felt like a book she’d once read but forgotten and rediscovered. She was understood, if not at all completely remembered word-for-word. There was an inherent safety and comfortableness with the gardener that Dani couldn’t quite place, and yet she didn’t know her birthday. Couldn’t even begin to imagine if she was right or left handed, wasn’t certain if she liked to read or enjoyed crappy tv. 

Behind the bleachers at the ninth grade dance, Dani kissed a girl. Neither ever spoke of it again, and Dani wasn’t sure she’d ever beat the feeling of having feelings and beating them back, deep into the bottom corner of her heart. 

Jamie felt like she was prying that open again, and it was exhilarating and also something insanely easy to overthink. There weren’t any bleachers at Bly Manor. 

The truck rumbled up the road, stopping before Dani had too much time to fully address the trail of thought she’d just found herself toying with. With a squeal of the breaks it stopped. Jamie slipped across the seat to open the door. 

“Are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Dani resolved, hopping into the cab and offering a smile in the dark. 

The lights from the dashboard made the truck glow, and Jamie hadn’t changed since earlier. There was dirt on her neck now, but she remained unchanged by whatever happened in the hours between the morning and now. 

“There’s not much out here, so you haven’t missed anything,” Jamie said as she changed the gear and shifted until they were going down the road. 

“I don’t mind. It’s a nice change of pace honestly.”

Already there was a quiet between them as they trudged along. Dani took a deep breath and looked out toward the darkness, but couldn’t make out much minus the shadows of trees and the beam of the moon. But she didn’t fight it, as she normally would, hoping to escape any kind of quiet for too long. 

It was a short trip, just a few minutes up the road until Jamie heaved the wheel, turning them toward a pasture where she parked beside a fence. 

“I don’t understand,” Dani squinted to see what she was missing. “I don’t see anything.” 

“We’ll go on foot for a little bit,” Jamie explained as she hopped out. “I thought you were up for a little adventure.” 

“I am! I am.” 

Scurrying, Dani followed, taking Jamie’s hand to help her over the rails of the fence. She didn’t let go for a few more steps; until she caught her balance, she told herself. Jamie led them across the field, directing the best path away from the fence and the trees by the road. 

The heat stuck around from the day. In the distance, clouds formed, billowing and bulbous and just out of reach. They illuminated with static shocks every few seconds. 

“Looks like the rain is coming.” 

“Just heat lightning,” Jamie tossed over her shoulder, not pausing to give it too much attention. “But soon.” 

“I never thought I’d miss rain as much as I do this summer.”

“In a few months we’ll beg for this much sun.” 

“We’re never pleased, are we?” 

“Occasionally, and only for a very short amount of time.” 

“Do you ever think we’ll talk about anything other than the weather?” Dani tried. 

“Is there anything more pressing at the moment?” 

She never stopped moving, but Dani tripped slightly over the uneven field while Jamie pushed forward up the gentle hill, ever farther away from the car and the fence and the known. 

“Where are you from?” 

Jamie stopped moving so quickly that Dani nearly bumped into her. She turned around, her face barely visible in the night, but smiling as she snorted at the shift in their conversation. 

“That’s what’s on your mind?” 

“I don’t know anything about you,” Dani shrugged. “I’m curious.” 

“I heard that doesn’t go well for cats.”

“You don’t answer questions, you know? You skip past or say something to distract from them. It’s almost like you’re doing it as a reflex.” 

It seemed to have hit a spot as they walked for a few moments in the silence of their shoes clomping through the grass and the heaving breathing that came with the exertion of the hike. She didn’t want to, but Jamie seemed to admit to herself that maybe she did that, and maybe it was perhaps the most innate thing about herself, to defer, to deflect, to keep it all. She didn’t willingly keep herself a mystery, but rather preserved herself. 

“It’s a small suburb, a hamlet, really. Fallholt. Nothing there but coal dust and bitterness.” 

“How far is it from Bly?” 

“About three hours north. Do you feel like you understand my entire being now with this tidbit?” 

“It’s a start.” 

While she wanted to sound annoyed, Jamie didn’t seem to mind telling the au pair anything about herself. The problem came with the fact that she held so much of herself so tightly in her hands, it was proving difficult to wretch the words from herself, to wrestle anything free to give up. So well-practiced was she in the art of hiding herself away, that even when she gave herself permission to speak, it was impossible. 

“Are you right handed or left handed?”

“Seriously, Dani?” 

“Curious.”

“Righty.”

Triumphant with this knowledge, Dani caught up to the longer strides of the gardener until she saw the moonlight reflecting off of the water halfway down the other side of the hill. 

“That’s where we’re going?” she asked in disbelief. 

“I promised you a pond.” 

“Is this someone’s property?” 

“Isn’t everything someone’s property?” Jasmine asked innocently. “Do you think they’ll mind two trespassers?” 

“Probably.” 

“Maybe,” she agreed. “If they find out. Come on. I’m sick of sweating.” 

Before she could lodge her first protestation, Dani watched as Jamie started walking toward the pond. She doubled her own steps to catch up a minute later, though by then the gardener was already tugging off her shoes. 

By the time she reached the water’s edge, Jamie had created a pile of her boots and socks and unbuttoned part of her shorts before turning around to the au pair. Much more carefully, Dani put her shoes on the ground and looked warily over the water. 

“Um, where can I cha--”

Dani watched as Jamie tugged her top off and add it to the pile. 

“Let’s go, Poppins. I’m not going in alone.”

“Right, yeah,” she nodded quickly and began working at her own shirt, turning around to give some semblance of privacy. 

Over her shoulder, Dani looked quickly as she unbuttoned her shorts to see a gardener run and jump off of the small pier lit only by moonlight and heat lightening, clad only in a bra and underwear. The splash echoed across the empty field until she popped back up with a laugh and hiss at the chill. 

From the water, Jamie tossed her hair out of her face and tread, watching the form of the au pair wrap her arms around her middle and walk out onto the pier.

“It looks cold.”

“It is,” Jamie nodded, splashing an armful of water towards her, making her squeal. “It feels wonderful.” 

She worked exceedingly hard to keep her eyes trained on Dani’s. That was the polite and proper thing to do, and despite it all, Jamie worked hard to be just those things, despite what even she believed about herself. 

“Is there a ladder or steps?” 

“Good time, huh? Just jump. I promise to rescue you if need be.” 

“I can swim.” 

“Prove it.” 

There was a debate, some internal convincing before Dani stood there and pinched her nose, taking the leap a second later with much less force, but coming up with the same hiss and chattering teeth. 

“How is it s-s-s-so cold?” 

“Isn’t it great?” Jamie decided, taking a few strokes lazily around the newly bobbing body. “Haven’t felt this cool in weeks. I think I was overheating completely. My brain was about to melt.” 

“It does feel better than this afternoon did. Is there anything in this? Like fish?” 

“Oh, probably a few. Maybe some snapping turtles. Maybe some wee beasties on the hunt of trespassers.” 

Jamie skimmed along the water as Dani turned around to follow her. 

“That’s not funny.” 

With a mischievous grin, the gardener slipped beneath the water. Not a ripple remained of her, not a bubble as Jamie peered into the dark water as if it would help. Too long seemed to pass before she called out. Her leg was pulled a moment later, dipping her under. She came up splashing and shoving at the warm body. 

“That’s really not funny,” Dani complained with a laugh. 

“You could have fooled me,” Jamie laughed as well. “Don’t worry. Just you and me and maybe a few sleeping minnows.” 

“So long as they’re sleeping.” 

The water grew more comfortable, losing that biting chill that came to especially overheated bodies. Despite a few splashes earned for her not funny jokes, the pair simply glided around, enjoying the stars and the evening, falling into a relatively calm quiet. The groaning of bull frogs on the banks and the crickets in the field made more than enough noise. 

But Jamie couldn't help but feel the need to say words, something she was beginning to dislike. Silence never bothered her. She’d learned long ago not to fill it up with too much because it was a gift. 

“I think you know plenty about me,” Jamie muttered as they floated, relaxing in the cool chill of the water on their overheated skin. Dani stretched, pulling herself through the water and furrowing at the blurted comment. “Earlier… you said I deflected. Like a reflex.” 

“You’re a tightly shut book. But I don’t mind.” 

Jamie dipped her smile into the water to hide it before wetting her face, running her hands over it to further hide any blush. 

“Where are you from?” she asked as Dani slicked back her hair. 

“A suburb of Chicago. Not too big, not too small. Perfectly average in every single way a town could hope to be.” 

“And you really were a teacher?”

“Mhm,” Dani nodded, shifting, skimming through the water. “Fourth grade. Started teaching immediately after college.” 

“How do you like it here?” 

“This might be the most questions you’ve ever asked me.” 

“Might be the most I’ve asked in my entire life,” Jamie agreed. “You’re not exactly an open book either, you know.”

The two bodies rotated around each other. The moon shined on slick shoulders, danced in the ripples they created. Neither looked away from the other, just floated along in an even harmony. 

“I like Bly. I love the manor. I appreciate everyone being so welcoming. I hadn’t thought of that part, but it’s been a nice surprise. And the children are… they’re special. They’re in so much pain sometimes, and they just don’t know what to do with it all. But they’re still so inquisitive and eager.” 

“Kids are resilient,” Jamie agreed. 

“It gets harder though, doesn’t it? To bounce back?” 

“Yeah. It does.” 

Dani nodded to herself and took a deep breath before closing her eyes and leaning back slightly. 

“Thank you,” she finally offered, finding Jamie’s face in the water as it gazed at the heat lightning rolling toward the west. “For showing me this.” 

“Couldn’t let you melt, could I?” 

“I suppose not.”

Dani pulled herself onto the pier finally, hoping to dry in the humidity and heat while the looming grey clouds flashed beyond the tree line, retreating somewhat from their threatening posture. She wrung out her hair and huddled slightly, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on it. 

Not wanting to leave the relief of the water, Jamie hung on the edge, letting her legs hang lazily, her hips remaining under the water. She rested her cheek on her arm as she stayed there. 

“What if I just want to forget everything from before?” Dani whispered, almost too quiet, almost as if it were an absent thought. “I don’t mean to be dismissive, I just… what if I want to not be or remember all of that?”

It was only when she met Jamie’s eyes did the gardener realize she was waiting for an answer, that it wasn’t just a dream. 

“I don’t know if you can.” 

Dani nodded, not enjoying the answer. 

“But I think it gets easier, sometimes,” she continued, hoping to provide some kind of relief. “It’s exhausting to keep running, isn’t it? I tried. I still do sometimes. But I think at one point I just stopped. I stood there and let it all tackle me, and it sucked. I didn’t enjoy it. But I got to walk afterward. And it wasn’t so tiring anymore.” 

“I know who I want to be, I just don’t know if I can get there, away from it.” 

“You can.”

“How do you know?” 

“If I can survive it, I know you can. You’re much tougher than I, Poppins.” 

To accent her words, Jamie tugged a toe, making a leg flop back into the water. Jame rolled her eyes and splashed with a kick, the girl who hid on the other side of the pier. 

“What if I’m not who you think I am?” 

“Who ever is?” 

“You can’t keep answering questions with questions to make yourself sound wise.” 

“Can’t I?” Jamie asked, pushing herself away until she floated on her back a little more. 

The moonlight was at its brightest in that moment, and Dani watched the pale skin of the gardener’s torso shimmer beneath the water. She lost the tan lines and curls, and was smooth and at peace. Like a fountain, she arched water from her mouth, grinning as she did. A true dichotomy of freedom and fear, all in one person. 

Dani stood once again, ready to keep running, at least for another night. She took a step back before launching herself with a laugh at the gardener. In a splash, they disappeared beneath the water, emerging only a second later with giggles and swearing and splashing.

NEXT

[utterlyinevitable]

On The Subject of Love

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao)  Word Count: 3.3k Warning: Tame. A few curse words and mentions of sex.  Summary: Becca coaxes Ethan into talking about his experience with love during their visit to Leland Bloom's yacht.  

Author’s Note: this took waaaaay too long to write and i’m still not sure i’m happy with it :/ but thank you @aylamwrites for pre-reading and leaving hilarious comments ❤

________________________________________

The drive to Leland Bloom’s yacht was staid, a direct contrast to the glorious sunshine surrounding the bubble of the sedan. Ethan was navigating the unfamiliar route to the private yacht club with extreme disdain. His ego wanted to resolve this case and finally put an end to this petulant competition with Mass Kenmore Hospital. Sitting in the passenger seat of his car was his favorite accomplice, Becca, calmly staring blankly out the window and still so unsure of his feelings towards her. 

She knew she riled him up when she went behind his back to seek out the first high-profile patient, influencer Gwenyth Monroe. Though, in her defense, the man wasn’t actively trying to save the Diagnostics Team from the budgetary chopping block. Ethan Ramsey was always so blinded by his pride and ethics - He did the same with their future as well. But, Becca also knew she stepped over the line this morning when she called him a spoiled child in front of Baz and June at Mr. Bloom’s estate. Though she didn't really regret it because someone had to tell him off, the interaction still left a bad taste in her mouth. 

Becca wasn’t too sure where they stood - professionally or romantically. The words Ethan spoke not too long ago in the dark of his office rang through her head: I want to know you as you truly are. 

That was a few weeks ago. There he was breaking down their simply professional facade once again. It was a constant tug-of-war with him. Some days Ethan would let the wall crumble by letting her in or grabbing her hand, and others where he’d build it higher than before just to keep the force of Becca at bay. She didn’t realize how sweet of a memory the two of them creating his Pictagram account during that late-night research session would become. 

He’s such an old man… 

Ethan cut through her reverie, “What are you thinking about?” 

With her gaze fixed on the passing trees and her mind still half-stuck in her daydream, she responded without further consideration, “Do you really never want to get married?”  

Ethan’s brow furrowed at the random intrusion, needing to think before settling on a response. “Are you still stuck on this?”

The two sometimes-lovers spoke briefly about his views on the subject while working on Gwenyth’s case late into the evening. To Becca it was one of the most important questions in building their not-so-subtle budding relationship - she needed to know if Ethan was worth all the… complications. He spoke about how he didn’t believe in soulmates, unconditional love, and his doubts on marriage as an intuition. He never once spoke about his experience with love.   

Looking out the window into the cloudless end of summer day, Becca boldly asked, “Haven’t you ever been in love? Wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone you’ve dated?” 

“Oh god, no,” he scoffed with wide pale blue eyes. “I told you, Rookie, I don’t see the point.”

She rolled her disbelieving brown eyes and let the conversation pause there as they pulled up to the dock. 

***

After the yacht set sail the doctors waited around the stern in a restive silence for 45 minutes while Mr. Bloom wrapped up his business meeting. Once safely away from the prying eyes of investors and colleagues in the yacht's master bedroom, Ethan and Becca begin to run tests and scans on the deteriorating businessman. 

“Mr. Bloom, can I ask you and Caroline a question?” Becca asked as she drew a few samples of blood. “It has nothing to do with your case. Me and my friend here are debating something,” she nodded her head at Ethan’s general direction.  

The patient looked between the two with a devious smile, “Sure, swing.” 

Becca quickly peered over at Ethan standing at an expensive gold and glass table with the mobile sonogram machine, his arms crossed and waiting for her to enlighten the room with her inquiry. 

She shot him a coy smile before turning back to the worldly man and asking, “How did you know you wanted to get married?” 

Ethan stifled a surprising cough. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought she’d ask a complete stranger that. 

Mr. Bloom smiled as he instantly recalled every moment he has ever spent with his now-wife. 

Closing his eyes he recited, “We’ve been business partners for decades - since college, actually. We were married about 11 years ago. I’ve known her my entire adult life and waited until I was almost 50 to tell her how I really felt.” 

His eyes opened and found Caroline sitting in the chair by the large bay window immediately. The two looking adoringly at one another for a few seconds, speaking volumes in the language of love. For a moment Becca’s heart panged with hope that she could have that level of fondness with a man - that unconditional and unencumbered attachment that precedes words. 

“My recommendation is to tell the other person you have feelings for them from the get-go. It’ll buy you time together. Its - it’s the most precious thing in the world to be with the one you love most.”   

The way Leland Bloom spoke about his wife humanized him - he wasn’t a cut-throat businessman with oligarch-like wealth. He was a man who wanted as much time with his loved one as this world would permit, no matter the cost. 

“But how did you know she was the one?” Becca quizzed further. 

Mr. Bloom looked at Ethan's awkward form first and then to Becca as he asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

Ethan’s attention was focused on watching the images printing, deeply embarrassed by Becca’s brazen question and wanting no part of the conversation. Feeling everyone’s gaze on him he took in the three expectant stares and exclaimed incredulously, “Wha - Of course I have!”   

Becca smiled at the old man, “Yes.” 

“Do you remember how it felt?” Leland’s eyes bore into Becca’s begging the memories to surface. 

She nodded. 

Becca peered over at Ethan for a split second, his eyes meeting hers. She could see the curiosity swirling around his dark blue orbs alongside something else. Feeling ashamed for getting caught staring she bit her lip and tore her eyes away from him before she could even try to pinpoint just what the mystery emotion was.

“It’s like that,” Leland reassured. “But you’re constantly drawn to one another. The simplest and meaningless of tasks make you the happiest. You can sit in the same room in your own little world of silence together. Your heart swells when you look at them.” Like before his eyes flashed over to Caroline. “You’re never bored. And you can rely on them. The most telling sign was that I knew I needed her in my life even before I knew I had feelings for her. The intimacy was an added bonus.” 

He smiled up at his wife who now stood close by with an affectionate hand on her husband’s shoulder.  

“Would you agree, darling?” 

She nodded only for him. “I knew he was my person when he’d stand up for me. He wouldn’t let anyone belittle me or my intelligence. He challenged me to be a better person and comforted me when I needed it. He’s the best partner I could ask for.” Caroline’s body shifted to Becca though her eyes never left Leland’s, “Does that help your debate?” 

Becca looked over at Ethan who didn’t have an inkling of amusement in his features. “I think you’ve just proved my point, but I'll give him a few minutes to form a rebuttal,” she winked at the couple. 

They shared a pleasant laughter at Ethan’s expense. 

“Ok, Mr. Bloom, you’re all set,” Becca beamed as they finished their examination. “We’ll give you a call once we have the results from the lab later today.” 

With a nod of his head Mr. Bloom replied, “Good evening, doctors.” 

Ethan didn’t say a word as they disembarked the vessel. 

“So…” she started, expecting him to begin arguing his case on the disillusion of soulmates. 

Ethan wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. 

The walk back to his sedan was stewing in awkward tension under the afternoon raging heat. More than halfway back to the car Becca had just come to accept the fact that Ethan wasn’t going to engage in their little intellectual tiff when he spoke with a critical eye;   

“How many people have you presumably been in love with?” 

She certainly didn’t expect that to be his first rebuttal. It almost made Becca drop the medical bag she was holding. Almost.  

She simply responded, “Two. You?” 

Over her shoulder she saw Ethan walking straight and stoically, eyes fixed ahead. He was ever so expertly guarded and displaying no telling emotions. 

“Three, maybe,” he shrugged, not giving it a second thought.  

“Maybe?” 

“I don’t think teenage relationships could really count as love.”

“So we won’t count it,” Becca agreed with a small nod. “My number stands at 2.”  

They made it to the car and Ethan popped the truck for them to put the gear. He fussed with the equipment, taking slightly longer than necessary to make sure the bag with the blood samples were safe and secure. Becca eyed him carefully from the sidelines expectantly. 

With a loud thunk of the trunk and eyes glued to the license plate, he hesitated, “One.” 

“Tell me about her.” Becca demanded sweetly as she moved to open the passenger side door. “Or I can go first?” 

“Please,” he motioned for her to continue as they settled into his sedan. 

Becca took a cleansing breath as she buckled herself in for the journey. 

“It was my first year of undergrad. His name was Mack.” Becca could almost hear the roll of Ethan’s eyes as she stared out her window. “We dated for a year and broke up because my workload got intense and I couldn't go out much.” She took a pause as she remembered all those meaningful moments that came to define her adult-self. “He was a liberal arts major, really outgoing. He brought me out of my shell and taught me to be the person I am today. I’m really thankful for him, but more grateful that it didn’t work. I loved him, but I know now I definitely wasn’t in love with him. Looking back I don't even know how we would have made anything work.” Becca chuckled to herself. “He works in television now.”

There was a pause before she continued onto the second romantic love she’s ever experienced. Part of her hoped Ethan would jump in with an antidote. 

Still, he kept his eyes on the road ahead. 

“My last relationship was during med school. He was something else,” Becca continued with a vibrant smile. “We had great chemistry and a good time together.” 

The affection in her voice for the nameless man instinctively had Ethan gripping at the wheel just tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Medical school wasn’t more than two years in her past, still enough time for the exes to find their way back to one another… 

“We thought we were supposed to be together because that’s what you’re told as a kid - go to school, find your soulmate, get that good job, get married and have babies. We groomed each other to be all that. But the pressure of trying to be someone’s perfect person was too much. He went to California and I went to Boston. I don’t know what he’s up to today.”

Her smile faltered as she wordlessly recalled the day she and Thomas Miller III walked out of one another’s life for good. Ethan would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved to know her break up was not amicable.  

“Your turn.” 

Becca didn’t have the strength to turn and face him, the still-raw memories were playing out against the glass of the rear-view mirror and she couldn’t banish them just yet.

Ethan began to recite his past relationship like a bulleted list, checking off any sort of pertinent information; “It was for nearly 10 months. During medical school. She was gracious and brilliant. We never saw much of each other but when we did we had the most riveting medical debates. It was good fun.” 

“That’s it?” Becca questioned in astonishment. Her brows were furrowed as she tried to keep her mouth from hanging open. How could someone look back on their first love with such displeasure? Even if it ended horribly the feeling of being in love is magical... and shouldn’t that in itself be celebrated?  

He nodded. 

Becca folded her arms across her chest and bit her lip as she pondered his words. 

With the slightest scoff Becca boldly concluded, “I don’t think you were in love.” 

Ethan was taken aback, clenching his jaw tightly in blatant refusal of conveying his surprise at her account of what happened with his heart while she was still in grade school. “How would you know?” he retorted.  

“Because if you were you’d see each other all the time,” she responded simply and with a jovial lightness - like she’d cracked an undefined code. “You’d forgo sleep to spend some time together. You’d talk about your insecurities, your family, your dreams of the future. Not just medicine and cases.” 

“You’re romanticising it.”  

That one phrase stirred something up deep inside Becca. Who was he to tell her those things didn’t matter in a relationship? Those are the things they talk about and she… she wouldn’t admit to it. With that one romantic phrase they dove back into the quarrel Ethan so desperately didn’t want to be having. 

Undeterred by consequences she countered, “How often did you have sex?”  

“Excuse me.”  

“You heard me,” she challenged.  

Ethan let out a long breath of air. They were stuck together for at least another 25 minutes and there wasn’t a single thing he could say to dodge his way out of this one. Although he didn’t like the fact, they both were acutely aware that Rebecca is the only person who could ever ask him an impudent question. She had earned that right that night he crossed the line and they ruined one another in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Once, maybe twice a month, I think.”

“Months!?” Becca practically jumped out of her seat. Her head whipped around to face him.  

Ethan hadn’t moved from the upright position and tight grip on the steering wheel she noted when they began their journey back to Edenbrook. The only thing that was running through Becca’s mind as she gawked at the admirable DNA of the man beside her was: How?  

“It was a long time ago,” Ethan said, still completely unflappable. “I can’t remember correctly.” 

“I was lucky to have sex twice a week.” Gosh, there were so many questions fluttering around Becca’s mind that she just couldn’t find the right words to articulate how unfathomable his confession seemed. 

She watched as he raised an eyebrow, “You had other priorities.”  

“No,” she stopped him right there with a point of her finger. “I had the same education as you. In between classes, assignments and reading your entire body of work I found time to find time.” 

The corner of Ethan’s lip twitched when she mentioned her devotion to his life’s work. 

Becca couldn’t believe he dared question her priorities - he read her application, he knows just how diligent and qualified she is. 

She wanted to continue arguing but knew it was futile. Instead she asked another innocent question, “How many relationships have you been in since her?” 

“Hurm, one,” Ethan grumbled, “Harper.” He paused to look at Becca out the corner of his eye for any sort of reaction. She gave him no ill indications - Her alert brown eyes were on him and brows rose high, awaiting further explanation. The two have had a quick quip on his history with the surgeon, but nothing past hearsay. “We’ve been on and off since residency,” he told her once more. “Now can we stop talking about this?”

Becca conceded, settling back into the shiny black leather. “I can’t believe you dated Harper,” she mused as she played with her seatbelt strap, “You two are so…” 

“Different?” Ethan finished for her. “We actually have a lot of the same interests.”  

“Intense,” Becca grinned as she finished her train of thought. “But I'm glad you got along.”  

“We didn’t.”  

If she wasn’t confused by the attendings’ relationship before she sure as hell was now. “Wha- How? You just said you have a lot in common.”  

“Having similar interests and getting along are not mutually exclusive, Doctor,” Ethan smirked. 

With a slack jaw and eyes trained on him once more, Becca all but demanded, “Explain please.”  

“We were two people at the top of our respective classes,” he began. “Medical journal leeches were pitching us again and again. Everyone was pushing us together - a power couple, if you will.” 

“The pride of Edenbrook,” she muttered in understanding.  

Ethan nodded, “Pretty much.”  

“Did Naveen orchestrate your coupling?” she asked. “He loves a good gossip story.”  

Ethan shook his head once, “Naveen just wants me to be happy. At that moment he thought she’d make me happy.”  

Becca let his words settle amongst them. She shouldn’t feel unsettled by his honesty, yet she did. There were too many comparable variables coming to light today. 

Becca chewed on her bottom lip for a few pensive seconds before asking the fated question; “Did you like her?” 

As soon as the words fell off her tongue she shut her eyes. She didn't want to see the damage the words could cause, and yet her body craved the answer. 

“I had an affinity for her, if that’s what you mean,” he asked but didn’t give her the chance to clarify. “We had the same interests; both of us very career-orientated. Ultimately that’s what got in the way.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully about his next words. He said them slowly and a decibel quieter than the last, “And that I didn’t have highly romantic feelings for her.” Just then Becca’s eyes shot open, fixed at his loosened grip of the steering wheel. “I still have a lot of respect and admiration for her.” 

A small smile crept up on Rebecca. Those words alone held all she needed to know - Harper Emery never was and never will be a contender for Ethan’s heart. 

“Then why do it?” 

He shrugged as his features settled back into their default stoicism, “It was the right thing to do. If we didn’t… people would spend the rest of our lives forcing us together.” 

She cocked an eyebrow, “So your relationship was a PR stunt…?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not a low-life, Becca.” He took pure offense that she thought he would do anything without a saturation of intention. “We tried because it seemed right. It seemed… inevitable... to try.”

“Huh, ok.” 

He used her words against her. ‘Inevitable’ was what they were. Does he feel the same way about their relationship that he felt about Harper? Surely he didn’t, but she’d have no way to know. Ethan Ramsey kept pushing her away, and yet years ago he refused to wait and chose to explore those ineludible feelings with someone else. 

Was Harper the reason we aren’t together, since he’s done the whole ‘inevitable’ tango before? She speculated.  

Ethan’s next comment broke through her trance, “Aside from those disasters called relationships I have spent time with a few other women. You can rest assured I’m not completely incapable of intimacy.” 

“I know you’re not a robot, Ethan,” she lamented. I’m happy to be one of those women. 

Becca was glad he opened up to her, and for their intimacy all those months ago. Though, the gnawing of how many other women Ethan Ramsey had taken to bed in the days without her or Harper Emery plagued her mind. She wanted to press further but knew not to - she pushed her luck too much for one day.

_____________________________________

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[5-seconds-of-bucky]

Letters To A Boy Who’ll Never Read Them

A/N: Kinda inspired by To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. Anyone who knows me will see how much I projected on this but oh well. Also, this is the longest fic I’ve ever written! (Which is kinda sad I guess but oh well)

Summery: The letters to Peter were never supposed to leave that box 

Word count: 2.6k+

Warnings: I like half proof read this so probably some typos

Peter Parker was a boy you liked to admire from afar. You’ve gone to school with him for the past three years and were yet to feel the courage to talk to him. The first time you laid eyes on the curly haired boy, you were a goner. Everything about him was perfect to you, even if he was considered a nerd by most others. You liked to imagine that he felt the same towards you, but you were sure he never took a second to register your face among the hundreds at Midtown. 

And maybe you owed that to how perfectly average you were. Sure, you were fairly smart, but so was everyone else at the school. You were pretty enough, but it wasn’t something that set you apart from everyone else. You blended into a crowd like a chameleon on a green wall. 

Your one special talent, if it could even be called that, was your writing. Your teachers always commented on the eloquence of your essays and your friends liked to ask you to come up with witty captions from their Instagram posts. You were even on a competitive writing team.

 Writing was the one thing that set you apart, but it was something that went unnoticed by the majority. 

Unbeknownst to you, Peter Parker was very aware of your presence in a room. Your “average” beauty was more than average to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d known that he liked you, but he guessed that it started around the first time he read one of your essays. Your way with words was something he would never stop admiring. He was a science kid, through and through but he could see your passion for writing even in the simple essay you had to write about symbolism in Lord of the Flies. 

He wanted to talk to you and ask you just how you did it, but there was always something holding him back. You were either hanging out with your small group of friends and he didn’t want to interrupt or you were studying quietly in the library and he was sure you wanted to be alone. He never seemed to have the courage to talk to you and he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

So he never approached you. In the three years he had known your face he never spoke a word to it. Every class that you had together never required a group project and assigned seats that were never next to each other. Sometimes, it felt like fate was keeping you apart. 

~

You kept a container under your bed. There wasn’t anything that special about it originally. You put some stickers on there when you were a little younger. There was no reason in particular that you did it, you just had some stickers and wanted to put them to use. You ended up sticking it under the bed eventually and left it there for a while. 

There was a day when you got sick of keeping your crush at bay. It wasn’t all that long after you “met” Peter. Who knew that staring at the back of someone’s head could make you like them so much? 

So you did the thing you knew best; write. 

You wrote him a letter. A letter you hoped he would never read because it was too embarrassing for him to see. 

Dear Peter, 

How does one tell you they love you? Perhaps I could tell you in this letter, but a letter alone could not capture the raging feelings I have for you. The butterflies I feel when you walk in a room, the sense of calmness I feel when I see you smile, the giddiness when you shoot your hand up to answer a question. Not a day goes by that I fear I won’t see that smile again. But that doesn’t come close to the fear that you’ll never see me. For I am little more than another face in the crowd. I’m average and you are anything but. I wish this letter could make you see me, but I doubt anything really can. I hope this is a letter you’ll never read, but fate has ways of changing the things we want. Maybe, some day, you can be mine. 

With love, 

                 The girl I wished you’d see

You read the letter once over and weren’t sure what to do with it. You obviously couldn’t give it to Peter but you didn’t want to get rid of it. 

Your eyes caught sight of the container under your bed and you grabbed it, folding the note and putting it in there. You placed the container back under the bed and worked on more homework, hoping that somehow, the letter would rid you of your feelings. 

Over time, the container accumulated more letters. From little notes to full length letters describing how you felt, they never left that container. You even wrote “Dear Peter” in sharpie on the side. There were things you hoped you could mention in the hallway as you passed him and things you could only hope he would never know. 

From

Dear Peter, 

Your smile makes me happier than One Direction. 

To

Dear Peter, 

Sometimes, I fear that you’ll realize that you’re too smart and kind for the people at Midtown to treat you like they do and that you’ll leave. Sometimes, I wish I could be the one to make it better. 

You never told anyone about the container. It was something you felt was too personal to share. Even if your friends knew all about your crush on Peter, you weren’t sure you trusted them with the things you wrote to him. 

~ 

“Alright, I’m gonna get changed,” you said to your friend, Becca, as you grabbed your pajamas and headed to the bathroom across the hallway. The two of you were having a sleepover and you didn’t want to be in jeans while you watched movies. 

Becca twisted the ring on her finger as she waited for you when it accidentally came out of her grasp and rolled under your bed. 

“Oops,” she said to herself as she kneeled on the ground to get it. She swiped her hand under the bed before she found it, curiosity striking when she felt the box it was resting against. She looked down and was met with the container, the “Dear Peter” in your handwriting facing her. 

“What’s this?” She pulled the container out enough to see the folded letters sitting in it. She pulled one out and read part of it.

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. 

The sounds of your footsteps interrupted her reading and she quickly put the letter back, shoving the container under your bed. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, seeing her kneeling on the ground. 

“Oh, my ring dropped.” 

You smiled. “You need to stop dropping that thing, my gosh, Becca.” 

“I know, I know,” she chuckled. 

Later that night, when you were asleep, Becca took some of the letters and shoved them in her bag. There were tons of notes in there. Surely, you wouldn’t notice if five of them were gone. Maybe she could get these to Peter. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do behind you back, but she was sick of hearing you swoon over the boy. Just because you were oblivious to the yearning looks Peter gave didn’t mean she didn’t see them. 

The next Monday at school, Becca didn’t hang out at your locker for long, claiming that she needed to go to the bathroom before class. While you went to class early, she pushed the letters in through the crack of Peter’s locker. All she could do now is hope that Peter knew what to do next and that you wouldn’t kill her. 

~ 

“Dude, did you even read the chapter last night?” Peter asked Ned as they walked to his locker. 

“Of course not. Why do you think I’m asking you about it now?” 

Peter scoffed as he put the combination to his locker in. “What if everything I just old you wasn’t true?” 

“You would never-”

Ned was cut off by a few pieces of folded paper flying out of Peter’s locker. Peter picked one up, reading the short message written in small handwriting. 

Dear Peter, 

Your eyes are like the midnight sky. Dark and mysterious yet beautiful. 

“What is that?” Ned asked, reading it before Peter could move it out of eyesight. 

“I don’t know. Maybe someone’s putting notes in people’s lockers or something.” 

“Then why do you have four others in there?” Peter closed his locker, leaving the rest of the notes in there. 

“Aren’t you going to read them? What if Y/N finally confessed her love to you?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “She is not in love with me. And I’ll read them later.” 

Little did Peter know that Ned was right. As he read the notes later, he couldn’t help but wonder what led you to put such personal and deep notes in there. 

Dear Peter, 

It’s me again. I know I’ve written a million notes for you, but I don’t know what else to do. I am helplessly and completely head over heels for you. You and your cute sweaters, your genius brain, that little smile you get when you know all the answers to a test. I’ll probably be stuck writing letters to you ‘till the day I die, but oh well. You are the sun and I am a small blade of grass in the middle of a field. You are the ocean and I am one of the thousands of fish. You are you and I am just me. Maybe one day I’ll gain the courage to tell you that to your face, but until then, I remain the little fish in the big pond. 

Sincerely, 

                The little fish, 

                                      Y/N 

Dear Peter,

Yeah, you’re Peter Parker and I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N but what if you were Peter Pan and I was Wendy Darling? (That sucked, I’m sorry but not really)

Love, 

         Someone who wishes they were your darling

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He had been dreaming about you for years and all of a sudden you just threw some love letters in his locker? 

Of course, it could be fake. It was a little elaborate to be fake though. Ned couldn’t write like that and nobody else knew about his crush on you. Maybe it was an actual dream come true. 

~ 

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter called when he saw you standing at your locker the next day. He didn’t know what you were doing there since it was a lunch period but it didn’t matter. He walked towards you quickly, one of the letters subtly stuck to his side. 

You gave him a confused look. He knew who you were? Since when? 

“Hey, I uh . . . I got your letter.” 

“What letter? I never gave you a letter.” You closed your locker and turned to face him fully, arms crossed as you leaned onto it. 

“Well this letter says it’s from you. Unless there’s another Y/F/N Y/L/N in this school I don’t know about.” He held the letter up and your eyes widened. You snatched it out of his hands and scanned over the message. Yup, it was definitely yours. 

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. I keep telling myself that if I can confess these stupid feelings behind the pen, then I can do it in person too. But that day hasn’t come yet. I guess it’s like liquid courage but with ink. Ink courage? That’s weird. 

That wasn’t even the end of it. There was a lot more on the page, things that even if you were to tell him how you felt, you would never want him to know. And you were absolutely mortified. 

“How did you get this?” 

“I don’t know. I was in my locker the other day. There were like four others with it.” 

“Four?” You stared at him like you had just seen a ghost. 

“Yeah four. This was the deepest though.” He had a shy smile, but you couldn’t even look at him. 

“You were never supposed to see this.” You leaned your head on the locker and brought a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t know how it made it to you.” You’ve never told anyone about the box of letters. 

“Well-”

“I’m so sorry you had to read that, Peter. It must be so weird. You don’t even know me. I’m really really sorry. You were never supposed to read it.” 

You looked like you were about to burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. Thank goodness nobody else was around to witness it. 

“Hey, no. It’s okay. I thought it was really sweet.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it softly. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but he had an urge to comfort you somehow. 

“You don’t think it’s weird that some girl you’ve never talked to is writing love letters to you?” You finally let your hand fall and glanced up at him quickly, reverting your eyes to the ground when he made eye contact. 

“No, it’s really cute actually. Just because we’ve never talked doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are.” He looked sincere, but that did little to relax fear and embarrassment swirling inside of you. 

“You know, Y/N, I’ve always thought you were cute too.”

Your head snapped up quickly, banging on the locker and causing you to grimace. 

“You okay?” He immediately stepped closer and took your head in his hands, checking to make sure you hadn’t really hurt yourself. 

Warmth spread through your body like a fire. The feeling of his hands was a little more comforting than you cared to admit. “Yeah, it’s just a locker. I’m a little tougher than that,” you laughed softly. 

“Just making sure.” He smiled sheepishly and pulled his hands away. 

You stood there, staring awkwardly staring at each other's shoes until you spoke up.  

“So can we agree to just forget about this and never speak of it again?”  

“Only if you will go on a date with me.” 

Your head shot up and you hit it on the locker again. Peter laughed and you sighed as you took a step away from it.

“I really need to stay away from lockers apparently.” Peter smiled a little wider and you swore your whole word was on fire. “But yeah, I’d really like to go on a date with you,” you said shyly, scratching your neck as a surge of nerves pulsed through your body. Peter Parker actually just asked you on a date. 

“I’ll make sure to go somewhere without lockers.” 

“Oh, how considerate of you.” 

“We should probably get to lunch.” 

“I’ll walk you there.” 

“To the cafeteria?” 

“Where else? Unless you want me to follow two steps behind you like some creepy stalker.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I guess you can walk me.” 

“What a privilege.” 

“It is actually. You get to walk with the Y/F/N Y/L/N.” 

“True, true.” You both turned and walked in the direction of the cafeteria, smiles on your faces. 

“Happen to have any more of those letters?”

“Oh you have no idea.” 

~

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