#and next time I will not be halfway through fucking around with eyeshadow before remembering I literally bought a bruise makeup set

[linguisticparadox]

Iiiit's...Mina Harker née Murray!

(or is it? 😱)

#(sorry for the blurred-out eyes but I don't trust like that 😙) #someday I will make a dress that fits her better lmao #(and fits ME better) #and next time I will not be halfway through fucking around with eyeshadow before remembering I literally bought a bruise makeup set #dracula #dracula daily #mina harker #original

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

it was always you (falling for me) - chapter 2

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides Rating: Teen & up (for swearing) Relationships: Prinxiety, Moceit, and QPR Intrulogical (eventually this will develop into Intrulosleep!) Warnings: Language; Remus being Remus; Shakespeare fans will probably hate my interpretation(s) of the plays I reference here, if the English major friend I showed this to is anything to go by, and I’m very sorry about that 😂 Word Count: 9042

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

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Summary: In a world where you and your soulmate swap dreams once a month, seven young adults enter the same college as freshmen. Each of them is wondering when they’ll find their soulmate and what that will mean for them.

Notes: Secret Santa gift for sanders-sides-fics!

Chapter 2

Roman had a problem. A person-shaped problem. Specifically, a problem shaped like his brother’s excessively pretty roommate, who seemed to take pleasure exclusively in needling Roman every chance they got.

Roman groaned, burying his face in one of the pillows on his bed.

“Hm?” his roommate, Patton, said sympathetically.

“I swear Virgil has, like, an agenda against soulmates, or something,” Roman said, rolling over and staring despairingly at the ceiling.

“Now, kiddo, I’m sure that’s not true.”

Roman lifted his head to look at Patton. “Aren’t I older than you?”

“Only by a few months,” Patton said serenely. “Spiritually, you’re my kiddo.”

“Pat, that makes no sense.”

Patton blinked up at him with a too-innocent face. “If it feels dad to you, just don’t think about it any father.”

“Oh my god.”

Patton giggled, a noise of pure delight, then circled back to Roman’s original topic. “What makes you think he’s got something against soulmates?”

“Uh, the way ze rails against them at every opportunity, for a start?” Roman sat up. “We have argued five times in the last two weeks about soulmates, and only three of them were even about Shakespeare like usual!”

“Haven’t you only known Virgil for, like, three weeks?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point.” Roman climbed down the ladder to the ground. “Also, I feel like that makes it worse?”

“Hmm, maybe.” Patton seemed amused. “You talk about them a lot, you know?”

“He’s so annoying!” Roman said defensively. “Ze gets this stupid smirk like ze knows something I don’t and he doesn’t even seem to care about constructing sound arguments half the time!” He put his laptop into his backpack.

“Going somewhere?” Patton asked.

“Yeah, Virgil and Remus invited me over to their dorm to study.”

“Oh,” Patton said, a funny sort of look on his face like he was trying not to laugh.

“What?” Roman asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Patton waved him away, still smiling to himself. “Have fun studying with Virgil.”

“I will,” Roman said brightly, heading out the door.

***

“I want to go get ice cream,” Remus announced suddenly, hopping to his feet. “Who’s coming with?” It was late, almost midnight, and Roman was sitting on the floor in what had been a nice triangle with Remus and Virgil until Remus had stood. The three of them had been alternately working on homework and arguing about Disney characters.

“Sure,” Virgil said with a shrug, tugging their hoodie up onto their shoulders—they’d been wearing it dangling off their body, with only their wrists in the sleeves holding it on. “Let me fix my eyeliner first, though.”

Remus nodded distractedly, looking around the room and turning in a circle.

“Whatcha looking for?” Roman inquired, getting to his feet as well.

“My wallet,” Remus said, gaze still roving around. “I don’t know where I—”

“By your chapstick,” Roman said.

“Ah!” Remus dove under his desk, scrabbled on the floor, and emerged with his wallet clutched triumphantly in one hand and his chapstick in the other. “Thank you.”

“How the fuck did you know that?” Virgil asked, turning away from the mirror hung on the door with their eyeliner in their hand. They’d reapplied it to one eye, in a perfect, pointed wing; the other eye still had the only slightly less perfect, barely faded wing they’d been wearing this whole time. It matched their black lipstick and the carefully blended eyeshadow on their upper eyelids.

“He put it down there when he was telling the story about trying to collect dried gum off the street,” Roman explained. “And the chapstick was already there right next to it. So that’s how I remembered.”

Remus nodded. “I would have gotten there in a minute, probably,” he agreed.

“I still don’t understand how the fuck you knew that, but good for y’all, I guess,” Virgil said, turning back to the mirror.

“ADHD solidarity,” Roman explained.

Remus made finger guns at him, nodding. “ADHD solidarity,” he agreed.

Virgil paused halfway through drawing the other wing on. “Oh, that makes sense.” They picked up the line again, their hand perfectly steady, drawing it out to a fine point. “I thought you said you were autistic?” they added after a moment, their face holding perfectly still as they filled in the eyeliner with a practiced hand; their monolid eyelids allowed them to draw the wings of their eyeliner wide and dramatic.

“Yeah, I’m both. There are high rates of comorbidity, and also they’re both genetic, so neurodivergence runs in families,” Roman explained, the sentence rolling out of his mouth without him stumbling over the words once or having to think about it at all. “Did you know about ten percent of the population is probably ADHD?” he went on eagerly. “It’s super underdiagnosed. Especially because of race and gender biases in doctors who diagnose it, and the misconception that it’s only something children have. I only got diagnosed because Remus did when we were little, and we’re twins, so then they tested me too. Even though we aren’t identical. It’s super frequent for identical twins to both have ADHD if one of them has it, though.” Roman bounced on the balls of his feet, tapping the tip of his finger against his thumb. “I wish we were identical, I think it’d be so funny. Like, impersonating each other, and things. We could make such good video skits.”

“We make fantastic video skits already,” Remus protested.

“Okay, fair. But you know what I mean. And we could switch places for a day and see who noticed. All the stuff twins do in stories. Twins are always identical in stories, it’s so annoying, I wish there were more stories with fraternal twins.” Roman paused for a second, his mind hovering for an instant between a not-fully-realized train of thought about the gender politics of twin representation in stories and the question of what animals were most likely to have twins. He chose, almost before he was aware there was a choice, the animals question, his emotions nudging him away from the energy talking about gender representation would take up. “Do you think kittens dream?” he asked, only a second or two after he’d stopped talking in the first place.

“Yeah, probably,” Remus responded without missing a beat, likely following his train of thought. “Better question, do other animals have soulbonds, and how do they know if so?”

“Maybe it’s a scent thing,” Roman said thoughtfully.

“Ooh, like with glands or some shit?” Remus looked thoughtful. “That could make sense. I wonder—I bet there’s answers on the internet. I’m going to look this up later. Are you coming, too, by the way? To get ice cream?”

Roman thought it over. “Sure,” he agreed.

“I’m ready,” Virgil announced, capping their eyeliner and setting it down on hir desk. “Also, I got whiplash about five times just listening to that conversation.”

“Good, my chaos is overtaking another victim and soon I shall rule the world. Let’s go!” Remus led the other two out the door and started walking towards the end of campus.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Roman inquired, shoving his hands into the pockets of his red letterman jacket to keep them warm.

“There’s an ice cream shop that’s open till one in the morning about ten minutes away walking,” Remus said over his shoulder. “Logan and I found it the first weekend here.”

“You two went in search of sweets without me?” Roman put a hand to his heart. “I’m hurt,” he declared in his most dramatic voice.

“Oh, shut up, we would have gotten around to telling you about it eventually. I mean, I’m telling you right now, so.” Remus shrugged. “Virge, aren’t you cold?”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty, so it’s worth it,” Virgil said, tossing their head so the long hair on the top of their undercut swished. They were wearing a distressed band tee and a black skater skirt over fishnet leggings and a pair of doc martens. It was quite chilly out, and even though they were wearing a hoodie too, Roman understood why Remus had been concerned.

“You are very pretty,” Roman told them seriously. Even aside from their clearly carefully chosen outfit, this was true. Their eyes were round and curious and a captivating shade of dark brown. Even with the boost from the platform of the shoes they were wearing, they were tiny. Roman was sure they couldn’t be more than 5’2” without the boots. The hair on top of their undercut was very long, almost down to their waist, contrasting with the closely-shaved back and sides of their head. About six inches on the ends of their hair were dyed purple. Their makeup, of course, was flawless, as was their golden-brown skin, which was just a little bit darker than Roman’s. He made a mental note to ask them about their skincare routine sometime; no matter how much care he treated his skin with, the acne on his cheeks refused to go away. It was his least favorite side effect of taking testosterone. “But you can be pretty and warm at the same time, if you want. I hate being cold. But I respect your decision to be pretty and cold if you want to,” he added quickly.

Virgil let out a slightly nervous laugh, rubbing the back of their neck. “Thanks, I think.” Their eyes widened as they looked past him. “Oh, my god, Remus, shut up!”

“What?” Roman asked, looking over at Remus, who was giving Virgil an evil grin.

“Nothing,” Virgil snapped.

“I didn’t say anything,” Remus said innocently.

“Shut up!” Virgil repeated, flipping the hood of their hoodie up and dragging it over their face.

“What’s going on?” Roman asked, confused, while Remus burst into cackles of laughter.

“Nothing!” Virgil repeated with great emphasis.

Roman let out a sigh of frustration, but Virgil seemed genuinely upset about whatever Remus had done when Roman wasn’t looking, so he dropped it. Maybe Remus would explain later.

Remus did not explain later; however, he did turn around to walk backwards after the silence had stretched on long enough to become awkward. “Is the ocean a soup? Discuss,” he commanded.

“Oh, not this again!” Roman groaned. “No, absolutely not!”

“Yes,” Virgil said, almost as soon as Roman stopped talking.

“No!” Roman stamped his foot. “That makes no sense!”

“It makes lots of sense. Explain how it’s not soup,” Virgil challenged.

The resulting argument lasted them all the way to the ice cream shop and halfway through their treats.

“Aren’t you going to take a side?” Roman demanded of Remus at last.

Remus looked up from his cone. “Oh, no, this is very entertaining for me, I could watch you two bicker all month. Please keep it up.”

“You’re a terrible person,” Roman told him, trying not to laugh.

“I never claimed to be anything else,” Remus said happily.

***

“—and that’s how you do it. It’s really easy, but it’s so fun, I could balance chemical equations for hours,” Remus said, bopping the tip of his dry-erase marker against the giant whiteboard in the library for emphasis. He and Roman and Virgil had all met up here to study; it was a sunny afternoon, and they’d gotten a nice spot by the window. The marker left a little black mark next to the diagram Remus had spent the last ten minutes drawing; he wiped the dot away with his finger. He was wearing a turtleneck with horizontal black-and-white stripes and a pair of faded jeans with paint splatters all over them and huge rips in the front that ran from his mid-thighs almost down to his ankles; he’d finished the outfit off with socks in sandals and a black felt beret. His outfit—vaguely artistic, but mostly just terrible—contrasted comically with the intensely technical pseudo-lecture on chemistry he’d just given.

Roman nodded without looking up. “I remember balancing those was fun,” he agreed. He hadn’t taken a chemistry class in a couple of years now, but Remus was majoring in it, and the best way for Remus to study was to explain it out loud, so he’d gathered Roman and Virgil in the library. They’d even been able to snag one of the coveted whiteboards. Roman was able to focus on his notes better with Remus’s animated talking in the background, and Virgil preferred quiet but was willing to put on his headphones to block out Remus’s noise, so all in all this arrangement worked out well for all three of them.

“Yes!” Remus agreed with a happy wiggle. He picked up his water bottle off the table and took a long sip. “Okay, next I have a bunch of molecules I have to memorize the structures of. Do you need anything first?” He addressed his question to both of them, but Virgil seemed pretty focused—or perhaps his music was loud enough to drown out other noises.

Roman, however, thought the question over. “Yes, actually, can you help me go over my lines for this one scene? It’s not very long.”

“Mmhm.” Remus held out his hands expectantly, and Roman handed him his script. Remus began fiddling with the dog-eared bottom corner of the page it was open to, folding it back and forth.

Roman dug in the pocket of his cargo shorts—he liked cargo shorts, partly for the shape but mostly for the pockets—and handed Remus a star-shaped fidget toy made of sequins that could be flipped back and forth. He’d rather the corner of the script didn’t get torn off by mistake.

“I think I’m off book, I just want to make sure,” he said as Remus accepted the toy and began fidgeting with it.

Remus nodded, scanning the page. “Sounds good. It’s just this one page?”

“Yeah. Ready?”

Remus nodded, and Roman launched into the scene. His character had most of the lines; it was essentially a glorified monologue. Remus interjected the two lines from other characters, using a hilarious nasally voice that made it hard for Roman to stay in character without breaking to laugh, but he successfully made it through the final line before dissolving into snickers.

“You’re word-perfect, kid,” Remus proclaimed as Roman got ahold of himself, handing him back the script.

Roman grinned. “Thank you!”

Remus nodded and took another sip of water before wiping down the whiteboard and launching into a ramble about the molecular structures he had to memorize.

Roman had just about tuned Remus out again and slipped back into the headspace where he could focus on his work when Remus broke off. “Logan!” he exclaimed, sounding delighted.

Roman looked up, and so did Virgil, pulling off hir headphones. Roman followed Remus’s gaze, and there indeed was Logan, his flat top haircut and dark academia outfit unmistakeable. He was stepping out of the stairwell that led down from the floor above, adjusting the strap of the leather messenger bag they used instead of a backpack. Even at this distance, the pins he kept on the bag were visible, neatly affixed in alternating rows on the bag’s buckle straps—a demiboy flag, an aromantic flag, an enamel pin shaped like an open book, and a handful of other pins Logan had collected from the university’s cultural centers during orientation. Roman had a few of that last category on his backpack himself; he knew he and Logan had matching land acknowledgment pins now, but he wasn’t sure if any of the other pins they’d chosen matched.

Remus darted across the wide open floor, weaving his way around a few students. “Logan! Hi!”

Logan looked up, a small smile finding its way onto his face as he saw Remus. He said something—presumably a greeting—but was too far away for Roman to hear, since he was speaking at a normal tone.

Remus seized Logan by the hand and dragged them towards Roman and Virgil. Logan laughed and said something in protest, pushing his square glasses up his wide nose as he followed Remus.

“Remus, I have to go to class,” Logan was insisting as they got close enough for Roman to hear. “Hello, Roman. Virgil.” They adjusted their already-immaculate clothing, the tendons in their thin hands flexing as they smoothed their mustard-brown cable knit sweater vest and tugged on the rolled-up sleeves of their periwinkle button down shirt.

Virgil gave a two-fingered salute. “Sup.”

“Hi Logan,” Roman said happily. “We’re studying!”

“Very nice,” Logan said, raising Remus’s hand—which was still clasping his own—and gently pressing it with their other hand. “I am always glad to see you, Remus, but I can’t stay long.”

“Okay,” Remus said. “I just wanted to say hi.” He gave Logan a quick, tight hug around the ribs before releasing them just as fast as he’d darted in.

Logan smiled again. “Hello, then. I hope your studying is going well?”

He received nods from the group, and gave them his own nod in return.

“You’ve got to go,” Remus reminded him. “You don’t like to be late.”

“True. I’ll see you later, dear.”

Remus nodded. “Wanna hang out tomorrow night?”

Logan considered this. “Maybe. I’m going to the Black Student Union meeting tomorrow evening. So it would have to be after that.”

“Okay, I can do that! I love you!”

Logan smiled. “I love you too, Rem.” They made as if to leave, then paused. “Roman, while I’m thinking of it—are you and Patton still free for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Roman confirmed. Logan and Patton had two classes together, and so together with Roman they’d formed a tight-knit little friend group very quickly; the three of them tried to make sure to meet up for lunch at least once a week.

“Wonderful. I’ll text our groupchat about it. See you then.” Logan tugged his hand out of Remus’s grip, waved, and set off at a brisk pace back towards the stairs.

***

“I’m telling you, Virgil, Oberon and Titania are a really good example of how soulmates can make it through rough patches!”

“Bullshit. They’re obviously not a metaphor for soulmates, why would the fae even have soulmates? Their story is a cautionary tale,” Virgil said languidly, lying on their back on the floor of their room.

“No!” Roman pounded his fist on the floor. “Why do you always do this?”

“Because it’s funny,” Virgil replied with a snicker.

“But you always bash on soulmates, specifically!” Roman said.

“Yeah, because I think society’s emphasis on soulbonds is dumb.” Virgil shrugged. “Anyway, if you think Oberon and Titania’s relationship is a good example of anything, I have some concerns.”

“No—no, stop! I didn’t mean it like that! They’re fae, like you said. I obviously don’t condone any of the ways they treated each other! I’m just saying that viewing them as a metaphor for soulmates makes a really interesting lens to view the other couples in the play! Right, Logan?” He turned expectantly to Logan.

“Wh—no,” Logan, who was sitting on Remus’s bed and combing their fingers through Remus’s hair, his head in their lap, responded. “You are both, objectively, wrong. Horribly so. Painfully so.”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to tell me I’m wrong about Shakespeare,” Roman countered quickly.

“Why did you ask me for my opinion, then?” Logan asked, rolling their eyes.

“I don’t know,” Roman grumbled.

“Wait, why can’t they talk to you about Shakespeare?” Virgil asked.

“Because they always win!” Roman crossed his arms.

“Oh, and I don’t?” Virgil demanded. “What am I to you, Roman? I thought we had something special here,” they went on playfully. “You make dumb arguments, I make worse ones, and then I win. I thought that meant something to you.” They pouted at him.

“That’s different!” Roman protested, stifling giggles at the mopey puppy dog eyes Virgil was sending him. “You just don’t care what I say. Logan actually refutes my arguments! It’s very humiliating!”

“I only do it because your logic is physically painful to listen to,” Logan said.

Roman crossed his arms and pointedly turned away from Logan, nose in the air. “Anyway. As I was saying. Puck’s role in all of this is really interesting, if you consider the question: are the fae supposed to be able to truly alter soulbonds, or are they only messing with feelings?”

“Dear,” Logan said plaintively, looking down at Remus, his fingers still carding through Remus’s curls.

“Hmm?” Remus responded, not opening his eyes.

“Make them stop,” Logan said beseechingly.

“Sorry fellas, you heard them. Stop torturing Logan, he’s already an English major, so he’s plenty tortured already. Or else I’ll have to dissect your spleens.” Remus wagged a finger in Roman and Virgil’s direction.

“What a terrible fate that would be,” Roman commented, flopping over to lie on the floor beside Virgil.

Seconds later, his phone buzzed; he pulled it out to see a text notification from Virgil.

Virgil: oberon sucks btw

Roman: Oh, it is ON!

Roman grinned as he sent the response, already anticipating the thrill of the argument that was about to ensue. He felt a warm thrill in his chest at Virgil’s answering chuckle—it was good to know Virgil was having fun with this too.

***

“—so I was hanging out with Virgil the other day at the library cafe, and he said The Tempest was dumb because magic solves everything.” Roman was lying on the floor of his dorm, tossing a bouncy ball up in the air and catching it over and over again. Logan was sitting at Roman’s desk, legs up and crossed on the seat of the chair as he worked on readings for an English class, half-listening to Roman’s rambling. “And that since it solved all the problems, it made no sense for Prospero to give it up. Which was completely ignoring all the bad stuff magic had done and the symbolism of him throwing it away!”

“What did Remus have to say about that?” Logan inquired with a small laugh, not looking up from the copy of Frankenstein in his hands.

“What? Oh, nothing. Remus wasn’t there.”

“Oh?” Logan blinked, glancing up from the book.

“Yeah, we were at the library getting Starbucks, we do that on Wednesdays now. Remus was in his history class, I’m pretty sure.”

“I didn’t know you and Virgil hung out together,” Logan said, raising their eyebrows.

“Oh, we don’t, we just get coffee on Wednesdays, it’s different,” Roman said.

Logan stared at him. “...What?”

“Like, we only hang out on our own time to get Starbucks and then argue about Shakespeare. It’s really fun! It’s a great system, honestly. And this way, you don’t yell at me about Shakespeare or text Remus rant essays about what you think I’m getting wrong!”

Logan looked away, a very called-out expression on his face. “You weren’t supposed to see those…”

“Oh, Remus didn’t show me, I just broke into his phone the other day and it was open to your texts,” Roman said reassuringly.

“Why would you break into—” Logan began, not seeming reassured in the slightest.

“I needed to check his calendar to see if he was available to come with me to the grocery store,” Roman explained. “You know we’re really good at guessing each other’s passcodes. He doesn’t mind, we break into each other’s phones all the time.” He paused, assessing Logan’s face, trying to gauge if their expression was upset or not. “I’m sorry I read the texts, though,” he added, just in case it had hurt their feelings. “I only saw the very end of it, it wasn't on purpose or anything. Promise.”

Logan sighed. “I know. It’s alright.” He reached across the space between them to press the back of Roman’s hand.

Roman grinned. “Only you would come up with a whole essay in a text,” he teased. “Dunno what I expected, really.”

“It wasn’t an essay,” Logan said defensively. “Technically speaking.”

“I dunno, it sure looked like if you formatted it with MLA, you could turn it in for a grade.” Roman giggled. “But hey, what do I know?”

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as the doorknob rattled with the sound of keys.

Patton stepped in. “Hey! If it isn’t some of my favorite people!” he greeted the two of them with a smile. His dark, wavy hair was a little ruffled. Normally he combed it to the side, but Roman remembered it had been windy today, so Roman guessed that was responsible for the irregularity. “How are you doing?” Patton asked the two of them.

“Better now that you’re here,” Roman told him with an answering grin. “How’s your day been?” He’d noticed that Patton really liked being asked how his day had gone.

Sure enough, Patton’s smile spread a little wider. “Pretty good, thanks! I haven’t had too much to do today, which is nice. How are you doing, Logan?” He sat down on the floor beside Roman, sliding his backpack off his shoulders.

Roman immediately sat up and scooted over to lean against Patton—he was an excellent cuddler; he was tall and chubby and he ran warm, and Roman liked cuddles. He tended towards understimulation rather than overstimulation, and hugs were one of his favorite things. Patton was always happy to supply.

“I’m alright, thank you,” Logan said as Patton wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders. “A little underslept, but otherwise good.”

“Good, good. You should sleep more. Are you both busy?” Patton asked.

“No,” Roman said, because Patton always had fun ideas.

Logan pursed his lips, glancing down at the book in his hands in consideration. “I can finish this chapter later. Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if either of you wanted to play a board game,” Patton said. He and Roman had each brought a couple from their homes, and together they had quite the little collection.

“Yes!” Roman agreed eagerly, breaking away from Patton and crossing to the shelf where they kept the games. “How about Clue?”

“I will decimate you both,” Logan said, deadly serious, adjusting their glasses and scooting to the floor.

“All part of the fun, Specs.” Roman pulled out the box and set it down between them. “Dibs on the red piece!”

***

“—so I told him that was utter bullshit—not in so many words, of course—and listed off the reasons why, and he simply did not seem to recognize how completely nonexistent his logic was, he just kept repeating his original points louder and louder.” Logan punctuated his rant about a classmate with hand gestures as he walked next to Roman on the sidewalk.

“I hate guys like that,” Roman said, making a face.

Logan nodded. “But I got full credit on my discussion post when I typed up my argument and I cannot imagine he got the same, based on his talking points. So.” He shrugged, clearly trying not to look too smug with himself.

“Good job!” Roman told them.

“Thank you.” Logan’s happiness was palpable. “How have—”

“Logan!” Remus’s voice shouted.

Roman looked in the direction of the noise; they were almost an entire block away still from the quad, where they’d agreed to meet Remus, but he seemed to have spotted them. He was sprinting at full speed directly towards them.

“Oh, dear,” Logan said, the exasperation in his voice belied by the grin on their face. They took a step back and braced themself, just in time.

Remus full-on tackled Logan in a hug, colliding into him at full speed. Logan stumbled back a couple of steps, but successfully avoided falling over. “Hello, Remus,” he said composedly, wrapping their arms around Remus and returning the enthusiastic hug. “How are you?”

“Much better now. I missed you,” Remus said into Logan’s shoulder. “Normal people get all weird about it when I tell them cool murder facts. You're much cooler than normal people.”

“It has been twenty-seven hours and about thirty minutes since you last saw me,” Logan informed him. “And thirteen minutes since we last texted.” They rumpled his curls, which fell messily in loose spirals about his face; they were mostly about chin length, although some of them were choppily trimmed shorter than others. Remus was very insistent about cutting his own hair. It was always mildly disastrous, but he insisted he liked it that way. He’d dyed it himself, too; he’d bleached a streak at the very front of his head and dyed it silver about a month before college started, with a surprising amount of success.

“Yeah, and I missed you.” Remus stepped back from the hug as Logan released him. “Also hi Roman, I guess.” He tossed Roman a grin.

“You are a terrible brother sometimes,” Roman informed him. “Hi.”

“Uh, I think you mean all the time,” Remus corrected him. “I’m joking,” he added. “C’mon, I got Starbucks for us! I have extra meal credits!” He seized Logan’s hand and reached invitingly for Roman’s.

Roman let Remus grab his hand, too, and his brother immediately began dragging both Roman and Logan at a slightly breakneck pace down the sidewalk. Several students dove out of their way until he dragged them to a halt by the food truck, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waiting expectantly.

Not even a moment later, the barista placed three cups on the delivery window tray and called out Remus’s name.

“Yes!” Remus pumped his fist, darted over, and picked up two of the cups—Roman recognized Remus and Logan’s go-to coffee orders, a trenta mango-dragonfruit refresher and a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew with extra ice. Roman picked up the last cup, a warm drink in a grande cup; he sniffed to check what it was even though he knew what Remus usually got him. Steamed apple juice with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top—his favorite as a kid and still one of his favorites now. He wrapped his hands around the warm cup and followed Remus and Logan over to a sunny patch on the lawn.

Remus sprawled out, taking up more space than seemed humanly possible for one person to fill; Logan tucked their legs beneath them as they sat beside Remus and began pulling out a textbook, a dog-eared novel, and a handful of pens and pencils from their messenger bag.

Roman sat so that he completed the triangle between the three of them, his legs crossed so he could lean his cup against them between sips and not worry about knocking it over.

“Thank you for the coffee, Remus,” Logan said, his cup halfway to his lips as he flipped through the worn novel.

Roman nodded in agreement, breathing in the warm cinnamon scent of the apple juice.

“Of course!” Remus said exuberantly, taking a noisy slurp of his drink.

Roman and Logan both winced slightly.

“Could you be a little quieter, there?” Logan asked mildly.

“How dare you.” Remus clutched his heart, leaning back so far Roman was surprised he didn’t lose his balance and fall over.

Logan sighed, reaching over and placing a hand over Remus’s, gripped around the edge of the cup’s lid. “At least please be careful not to splash,” he said, guiding Remus’s hand downwards until the cup came to rest on the ground. “This textbook cost rather a lot and I’d like to sell it back in a decent condition at the end of the term.”

Remus let go of the cup, leaving it to rest where it was, and leaned forward. He took Logan’s face in both of his hands and looked seriously into their eyes. “Hey. You are my best friend in the whole world and you mean everything to me. I love you and I’m so glad we’re soulmates. But I draw the line at stopping my annoying behavior for anything less than a natural disaster.” He released Logan and picked his drink back up. “I promise I won’t spill on your book, though,” he added lightly. “Roman gets no such promises.”

“You wouldn’t dare, you know I hate being sticky—” Roman began heatedly.

“Okay, okay. Jesus. You two are really conspiring to foil all my chaotic little gremlin dealings today. I’ll order an ice water to spill on you instead, will that make you happy?” Remus snickered.

Roman frowned. “If you must,” he begrudgingly agreed, since this seemed the closest thing to a compromise he was likely to get out of Remus. He suspected it might be a joke anyway, but he wasn’t sure about that and didn’t want to take any chances.

But Remus didn’t return to the food truck, so it seemed likely that it was a joke after all. Instead, he devoted himself to more noisy slurping, crossing his eyes and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re the tallest one of us,” Roman said after a moment.

“Huh?” Remus looked up at him.

“He has a point, dear,” Logan said, turning a page.

“Like yeah I know I am, but what’s the point?” Remus asked.

“You said we were foiling your chaotic little gremlin dealings,” Roman elaborated. “You’re, like, fucking… six two.”

“And a half,” Remus added. “Emotionally, I am a chaotic creature of spite who’s about three five and can sneeze fire, though.”

“That makes no sense,” Roman protested.

“Does too,” Remus responded, crossing his arms.

“It does,” Logan agreed. “For example, emotionally, I punch that one classmate in the face twice a week, but we can’t always embody what we want to be. And you, Roman—emotionally, you’re very invested in Shakespeare, but in actuality, your interpretations are painfully bad.”

“Hey. You talking about me and Shakespeare is off limits. We’ve discussed this.” Roman waved a warning finger at them.

“I still think that’s unfair and have raised a motion to reject and overturn the ban.”

“Unfortunately for you, the judge and jury are my feelings, and you hurt them, Logan. Shakespeare and I have something special. You need to stop trying to come between us like this.”

Logan glanced up from his book to give Roman a singularly unimpressed look. “You are preposterous.”

Roman beamed at him and made a heart shape with his hands, holding it up like a picture frame to look at Logan through. “But you loooooove me,” he singsonged.

Logan nodded. “This is true.”

“You’re both nerds and Shakespeare isn’t even that good,” Remus put in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’m divorcing you,” Logan said immediately.

“Noooo, come back!” Remus dramatically grasped at the air as if reaching out from afar for Logan.

“Fine.” Logan shrugged. “Then Roman’s disowning you.”

“Hey, that’s my line!”  

“He can’t disown me, he’d miss me,” Remus said confidently. “Y’all are stuck with me.” He looked very pleased with himself.

There was silence for a beat, then all three of them burst into laughter.

“I’m really glad we’re all friends,” Remus said happily, leaning back and taking another long sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed.

“I don’t know,” Logan said, holding back a smirk. “Sometimes I think about a world where I don’t have to deal with a pair of himbos every day of my life.” He maintained his faux-serious face for all of the three seconds it took both twins to start pelting him with ripped-up blades of grass, then devolved into helpless laughter again.

***

“Patton, you good? You’ve been kind of spaced out all day.”

“Huh?” Patton looked up, blinking through his round gold-rimmed glasses. “Yeah, I’m okay! Just… boy problems, I guess? Which is… it’s new.” He wrinkled his nose for a second in a face of dissatisfaction before smoothing his face back into a smile.

“Oh? Want to talk about it?” Roman asked eagerly, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands, interest definitely piqued.

“I don’t know…” Patton glanced away. “It’s complicated. And it’s probably not a big deal.”

“Patton. We are friends. The main purpose of friends is gossiping about crushes.” Roman crossed his arms. “I am offended that you would ever doubt my capacity for talking about boys in a gay way.”

“I don’t think that’s the main purpose of friendship,” Patton said, but his smile looked more genuine.

“Shush, I know that, I’m being dramatic. How about a movie night and you can spill the deets in a cozy setting with popcorn? And Logan?”

“I mean… okay,” Patton relented. “It’s probably not as exciting as you’re hoping for, though, I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense. You are perfect and so is everything you do,” Roman said absently, pulling out his phone and FaceTiming Logan.

“Roman! You’re sweet, but you know you shouldn’t go around passing out compliments that should go to you,” Patton said.

“Oh, stop,” Roman said, grinning wide.

Logan picked up on the second ring. “What do you need, Roman?”

“To see your gorgeous face, nerd. Also we’re having a movie night at me and Pat’s, attendance mandatory. Seven works, right? Pat’s having boy problems.”

Logan stared at Roman with a blank face for several beats. “And… you want me there to help… why?” he deadpanned.

“Shut up, you have a nonromantic boy toy, you’re basically qualified to help.”

“Don’t call Remus that! He’s a person, not a—wait, he’s your brother, Roman, that’s worse, that’s so weird—”

“—Anyway, I can more than handle giving Patton plenty of terrible advice on his love life,” Roman interrupted. “You’re there to tell him everything I say is a terrible idea and let me throw popcorn at you. We can watch Big Hero Six. C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

Logan heaved a sigh. “Fine. But you have to put your dad’s curry powder on the popcorn.”

“What kind of man do you take me for, Logan? Of course we’ll have curry popcorn! See you at seven, love you, bye bye.” Roman blew a kiss and hung up.

After his English class, Roman grabbed a burrito from the dining hall and hurried back to the dorm, making it there at half past six. Patton was already back; he made hot chocolate while Roman microwaved popcorn and tossed it in a bowl with curry powder.

At precisely seven o'clock, there was a knock on the door; Roman let Logan in and the three of them climbed into the nest of pillows and blankets Patton had built on the bottom bunk, pushing aside the bi pride flag and the Puerto Rican flag Patton had hung like curtains around his bunk.

“So,” Roman said eagerly as the movie’s opening bot fight began on the laptop screen, turning to Patton and bouncing (Logan grabbed the popcorn bowl out of Roman’s lap as it jostled), “spill!”

Patton squirmed under the attention, a half-hidden smile ghosting its way onto his face. “I don’t know… what should I talk about?”

“What’s he like?” Roman asked. “How do you know him? Is he cute? Have you got his number?”

“Oh, wow—that’s a lot.” Patton giggled nervously.

“Okay, start with is he cute?”

“He’s really cute,” Patton allowed, biting back another smile. “He’s got all these freckles all over his face and neck and hands, and his eyebrows are really expressive—he gets this really serious face when he’s thinking, and it’s… really pretty.”

“Eyes?” Roman demanded. “How are his eyes?”

“I mean, they’re eyes? They’re this kind of greyish blueish color. I don’t know, I try not to stare, especially when he’s looking, you know?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Roman relented. “What else? Is he fashionable?”

“I—not really, honestly. He mostly just wears longsleeve tees and jeans. Sometimes beanies. He has these really cute yellow converse that he always wears, though. He, like—oh, gosh, I’m not sure how to describe it. He’s not, like, fashionable like you asked, but he—kind of the way he holds himself makes it seem like he is? He wears his clothes well, I think is maybe the phrase.”

Roman nodded. “Alright. Do you know whether or not he’s queer?”

Patton hesitated. “Um… I’m not sure. I don’t know either way. But he was the only one that laughed at a bi pun I made one time, and he wore a pink shirt and yellow belt with faded jeans one time, which I might be reading way too much into but it sure looked like a sneaky pastel pan flag.”

Roman nodded very seriously, taking mental notes. “All good signs. Anything else? Any stickers on his laptop or water bottle? Pins on his backpack?”

Patton shook his head. “They’re, like, super empty. He doesn’t really do anything that tells people about his personality. His outfits are usually really plain, like I said, and everything. It’s weird, because he’s got such a distinct personality, and he really doesn’t seem like someone who’d leave his stuff unpersonalized. It’s like he’s afraid of something, or something.” Patton was silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But then, he seems kind of nervous around me in general.” He looked away, a worried expression crossing his face.

“Maybe he likes you back?” Roman suggested. “Plenty of people get nervous around their crushes.”

Patton shook his head quickly. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I think I know what the thing worrying him is. I just… don’t know how to talk about it with him.”

“You do realize you’re being super vague here, right?” Roman queried; he couldn’t parse what on earth Patton meant by that, but his curiosity was piqued.

“I know.” Patton bit his lip. “I, um, don’t want to talk about it yet, I think. It’s complicated. I don’t think it would be fair to him to discuss it with others.”

“Oh.” Roman did his best to hide his disappointment. “Okay, that’s fine. How do you know him?”

His attempt to change the subject didn’t seem to ease Patton’s discomfort, based on the way his shoulders drew up even closer to his ears. “...Kind of from a class we’re in together?” he answered after a long pause. “We’re partners on a group project.”

“Sounds like a meet cute to me,” Roman said, searching again for new lines of questioning that would hopefully not be as upsetting for mysterious and unknown reasons. “What do you like about him?”

Patton lit up. “He’s really sweet, actually. It takes some looking to see it, because he’s got a lot of walls up, but you can tell he’s really thoughtful and observant, and he’s really warming up to me, I think—he’s being much nicer to me than most people, and I’m starting to think he really means it and wants to be nice to me just to be nice, not because he feels like he has to.”

“Well, of course he’d be nice to you, you’re like the sweetest person I’ve met in my life,” Roman said, feeling bewildered by this line of reasoning.

“No, I—oh, nevermind. I was worried he wasn’t genuinely being nice for a while, but I’m really starting to think he means it, is my point. Anyway, he’s really smart—he’s so good at like, you know, synthesizing stuff? He’s really good at finding the information we need and paraphrasing it in a way that works really well for our project. I have such a hard time wording things how I want, you know? So it’s awesome that he can do that so well. And he’s good at puns, too! He tries not to laugh, but he scrunches his nose up and gets really red cheeks so you can always tell, it’s really cute. And one time I was trying to explain to our professor he was wrong about something, but I was kind of having trouble getting my point across, the teacher didn’t seem to get it, and he just spoke up and pointed out exactly where the misunderstanding was. It was really nice and reassuring of him. He just seems really protective of people he cares about, you know?”

“He sounds great, Pat!” Roman agreed.

Patton nodded, giving an excited little wiggle.

The brief silence was broken by a quiet crunching noise. Roman looked to his other side to see Logan, eyes fixed on the movie, who had worked their way through a solid third of the popcorn.

“Oh, you fiend!” Roman cried, seizing the popcorn bowl back since he was sitting in the middle.

“What?” Logan defended himself exasperatedly. “You two seemed to be handling that just fine! I like this movie! Neither of you asked for the popcorn back! What did I do?”

“...Okay, technically nothing,” Roman admitted after considering this defense and finding it to be unfortunately solid and covering all of Logan’s bases. God, they knew him too well. “But we are supposed to be doing this as a group.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Patton, he’s probably queer. You should ask him out and see what happens. Happy now?”

“Wh—how are you saying that with such confidence?” Roman demanded.

“Which part?”

“That he’s queer. I agree Patton should definitely ask him out at the first opportunity, we just hadn’t gotten to that yet.”

“I mean, I can’t say for sure, but being the only person in a classroom to react to a queer joke is pretty telling.” Logan shrugged. “Any other relevant details?”

Patton shrugged. “I don’t know. Janus—that’s the guy—he doesn’t talk about himself very much—”

“Hold on, Janus?” Logan interrupted. “Lanky white guy? Constantly acts like he’s just swallowed a lemon? Kind of a twink? Looks incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin? Growing his hair out?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Patton admitted. “You could maybe be nicer about him, though.”

“I’m sure I could,” Logan said, seeming unconcerned. “Yeah, I know him. He’s queer, I’m pretty sure he’s compatible with you. No idea if he’d be interested, or frankly what you see in him, but go for it.”

“Wh—how do you know him?” Roman demanded. “I feel left out now!”

“We met at the Aspec—at a pride center identity group. Also he’s Remus’s roommate’s best friend. They’re practically attached at the hip. I’m surprised you haven’t met him yet, with how much you hang out over there lately.”

Virgil had a best friend? A best friend here, at college? That was news. Surprisingly unpleasant news—Roman wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t like he disliked Virgil to the point of not wanting them to have friends! Of course not! Frankly, he was glad to hear the tiny emo had a social life. It just kind of stung that this was the first time he was hearing about someone evidently so important to Virgil. And not even from hir own mouth. He’d kind of thought they were closer than that. That he’d have learned basic facts about what and who was important to Virgil by now. Learning otherwise was a remarkably unpleasant experience.

Logan took another handful of popcorn out of the bowl in Roman’s hands, startling Roman out of his thoughts.

“Stop!” he yelped. “I want some, too!”

“You have more if this bag runs out,” Logan pointed out. “I have some extra popcorn in my dorm too. And you’ve been holding out on me with your curry powder.” He popped another handful into his mouth and crossed his arms.

“If you just asked my parents, you could have some of your own! They’d even give you the recipe! Now share with Patton!” Roman leaned himself and the popcorn bowl away from Logan, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t mind,” Patton put in. “It’s very tasty, but I’m not as attached as Logan is.”

“No, you have to take some, he’s been hogging it,” Roman insisted.

“I don’t mind!” Patton insisted. Roman shoved the bowl in his face, and he relented and took a handful.

“Let Logan have some more now,” Patton said, gently pushing the bowl back into Roman’s lap.

“Thank you,” Logan said primly when Roman relented.

“You’re welcome!” Patton said with an easy smile. The smile fell away after a moment, though, and he looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure about asking Janus out, though,” he said hesitantly.

“Why not?” Roman asked. “You really sound interested in him! What have you got to lose?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Patton said, worrying the edge of a blanket between his fingers. “I’m not sure if he’d be comfortable with it. I don’t—I don’t know.” He looked away. “I’ll figure it out, I guess.” He looked back at Roman and Logan, forcing a smile onto his face. “Thank you both for the advice, though. And for listening.”

“Patton—” Roman began, concerned.

Patton shook his head. “Let’s just watch the movie now, okay? Really. Thank you. But I’m good for now. Can I have some more popcorn?”

Logan wordlessly held out the bowl and Roman allowed himself to be mostly distracted by Big Hero Six. He felt better when Patton leaned on his shoulder, a genuine smile on his face as he watched Fred goofing around on the screen. Whatever the issue Patton was dealing with was, at least it didn’t seem big enough to keep bothering him after putting it aside.

***

“So,” Remus said with an evil grin.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to know,” Roman said. They were both sprawled on Remus’s bed, sharing earbuds as Remus swiped through TikTok.

“It’s nothing!” Remus protested.

Roman gave him a suspicious look. Remus’s face was entirely too innocent.

“I was just wondering when you’re going to get your shit together and do something about your crush on Virgil,” Remus said, the evil grin back.

“My what?” Roman did a double take. “I—I don’t have a crush on Virgil, we barely even get along!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. The tension between you two is so high I’m surprised something hasn’t snapped yet. And you definitely have a crush.”

“I do not!” Roman grabbed Remus’s pillow and threw it in his brother’s face. “We’re barely even friends!”

Remus shoved the pillow aside and rested his chin on top of it, making a skeptical face.

“I mean, are they really pretty? Sure. But that’s not a crush,” Roman insisted.

“Mmhm. Okay. So what makes it not a crush?” Remus pressed.

“I—well—” Roman stammered, flustered by the very question.

“Uh-huh.”

“No!” Roman snapped, voice cracking. “I just—that’s a hard question to answer right off the bat! How do you define a crush? It’s just not, okay?”

“I mean, I define crush as, like…” Remus paused. “Huh. Okay. You have a point, or whatever. I guess… a crush is, like—huh. No. Okay. You’re distracting me. I’m teasing you about your crush that you totally do have, we are not veering off topic.”

“I do not have a crush on Virgil! I just want to be his friend! Okay?”

Remus made a skeptical face. “Sure, whatever you say. I’m still going to tease you about it.”

“Oh, whenever you find that third soulmate, I am getting so much revenge.”

“Eh.” Remus shrugged. “Like, go for it, but I dunno if you’ll have that much time to tease me about it before we get together. You know? Like, think about me and Logan.”

“Logan knew you were soulmates for two and a half years before you got togeth—”

“Yeah, because he’s smart, but I didn’t figure it out until thirty minutes before we got together. Or like. Thirty minutes before we started talking about it. You know this.”

Roman crossed his arms. This was unfortunately a very good point; the day Remus had figured out that Logan was one of his soulmates had been a pretty memorable one even for Roman. Logan and the twins had grown up next door to each other, and had been best friends since elementary school. One Saturday morning near the end of their senior year of high school, Remus had bolted upright in bed while Roman was brushing his teeth, blurted out something nigh incomprehensible, and taken off at a sprint; he’d slammed the front door behind himself on his way out and he hadn’t answered any of Roman’s texts for two hours, only to show up by sprinting back into the house and screaming at the top of his lungs “Logan and I are soulmates!”

This had prompted a lot of confused questioning from Roman. He’d learned that yes, Remus and Logan were definitely soulmates; Logan had figured it out in sophomore year but hadn’t said anything; Remus had only just figured it out; yes, Logan was still aromantic; yes, Remus was still allo; no, neither of them felt like either of these facts was an issue; and Remus was very happy.

“We’re going on, like, a date, but platonic,” Remus had announced to him that day, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m really excited, this is so cool! Who’d have thought, right? Logan and me!”

Roman had smiled and tried hard to just be happy for Remus and Logan, and not jealous of them. Particularly about two months later, when they’d made their relationship official and become queerplatonic partners. He was happy for them! He was!

But Remus had never cared that much about finding his soulmates. Roman had. It didn’t feel fair. Remus, who didn’t care, got two soulmates, and one of them was literally his childhood best friend. Roman, who’d been daydreaming about finding his soulmate since he was too little to remember, and had learned just about everything there was to know about how soulbonds worked, seemed to have just the usual one soulmate. His soulbond hadn’t even developed until he was sixteen—admittedly, that was an expected side effect of the puberty blockers he’d been on for a few years before he’d been approved for T, but he was still salty about it. And when his soulbond finally had developed and he’d started tuning into his soulmate’s dreams, they were so creepy! He wasn’t sure he’d had a single souldream so far that wasn’t a nightmare. They ruined his sleep for the night whenever he got one. It was irritating and frustrating and all sorts of bad things; he’d actually cried over it a couple of times, not that anyone but Remus knew.

But as annoying as it was for him, it had to be worse for his poor soulmate—if these nightmares were what was making it through the soulbond, he could only imagine how much worse their nightly sleep must be.

He hoped he’d find them soon. He was ready for a proper romance, thank you very much!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #sanderssidesgiftxchange #prinxiety #moceit #intrulogical #qpr intrulogical #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #creativitwins #ts fic #it was always you (falling for me) #intrulosleep #qpr intrulosleep #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remus #ts logan #ts patton #ts janus #my writing #soulmate au #trans roman #trans sides #ace janus

[wonder-womans-ex]

Curtain Call

Act One, Scene Four

Wednesday morning dawns to see Sirius Black slowly open his eyes, stretch his legs and arms one by one, shove James onto the floor as payback for the previous night, and immediately begin to panic. 

Today is the day he either goes back or he doesn’t. 

In the meantime, he stomps down the hall into his bedroom to change. After all, he’s been in these clothes all last night and a good portion of yesterday, and ‘I-realistically-could-have-and-actually-did-wake-up-like-this’ is really not the look he wants. Instead, he struggles valiantly to decide between suave and drop-dead gorgeous. 

On the one hand, he could go with his personal spin on the classic bad boy: button up shirt under a leather jacket, hair carefully mussed, slim black jeans. But he knows from experience Remus doesn’t like bad boys. Remus likes him. 

Or, well, he did. 

The other hand it is, then—denim overalls with fishnets showing through the holes in the knees, his old Blue Jays shirt, and, after a good half hour spent in the bathroom, a dusting of silver eyeshadow paired with eyeliner wings sharp enough to cut glass. 

James visibly brightens when he walks back into the kitchen. “Can I braid your hair? Please? Please let me braid your hair.”

He lets James braid his hair. He always does. James is good at it, too—he only pulls Sirius’s hair hard enough to hurt once, and even that’s only because Elvendork bumps his elbow. In the mirror afterwards, Sirius turns his head to and fro and admires his friend’s handiwork. 

It’s one thick french braid tied with a red scrunchie at the bottom. He blows at the two tendrils that hand near his face. “Perfectly done, Prongs,” he says. “As always.” 

“Thanks. Now go write some books and win back your man.”

Sirius manages to not to point out that, A), he’s a long way away from full-length novels, and B), Remus broke up with him for a reason and is therefore probably not looking to take him back. James would just ignore him, anyway. He has a tendency to do that. 

This time around, he finds the Rogers lecture room without incidence. Unfortunately, he underestimated himself when it came to leaving the apartment, and he ends up already standing outside nearly twenty minutes before he’s technically supposed to be there. Someone’s inside, judging by the voices he can hear. One of them is recognizable as Lily Evans’s thick maritime dialect, and the other—

Fucking hell. 

It’s Remus. 

Sirius may not be here to win Remus back, but he never said anything about not showing him what he’s missing out on. So he strides into the lecture hall as confidently as he can, grinning when both Remus and Lily’s head turn towards him. He focuses on the latter, giving Remus the same out-of-sight-out-of-mind treatment he himself received the previous week. 

“Hi,” he says brightly. “I realize I’m a little early—sorry about that, by the way—but I’ve got time to kill and I was wondering if you need help with anything? Setting up, or…”

By some miracle, he manages to trail off in a way that is decidedly not awkward. Sirius: 1. Remus: god knows how many by now. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Lily says. “Wait actually—you know how to use a photocopier, eh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I need you to run down to the staff room and make nineteen photocopies of this.” She pulls her backpack off and roots through it for a moment, finally pulling a slightly crumpled piece of paper out triumphantly. When Sirius takes it, flattening it out against a desk, he feels her—and, next to her, Remus—eyeing him curiously. 

“Where’s the staff room?” he asks at the same time as she blurts out, “Do I know you?”

Sirius doubts she’s talking about their brief interaction last week. He’s not entirely sure what she does mean, but at least he’s narrowed it down a little.  

“I’m sorry, I don’t think—”

“No, Lily,” Remus finally says, voice halfway between chilling and resigned. “You don’t. I do.”

Both Sirius’s and Lily’s heads turn to look at him so quickly it would seem hilarious to an outside spectator. “What do you mean, you know him?”

“He’s… well. Sirius, I’m sure you know Lily by now. Lily, meet Sirius, my ex-boyfriend.”

In the past, Sirius has heard the phrase ‘the silence was deafening.’ This silence is not deafening; it’s suffocating. 

At least, until something registers in Lily’s expression and she turns on her heel, taking a step towards Remus, who backs away. For good reason, too—she’s clearly on the warpath. 

“Sirius? Sirius Black? Sirius Orion fucking Black? That’s him?”

Remus manages one minuscule nod, eyes blown wide with fear. “And he’s here? R—” she breaks off, pausing a moment before continuing. “John Lupin, I don’t believe you.”

“Look, Lily, I can explain—”

“Explain to him. Show him where the staff room is, because he clearly knows nothing.” 

“Okay,” Sirius protests, “I think that’s a little—”

“Go. I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten, and if either of you is still here when I open them again there is going to be bloodshed.” 

There is no bloodshed, because they are not there when she opens her eyes. Instead, they are out in the hall, Remus leading Sirius towards the elevator. 

Much like with Lily the previous week, they do not speak. Even when Remus courteously holds the staff room door open, all Sirius gives him is a short, sharp nod. Somehow, without so much as interacting, they manage to work out a system: Sirius puts the initial page into the photocopier, and Remus does everything else. 

He turns away as Remus presses the buttons, and then he waits. There’s a faint beep beep and then silence except for the sound of paper being spit out of the machine. 

It is, by far, the most awkward silence in the history of silences. 

When nineteen copies have been made, Remus gathers them up and hole punches them. Someone should really say something. Remus clearly isn’t going to, so Sirius says the one thing he can think of. 

“Why’d you do it?”

The one benefit to asking this, out of every question out there, is that Remus can’t pretend not to know what he’s talking about. “I did something stupid.”

“Are you saying you broke up with me because you did something stupid, or that breaking up with me was the stupid thing?”

“I—” he cuts himself off, and doesn’t speak again for a good long time. Finally, Sirius gives up, walking towards the door. He’s reaching for the handle when Remus starts again. 

“I was at a party. I was… well, I wasn’t drunk, exactly, just a little tipsy, but… I kissed someone.”

Okay, that is a bit surprising. Sirius hadn’t exactly had him pegged as the type. But then again, he hadn’t though Remus was the type to dump someone with no explanation, either. He should really work on his assumption-making skills. 

“And that correlates to breaking up with me how? Because I think I’m missing something.”

“I thought that if you found out, you’d be the one doing the breaking up.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh.”

Yet another silence. Somehow, this one is worse than the last. That was like the dream where you show up at school naked. This is the dream that you never remember, the one where you wake up crying. 

Sirius sets his shoulders. He grasps the doorknob firmly, prepared to make his escape. 

“Or maybe I would have. We’ll never know, will we? Because you dumped me first.” 

The door swings closed behind him, and if Remus says anything, he doesn’t let himself hear it.  

#sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #james potter #cw: mentions of alcohol #cw: mentions of infidelity #sort of? #wolfstar #remus x sirius #muggle au #university au #breakup fic #I am slowly and steadily digging myself deeper into this hole aren't I #no editing we die like men

[navyhyuck]

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𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃, 𝐉𝐀𝐘.

↳ a love letter a week, and it has you wondering who’s your secret admirer. you have nine weeks, eight candidates, and one story to live. will you find out who your ‘jay’ is?

a/n :: here’s part two my sexy friends, i’ll be starting to add a little warnings tag from now on because parts will start to get longer and may include some triggering topics!!

wc :: 2.9k (i’m sorry it’s getting longer and longer i know)

warnings: mentions of sex (kinda, not explicit), a singular mention of death, someone’s borderline a bully but not quite (they’re just mean)

taglist: @childofthecycle @the8luvr @staywrites @chocolattees @cloudzume @babytoadz @cherrystay @sandaigdigan-reads @hoes4hoseok @ctrlaltfangirl @kodzu-ken @xazucaradictax @qtieskz @blueprint-han

couldn’t tag: @x-dawna-x

let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

You’re listening to Ryujin go on and on about Han Jisung at practically 6 a.m. (okay, it was around halfway to 8 o’clock, but her words were making you lose track of time), your head resting against the cool metal of the locker, almost wishing you were banging your head against it instead. As much as you knew your friend had a thing for the boy, you never thought you’d be stuck in the middle listening to her over analyzing everything that happened in English the day before. Sure, the precarious boy could be outstanding at pipetting in chemistry, but his social skills weren’t the best. Or at least, they weren’t the best with you.

“Anyway, I’ll shut up now, you look like you just watched The Conjuring and threw up on yourself.” She exclaims rather dryly, and you raise your head, glimpsing at the questioning look on her face. “By the way, that movie was shit. I’ll get to the point, then. I was gonna ask who you’re going to homecoming with.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at both the comment on one of your favorite horror movies ever (that you’ve watched four times already, each time with the same girl who insists it’s not scary but ends up peeking past her fingers anyway) and homecoming. “Myself,” you reply, returning your head to its original position. “Do I look like the kind of person that would go to homecoming with a date? Really?”

“You went last year,” she points out, and you realize it’s true with a groan. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t refuse the captain of the basketball team when he proposed the idea in the middle of the cafeteria, halfway through the sixth period. Honestly, San wasn’t too bad anyway, he just wanted to have some fun with a girl that wasn’t following after him in the general sheep crowd; after the night was over, however, you swore to yourself that you would never come to a dance voluntarily wearing stilettos without one of your go-to friends. “And you liked it. Plus, I was thinking, we should all get dates this year! You know, since it’s our senior year and all. You won’t have another hoco to miss after this one.”

“Get dates? You’re acting like it’s buying takeout.” 

“It basically is,” she shrugs. “You go out, ask for something from someone, and they either give it to you or not. Though I’m not really sure if restaurants are allowed to refuse service.”

 “We could just all go as friends,” you suggest, finally opening up your locker. “As great as having some random dude as my date, no thanks. Like you said, it’s our last year. And hoco’s been fun since freshman year for us anyway, what’s the point of setting us up with dudes when we’re just gonna ditch them?”

“Who said I’m gonna ditch my date?”

“Me, I just did,” you deadpan, shuffling through your books to grab onto your chemistry lab book and stuffing it into your bag. “Remember sophomore year? Yeah, you might not want to remember it, but I do. Lee Daehwi?” She groans at the sound of the familiar name, making you chuckle.

“Okay, fair enough, but I’m not gonna ditch my date this time. Not if I get the one I want.” Ryujin smacks your arm to grab your attention, making you hiss before you see the knowing look on her face as she wiggles her eyebrows. You cross your arms in confusion, trying to scan and rescan her face for hints to what she was getting at, but when your mind finally clicks, you freeze. And then, your jaw drops. “Shut up.”

“I-I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you’re gonna say!” She points at you, shaking her finger before bringing it back down. “Look, like you said, it’s senior year. I don’t have a chance, really, not after this one. Either I ask him out for homecoming in the next week or I mope around for the rest of my life regretting not going to a high school dance with the hottest guy in school. Yeah, okay, I guess that kinda does sound a little pathetic.”

You consider it for a moment, imagining how awkward the interaction between Ryujin’s infamous crush and her would be; there would be a whole lot of tripping at the feet and ten times the amount of stuttering. Plus, you’re sure that the boy didn’t have the heart capacity to receive a request without passing out cold. He’s a little fragile after all. “You think Jisung’s the hottest guy in school?”

“Duh, who else do you think? That Hyunjin dude? Yeah, maybe, I saw him a few times in the past few days, but so what? People just get hyped over some guy whenever they come to the school and like four days later he’s no longer a cool transfer student and just ‘the guy next to me in calculus.’” You give her a look, one that you hope resembles something that conveyed the message of ‘you just brought up Hyunjin completely unprovoked’ but she doesn’t budge, her eyes trailed on her nails as she continues. “...and I’ll ask Jisung. Chaeryoung said she’s going with that other guy from your chem, whatever his name was, him. So then, it’s just you.”

You’re reminded suddenly of the letter that you pulled from your locker a few days earlier, the one that followed after the previous introduction and pleaded for you to attend the dance. Even if the letter had never arrived, you were planning on it anyway, but now, you had a purpose. “I don’t really want a date,” you say carefully, your eyes darting across the busy hallway before focusing on the blue of your best friend’s hair. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe, whatever. I don’t feel like stressing out about asking someone, so maybe if someone asks me, I'll be their date. But don’t count on it, alright?”

Ryujin narrows her eyes at you, as if searching for something underneath (something that wasn’t there, you’d like to point out, but she’s still looking intently) before humming. “Alright, sure.” She finishes abruptly, clearly wanting to add onto her sentence but refraining from doing so, making you raise an eyebrow at her shenanigans.

“Spit it out, c’mon, I know you have more to say.”

Your best friend gives you a deadly look but considers it, resting her back against the lockers before turning back to you. “Okay, this is just a thought, got it? Just something running through my head right now that I want to share.”

You cross your arms. “A thought? You? Thinking? Well, that’s no good.”

“Shut up and listen to me first,” she waves you off, shuffling closer until you can see the glimmer of her eyeshadow smudged on the side of her winged eyeliner. “Think about this. You, Y/N, a beautiful girl with absolutely no intention on going to homecoming with a date because of the lack of attraction towards snotty teenage boys, asking the Hwang Hyunjin, a transfer student that’s extremely good-looking and apparently affectionately kind who has no intention on going to homecoming with a date because of the lack of connection with beautiful girls, to homecoming.”

You blink twice, looking up at the ceiling as you quietly process her words. It’s a bit jumbled in your head, but once you think it’s clear enough, you look at her. “Ryujin. May I express my feelings about this ‘thought?’”

She scans you up and down, and then nods.

“It’s absolute bullshit.”

“Hey!”

“I hate my life,” you say to yourself as you swing open the door of your car, stepping out rather impatiently onto the asphalt. Having forgotten to grab your psychology notebook at the end of the day, you found yourself taking an unwanted U-turn back to the school to pick it up; in your defense, you would rather maintain your A in the class even if you had to stop by the gas station on your way back. Like you were told, a class requires commitment.

You march your way into the school once again, wondering why the school officials never thought to add any precautionary measures to the buildings. It makes you wonder if someone had ever snuck onto campus since you were a freshman. From the very deep memories of your sophomore year, you remember a junior at that time sneaking in one of his friends during finals week thinking he’d get away with it. Honestly, Juyeon was something else.

Just as you make your way to your locker, you quietly scroll through your phone distractedly before seeing a text pop up in your infamous group chat.

[3:05 p.m.] chaechaer: guess what guys!! :D

[3:05 p.m.] praying mantis: don’t wanna guess

[3:05 p.m.] hwangji: she’s finally getting dick 

[3:05 p.m.] chaechaer: i’ll fucking bite you yeji.

[3:06 p.m.] hwangji: bite me baby i wanna see you try

[3:06 p.m.] you: spill c’mon

[3:07 p.m.] praying mantis: y/n.

[3:07 p.m.] praying mantis: why are you at school right now

[3:07 p.m.] chaechaer: gasp

[3:07 p.m.] chaechaer: looks like i’m not the only one getting dick

[3:08 p.m.] you: oh fuck off, i came back bc i forgot something

[3:08 p.m.] you: wait did you just say ‘not the only one’

[3:09 p.m.] hwangji: so you ARE getting dick???

[3:09 p.m.] hwangji: spill mf, right now

[3:09 p.m.] you: ryujin, are you checking my snap location rn??? hello?? 

[3:10 p.m.] praying mantis: ofc i am, i’m your guardian angel :)

[3:10 p.m.] you: you’re a stalker

[3:10 p.m.] praying mantis: but whose dick are you getting? that’s the real question 

You roll your eyes as hard as you can, hoping that your best friend would know even from a distance. Just as you continue to tap furiously into the glass of your phone, you’re suddenly hit by your left shoulder, sending you flying down to the ground in an instant. “Shit,” you whisper under your breath, brushing your hair out of your eyes well enough to look up and see that the hard object you just ran into wasn’t a wall. In fact, it was a human.

“Watch where you’re going,” the boy snaps at you, rather loudly in fact, making you flinch as you slowly stand up, gathering your phone. “This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t on your phone. Who walks in a hallway with their head down like that? Do you want to die?”

It takes you a minute to realize who’s actually standing in front of you, and it’s only when you��ve managed to gulp down his harsh words. Seo Changbin. He looks at you from head to toe, the scowl still evident on his face when your eyes widen. Suddenly, you’re a little more aware of yourself, shifting uncomfortably in his gaze as he doesn’t move. 

“Well?” He crosses his arms across his chest, now approaching you. “I don’t hear an apology.”

You instinctively back away, avoiding the boy’s eyes before you’re looking right back into them. If you weren’t mistaken, there was no one in front of you until there was, and there was no way that you could’ve ran into someone without noticing their presence earlier. Scoffing, you mimic his posture, looking behind him to see if you’re right about your assumption. In fact, you are, seeing the door of the locker room staring right back at you. “Me? Shouldn’t you be watching where you’re going?”

Changbin looks taken aback by your retaliation, somehow making his forehead lines fall into a straight line. “Don’t talk back to me, bitch.”

“Bitch?” You want to laugh, but instead, you press a smile down. “Seriously? Who do you think you are?”

You’re honestly appalled at the way the admired swimmer is acting towards you, but you’re not surprised. You would be lying if you didn’t say you weren’t in the faintest surprised. The entire team could act like a handful of bullies that didn’t have any other free time on their hands, if you looked into it more. Changbin seems to be dissatisfied with your answer, closing in on you as your back presses against the wall. 

“What did you say to me?” 

You’re about to respond with an equally harsh answer but there’s a sudden call of Changbin’s name from the end of the hallway, making the both of you turn your heads. Yet another swimming team member comes jogging your way, sporting a school branded shirt that tells you exactly what he’s part of. The boy stops a few feet away from the two of you, a large smile spreading across his face as he looks from Changbin to you. You scratch your head. Is Bang Chan currently standing in front of you? Or was it just a figment of your imagination?

“Hi! What’s your name?” He asks, coming closer before glancing over at Changbin and stopping. “W-What? Wait, what? What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Changbin defends immediately, making you raise an eyebrow as he holds up his palms. “I didn’t! Nothing happened, Chan. It’s all good. Let’s just go now.”

Chan doesn’t budge when he grabs onto his arm, tugging to pull him away, but he instead focuses his attention on you. His smile persists. “Hi sweetheart, judging from the look on your face, he did do something, right?”

You’re taken aback at his soft voice, a complete contrast from what you just heard from the other boy. Pursing your lips, you try not to let your cheeks flame up. Sweetheart? “It’s nothing—he just ran into me and tried to pin the whole thing on me—it’s all good, really. I’m fine, I didn’t get hurt. So…”

“You didn’t get hurt? But he ran into you?” Chan shoots Changbin a sharp look, one that looks much darker than the gaze he returns to you. “Are you okay? It might’ve been a hard fall. I can take you to the nurse’s office, if you’d like?”

“N-No, it’s fine!” You shake your hands in refusal, an awkward chuckle leaving your lips. Chan only laughs brightly in response, his entire face somehow appearing ten times more charming than before. You notice with another fleeting glimpse that there are dimples that crease into his skin as he smiles, now making your heart do an unidentifiable leap inside your chest. “Um, okay, I actually have to go now! I’ll, uh, yeah! Bye!”

You turn in your heel, trying to walk at a casual but extremely quick pace at the same time, which proves to be difficult. Just as you’re about to turn at the corner, there’s a shout from down the hall.

“Hey!” Peaking your head back, you see Chan waving his hand at you. “What’s your name?!”

“Y/N!”

“Nice to meet you Y/N! I hope to see you around!”

Gulping, you lean back against one of the lockers near yours, placing a hand over your chest as you finally notice the thumping. You take a deep breath, shaking your head a few times to get the entire situation out of your head; it doesn’t work, not with your brain taking you back to that exact moment once again. You just spoke to one, no, scratch that, two extremely talented swimming players with your own two eyes. And perhaps the rapid beating of your heart wasn’t just because one of them was being nice to you. But you wouldn’t admit that now, would you?

dear y/n love,

hi hi! i’ve missed talking to you (yes, i know, there’s no way you can respond to me, but anyway), but this letter will be unfortunately short today. please don’t think too much of it! my class is about to end, haha.

i saw you at one of the swimming meets a few days ago, and oh my god, i really couldn’t take my eyes off of you. i don’t know if anyone has ever told you, y/n, but you are so beautiful. i remember what you were wearing; was it...a black shirt? and jeans, oh yes. your sense of style is so simple yet somehow so perfect. i couldn’t even take my eyes off of you, oh god, i remember all my friends yelling at me to pay attention but all i was doing was staring at you. sounds like a problem, huh? but i enjoy it. shit, this sounds kinda creepy again, doesn’t it? i’m so sorry, love, that’s not what i was going for. i just...really admire you. a lot.

also, the homecoming game is this weekend! i hope you end up going, you can even go with your friend! the blue-haired one, yeah, ryujin, i think. that’s her name, right? oh god, you probably think i’m even weirder now that i just told you that i know your friend. fuck. anyway. 

once again, i hope to see you there! there’s something waiting for you there and i want to be able to surprise you, even if i don’t want to reveal my identity just yet. see you soon, love.

signed, jay

#inkidz #stayhavennet #kpopscape #skz fluff #skz series #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #skz x reader #skz au #stray kids series #stray kids writing #skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids au #stray kids x reader

[98prilla]

Reconciliation

Part 4 of my Dark Side Logan series. 

I decided these two boys needed their own time to work things out, so no actual Cygnus this chapter. More just dealing with the fallout.

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AO3

Virgil and Deceit have a talk

...

         He sighs, hanging his hat up on his coat rack, slinging off his capelet, carefully hanging it up so it won’t wrinkle, flopping down into his desk chair with an exhausted groan.

 It has been a long day.

 Patton came by, at Cygnus’s request, and they all just… talked. It was a bit strange, having a civil conversation with Patton. He could see Patton stopping himself from interrupting or saying something immediately dismissive just because his gut instinct was to go no, wrong, disagree. He could see Patton forcing himself to think past his first impulse when something was said that he disagreed with, thinking twice before he said anything.

 It was… odd. It felt odd, being listened to, like that, by Morality, of all people. But it went well. Remus was his usual boisterous self, which helped cover some of his own awkward unsureness, and, once again, Patton handled it extremely well. He blushed and winced at Remus’s lewd comments, sure, but he didn’t scold or berate him for them, instead trying to simply move on from them or, in some cases, digging deeper, understanding what Remus was actually trying to say but couldn’t find the words for.

 It was impressive, really, how hard Patton had tried. How much he listened. How careful he was with his words and his actions, trying to understand better their own roles, how he could help ease them into the group, help reintroduce them to Thomas, help them get a seat at the table.

 He was surprised, too, at Patton’s intentions. Because everything Patton had said was sincere, about wanting to help, wanting to understand, wanting to work together. But Cygnus had told him later, after Patton had left, what his intentions had been.

 Part of it was trying to earn back Cygnus’s trust, yes, and Cygnus leaving is what had sparked Patton’s interest at all. But that was more like a catalyst, than the true intent, which was simply that Patton was tired of people getting hurt.

 He was tired of hurting people, he was tired of leaving people out, he was tired of all this dark side, light side business, he was tired of fighting with people who wanted the same things he did, even if they chose vastly different methods, he just wanted everyone to be okay, and happy, and cared about, no matter what the end result looked like.

 He sighs again, running his hands through his hair. Only Patton would have intentions that pure, of course, and as naïve as that kind of thinking seems to him, he knows Patton is willing to give his all, his everything, to make right all the wrongs he had done them.

 “hey.” He practically jumps five feet into the air at the quiet voice, spinning the chair around so fast it gives him whiplash, hand pressed over his hammering heart.

 “Virgil, I was completely expecting you to be lurking in the shadows of my room, didn’t nearly scare me to death.” He deadpans, and Virgil snorts, a smile flicking across his face, and for a moment it’s like nothing has changed.

 Then Virgil looks down, fiddling with his hoodie, his new hoodie, his purple patched hoodie, and he leans back in his chair, steepling his hands in front of his face, inhaling deeply to keep himself from freaking out.

 “sorry. About, startling you. I just… you weren’t here so I decided to just wait for you to get back.” Virgil mumbles, and he tilts his head, unable to get a read on what exactly Virgil is doing here, with him, of all places.

 “Not that I’m not pleased to see you but… what exactly are you doing here?” Virgil flinches, though he didn’t mean it cruelly, and starts biting at his lip, nervous tension radiating off of him.

 “I… I know Patton talked to you guys. And… and he’s trying to work out some stuff with you. To… to help, get you accepted, and stuff.” He stiffens, hardening himself, because he knows that Virgil, of all people, will be against this, and he is ready for whatever threats or insults are hurled his way, he can keep it together now, even if it breaks him later. “so I… I thought we should… should talk, too. I… this is dumb, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here, I should just go.” Virgil heaves out, and starts getting up, and for a moment he is too stunned to respond.

 “virgil. Wait. It’s not. Stupid, it’s not stupid, I mean. I… if you want to talk.” He’s lightly grabbed Virgil by the wrist, stopping him halfway to the door, and he quickly pulls back his hand, wincing at his own mistake. But Virgil just shuffles his feet, nodding once, before collapsing back on top of the bed, hood flipped up, knees pulled to his chest, bangs hiding his face as he takes a deep breath. Slowly, he scoots his chair a bit closer, only a foot between them.

“I… haven’t been fair, to you, or Remus. I… I know we fought, before I left, and we both said some stuff, but I… I know I didn’t mean even half of what I said. But I was too stubborn and stupid and… and prideful to apologize or admit I was wrong. So I bottled it all up, and I… I took it out on you, whenever you showed up, because I was ashamed of myself, for saying it all, at all, for… for just leaving you, after everything and I” Virgil took a shaking breath, trying to steady himself,  “Hated… hated myself for it, even as I was doing it, I hate myself for doing that to you, I hate myself for misrepresenting the two of you to Thomas, I hate myself for leaving, I hate that it took… took this, for me to have the fucking nerve to actually apologize!” Virgil exclaims, voice breaking.

 He inhales a sharp breath, realizing Virgil’s eyeshadow has darkened to nearly pitch black, is starting to run down his face, making his tears look black. Virgil buries his head against his knees, arms wrapped tight around them.

 “I’m sorry.” Virgil mumbles, shakily. “I wanted to fit in, with them, so I acted like I hated you, so they wouldn’t hate me, and I should have stood up for you guys, but I didn’t, I was afraid, and I don’t… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Tempest tongue slips out as Virgil curls tighter, hands tangling in his hair. “A decent person would have stood up for you. You raised me, you took care of me, and I just left, I just left and then didn’t give you any explanation for why I suddenly hated you, and it wasn’t fair and it isn’t and I don’t hate you, I never did, I just hate myself, because who does something like that?! What kind of terrible, shitty person just turns on everyone they love for someone else’s stupid approval? And just keeps doing it over and over and over again even though I hated myself for it, even though it made everything worse, and I wanted to stop, I want to scream, I want to shatter, because I’m just a monster that keeps on hurting you.”

 He can hear Virgil’s breathing from here, rasping and unsteady as he tugs at his hair. He doesn’t have to see Virgil’s face to know that dark, black lines will be creeping across it as his own anxiety worsens, slipping him back and back into the darkness of his own mind, back into paranoia. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen Virgil get this bad, it must have been when he was new and still trying to control himself, and it scares him, to feel how much loathing Virgil is holding for his own self.

 It scares him, because he’s felt it before, and he knows what it leads to.

 “Virgil. I need you to breathe, darling.” He keeps his voice steady, though his own alarm is just below the surface, trying to unpack everything that Virgil had said.

 “can’t, I can’t, I…” Virgil chokes out. Instantly, he is slipping out of his chair and onto the bed beside Virgil, slow and careful as he reaches up, disentangling Virgil’s hands from his hair before he can hurt himself, rubbing circles on his knuckles.

 “I’m going to do the counting thing, ok? Join in whenever you can.” He sees Virgil manage a nod, which is good, it means he can still hear him, as he starts to count. After several long fits and starts, his breathing seems to be evening out. When Virgil finally looks up at him, eyeshadow smudged all over his face, he looks nothing but tired and broken and devastated, in a way he feels all too familiar with.

 “Vee…” he doesn’t say anything more, he doesn’t know what else to say. Instead he opens his arms, and Virgil barely hesitates before he launches into them, burrowing into his shirt, gasping out broken sobs as he rubs his back and shushes him gently, assuring him over and over that everything is going to be ok, everything is going to be alright. He doesn’t know if it’s true, but he wants it to be.

 “I know you don’t always lie, I know that’s not all you do, I know you just want to protect Thomas, I know you always do what you think is best for him, I know you care about us, all of us, too, I know you always do your best for us, even when we don’t appreciate it, I know you’re more than just Deceit, so much more, and I’m… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Dee…” Virgil trails off, curling tighter against him, and he can feel him trembling.

 “I’m sorry too, Virgil. I wasn’t kind, either. I taunted and belittled you because I was hurt and angry. We’re… we’re both just a couple of petty bitches, aren’t we?” He smiles just a bit as Virgil lets out a shaky bark of laughter against his chest, clinging to him tighter, which he hadn’t known was even possible.

 He lets it go on a moment longer before he pulls back, gently disentangling Virgil from around him, tilting his chin up so they are face to face, though Virgil avoids his eyes. Because Virgil is telling nothing but truths. About everything. Which is good, but a bit concerning, given some of his statements.

 “Vee. Look at me, darling.” It seems to take a monumental effort on Virgil’s part, but after a long moment, he lifts his eyes, just barely meeting his for the most fleeting of moments. “it’s ok to be not ok. But you need to reach out, you need to tell someone, so they can help before it goes too far. You need to take a break.”

 “I’m telling you. Does that count?” Virgil asks smally, arms wrapping around himself. He huffs and fumbles around on the bed, finding his weighted blanket after a moment and settles it around Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil immediately pulls it tighter around him, some of the tension leaking out of his shoulders at the weight, though he is still hunched over himself.  

 “Barely, considering we haven’t really spoken in years.” He regrets his words as Virgil flinches against them, tugging the blanket closer.

 “that’s fair.” Virgil whispers, a sad smile settling across his face.

 “no it isn’t, Vee. I should have come to you, after you left, I should have tried to talk to you, but I let my own pride get in the way, too. We both should have tried a little harder.”  

 “nothing’s ever been fair for you, Dee. I should have helped even out the odds.”

 “Look, we can sit here wallowing in past mistakes and misery all day, feeding off each other until we’re both just sad,” He pulls a face at that, making Virgil snort, “or we can do something fun and distracting, because neither of us is good at all this… guilt and negative emotion stuff.”

 “Dude, I’m literally anxiety, guilt and negative emotions are my whole shtick.” He folds his arms and looks sternly at Virgil.

 “Handling and processing them for Thomas is your ‘shtick’. Directing it all at yourself is unhealthy.” Virgil shrugs, looking away.

 “might have gone a bit downhill without you. You… you were always better at helping me manage than anyone else. I… haven’t really been managing, recently.”

 “You haven’t-“

 “no. Not… I’ve thought about it, a l-lot. Specially after Logan. I… I was too wrapped up in my own shit to be there for him, a-and I’m glad you guys are. I s-saw him the other day, for just a m-moment and he looked good. Like, b-better than I’ve ever seen him. and I kn-know that’s good, but…”

 “but it feels like it’s all on you. And you feel guilty for not being there.” Virgil nods, face crumpling as he closes his eyes against the wave of guilt and shame and loathing that washes over him.

 “I c-c-came so cl-close Dee. I h-had the kn-knife in m-m-my h-hand.” He doesn’t hesitate, scooping Virgil back onto his lap, into his arms.

 “Oh, darling, darling, darling. But you didn’t. I know how hard that is, to be so close and then not. I know how much it must hurt, inside, if you got so close to doing that. But I’m proud of you, I’m so proud, that you didn’t.”

 “’m s-sorry. I sh-shouldn’t be unloading all this o-on you. N-not after being so cr-cruel for so long, f-f-for no reason, y-you shouldn’t h-ave to touch me, y-you shouldn’t h-have to care…”

 “I don’t have to care, darling, but I choose to. I choose to care that you’re hurting yourself, that you’re tearing yourself apart for nothing, and I won’t sit by and just watch it happen until you do decide to tear yourself apart physically, as well. You left, because you thought it would be best for you, just like Ambition left, because he thought it would be best for him.” He’s running a hand through Virgil’s hair, Virgil biting his lip as he looks down at his lap.

 “W-was he right? W-was I? I d-don’t know anymore, Dee, I d-don’t know h-how to be wh-what anyone n-needs, I j-just get it the way, I j-just ruin things. I d-don’t know how to b-be ok, anymore.” Virgil mumbles the last sentence, and his heart softens a little more, because Virgil has slipped so far backwards. It seems Ambition isn’t the only one whose self care is being neglected over on the Light Side.

 “I know. And that’s ok, Virgil. You just go one day at a time, until, without you even realizing, the pain starts to hurt a little less, and a little less, until one day you wake up and it’s just an old ache where an open wound used to be. You know we will all help you get there, you must know Patton would drop everything in an instant if you told him how you feel, you must know Roman would do everything and anything to make you happy. You must know that Remus would still die for your smile, that I still love you, that Ambition just wants what’s best for everyone.” Virgil shakes his head, staring off into the distance for a moment.

 “That’s not the problem. I… I know that, I do, I just… I don’t deserve,” Virgil’s voice cracks, and he shivers, “I don’t deserve their help. I don’t deserve yours. I sure as hell don’t deserve anything from Ambition. I deserve to hurt, I deserve to do this alone, I deserve to let myself get torn apart.” He lets out a small sound of hurt, forcing Virgil to look at him, eyes wet with his own tears.

 “no. Virgil, no. Trying to go it alone is how we all ended up like this in the first place. It doesn’t matter if you believe you deserve it or not, you have my love, you have my support, and you have my help, even if I have to force feed it to you, you have my help. Don’t you dare for a second think otherwise. You’re still my baby, Vee. You always will be.” He states firmly, making sure Virgil sees the sincerity in his eyes, the truth in them, before he lets go, Virgil slumping against him with an exhausted sigh.

 “Is anything ever gonna be ok ever again?”

 “yes. Not soon, not even in a year, maybe, with the mess of things everyone’s made, but eventually, yes. Everything will be ok.” He murmurs, kissing the top of Virgil’s head, who snuggles closer to him, and he brings his arms around the exhausted side, hugging him close with all of his extra arms.

 “I missed this. I missed you. I-“

 “I know, darling. I did too.”

 “Dee? Are… are we ok? I… I want us to be ok.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to Virgil’s head at the smallness of his voice, feeling his own tears starting fall, his own voice stuck in his throat for a moment.

 “yes. I can promise you that, Virgil. We’re ok. And I’m going to make sure that you’re ok.” He replies, holding his baby just a little tighter, until he falls asleep.

 Things are a mess. They’re all messes, at the moment. But he knows he’s right, knows he has to trust his own words. Eventually, they will all be ok. It will take time, but he will help make sure of it. And he knows the others are ready to put in the work, too.

 “it’s going to be ok.”

#virgil sanders #virgil angst #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic virgil #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #mild panic attack #implied past self harm #thoughts of self harm #angst with a happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending #deceit angst

[schrijverr]

I do my Husbands Make-Up

Dean attempts to do Castiels make-up.

Part of the Famous Husband verse, which is also a series.

On AO3.

Ships: Destiel

Warnings: none, but tell me if you want me to tag anything and I’ll do so happily!

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh no, I’m fucking this all up.” Dean said, in his hand he held a mascara and Castiels face had a big black smudge on it.

Then the intro rolled, it was a drawn impala that came down the road, it stopped in the middle of the screen and the drawn Dean gave a wink to the viewers, then he sped off again and the smoke was bridge back to the video.

They were sat next to each other, Castiels face now still free of black smudges as Dean started the video: “Hi Hunters! Welcome back, today I am making my already beautiful husband even more beautiful, which is frankly impossible, but I’ll try, with make-up.”

He looked at Cas and said: “I have no skills in make-up.”

“I’ll guide you.” Cas told him with a fond tiredness.

Dean grinned: “Great! Lets start and get you glammed up.”

“I knew showing you the beauty vloggers was a bad idea.” Cas groaned.

“What? Don’t you want me to beat your mug and spill the tea.” Dean smirked, only for Cas to groan louder and thunk his head on the table. Before the jump cut you could hear Deans cackle as it slowly faded.

Then they were facing each other and Dean was applying foundation with a beauty blender as he muttered: “This still looks like a buttplug.”

“And still it isn’t one.” Cas told him.

“Could be.” Dean argued.

“If I shove it in you ass, you’ll find that it really isn’t.” Cas said deadpan, making Dean choke before he laughed.

The deadpan expression changed into shock as Cas said: “You’re cutting that out, right?”

A mischievous grin came on Deans face as he replied: “No.”

“Dean.” in an obviously warning tone.

“Are you willing to do the laundry for a month?” Dean asked, either ignoring or not picking up on Castiels tone.

Cas squinted and the screen faded to show a picture of Dean folding shirts with underneath the text: He wasn’t willing

Dean had gotten Castiels permission behind the scenes and if Cas really hadn’t wanted him to put it in, he wouldn’t have, but this was funny, so he framed it as this.

The foundation was done and Dean sat back to admire his work and commented: “That was the easy part, look at your face now angel, cause it’s only going to get worse from here.”

Cas raised an unimpressed eyebrow and asked: “What happened to making me even more beautiful?”

“I remembered I cannot do this.” Dean told him with an open honest grin.

“Assbutt.”

“Live to please, darling.” Dean looked back to the table, “So, what now?”

“Contour.” Cas said.

Dean lit up and exclaimed: “I remember this, it’s the shadows on the face cause it’s flat now, right?”

“Yes.” Cas encouraged enthusiastically.

After having located the contour, Cas carefully explained what Dean was supposed to do with it, Dean listened closely before he started. He was about halfway through when he stopped to look and said: “This is terrible, sorry angel. I swear I’m trying and not deliberately fucking this up for the video.”

“I know, Dean.” Cas smiled at him before casting a quick look in a mirror, “It is quite difficult, god knows I struggled with this when I first started. Just try and blend it in so it isn’t so heavy.”

Dean smiled back, before trying to fix it. Cas now had two dark stripes on his face, because Dean had put on way to much, so he took a big brush and desperately tried not to fuck it all up even further.

With as much saved as possible Dean grabbed the concealer and held it up to Cas, who nodded. Dean mumbled under his breath: “Still don’t think you need it.”

That got him a kiss on the nose along with a: “That’s very sweet of you, Dean.”

The blush that spread on Deans face had been edited out by Dean and the video resumed when Dean was blending the concealer.

“You can press harder if you want.” Cas said.

“But I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.” Dean sounded worried.

It made Cas smile, who assured Dean: “It’s a sponge, a pretty solid sponge, but still a sponge. I don’t think you can really hurt me by beating me with a sponge.”

You could visibly see worry leave Deans shoulders, but he didn’t show it otherwise instead boasting loudly: “You forget that I would not only be beating you with a sponge, but also my enormous arms.”

He flexed for show, keeping it up until Cas snorted, before also laughing and returning to his task, this time a bit less like Cas was something too fragile to touch.

When he was done he said: “I think you also did blush right around now, but I think I will not be able to do that properly, so I’m not giving you a blush, not matter how much I’d love to see you with a cute blush on your face.”

Dean actually sounded quite sad that he would have to miss out on Cas with a blush, so Cas offered: “I can do it, you can edit it out and no one has to know.”

“Hmm.” Dean thought about it, then said: “I’ll keep it in, but please do.”

He held out the blush and Cas took it as Dean held a mirror in front of his own face wrong way ‘round, so that Cas could use it apply the blush. Dean asked: “How do I look with your face on my body?”

“Twice as handsome.” Cas told him.

Immediately the mirror dropped and Deans offended look emerged from behind it, Cas suppressed a smile and said disappointedly: “Ahw, it’s still you.”

“I am appalled and offended that my own husband, who has willingly married me and did so happily as I can recall, would just turn around and wound me like that. Stabbed in the back by the man I trusted most, I cannot believe this injustice.” Dean exclaimed loudly.

He was putting on a whole show and after a while Cas broke and laughed, before saying: “I’m joking, Dean. You are very handsome and I love your face.”

With a grumbling pout, Dean wearily asked: “You sure?”

“Completely.” Cas gave him a peck, then asked: “So what do we think of the blush?”

In his theatrics Dean had forgotten to look, but now he took the time to inspect Castiels face with the blush. It was subtle, but cute. He had even put a bit on his nose, so it looked like he was slightly cold. Dean couldn’t help, but pull him into a hug as he said: “You’re so incredibly precious, sweetheart.”

Cas allowed Dean to do this, clinging to Dean as well as it cut to Dean saying: “Now comes the hard part. I am doing simple things, like glossy lipstick with little color and white glittery eye make-up, the only difficult thing I will attempt is eyeliner and mascara.”

“Maybe put on power first, to bake the face.” Cas reminded him.

“Ah, yes. That. I was already planning on doing that.” Dean tried to put down the highlighter as subtly as possible as he grabbed the powder.

Cas rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment, because he didn’t face a mouth full of powder.

It cut to Dean applying highlighter, it had actually gone well and he was very proud of himself over it. He took the lipgloss and carefully put it on. He slipped at one point and looked up at Cas with wide eyes as he froze.

Patting his head distractedly, Cas wiped it away, before turning back and allowing Dean to continue even more carefully this time.

“I really don’t think me doing this is safe.” Dean said as his eyes flitted between the eyeshadow and Castiels eyes.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll close my eyes and you’ll put it on gently.” Cas assured him, before closing his eyes.

Dean hesitated for one more moment, before starting and saying: “Okay, but I’m sorry in advance if this goes entirely wrong.”

It didn’t even look like Dean was touching Cas with how gentle he was. His hand shook a bit and the end result was quite bad. The eyelid was covered for the most part, but so was the area surrounding it.

“Keep them closed, I doing eyeliner next.” Dean warned.

The line was horrible, it went practically over the middle of the eyelids and one went out too far and the other barely and they definitely didn’t have a shape. While he was applying it he kept up a constant stream of ‘oh noes’.

When he was done he said: “That looks completely shit, sorry. Can you tell me how to do mascara before I ruin that completely as well?”

It then cut to how the video had started: “Oh no, I’m fucking this all up.” Dean said, in his hand he held an mascara and Castiels face has a big black smudge on it.

Cas opened his eyes slowly and made eye contact with Dean, who look apologetically at him. He asked: “Want me to fix it?”

“Please.”

Then it cut to a few shots of Castiels make-up. It was pretty bad with too much contour and entirely fucked up eye make-up, but it could’ve been much much worse.

Cas had already seen the make-up throughout the video, so there wasn’t a reveal moment, but there was a brief clip of Cas looking into a mirror and saying: “This is not as bad as I expected, congratulations.”

And Dean beaming proudly at the complement.

It cut to the endcard and Dean said: “That might not have been the most entertaining video, because I was focusing a lot on the make-up and not on the banter, but I hoped you liked it anyway.”

Cas piped up next to him: “I enjoyed it.”

“Thank you, angel.” Dean smiled, “If you enjoyed it too, please leave a like and a comment down below and click the subscribe button and ring that bell to see when I upload again. There will also be links to click to see more of me and more of Cas, so click on them if you want to. And that was pretty much it. Wanna do the outro?”

“Uh, sure?” Cas said very unsure, then turning to the camera he smiled awkwardly: “Bye Hunters, see you on the road.”

“Bye!” Dean called out, then the video ended.

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

I love how much Dean actually

tried, what an A+ husband

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

cass doing the outro was so cute

we stan an awkward cute nerd

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

DEAN ACTUALLY WATCHED THE BEAUTY VLOGGERS LOLLLLLL

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

Dean was so gentle with Castiel

and I’m literally crying, I want

someone who treats me like that

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

the beauty blender buttplug

moment, i cant

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

is he really not going to say

anything about the fact that he

has a fucking kid? alright….

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

Dean using gay beauty slang

both added and retracted ten

year of my lifespan

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

I wouldnt mind if dean beat me

up with his enormous arms ;)

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

This was so incredibly mushy,

would 100% get a tooth rotting

fluff tag on AO3, and I loved

every second of it

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

SO CUTEEEE

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

#RR writing #destiel youtuber au #youtuber dean #youtube #Destiel #Destiel AU #married destiel #castiel #castiel/dean #dean winchester #dean x castiel #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #spn AU

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch5: You Make It Easy

Summary: It’s date night, and it’s its a coin toss between who is the most nervous, Steve or Katie.... 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x O/C Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language

May 2013

The elation Steve had felt about actually getting a date with Katie soon evaporated the next morning when he realised he hadn’t the first CLUE where to take her or what to wear.

So he sought some advice

“A nice shirt and jeans.” Peggy smiled at him, the old woman elated he had finally done it. “Nothing too flash, and pick a restaurant. It doesn’t have to be fancy, women are more impressed by a man who’s paying them attention, interested in them, it isn’t’ about the flashing of cash.” “Come to think of it she has mentioned a new place in town.” Steve said, suddenly remembering that she had asked Evans one morning in Exercise if he had tried it yet. “La Placa I think it’s called.” “Well there you go.”  Peggy patted him on his arm before she smiled at the look on the young man’s face “Just be yourself Steve, that’s who she wants. No one else.”

“Thanks Peg.”

“And make sure you kiss her goodnight…” she grinned, a twinkle in her eyes “Us ladies do like a bit of passion every now and then you know.” He rolled his eyes at her cheekiness, running his hand through his hair which was in desperate need of a cut. He stayed with Peggy whilst he googled the restaurant number, made his reservation and then text Katie to tell her where he had booked.

Can't wait xxx

He grinned to himself, and then pushed his phone away and turned back to find Peggy watching him, a sly grin on her face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.” she said, somewhat wistfully

.He smiled “Been a long time since I felt this good.” he said honestly.

“It suits you.” On his way home he swung into the barbers and stepped in. As he sat in the chair the man asked him what he wanted doing, and he was about to say trim when Katie’s voice stirred in his mind.

“Trying to imagine what you’d look like with shorter hair and a beard…” Fuck it. “Shorn back and sides please” he said, “and take it a little shorter on top.”

******

Katie woke suddenly on top of the comforter on her bed, fully clothed. She’d fallen asleep!  She sat up, thinking back to the last thing she remembered before her nap, piecing her train of thought together. Ah, yes, Steve had messaged her to tell her he’d booked a table somewhere which had prompted her to start looking for an outfit. She’d realised she had no idea what to wear so had been debating calling Pepper to ask for advice. And she had decided it wasn’t a good idea because she didn’t want Tony to know she was dating yet, let alone who. This had then got her thinking about the first time they had all met when Loki had taken the Tesseract, which must had jogged that particular memory…what a fucked up place the human mind could be at times.

And then she remembered. Shit, she still didn’t have an outfit sorted! Biting her lip she sighed and picked up her phone, scanning through to the person she was looking for. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right?

The cavalry arrived an hour and a half later in the shape of a red-haired deadly assassin.

“There has to be something in here that’s first date suitable…” Natasha mumbled, as she continued to search through the various items in Katie’s closet. Half Katie’s clothes adorned the floor of her walk-in-wardrobe and bedroom as they had discarded everything she’d tried so far. “It would help if I knew where you were going.” she sipped her beer thoughtfully.

“La Placa.” Katie said after a pause, “Tapas place…but if you turn up I swear to God…”

“I got better things to do with my spare time…” Nat shrugged. “No you don’t.” Katie replied, “And I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

“If you don’t trust me why did you ask for my help?“ “Because Pepper is a 4 hour drive away…”

“Well that’s just rude…” Natasha mumbled and Katie grinned, shaking her head as Nat placed her beer down on the top of a set of drawers and moved to a rail “Ok, try this…”

She pulled out a knee length Balenciaga dress with a fitted top half, scalloped neck line and three-quarter length sleeves. As Katie shrugged it on, Natasha hunted in the shoe rack, pulling out a pair of mid-height red Kurt Geiger courts with a chunky gold heel and matching bag.

“Not bad.” She mumbled as Katie stepped into the heels and gave her a twirl.

“Better than the grey one?” “Definitely.” She said, nodding “I think we have a winner!”

Katie gave her a double Hi-Five and Nat picked up her beer as Katie stripped out of the dress and pulled on her T-shirt and shorts, before she glanced around the large bedroom, sighing at the mess.

“Better tidy this up in case things go well.” Nat smirked, before she pondered “Huh, actually, do you reckon Captain America puts out on the first date?”

“Jesus Nat…” Katie shook her head.

“Mind you, knowing Roger’s he’s probably a virgin…”

“I’m pretty sure people had casual sex back in the 40s too you know.” Katie rolled her eyes. “He was on the USO tours surrounded by dancing girls, there’s no way he didn’t do the old horizontal tango.”

“Yeah but…its Rogers.” Nat pressed giving a snort “Imagine if you are the one to pop his cherry.”

Katie groaned, shaking her head. “Shut up Widow.”

She smirked “Ok, so how long have we got?”

Katie glanced at her phone “An hour and 20 minutes. And what do you mean we?” “You asked for my help, right?” she shrugged, “Thought I could do your make-up and hair too…” Katie looked at her for a moment and smiled “Thanks.” She shrugged then drained her beer before turning Katie round and pushing her towards the en-suite “Go shower then we’ll start the transformation.”

An hour later Katie was ready. Her hair was curled in soft waves, and her makeup was done, a bit heavier than normal, but still subtle enough to avoid looking like it had been applied with a trowel.

“Perfect…” Nat said, giving her an appraising look. “Right, I trust you can get dressed without me.” “I think I’ll manage.” Katie said, standing up as she made her way out of the walk-in wardrobe/dressing room and followed her into the hall where she picked up her jacket.

“Oh and if you need me to bail you, just give me an SOS call…” Nat said, making a phone sign with her finger and pinkie by her ear. “I think I’ll be ok.” Katie smiled, “but thank you, for all of this.”

“Have fun…” she said, and then added with a smirk “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t”

“That doesn’t exactly leave a lot…” Katie quipped

“That’s my point.” Natasha intoned as she walked into the hall and pressed the button for the elevator.

“Nat, you won’t tell anyone will you?” Katie asked, “I mean, it isn’t that I don’t trust you, just…” Nat paused turning back to the brunette to find her chewing her lip with nerves. She shook her head “I won’t tell a soul. I know how much you two like each other, you’ve been dancing around it for months, so… just enjoy ok? Have a good time. You both deserve it.” “Thanks Nat” Katie smiled. The two girls shared a quick hug and then Nat left

***** Steve had to admit, he liked his new hair. It was much more like the style people sported now, but in a way it also reminded him of how Bucky had worn his back in the Howlies. He picked a light blue shirt, his dark navy jeans and then pondered before settling on a pair of brown boots that matched his jacket and belt. He was ready with plenty of time and found himself pacing as he thought about how the night could go. There was no doubt it was going to be way different to how he had imagined his first date to be. Back in his day it was movies, dinner and a dance. Now there were no dance halls, and they watched movies all the time. But, as Peggy had advised, for once he was going to “go with the flow” and just see where the night took them both.

Finally, after an agonising 15 minutes during which he had pretty much paced non-stop and drained a good measure of scotch, even though it did nothing bar give him a comforting burn in his throat on the way down, he headed to the cab that was waiting and they set off to pick up his date.

Jesus Christ she looked amazing. Her hair was cascading in waves over one shoulder, the smoky brown eyeshadow she was wearing made the green in her eyes even more noticeable. And her dress… black, knee length with a detailed neckline and sleeves that finished halfway down her forearms. The top half clung to her body where it flared out slightly from her hips and her red heels accentuated her shapely calves to perfection. As Steve looked at her he found himself imagining various crude scenarios where that dress ended up on the floor, but that wasn’t gentlemanly. Nor appropriate.

Katie felt her breath catch when she saw Steve. His light blue shirt was tight enough to accentuate his ridiculously well built top half, and a brown belt with a gold buckle adorned his toned waist. And he’d had a haircut. Gone were his longer locks and side parting, and in its place was a short back and sides with slightly longer strands on the top, tousled into an exceptionally modern style. He looked incredible.

Steve broke the silence between the two, clearing his throat gently.

“You look beautiful.” He said, leaning down to give her a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you, you look pretty good yourself, you do something to your hair?” Katie teased.

“Thought it was time for a change.” he said, shrugging it off casually as his cheeks warmed. “Still getting used to it.” “It looks great.” she assured him.

He beat her to her jacket as she reached up to take it off the peg and held it out so she could shrug her arms into it. Once they were in the elevator, he reached out and took her hand and she laced her fingers into his. He glanced down at her, his eyes meeting hers and she flashed him a smile.

Yeah, he’d lucked out, big time.

******

The restaurant was busy but not packed. They were seated at the back in a little booth in the corner. Steve had never had tapas before, but Peggy had explained it to him before.

“So the idea is we pick, what, 3 or 4 dishes?” he asked, looking at Katie

“Yeah, they’re like small portions and you share.” Katie nodded. “Although you eat like a horse so we should probably order more…”

He grinned and looked back at his menu.

“You pick,” he said, putting the menu back down eventually, beaten by the various choices. “I literally have no idea…”

“Alright…” she grinned. “But you have to try everything…”

“Deal.”

The waiter returned with their drinks and took their food orders. Katie ordered, 3 meat dishes, 3 fish, 3 veg and then a side order of olives and different breads with dipping oils before flashing the waiter a smile and he scuttled off.

“I think this is normally the part where we ask each other questions,” Steve said as the waiter disappeared. “You know, get to know each other a bit more.”

“Yeah… think that ship already sailed though.”

“True,” Steve said nodding bashfully, there wasn’t many things that they didn’t know about each other, although as he watched Katie was biting her lip, almost as if she wanted to say something, but at the same time didn’t.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out for his drink.

“Something Nat said before…” Katie flushed, caught out. There was no way she was asking that question.

“Why does this worry me slightly?” he asked, his beer raised halfway to his lips. And it did. Romanoff was a total wind up merchant.

Katie looked at him and shook her head, the flush continuing to rise up her neck “Yeah, I’m not…it’s not first date conversation.”

He cocked his head to one side “Now I’m extremely worried.”

“You really want to know?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.

He nodded. Well, he did. And didn’t…

"Alright, you asked for this…” she straightened up in the seat as he did the same, bracing himself. “Are you a virgin?”

Steve groaned and screwed his eyes shut as she bit her lip. She really shouldn’t have asked that, but now as she watched she was intrigued as to his answer.

“No, I’m not.” He sighed shaking his head before he looked back at her "After I first got the serum there was suddenly all this attention on me and I didn’t really know any better…” “There was no one before?” she frowned slightly, almost as if she was surprised.

He shook his head again “Girls weren’t exactly interested in me before hand, Bucky was the one who had the looks and the swag. He had a different girl every weekend. I guess when they finally did I just, I dunno…” He stopped and took a breath. This made him sound like a right jerk. “There weren’t that many” he added hastily.

3 to be exact. And none of them had been anything to write home about. He got the distinct impression they hadn’t particularly enjoyed themselves either, not past the fact they could boast about having bedded Captain America. After the 3rd he’d decided simply chasing a physical bliss that lasted mere moments wasn’t for him, plus he was infatuated by Peggy at that point. He craved the tenderness of the act that Bucky had so often boasted about. As corny as it sounded he genuinely wanted someone to be with him, intimately that wanted him, not Captain America. He noticed Katie was watching him intently and he hung his head slightly, peeking up at her.

“We all have a past Steve.” she said, shrugging easily.

“I haven’t been with anyone since I came out of the ice.” He said, softly, feeling the need to explain that he wasn’t that type of man.

“I haven’t since Grant.” she eyed him. “One night stands are overrated.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He shrugged, locking eyes with her. “That’s all I ever had.”

Katie studied him for a moment. She had no idea why, but to learn he hadn’t had a girl that way before he became some kind of war time celebrity, and that the ones he had been with were probably chasing nothing but the kudos of being able to say they fucked Captain American made her kind of sad. No wonder he was always so self-doubting.

She smiled and reached across the table, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Well, personally, I think all those girls that picked Bucky over you were dumbasses. I’ve seen the photos of you before all this happened…” she raised her free hand and held out her index finger, and gestured up and down his torso “You were sweet”

He chuckled and took a drink of his beer “You know I heard that a lot…you’re really sweet and all but…“

“Like I said…”she leaned back in her chair slightly, “Dumbasses” Steve was aware that her ankle was brushing against his slightly and he felt the warm flush in his cheek at her forwardness, but soon found it disappeared and was replaced instead with simply enjoying the fact she wanted to be so close to him.

“Ok…” he said as their feet gently tangled together under the table. “So, in the spirit of this being a first date…there are a couple of things I don’t know about you…what’s your favourite film?” Katie paused “That’s a hard one. I like a lot of films but if there was one I couldn’t live without watching ever again it would be the Wizard of Oz.”

“No kidding.” he grinned.

“It’s a masterpiece” she nodded, “The music, the story, the colours…” “You read the book?” he asked.

She nodded “Several times. I used to have a copy but not sure where it went. Probably blown up in Malibu.”

“You know when that film came out it was mind blowing. Technicolour…never seen anything like it.” Steve said with a grin.

“I’ll bet…” she laughed “is it still your favourite?”

“How did you know that?” he asked.

“You told me, ages ago.” “Huh.” he said, “And yeah, even if it’s just for purely nostalgic reasons. Although I did like Gladiator when we watched that.” “Yeah that’s a great film too.” she smiled “one of my favourite quotes of all times comes from that film.” “Which is?” “Death smiles at us all, all a man can do is smile back.” she said as her ankle returned to brushing against his.

“Isn’t that a little bit morbid?” he asked, taking a drink of his beer.

“Only if you look at it that way.” she shrugged “to me it’s more of a reminder to live your life like there’s no tomorrow.”

“That’s a good way to look at it.”

The conversation took a natural turn to the renovation of the tower and then New York in general, how much Brooklyn in particular had changed since Steve had left it behind to go to war. It was through this conversation Steve discovered that in all the time Katie had spent in New York she had never been to Coney Island.

“Maybe I could take you one day, down to the fair.” Steve suggested.

“I’d love that.” she smiled and his chest swelled even more.

Their food arrived and they continued to talk. And, considering they had started the date off thinking there wasn’t much more to find out about each other, both of them were surprised to see exactly how much trivial stuff there was to learn about the other. For instance, Steve knew that Katie enjoyed baseball but what he didn’t know was that whilst Tony was a Yankees fan, she actually supported the LA Dodgers, having grown up in Malibu. Suddenly her teasing about the fact they had moved made perfect sense. And in turn, Katie knew that the Dodgers relocating was a bug bear of his but, since he would rather go into the ice all over again than support the Yankees, he had started watching out for the Mets results, but apparently it just wasn’t the same and as such he hadn’t been to an actual game since he came out of the ice. Both of them found out the other preferred dogs to cats, cats making Katie sneeze and their ability to hiss and scratch you with no damned warning whatsoever made Steve not trust them as far as he could throw them. 

“I can just read the headlines now!” Katie said, in between laughs after he had added that if he wanted to he could probably throw a cat quite far… “Captain America killed my Cat.” Steve let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he picked up his beer “Don’t cats always land on their feet?” “I dunno, depends how hard you’re intending on throwing it.” “I’m not intending on throwing any cat anywhere.” Steve said, shaking his head “As much as I don’t like them I couldn’t deliberately harm one.” “Tony did.” Katie said. “Well not deliberately, and he didn’t so much harm it as kill it…” “Oh you gotta tell me this story!” Steve grinned, leaning forward, topping up her wine glass from the bottle that was in the ice bucket in the middle of the table.

Katie grinned, “When we were kids, the first place we lived in was down this huge, posh road  with like 3 other houses on and we had this really eccentric neighbour, Mrs Livesy her name was. She had like 18 cats or something ridiculous and one morning, Tony was reversing the car out of the garage and he flattened 2 of them.”

Steve nearly spat his beer back into his glass. “He ran them over?” “Yeah…” Katie said, and by now she was laughing “But the best bit is, she comes round asking Dad if he’s seen the cats, dad’s got no idea what’s gone on right as Tony’s moved the cats and bribed me to keep quiet with the biggest ice cream you could imagine, so dad is all like ‘I’ve got no idea Mrs Livesy I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open…” Katie took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes “So then Tony comes back, Dad mentions that Mrs Livesy was looking for 2 of her cats and Tony’s like ‘huh, well you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat’ and me, being the little shit I was at the age of 4 pipes up ‘no that was you this morning, remember?’”

Steve laughed, and watched as she carried on giggling “He never forgave me for that, Dad made him go round and apologise. And he had to attend a memorial for Mr Whiskers and Bagpuss…”

Eventually after desert and a few more drinks it was time to leave, Katie tried to split the meal bill with Steve but one stern look stopped that in its tracks. This was a date, he was paying. Thankfully she didn’t argue too much. Steve then asked her if she wanted to go for a drink, she gleefully accepted so he took her hand, gently leading her across the road, holding the bar door open for her. They both sat at the bar, Katie turning her seat so she was directly facing him, the pair of them leaning closer to one another as they talked. And the conversation just continued to flow, as did the odd but subtle display of affection, moving their chairs closer together, her hand on his shoulder, his falling to her knee. Steve was surprised to find how easy the whole thing was. He had no nerves, no awkward moments. The chemistry fizzled and there wasn’t a single moment he was stuck for anything to say. It was for that reason he was disappointed when the bar tender called time and reluctantly stood up as Katie drained the final bit of gin from her glass.

As Steve held out her jacket, his hands gently brushed her shoulders as she shrugged it on, sending a tingle down her spine and the hitch in her breathing didn’t go unnoticed. She turned to face him, all green eyes and pink lips, blinking as her eyes locked onto his. His hands connected at the base of her spine as she moved closer to him, not moving her gaze from his, hand resting on his chest.

“I’d really like to kiss you again…” he said, shyly.

“You know you don’t have to ask…” she replied. Smiling softly he leaned down and connected his lips with hers, the kiss growing slightly deeper until Steve remembered they were in the middle of a public bar. He pulled away gently, resting his forehead against hers briefly, blushing like an absolute moron a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“You know, for someone who said they’d never taken a woman on a date before Rogers, you’ve done amazingly well.” she said smiling at him.

“That’s because you make it easy to be around you.” He said, honestly. He took her hand, curled his fingers round hers and made their way out into the street to hail a cab.

All too soon they pulled up outside her apartment and both of them found themselves wishing the night would never end. Steve told the driver to wait whilst he hopped out and walked her into the lobby, their hands still twined together. There was a part of him that wanted to follow her in, and a part of her that almost invited him to, but they both wanted to do this right, take their time. Katie wanted Steve to understand that this was more to her than it had been to any of those other girls he had talked about, and Steve wanted Katie to understand that he had meant exactly what he said the other night because she meant the world to him.

“I think now is the part where I’m supposed to ask you if you had a good time…” Steve turned to face her as they stopped by the elevator door.

“I did…”

“And if you’d go out with me again?” “I already said I would, Coney Island remember?” she replied cheekily, leaning closer to him

“I meant before that.”  he rolled his eyes.

“I’d love too.” she muttered, and then his lips were on hers again and they were kissing, exactly where they had left off in the bar, only this time they were alone. His hand snaked into her soft hair, angling her head as his tongue brushed her lips. She parted them slightly to grant him access and as their tongues tangled easily, Steve felt as if there were fireworks in his stomach, he had never kissed anyone like this before, no one. The kiss grew even deeper, Katie giving an involuntary moan.

“Always leave ‘em wanting more Stevie…” Bucky said, nudging him on the arm, winking as they crossed the fairground towards the girls “That’s the trick…”

Steve couldn’t stop himself from smiling he pulled back. Their night was at an end, it was a perfect place to leave it.

“I really did had a great time tonight, thank you.” she said, as he reached round and called the elevator for her as she pulled her key card out of her bag. He gently ran his finger down her cheek before he pressed a soft kiss there and smiled.

“Me too.” He waited until the elevator doors had shut and once they shut he turned round and grinning to himself he walked out into the night, whilst in the elevator Katie was wearing a smile equally as big.

Date 1 down, and it had been a roaring success.

Tags

@the-omni-princess​

@momobaby227​

#steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu #fanfic #new writer #romance

[erintoknow]

so unfamiliar now

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Unless you want Ortega hounding you to the end of your days, you’re going to have to put on a show and convince her she doesn’t need to keep worrying about you. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. She’s fine. Wait – [Horseshoe Crab]

It’s my birthday today so have a second update this week!!!!!

[Read on AO3]

If you’re going to get Ortega to lay off of you, you need to start thinking about your appearance again. Dressing in hoodies to look inconspicuous doesn’t do you any good if it actually ends up drawing more attention to yourself. So… What do you dress like?

Once upon a time Ariadne fancied anything and everything from skirts and the femmest outfits she could get her hands on all the way to shrugging on a leather jacket and gloves as part of her roller derby get-up. What could possibly be a logical progression from that?

Don’t want to look too affluent. A waste of resources. But you don’t want to look destitute either. So… Clean, some color. Mostly greens, some purples and black for variety. Cloth and cotton, things you can layer. Mix in some new items with thrift store purchases to fill out the rest.

One day at the mall, you stumble across a cute pair of shoes with a 1” heel and add them to the pile. The old Ariadne would never have worn something like that, but fuck her. She’s dead.

Should you start doing make-up again? Stare yourself down in the mirror in the morning and make a face. Bad enough you have to see that wretched thing as much as you do already. The concealer work is enough. Leave the eyeshadow and lipstick in the past. Anyone misgenders you, you can just beat the shit out of them. It’s 2020 now, you’re totally allowed to do that, super villain or no.

God. Do you look human yet? You don’t feel it. What is Ariadne like? How do you play this? Do you play up the stutter or tamp it down? Does she find it cu– Fuck. Fucking hell. No. No you are not thinking about that. Jesus fucking christ.

You pull fabric around your shoulders, frowning in disapproval at the mirror. Once upon a time, Ortega’s mother gave you a serape like this for Christmas. That one was a rainbow of color. This shawl is a duller green, with a white geometric pattern along the edges. Still, it’s long enough, draping down to your waist. You could hide your arms completely underneath, maybe a few other things if there was a call for it. Kind of like the cape for your villain suit.

So is this you, now? Or at least, if not you; is it Ariadne? You’re allowed to change, right? Will she even buy it? You’re not sure that you do.

When you get the phone call from Ortega one evening you go along and let her make plans. You’ve got time to kill before your next big operation anyway. And you can field test your new wardrobe.

–––

“Ariadne! Hola!” Ortega raises her arm, a bright smile on her face. Looks like the last of the stitches are gone. Thank god. She’s got jeans on, another flannel shirt. No jacket today? If it wasn’t for the gave-away glint of metal embedded in her arms and hands she’d look like a textbook middle-age butch lesbian.

Did she always dress like that? Is it because she’s seeing Jane now? Swear she flirted a little more femme when she was with men. Not that you were paying attention at the time. Of course not.

Shut up.

You raise your hand back, “Hola yourself. Y–you look happy today.”

“I like the new look.”

You blink, glance down at yourself. Doubt creeping back into your head. “Uh. Well. It’s uh, it’s just stuff I had… laying around… you know.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure.” She doesn’t believe you at all, damn her.

“D–don’t think it’s for your benefit!” You hiss back, you reach up and grab the edges of your shawl, pulling the green fabric closed over your body. “B–because it’s not!”

Her smile broadens. “I didn’t say anything, Ariadne.”

“F–fuck you.”

“I like the shawl, it’s cute.”

Oh god. You can’t look at her. Face warm. Ortega has a girlfriend, what the hell is she doing? “G–good for you. You um, you want to – to get on with w–whatever the fuck we’re doing today?”

“Alright, alright.” She laughs, turning and beckoning you to follow. “We’re already here actually.” Ortega gets about halfway to the front doors before she realizes (acknowledges?) that you aren’t following her. She turns her head, flaps her arms in a ‘what?’ gesture.

Pulling your shawl tight around you, there’s newfound gratitude for how your sunglasses help to mask your eyes.

You stare up at the front facade of the Los Diablos Children’s Hospital, white tiling and red brickwork and dozens of little panes of glass like too many eyes. “Ortega…” you try to keep the panic out of your voice. “I thought you said we were doing something fun.”

She walks back to you, tight frown on her face. “We used to do this all the time, remember?”

You stare at her, “Do what?”

“Visits? Readings? You know?”

Bite your lip, is that true? Ortega seems so sure of it, but… Thinking back to hospitals all your memory coughs up is a very different kind of picture. One that makes your stomach roil and your head dizzy. True or not there’s still one problem: “Ortega… I’m trying to keep a low profile, remember?”

Ortega sighs and pats you on the shoulder. “Look, there’s no PR crew, no cameras, I haven’t even told Chen. The only person who knows we’re coming is the lady in charge of managing volunteers, Sue, and as far she knows you’re just a friend I’m dragging along.” She steps beside you, hooking her arm in yours. “So, you’ve got nothing to worry about, okay?”

You tense up as Ortega half-walks, half-drags you to the doors. “If – if, um – ninjas descend from the ceiling and kidnap me, I want you to know…”

“Yeah?”

“I f–f–fucking hate you.”

Ortega laughs, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bright lights and white walls, men and women in scrubs, medical masks. You keep your shades on, damn politeness. Mercifully, hardly anyone spares you a thought, eyes sliding off. Fewer people than you'd believe recognize Ortega out of her Ranger’s outfit. At the same time, you do get the sense she’s a known quantity here, this isn’t her first rodeo. You’ll just have to trust her; there’s an uncomfortable thought.

You wish you had the Rat-King handy, you can wrap a song tight around your head but you could stand to have a little help filtering out the background noise. Maybe it’s your own baggage, but the chatter of hospital thoughts always has this tension to it – forced cheeriness.

Hang back and let Ortega talk to the front desk, a few minutes of waiting and the woman, she mentioned, Sue? –Susan?– comes out frowning behind the too-thick fireproof doors. Straight brown hair, dressed in white, stud earrings.

It makes an interesting contrast between her and Ortega. Ortega’s sporting her Ranger-branded sports jacket today. Ranger-blue indigo shirt underneath. Her bronzed skin a touch darker in shade than her conversation partner. It’s a good look for her – the outfit that is.

You guess.

Not that you’re an expert on Ortega’s style choices or anything.

What do you care what she looks like?

You don’t.

Shut up.

Sue and Ortega make small talk, and Ortega keeps glancing your way. Expecting you to join in? You’d rather hang back. Not talking to any doctors today, thanks.

You worry the sleeves of your shirt, pulled down to the wrists. Rub the fabric between your fingers, trace patterns over your thigh, anything to do that isn’t further chewing up the inside of your cheek.

It’s been weeks now and neither one of you have discussed the kiss in the Hospital. Maybe Ortega doesn’t even remember. Some drug-fueled fever dream.

Or…

Or maybe she hated it? Is politely letting you pretend it never happened. She’s with Jane, you have to remember. Ortega is a lot of things, but she’s not a cheater.

And now Ortega’s beckoning you over. Welp.

Take a breath, in – hold – out. You’re not scared. What are you scared of? You are Ghost, the mysterious plight of Los Diablos. They ought to be scared of you. Ortega taps the side of her head. No shades? You make a face and she gives you a serious look. You huff and pull them off, fold up and tuck them in your purse. White walls. White lights. Can feel your heart jump. Fuck. Ortega smiles at you, you fake a smile back.

You’ve got this. Everything’s under control.

Here we go.

Sue hands the two of you off to a nurse who in turn acts as your guide. You trail behind, not paying much attention to his and Ortega’s conversation. What you bother to pick up confirms that Ortega’s made a habit of these low-key visits apparently, to different hospitals across the city. Ever since returning to the Rangers.

Did Ortega used to drag you along to official Ranger PR events? You can almost remember. The memory of remembering. Try to think too hard about hospitals though, and you get panicky. Short breath. Little dizzy. A hospital is the last place you want to pass out at, thanks but go fuck yourself.

–––

A pair of tiny arms clings to your leg and a jolt of panic shoots through you. “Uh… H–h–hello?”

A girl with cropped brown hair stares back up at you. “HI LADY! I like your hair!!”

You glance at Ortega, she’s got her back to you, teaching a boy how to do some fancy handshake. You catch the eye of the nurse, hanging back by the doorway. He gives a small smile. No help there. Look back down at the kid, “T–th–thanks? Um– Don’t you want to talk to Charge over there?”

She remains undeterred. “What’s your name?”

“Ari?”  You glance towards Ortega again. Help. She remains utterly unaware of your plight.

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

You choke. “W–w–what? I’m uh– I’m a girl.” Fuck. What did she pick up on? You usually pass just fine these days. Could just die right now, that would be great, thanks.

“Oh. Okay!” There is absolutely no hint of embarrassment in this girl’s mind. “Are you Ms. Charge’s girlfriend?”

You hunch down and very gently try to pry her arms off your leg. “What um, what gives you that idea?”

She tilts her head, staring you down with full intensity. “‘cause you keep looking at Ms. Charge AND everyone knows the hero’s girlfriend ALWAYS has red hair!!”

You smile to hide the panic. “W–what uh, what makes you say that?”

She gives you a doubtful look, can’t believe an adult doesn’t know this. “‘cause it’s in all the movies!! Duh!!”

“Ari!’ Oh thank god. You breathe a sigh of relief as Ortega walks over, the other kids curiously watching behind her. “Making friends?”

“Hi Ms. Charge!!” The little girl fixes her full attention to Ortega.

“Hello!” She smiles widely, “Introduce me to your friend, Ari?”

“Uh–”

“My name is Casey!” The little terror cuts in. “SHE never asked!” Casey huffs. “Your girlfriend is RUDE Ms. Charge.”

“Girlfriend?” Ortega raises her eyebrows at you.

You shake your head wildly, suddenly way too warm. “S–s–she came up with that one herself!”

An hour and a half later of helping Ortega handle the meet and greet and you’re free again.

You slip your shades back on as the two of you exit the hospital. Run a hand through your purse to find the chocolate bar, peel off the wrapper at one end with shaking hands. “That was… that was something.”

Ortega claps you on the back and you stumble forward a step. “See? I told you you’d be fine.”

“Y–yeah, well…” You frown, “If you d–don’t hear from me in a week, you only have yourself to blame.” You break off a piece of chocolate, “Want any?”

“I’m good.”  Ortega smiles, you shrug and pop the candy into your mouth “So…” Her smile fades as she glances towards you, “what did you think?” The two of you leave the parking lot, walk the sidewalk, you follow her lead through the streets.

“What d–did I think?”

“Want to come with me the next time I go?”

You give her a wry smile, “Y–You’re not gonna just, uh, just spring it on me again?”

She smirks back at you, “Me? Spring something on you? Never.”

“F–f–fucking smug-ass liar.” You punch her in the shoulder, and Ortega overplays it, comically swinging to the side. “W–why do I keep letting you do this to me?” You keep asking yourself that, and the answer hasn’t gotten any less terrifying.

“Do you remember the last time we did one of those visits?” Ortega glances at you as the two of you hurry across the street.

“When was that?”

“It must have been… well, right before–” She grimaces.

“Oh.” You chew your cheek, trying to think back. Can feel your stomach lurch as the world tilts under you. You have to stop and steady yourself. Cover it up by shaking your head. “I… kind of do? I–I–I haven’t thought about this in years, sorry.” You furrow your eyebrows, “I…”

“You were–” Ortega stops herself, “Oh, sorry, go ahead.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, finish your thought, it’s fine.”

Damn.

“I… think this might be… um, the first positive experience I’ve had with a hospital in… in years.” You grimace, keenly aware of the line you’re skirting. “Between uh… you in the hospital and…”

“And…?” Ortega slows down to match your pace.

Shake your head, “No, it’s – it’s nothing. Sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” You try to smile even though it feels fake. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh, well–” Ortega rubs the back of her neck, “I was just going to say; I had to step outside to handle a phone call. And–” She laughs, “You were on the verge of panicking, all ‘Charge! Don’t leave me alone with these kids!”

You come to a stop, and groan, run a hand over your face. “Oh my god.”

“You remember now.”

You bite your lip, nod your head. “Uh-huh.”

“How did you get into teaching them about taxonomy? You never told me.”

You can feel the heat on your face now. “Okay. Look. It–it–it made sense at the time okay!? I thought it’d be easiest to keep them from going crazy if I r–r–read them a story?”

“Okay?” Ortega stops walking, leans her shoulder against a boutique storefront’s window, watching you with a smile. You cross your arms under your shawl to try and keep your hands from shaking.

“Okay. So. I just – just grabbed the first children’s book I saw. It–It–it was this animal book? I think? But it was all cutesy and inaccurate.” You bite your lip. “And when I pointed out a mistake, they all laughed so… I just… kept… doing… that…?”

She laughs at you.

You cover your face in your hands, heat going straight to your ears. “D–don’t laugh!”

Ortega covers her mouth, “Okay, okay. Sorry, you’re just so–”

You drop your hands to your sides, “I’m just so what?” You narrow your eyes at her.

She doesn’t miss a beat. “We’ll have to get you a book to read, the next time we go.”

Oh god.

“You’re going to – to kill me Ortega…”

Her smile falters, “I hope not.”

The two of you walk the next block in silence. Is it as awkward for her as it is for you?

Finally Ortega stretches her arms over her head and says, “I don’t do these hospital visits often enough these days.”

Watch her face from the corner of your eye, trying to get a read on her. “How come?”

Ortega sags, shoulders slumped forward. “Too easy to get caught up in work. Especially lately.”

Ah.

You have to keep your face blank, don’t let your heart race. “S–still obsessed with trying to figure out Ghost?”

She gives you a grim smile. “You know it.”

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 42

“Just a little more, and then you’ll be ready.” I advised, still smearing on powder blue eyeshadow onto El’s eyelids until I’m pretty sure she looked like a budget Cindy doll, but it had been what she wanted; and fuck if I was gonna tell the kid what to dress like after the ass saving she’d done this year.

“Can you keep still a minute?! I’m almost done.” I complained, still struggling to blend at the corners, because putting makeup on a thirteen year old was like putting diapers on a puppy; probably pointless, with you having to deal with far more wriggling than necessary.

“Ah— Okay, okay...” She managed between squirms, eventually managing to sit still on the stool I’d moved into the bathroom.

The kid had shown me a picture of some young starlet on the cover of Seventeen with bright pink lips and sparkly blue eyeshadow.

The look on a whole made me want to barf, reminding me far too much of Tina and her cronies in school, but the kid’s eyes lit up at it; so I tried my best.

Once I’d made her eyes suitably blue and “alluring”; as the magazine sold it, I put the eyesore of a shadow down, picking up a shiny pink gloss I’d managed to pick up in Melvald’s, which wasn’t quite as ghastly as the shade on the cover.

“Okay; you can open your eyes...” I said; popping open the lid of the gloss, whilst I checked my handy work was even.

“And open your with your lips like this...” I demonstrated, rolling my lips over my teeth so I could get a smooth canvas.

Eleven followed my instructions, stretching her lips so I could smear the pale pink gloss all over them. It was a little stickier than I’d have liked, but I guess that served me right for shopping in the dollar aisle.

All that was left was a little blush; the same pale pink shade I used thankfully complimentary to her skin tone, and then I was done.

“Voila!” I made us of the sole bit of french I learned in class as I pulled back, admiring the much more flattering copy I’d done of Seventeen’s cover photo on a face I honestly much preferred.

The kid instantly got to her feet, making her way over to the bathroom mirror to admire her reflection.

“Do I look pretty?” She asked, nervously fiddling with a lock of hair that had managed to escape the reach of my hairspray can.

“No... you look beautiful.” I reassured her; smiling as I tucked the stray curl behind her ear.

She beamed; a thing that was almost too bright to look at, filled with genuine warmth and enthusiasm, and in that moment I decided that yes; she was beautiful.

And she was my little sister.

—————————————————-

Dad had insisted on driving us both over to the school, and in hindsight; it was probably wise, considering my only mode of transportation was a motorcycle, and that was hardly conducive with wearing a prom dress.

El had been nervous the whole ride over, fidgeting restlessly in her seat, and I wondered if I’d ever been that high strung.

Then I remembered my own first dance, and how I’d spent the most of it hunched over a toilet bowl; Steve holding back my hair whilst I blew chunks down the porcelain.

When we arrived, she’d been hesitant to get out the car at all; last minute jitters hitting her harder than before.

“I feel sick...” She stated as I began to climb out the car, clutching her stomach in what I guessed was a convincing act for a kid who spent most of her life as a lab rat.

“It’s just nerves; they’ll pass in a minute.” I reassured her; knowing that if she could take on a damn demogorgon, she could go to one stupid school dance.

She shook her head, fingers bunching tightly in the fabric at the front of her dress, before saying;

“I want to go home.”

“Well; what do you mean you want to go home?! You were looking forward to this...” Dad turned in his seat to put in his penny; the irritated tone of his voice far too familiar a thing.

El just continued to shake her head, clutching more desperately at her stomach.

“I wanna go home.” She repeated; glitter rimmed eyes wide and nervous.

I sighed and crouched down beside her, already overly familiar with the number anxiety could do on your good mood, but unwilling to let her miss out on what may very well be the best night of her life so far.

“Tell you what; how about you and I just take a look inside and see what’s what...” I offered, hoping the kid couldn’t already see through my poorly thought up rouse.

“No pressure; just a quick in and out, and if you don’t like it, we can go home and eat pizza and watch looney tunes.” I continued, already knowing her weakness of junk food and kids cartoons.

She thought on it for a second, before nodding.

“Okay. Just a look.” She agreed, and I took her hand to lead her out of the car.

———————————————————-

Getting El into the gymnasium wasn’t the arduous affair I had prepared for; the kid only needing to take a look through the windows in the gym doors to decide she wanted in.

We’d walked in at the far end of the gym; the dance already fat too well into the swing for any of the kids to notice a newcomer, even a total stranger like Eleven.

Already I could tell she felt out of place; her hand reaching out to grab my own in a clammy grip, needing some grounding in what might’ve been the busiest room she’d ever been in.

“Every Breath You Take” was playing loud on the speakers, and from wall to wall, some lucky kids were enjoying some one on one time with their chosen partner. Those that weren’t so lucky stuck to the sidelines, staring on wistfully at the happy couples.

El scanned them all hopefully, clearly searching for someone in particular amongst the sea of bad perms and old wedding—

She’d found who she’d been looking for, and judging by the way her face lit up like a Christmas tree; he must’ve seen her too.

I followed her gaze, until I laid eyes upon a rather dapper looking Mike Wheeler, suited and booted and dressed to the nines as he made his way towards her.

Eleven stared at him; her face the picture of teenage romance as she watched her love struck Romeo stride towards her.

“Well; what are you waiting for? Get over there!!” I urged her on; managing to garner a quick smile, before she dropped my hand and cut through the crowd to meet him halfway.

The two of them met in the middle of the dance floor, and I could already sense the makings of a romantic epic blossoming between them; their faces too full of innocent adoration to be captured even in the pictures.

They talked for a moment, before Mike offered El his hand, and she took it; the pair of them disappearing onto the dance floor to enjoy the rest of their night.

My work here was done.

——————————————————-

The cold evening air outside Hawkins Middle hit me harder than I expected the moment I walked out of the fire escape doors. I pulled my leather jacket tighter around my shoulders, determined to smoke my cigarette quickly, then get the hell out of there; because it was far too fucking cold to spend the night outside in th—

“Aren’t you a little to old to be a middle schooler?” A familiar cheery voice pulled my attention away from attempting to light the smoke braced between my lips.

“I could say the same to you, Harrington...” I retorted, turning towards the lanky brunette leant up against his BMW.

“You here to drop the kid off?” I asked as I made my way over to his car; guessing Steve probably offered to act as Dustin’s chaperone for the night.

“No; I just came because I love booze free punch and glitter curtains…” He joked, moving so I could settle next to him on the car, lighting up my cigarette and taking a drag.

“So you managed to convince your dad to let her go?” Steve asked, nodding towards the school in a clear reference to Eleven.

“Yeah. He was pretty stubborn about it at first, but I managed to talk him round.” I replied, pulling the cigarette away from my lips and offering it to him.

He took it, taking a drag and exhaling smoke, before replying;

“You’re going soft in your old age…”

“Me soft?! You’re the one going around adopting random thirteen year olds.” I retorted, snatching my smoke back from him to take another drag.

“What can I say? I’ve got a weakness for short stacks with bad hair and big mouths.” He smirked, glancing at me with teasing eyes.

I elbowed him hard at that, starting off a chain reaction of quiet chuckles from both of us.

I loved moments like these.

Stupid, pointless moments when we could just sit back and be ourselves.

No Tommy or Ally, or even Nancy; just me and Steve smoking cigarettes by his car and telling bad jokes.

I smiled, leaning back against the car and breathing in the crisp night air; a cool contrast to the warm smoke of my cigarette, just enjoying the muted murmur of The Police seeping out from the gym.

Steve swayed slightly to the music, bumping me every now and then with his hip as he hummed along with the music; happy to just enjoy the silence and the cold with me.

“Hey… Do you— do you wanna dance?” He suddenly asked, spinning to face me and taking a few steps back from the car.

“Steve; we’re in a parking lot.” I pointed out; raising an eyebrow at him skeptically.

“So what. The songs not called Dancing In The Streets for nothing.” He smiled goofily; the bad joke earning him a groan from me.

Still; it didn’t dampen his spirits, him already rhythmically stepping side to side in the worst possible example of a solo slow dance I’d ever seen, but still; it was Steve, and his goofiness always made me laugh.

“Come on; Lo. Don’t make me dance all by myself…” He coaxed me from his makeshift dance floor; his ridiculous dance moves making me chuckle and look to the heavens, because; really?

This was who it was gonna be?

Still; I decided to humour him, dropping my cigarette to the floor and putting it out with my boot, before stepping forward to join him.

His smile lit up at my unexpected compliance; me stepping close to him to loop my arms around his neck in what must’ve been the closest I’d been to an actual slow dance since I was thirteen.

Steve settled his hands on my waist, holding me gently as we swayed side to side to the music; big dumb smiles on our faces, because this was ridiculous.

We were two seventeen year olds dancing outside a middle school dance like it was fucking senior prom.

It was stupid and dorky, and maybe even a bit pathetic,

But it was nice.

And that was enough as I swayed side to side with someone who’d rapidly become my best friend over the past five years; someone who cared about me more than anything.

Someone who lo—

Someone who loved me.

I leaned forward, staring back into Steve’s warm brown eyes as I came to a realisation.

Steve loved me.

He always had; and as he closed the last few centimetres gap between us, soft pouty lips colliding with my own, I couldn’t help but smile.

Steve was an idiot; he was dumb and dorky, had too much money to know what to do with and was far too pretty for his own good.

But he was my idiot.

I lifted my hand, letting it tangle in thick, hairspray coated locks, leaning into the smell of overpriced cologne and savouring the taste of cherry lip balm, and smiled.

Things didn’t change, but some things never had to.

And Hawkins never changed.

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fandom #stranger things2 #fanfiction #fanfic #strangerthingsfanfiction #strangerthingsfanfic #stranger things oc #strangerthings oc #original character #jim hopper daughter #hopper daughter #eleven sister #Billy Hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #jim hopper #jane hopper #eleven

[babypinkstyles94]

Cigarette

Cigarette

Duncan Shepherd x reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fingering

Notes: Yes I had to re-upload this, there were some problems with it the first time. Duncan Shepherd at the MET gala because we all know he is a fashion hoe! I am really excited for you all to read this and threw in a little surprise :) so I hope you enjoy, I recommend listening to Cigarettes by Amir Obè and please let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged! Xx 

The MET Gala was the hottest and most important fashion event of the year, the biggest names in Hollywood all came out and walked the carpet dripping in millions of dollars. How you had gotten here and were standing on the baby pink carpet was still hard to wrap your head around. You had been invited as a plus one by your best friend, who was a stylist to many of the stars and you have been studying under her for a while. You were amongst some of the last people to arrive and as soon as you stepped foot on the carpet your eyes were blinded by the camera flashes.

Your dress fit like a glove and showed off every curve perfectly, expensive rings adorning your fingers, and a pair of heels that made your legs look miles long. Photographers shouted at you to look at them and you froze a couple of times at the flashes. As you walked up the steps you lost your balance a little bit but there was a hand on your waist to catch you. Looking over with a blush and a smile you meet a pair of bright blue eyes, dark purple eyeshadow surrounding them. His hair was messy with waves and the suit he wore made your mouth water, the sleek black pants making the white button down that was almost all the way unbuttoned look very professional. His jacket was the center piece of the whole look as it was cut to accentuate his waist and was a dark purple velvet lined with gold sequence and diamond jewels dripping throughout the whole jacket, a true piece of art work. You could see the heeled boots on his feet as he walked up the stairs past you, looking back every now and then at you.

Finishing off the carpet with a slight new confidence to you, you made it into the gala and grabbed a drink from the bar. Your friend had wondered off and you took your chance to take in the exhibits alone. Everything was beautiful and made your heart swell with each outfit in its glass case, you just wanted to run your fingers across all the different fabric. As other guests made their way through the halls where you were you said a small hello and even made friends with Saoirse Ronan whose dress you were absolutely in love with. A drink was brought to you by a waiter and just as you’d taken a step out of the way of another waiter, you almost slipped on none other than Cardib’s train of her dress. A strong arm wrapped around your waist before anything bad could happen and once again you were met with those blue eyes.

“Now I’m starting to think you keep tripping just so I can catch you.” He said with a smirk on his lips. A smug expression made its way onto his face as he noticed how flushed you became. “I’m sorry! I’m usually not this clumsy,” you let out a nervous laugh and felt his hand squeeze your hip.  “No worries darling I don’t mind catching you. Your dress is stunning by the way, wanted to tell you on the carpet but I could tell you wanted to get off the carpet as soon as possible.” He chuckled and you saw his gaze linger at your cleavage.

The two of you made eye contact and you shyly said “thank you” to him. His hand was still on your hip and your skin felt like it was on fire under his palm, it made your stomach clench every time he squeezed a little. “I’m Duncan by the way, Duncan Shepherd.” Your heart jumped at his name, of course he was one of the richest and hottest men from Washington. You knew who he was as you worked a lot with the brand he usually wore, even having been to a meeting where he was the client. You remember staying off to the side and developing a crush on him after he’d sent you a thank you note which he’d sent to everyone but not a lot of people did that for the people who worked behind the scenes on designing.

“I’m y/n…” His smug smile came back and he repeated your name, in that moment your brain had the thought of what it would sound like of him groaning your name as you had your lips wrapped around his cock.

Just as you were trying to get the filthy thoughts out of your head your best friend came down the hallway with her phone in hand. “There you are! Come on dinner is about to start and I hear Cher is preforming!!” She said giddy and started to pull you with her. “We’ll catch up some more later doll, just try not to trip anymore without me around…wouldn’t want someone else hands on you.” Duncan leaned in and placed a quick kiss to your cheek and squeezed once more at your hip.

Your friend gave you a knowing look and you just rolled your eyes at her, walking towards the ballroom where dinner was being held. The food was good and the entertainment was fabulous, pink feathers just about everywhere and drinks on the house. Your eyes searched for Duncan throughout the room and the glint of the diamonds on his jacket was what caught your eyes. He was bobbing his head to the music, a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hand and smile that showed off his teeth.

His eyes met yours as he looked your way; you hadn’t realized you were staring until he threw you a wink. The music suddenly got louder and the lights dimmed out almost all the way but you could still see the sparkle of Duncan, and he could still see you and was watching you intensely as you danced close to your friend. As the alcohol moved through you the more you loosened up from the nerves, you weren’t drunk by any means as you really didn’t need a headline about you the next morning.

Shawn Mendes approached you and put a hand on your shoulder, leaning in close as to talk about how much he loved your design that you worked on for your friends’ client. He wanted to set something up soon for you to work on some things with him, as he wasn’t too thrilled with his own stylist right now. It was completely flattering and you couldn’t help the beaming smile that spread across your face. Duncan caught your eyes and you noticed how tense his jaw was, his face scowling as he drained the glass of brown liquid at once.

Halfway through the night you’d decided to change dresses as it was getting hotter and kind of uncomfortable. This dress was shorter had crystals embellished in the cleavage of it, something that you hoped would catch Duncan’s eyes if you were being honest. As you came back into the ballroom there were pink cupcakes being passed around and you moaned as you took a bite of it. The frosting making its way onto your top lip and your fingers, unbeknownst to you Duncan was watching as you licked the top of your lip and stuck your fingers past them. He felt his cock twitch in his pants for the hundredth time tonight as he looked your way, he needed to get you alone soon or he was going to explode.

You finished up the cupcake and decided to go to the bathroom not quite liking the sticky feeling left from the frosting. Surprisingly the bathroom was empty as the majority of people had made their way to the next party or were busy dancing, which was a nice break from the chaos out there. As you were washing your hands under the warm water you heard the screech of the door open, looking up to smile at the person you froze.

“ ‘S a waste to wash that sweetness from your fingers darling.”

Duncan’s smirk made your heart skip a beat and you stopped your movements, the scald of the water bringing you back to earth. Duncan Shepherd had just walked into the restroom, presumably for you and had just called you darling for the second time in the hottest voice ever. “I- what are you doing in here?” You asked and he took a few steps closer until his hand was back to being wrapped around your waist, resting on your hip tightly. “Told you we’d catch up some more didn’t I? Seems like you’ve been busy talking to someone else though.” He whispered in your ear as your eyes met through the mirror.

“Sounds like you’ve been watching me Mr. Shepherd…” The confidence shot through you as you decided to follow his lead very much hoping it would go the way you were thinking about all night. Duncan let out a groan that was deep in his throat and his hands tighten on your hips, suddenly spinning you around. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you too. Your eyes staring at my chest and I even saw you staring at my hands, isn’t that right y/n.” It was true the moment you saw how his long fingers wrapped around the glass of whiskey you couldn’t help but think about them pressed into your mouth or better yet, three of them fucking your cunt.

His hand came up and gripped your chin, pulling your face back up to meet his and he licked at his lips. In that moment you threw every nerve out the window and smashed your lips to his. All that you could hear in the bathroom was the breathy noise you made as Duncan pulled back a little and the clatter of your heels on the floor as he moved you back against the wall. Fingers threading themselves through his hair and tugging as his hips thrust up into yours.

The two of you were breathing heavily as you pulled apart, Duncan’s eyes darker with lust and making their way to your breast as they heaved up and down. His mouth pressed against the base of your throat and he sucked a big bruise into the skin. He moved his hands to your dress straps paused, a whimpered please breaking past your throat. The cold air hit your nipples and they pebbled up which caused Duncan to let out a little chuckle. “Thought about sucking your tits all night and it seems the feelings mutual.” That stupid smirk catching his mouth as he sucked a nipple into his mouth and grasped the other in his hand.

As he switched sides the cold air hitting the spit that covered your nipple made it almost painful but as he wrapped his mouth around the other you squeezed your thighs together, which he noticed. You gripped at his hair tightly as moans escaped you, fingers moving to pull his face back up to yours. Duncan caught your lips and kissed you with so much fever behind it. He pulled away from you and grasped your hand in his bringing it up to his mouth and you pushed two fingers passed his mouth.

A gasp fell from you as he sucked on your fingers, his eyes never leaving your face. His cock was rock hard at this point and he had to thrust his bulge into you to get a bit of friction. Feeling bold you reached down and palmed his cock, smiling as you felt him shudder. You squeezed him a couple of times and enjoyed the way his moans vibrated your fingers. Suddenly his hand gripped onto your wrist and he pulled away from your fingers in his mouth.

“Mmm sweet but I bet your pussy is sweeter.”

Duncan dropped onto his knees and his hands ran up the length of your legs to the sides of your thong. “Is that ok? Me having a taste of your sweet cunt darling?” His voice was deep and you nodded yes to him before repeating it him with your voice. He pulled your thong down your legs and moved the dress up around your waist. When Duncan finally wrapped his lips around your clit it made you jump slightly, his slight stubble tickling at your thighs which you were praying left an ache to your skin to remind you of later.

“Duncan! P-please use your fingers!” As good as his mouth felt on you, you’d been dying to feel his fingers inside of you. Suddenly he pushed two into you with no warning and the stretch made you yell out. His fingers pumped in and out of you with a steady rhythm and he gave a moan of approval as you started rocking your hips against his mouth. The tight ball in your stomach was getting closer and closer to exploding, Duncan catching on as he felt your pussy clench his fingers and your hand tighten in his hair.

“OH god yes!” A third finger was added and almost immediately your orgasm hitting you hard, your fingers moving down and grabbing at the white shirt stretching across his broad shoulders tightly. Duncan lapped up all of your release until you had to push him away from the burn on your thighs and the sensitivity.

“ Been wanting to fuck you all night, my cocks been aching seeing you looking at me all night instead of all these other men trying to talk to you.”  His lips met yours once more and you could taste yourself on his tongue. “Then fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and gasped at his hard thrust into you. Your fingers nimbly unzipped his pants and pushed them to his thighs. “Don’t have a condom, fuck! Of course I don’t have one.” His forehead fell onto your shoulder and you whimpered, “It’s fine... I’m clean… I swear” and he nodded.

Grasping his cock into his hand, Duncan teased at your slit before pushing into you slowly. The way his cock stretched you sent shivers down your spine and you tried as hard as you could to bite back the yell you wanted to let out as he bottomed out. “Move Duncan please move.” He started to thrust into you harder and buried his face into your neck, groaning and nipping at the skin there.

“Oh fuck! Y/n you’re so fucking tight for me…thought my fingers would have stretched you out but fuck your pussy’s so tight.” Duncan knew he wasn’t going to last that long as he’d been leaking since dinner at the thought of this. Your mouth hung open and your eyes squeezed shut as he pounded into you, his hands most likely leaving marks on your waist from his grip. The second orgasm was fast approaching you as he kept up his pace, your moans getting louder and the feel of the vibrations of a song being played outside.

Duncan’s right hand pulled your leg up to wrap around his hip and the new angle had him hitting that spot inside of you perfectly. All that fell from your mouth was his name over and over again as your orgasm finally rocked through you. Lightning burst from behind your eyes and they snapped open at the command of your name from Duncan. “Wanna see those pretty eyes as you cum darling.” You were lost in his face, the dark purple makeup surrounding his blue eyes making them look so much more intense.

“Fuck I’m close, better tell me if you want me to come inside you or somewhere else. Don’t think your friend would like a cum stained dress.” He chuckled and squeezed his eyes shut for a second as you clenched around him again.

Pushing forward you kissed him deeply, teeth clashing for a second and you broke away to get on your knees. You took his cock into your mouth and sucked at him a few times before taking him as deep as you could. His hips thrusting forward with a deep rhythm, you could tell he was trying to not go to hard. You pulled off of him and pumped him with your hand a few times before saying, “cum for me Duncan, want to taste you.”

Duncan clenched his jaw and threw his head back muttering, ‘I’m gonna cum!’ as you took him into your mouth again. His cock twitched before you felt him release in your mouth, some of his cum dribbling past your lips. You swallowed his load and stood up straight, a little wobbly from being on your knees and his lips pressed to yours again. That sexy smug look was back on his face and he helped fix up your dress but stuffed your thong into his pocket, which he sent you a wink as you raised your eyebrows.

“A party favor, we should probably get back out there I’m sure someone’s looking for you.” His head pointed at your phone as the screen lit up.

As the two of you exited the bathroom together with Duncan’s hand on your waist again, he spoke up. “You have some cum on your lips there darling.” Just as you turned to look at him and wiped your finger along your lip sucking at the missed cum and moaning, you bumped into someone.

He looked startled obviously having heard Duncan’s remark and seen your response. Embarrassed you glared at Duncan and immediately could not look back at the strangers face as the man next to you zipped his pants up. The baby blue cowboy boots in front of you quickly walked away as the two of you made your way back to the ballroom. Duncan grabbed his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, the velvet just as soft as you’d thought.

“Let’s go back to my hotel darling; we can have some more privacy for you to yell my name louder.” That fucking smirk met your eyes again and you grabbed his hand following him out.

*Special thank you to @coollangdon for pushing me to write this and helping me with ideas, ilyyy* I lost my tag list but can remember a few lovely people off the top of my head and some people I hope don’t mind me tagging them, please let me know if you want to be added!

tagging: @americanhorrorstudies @langdonsoceaneyes @1-800-bitchcraft

@ghostiesbedroom @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sojournmichael @langdonsdemon @ms-mead @langdvnshepherd @langdonsinferno

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd blurb #michael langdon #michael langdon smut #michael langdon imagine #jim mason #duncan shepherd imagine

[pynkhues]

Fluff/angst prompt for Brio: ANY of these would be amazing but how about .....63, 77, 81!!!

#63 “What are you doing this weekend?” / #81 “Here’s my number, call me sometime.” (technically these are said before this ficlet starts, haha)

Set in The Centre and Circumference / Domestic Fic universe

The surprise she feels when he doesn’t bring it up on the drive home only doubles when they get through dinner (spinach and ricotta gnocchi – something quick and easy – they hadn’t left the school until after five anyway, and gotten stuck in post-work traffic) without so much of a mention of it. By the time she’s tucking the kids into bed, she’s starting to think maybe she’s been unfair to him. They’re in a good place, she reminds herself, feeling a warm contentment uncurl in her chest at the thought as she leans down to kiss Emma goodnight. On the same wavelength, she thinks, and if he’s not bringing it up, he must feel it too.

She’s still thinking it as they stand beside each other at the sink of their en suite, Rio shaving and tidying up his beard, while Beth brushes her teeth, her eyes looking at him in the mirror, taking in the long line of his neck while he shaves, and god, she doesn’t think she’s ever wanted to bite it more.

She spits out her mouthful of toothpaste, rinsing the brush and then her mouth before turning sideways to face him, pushing her hip into the basin as she bites her lip, looks up at him through her lashes. Reaching over, she hooks a finger in the belt loop of his jeans, rocking sideways and Rio looks down at her lazily, lowering his razor down to the sink and splashing some water on his face to wash off the last of his shaving cream.  

“You ready for bed, mami?” he asks, voice raspy, and Beth grins, sidling a little closer to him.

“The kids are asleep,” she says, holding onto his belt loop a little tighter. She’s still not very good at this part – at touching him first, but she thinks maybe he doesn’t mind so much, seems so responsive to everything she does, and even now he tilts his hips towards her.

“Yeah?” he purrs, leaning over to push some of her hair, still damp from her shower, back behind her ear, and Beth is just starting to rise up on her tiptoes when he adds, “Don’t want to give your new friend a call first?”

Just like that, she tears her hand off his jeans, raising it instead to point a finger up at him, something hot and weirdly pleased snapping in her belly. She really does love the thought of them being on the same wavelength, but she also really, really loves being right.

“I knew it,” she says. “I knew you weren’t going to be able to let it go.”

She pushes his hand away from her face, sinking back onto her feet and storming back into the bedroom.

Between the two of them, Dean, and Marcus’ mother, Laura, it had taken them a frustratingly long time to settle on a new school for the kids. She doesn’t think it had helped that they’d had the time after all, with both the kids’ old schools letting them stay until the end of the year, meaning they hadn’t really had to settle on a place until the holidays. A school holidays that had formed what Annie had taken to calling ‘The Unholy Union’ and everyone else ‘The Terrible Twosome’ in Jane and Marcus.

And hadn’t that started enough arguments in itself? Rio hasn’t exactly made any illusions over the fact that he holds Jane (and by proxy, Beth) personally responsible for the sudden nosedive in Marcus’ behaviour, but the thing was, it was kind of the both of them. Separately, they were capable of being as angelic as ever, but as soon as they were left alone together, Beth was washing about five different types of Annie’s glitter eyeshadow out of Buddy’s fur (and how had they even gotten hold of that?), and Rio was furiously trying to melt the glue holding his (very expensive) watch to the dining room chair leg (apparently they’d made it the clocktower in a particularly elaborate city they’d made for Jane’s stuffed animals and Marcus’ action figures).

It meant that, more than anything, Beth kind of felt bad for Mr. Nichols, the very sweet, very young second grade teacher who must’ve been some sort of evildoer in a past life to end up with both Jane and Marcus in his class. And so what, if maybe she’d hit a nice stride with the guy? It certainly made going in because Jane and Marcus had decided to paint their own mural on one of the bathroom walls or hidden a grasshopper in another boy’s backpack, a lot easier.

“He gave you his number,” Rio says, like it’s that simple, and Beth rolls her eyes.

“In case I wanted to talk to him about anything. Remember how Marcus and Jane, our children, are terrorising his class?”

Rio gives her a look at that, and Beth rolls her eyes, folding back the covers on the bed, smoothing down the sheets before she clambers in.

“So what you’re sayin’ is if it’s just me next time, he’s gonna be askin’ ‘bout my weekend and punchin’ my number into his cell too?”

“Maybe if you were a little friendlier,” she says, and Rio laughs, but it’s not a particularly amused one.

“Don’t play it like that, he wants to fuck you and you know it.”

“Oh my god,” Beth says, throwing up her hands. “You were right there! He knows I’m not available. If anything, I think he just thinks we’re bad parents, and he probably figures that I might be more open to his advice than the angry, tattooed guy sitting next to me who spends the meetings thinking up unusual and specific punishments for our kids instead of, you know, talking to the teacher about their behaviour.”

Rio scoffs at that, like he hadn’t responded to the backpack grasshopper incident by making the two of them catch every single one chewing its way through Beth’s herb garden. It had taken them well over an hour, and they’d both been teary and tired by the end of it (but also apologetic, and Beth can’t say it hadn’t been nice to have the bugs gone).  

“Besides, what does it matter if he does?” Beth says, gesturing widely around them, and Rio rocks his jaw, but doesn’t reply. Instead, he pulls off his shirt, heading to the corner to toss it into the laundry basket. “It’s not like I want to - - y’know, go there with him.”

And she looks at Rio then, at the line of his toned body as he shoves off his jeans, irritation making him flex unconsciously, the muscles in his back shifting, and Beth can’t help but bite her lip. She blushes a little, tries to shake it from her face and then, before she can think anything else of it, adds:

“That’s what I keep you around for.”

He does look at her at that, still bent over, stepping out of his jeans and pulling off his socks, until he’s just in his underwear when he stands back up.

“Oh, is that right?”

“Well, you did get me this bed too,” Beth says, a little blissfully, letting her eyes slip shut as she falls down into her pillows, making Rio snort, and she feels more than sees the mattress dip beneath his weight, the heat radiating off his body as he crawls up over her. She blinks her eyes back open, looking up at him, and her heart almost stops at the way he’s looking down at her, his face soft and open, his eyes dark, and she exhales, her hand coming up to trace the newly shaved line of his beard.

“You were jealous,” she tells him softly, and he shakes his head.

“Nah, he ain’t got nothin’.”

Beth laughs a little breathlessly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at how easily he can rewrite the last few hours, just keeps trailing her fingers across his jaw instead, thumb flicking over where his beard ends halfway down his neck, just above the bump of his Adam’s apple, and then she touches that too.

“You’ve got something,” she tells him, and he hums in agreement, lowering his head to kiss her.

(Stay tuned for Part 3 of The Center and Circumference for a lot more of the Terrible Twosome: Jane and Marcus) 

#77 “What happened last night?”

Someone else requested this one too, so expect that one soon! :-)

#beth x rio #my fic #ask meme #the center and circumference #domesticity #welcome to my ama #jr good girls #marcus #jane boland #beth boland #rio

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 43)

Description: There is no rest for the good.

Um...yeah. Hope nobody hates me at the end of this chapter. At least it came out faster than the last one, right? :-P

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @feartheendlesssummer @tigerbryn11

Chapter 43: First Blood

Tahira

The day my life changed, I was late for work. I missed my train and did my makeup on the bench while I waited for the next one. This Thursday morning, I'm late again. And I'm pretty sure that under the circumstances, Grayson will let it slide. In fact, I know he will since he explicitly told me to take the day off. But frankly, I think I'd rather be at work than alone in his apartment, especially when he has to be at work.

I didn't get much sleep Tuesday night after the fire. Unable to safely be treated for any potential smoke or chemical inhalation at the hospital while we were still in disguise, especially with Michelle still on her honeymoon, Dax insisted on dragging us into the lab at Prescott Industries and running tests. Marci had cleared me of any damage long before I even arrived, but Dax wanted to be safe rather than sorry, and Grayson agreed with him, so I relented. Eva took care of checking on the kids, and claimed dog-sitting privileges for herself.

Then came yesterday. That was the real headache, and the real reason I barely slept last night, which is the reason I'm running so late this morning, and nearly took Grayson's advice to spend the day in bed. But here I am, on a bench at the train station, gazing into a compact mirror in my left hand while carefully brushing my eyelids with dark purple eyeshadow.

I hear the soft sound of unhurried footsteps on the platform and feel my heart start to beat faster. It's after ten in the morning, on an open-air train platform, on a weekday, and the next train is due in fifteen minutes. All of these facts should put my mind at ease about who might be coming toward me, but I guess I'm still on edge. I try to ignore it, but then the footsteps stop a little too close to me. I let my gaze slide away from the compact to find Caleb standing over me, arms folded, glowering. I scowl back.

“Can I help you with something?”

“If what happened to those kids is what your help is worth, I don't want anything to do with it.”

I feel myself slumping. I sigh, unable to look him in the eye. “...How did you find out about that?”

“Never you fucking mind how I found out about it. Doesn't even matter that I know about it. The point is that those kids are in foster care. Separated. And you let it happen.”

“I didn't let anything happen, Caleb!” I snap. “I wasn't even there! All I know is that the story somehow came out at the hospital, and one of the staff called social services. ...Once the priest recovers, he'll be able to appeal to get them back. Meanwhile, Dylan and RJ are still together, as are Ysabel and her brothers.”

“That's exactly what they didn't want, and you know it! And how long will it take before they're all back together where they belong?! Most likely scenario, they won't all be back together until Dylan turns eighteen!”

“What do you expect me to do?!” I snarl, getting sharply to my feet.

“Be fucking hero, maybe?” he growls back.

“By what, kidnapping five kids? Because that's sure to keep me in a place where I can do my job effectively!” I lower my voice as I step close to him, drawing myself to my full height. I'm already at least half a head taller than he is, and he knows what I'm physically capable of. I see him shrink slightly, but he doesn't quite back down. “For your information, my people are in pretty hot water with the DA for not turning you over to rot in a Prescott-designed cell for the rest of your life. You want me to risk the situation deteriorating further?”

“You don't need the DA.”

“Actually, I do. Not all of us are content to be anarchists and vigilantes. And if people like us and the police are too busy fighting each other, civilians are going to suffer.” I blow out a frustrated breath through gritted teeth, taking a step back. “...Why do you care so much about these kids anyway?”

His scowl deepens. “Why don't you care more?”

“I care more than I am letting on to you. And I'm probably letting on more than you're willing to see. Caring is what I do. Nobody's surprised when I care. But you've got a reputation that doesn't run toward caring. What about these kids has you so invested?”

He scowls, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You know fuck-all about my life, Tahira. ...We all start out as kids, don't we? Naked, bloody, screaming babies shitting ourselves because we don't know better. We all start off so damn innocent, just looking for someone to protect us and love us. But we don't all get lucky like that, do we.”

I don't really have a reply to that. He's right. What he's saying is correct. And while it doesn't exactly give me a complete answer, it feels like a lead in the right direction. Like Caleb taking a single brick out of his wall and giving me a narrow but significant look at what's underneath. Overhead, the announcement comes over the PA that the next train will be arriving shortly. Caleb turns his side toward me as I glance down the track at the approaching lights.

“...You're lucky, Tahira. You got a mom who loves you. Raised you. Stuck around. Didn't run off. Didn't get taken from you.”

“You're right. I am lucky.” The train glides into the station, sending back a rush of air that lifts my hair off my shoulders. The noise as it screeches to a halt would have swallowed anything else I said, so I wait until it has settled before I send another glance at Caleb. “...My birth parents died when I was a baby. I'm actually adopted.”

As the train doors hiss open, Caleb remains silent. I gather my things and climb on board, not waiting for a reply.

* * *

As expected, Grayson chides me for coming into work today. About halfway through the day, I realize I probably should have listened to him. Can't focus on anything, and it isn't hard to get his permission to leave work early so that I can visit Father Le in the hospital. I stop to buy flowers on the way, a bouquet of calla lilies and pink carnations in a pale blue vase. I get to the hospital and step into a room that looks like it's being converted to a florist shop. Father Le is propped up in bed, his rosary beads in hand, his lips moving languidly as he prays under his breath.

“Father Le?”

He pauses, turning his head to smile at me. “Tahira. Come in. Are those flowers for me?”

“Yeah.” I manage to find a space for them on the windowsill and set them down carefully. “Seems like I'm not the only one who had that idea, though.”

“My parishoners have been very generous. Come sit down.”

I do as he says, taking a chair beside his bed. “I hope I'm not interrupting your prayers.”

“There will be plenty of time to pray when visiting hours are over. ...I understand I have you to thank for saving my life.”

I smile a little. “Yeah, well, don't go spreading that around in here unless I come in costume.”

“Of course. You know your secret is safe with me.”

“...Do you remember anything about the attack?”

“What little I can remember, I have relayed to the police.”

“Right. I shouldn't press you. ...How are you feeling?”

He sighs, closing his eyes. “The doctors tell me I should make a full recovery.”

“You don't sound very happy about that.”

“I'm happy that I'll have my health back. ...But I have been informed that the children were placed in foster care.”

I can't help wincing. “...Yeah. But surely once your recovered you can get them back? Like, I know it wouldn't be easy, but you could apply to be their legal guardian, couldn't you? Now that they're in foster care, I'd think that would be your next move, wouldn't it?” When he hesitates, I can't resist reaching out to grasp his hand. “I mean, you'll try, won't you? For their sake?”

The priest sighs. His free hand comes over to pat mine. “Of course I will try, Tahira. ...But I fear I am unlikely to succeed. ...It has occurred to me that I may have been acting outside the law when I took those kids in. I don't know for sure what charges they could bring against me, but I didn't actually have legal custody over them. And since they already ran away from their first foster homes...”

I swallow against a rising lump in my throat. “...What if I put in a good word for you with the DA? ...Not that I'm exactly in her good books at the moment...”

Concern flashes across his face. Somehow, I know it's concern for me and not himself, and that somehow makes it worse. “Why is that?”

I close my eyes to clear the film of tears that's gathered over them, but only end up letting a couple salty drops leak out. “...I decided to put my trust in someone she thinks needs to be locked up.”

“...Do you agree with her that this person needs to be locked up?”

“I...I don't know. I've been giving him the benefit of the doubt, and so far he's come through, but...what if she's right? What if he's playing me, and he goes back to how he was before?”

“Life is never without hope, Tahira.”

I can't help snorting just a little. “I don't know how helpful that is, Father.”

“My apologies. Try this then: you cannot know the future. You cannot know if a person will change, but every person has the ability to change. Your forgiveness of any past wrongs he did is a gift you give, not because he deserves it, but because you want to give it out of the goodness of your heart. Your trust, on the other hand, is not a gift. It is a privilege that you have every right to make him earn. If his past crimes have earned him a prison sentence, he deserves to serve that sentence. But something has stopped you from handing him over to the police.”

“Yeah. Something has.”

“...Can you name what that something is?”

“Honestly...I have a feeling I can.”

“...Do you feel that you can tell me?”

I am quiet for a long moment. “...No, Father. I don't think I can. Because it's not anything that I think I could make you understand without revealing way more than I should about people whose secrets I have no right to reveal.”

“I don't need to understand entirely. But perhaps telling me what you can will bring you some clarity.”

“...I think he has a part to play in a bigger picture. He's...a part of what I'm a part of. I have to think beyond just laws and authorities. What happened to me that night...the thing that made me what I am...it's got a reach beyond anything I could have fathomed that night. I've learned so much about it since then, and...I need this person, Father. I need him on my side, within my reach. Because he's a part of this.”

“It sounds to me like you've made up your mind.”

“...Maybe I have.” I sigh, standing up. “I should leave you to rest. I have...things I need to take care of.”

“Of course. Thank you for visiting me. I hope I will see you again.”

“Hey, you can count on it. Promise.”

I offer the priest my brightest smile, but I leave the hospital feeling melancholy and exhausted. I feel heavy and too full and hollowed out and empty all at the same time. I just want to go back to Grayson's apartment and have him there with me. I want us to curl up in bed together and shut out the rest of the world. Maybe I should call him and ask him to come home. I'm sure he would. We could spend the evening together, just the two of us, order something to eat, watch a romantic movie, slip naked into the hot tub...

My phone buzzes in the hip pocket of my jeans. I tug it free and see Grayson's name on the screen. I answer, feeling myself smile as I put the phone to my ear.

“Hey, handsome. I was just thinking about you.”

“...Tahira...” Immediately, my heart sinks. Something's wrong. I can hear it in the way he says my name.

“...What is it? What's the matter?”

“Well...Dax has apparently been monitoring police radio frequencies or something...” He sighs. “I didn't know he was doing that. Did you?”

“Well...no. Not specifically. I'm not sure he should be.”

“Neither am I. But, that isn't the point. The point is that he picked up some chatter, and...it seems Dylan and his family have gone missing.”

My heart drops into my belly with a sickening splash. “Missing? Wh-what kind of missing? When were they last seen?”

“Dylan apparently went to pick up the others and walk them home from school, but they never made it back to their foster homes. Later, the police got a tip from a concerned citizen that he had seen five kids get into a black van. He wasn't sure there was anything to actually worry about since the kids got in without hesitating, but...he described the driver as a white male with shaggy brown hair smoking a cigarette.”

It's all I can do not to sink to my knees on the pavement right there. “...Caleb,” I whisper. “Oh god, Caleb, what have you done...?”

Jake

A few weeks ago, Alodia and I hired a photographer to do a little photoshoot for us at the beach house. Something sappy and romantic to commemorate the impending birth of our first child. It was a pretty fun day, even though obviously Alodia proved far more photogenic than me. I mean, I could hardly object to spending most of the time watching my wife posing and being her gorgeous self.

Honestly, in the chaos and emotional rollercoaster that followed in the weeks after, with the wedding and then the disappointment and worry that followed her last OB appointment, I had kinda forgotten about the photos altogether. Until Friday morning, the day I'm supposed to leave to pick up Sean and Michelle from the island.

The other half of the bed is cool when I wake up, but I can smell something mouth-watering downstairs. I inhale deeply through my nose. Yup. Definitely bacon. And coffee. Clearly, Mike or Diego must be up too, since Alodia hasn't touched a cup of coffee since she got pregnant, and I don't think Varyyn has ever liked the stuff. There's something else in the air, too. Something sweet.

I get up and throw on a shirt and a pair of pants, running a hand through my hair before making my way downstairs. In the kitchen, I find the coffee pot three-quarters full and still warm. There's also  pitcher of orange juice and a couple of chafing dishes on the counter beside a stack of three plates. I lift the lids on the chafing dishes to find plenty of bacon and pancakes. I sniff at the pancakes, and get a noseful of apple and cinnamon. And that's when I notice the rusty-brown cinnamon and sugar blend in a small bowl beside the dish.

I hear voices from the den. I can't quite make out works, but it's definitely Alodia and Diego. I pour myself a cup of coffee and wander into the den. Diego is lounging on the chaise portion of the sectional with the TV remote in hand. Alodia lies with her head in his lap, a plate of pancakes and bacon balanced on her swollen belly. She's using an upside down laundry basket on the floor beside her hip as a makeshift table for a glass of orange juice and a jar of peanut butter with a knife sticking out of it.

On the screen is an image of her on the balcony overlooking the beach. Her shoulders are bare, her modesty preserved by a white sheet wrapped around her body. One hand holds the sheet closed at her chest while the other cradles her baby bump and she gazes at the sky with a peaceful, contented expression.

“I like that one,” Diego remarks. Alodia wrinkles her nose a little.

“Hmmm...it's not bad, but that one little strand of hair is kinda driving me crazy. It looks like it's going into my mouth and I keep wanting to just brush it off.” She reaches lazily towards the screen, flicking her index finger as if she can will the offending hair off her photographed face.

“I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” I declare. I make my way to the sofa and set my coffee down on her laundry basket table before sitting down and drawing her feet onto my lap. She smiles at me.

“In the picture, or right now?”

“Yes.”

“Good answer. You are rewarded with bacon.” She takes a piece off her plate and holds it toward me. I lean over to take a bite, and look back at the screen as I chew.

“Are these the finished product?”

“Not quite. They're the initial edits of the ones Nora thought were the best. Found them in my email this morning. She wants us to go through and pick our favorites.”

“Of course, if your wife has her way, there won't be any,” Diego complains. “She's found something to object to in every single picture she's in.”

“Not every one!”

“Oh, right, I forgot. You like the one where you're in silhouette and we can't see your pretty face.”

“Just go to the next one.”

I sip my coffee as we go through about a dozen more pictures, and it's made clear that Alodia's going to be pickier about these pictures than I am. There are some she does like. Most of the ones of us together meet her approval, as do a series of very sexy shots with her nude and posed so that nothing actually shows. Though, unfortunately, my favorite in that series doesn't seem to impress her.

“I've got a simper,” she declares flatly.

“A what?”

Diego rolls his eyes. “She means because her lips are parted. Just because your lips are parted doesn't mean it's a simper, Allie. That's not a simper.”

“It is the simperiest simper that ever was a simper!” she insists, grabbing the jar of peanut butter and dunking a chunk of bacon into the brown goo. “It looks like I'm trying to make you believe that I'm moaning all sexily. Look, I'm even trying to give bedroom eyes.”

“Yeah, I'm not seeing the problem here,” I quip.

“You see, Allie? It's a sexy expression that does just what you want it to.”

“I don't like it.”

“Yeah, well, you're drunk on peanut butter. Maybe look at it again when you're sober.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and looks down at me. “Did you get some breakfast?”

“Just the coffee so far. But since you mention it, I am getting hungry.”

“You should eat. We made plenty so you and Mike could get a good meal in you before you fly today.”

I feel a frown crease my forehead. “...You're still okay with me going? I know it's still a few weeks 'til showtime, but...”

“But nothing. You'll be easy to contact, and you're flying to the Caribbean, not Asia.”

“I'll be back tomorrow,” I promise.

“Yes, you will. And we'll be at the airport to pick you up. Now come here and kiss me.”

* * *

After breakfast, Mike, Alodia, Diego, and I pile into the car and Diego drives us to the airport. I'm glad Alodia comes along, even though the trip takes longer than it would otherwise thanks to our unborn child elbowing her in the bladder every twenty minutes. That combined with California traffic means that it takes about an hour and a half to actually reach the airport. But it isn't as if we're flying commercial after all.

The plane is fueled and waiting for us. It's just up to me and Mike to carry out the final checks and get her in the air. Mike gets our things on board—just a small bag each for a couple days away—and I give my wife a lingering goodbye kiss outside the plane.

“I expect this looks very romantic,” she chuckles. “A handsome pilot kissing his pregnant wife outside the plane before he takes off, against a California background.”

“Minus the plane, I'm pretty sure there were some similar pictures from our photoshoot,” I reply. I try to grin, but it isn't coming out quite right. “...I don't like leaving you. Not just because you're pregnant, either. I just...don't like leaving you.”

“I know.” She doesn't need to say anything more than that. She knows why. “I love you, Jake. To the stars and back.”

“No land, no sea, no one can keep us apart. I love you, Alodia.” I drop slowly to one knee in front of her, cradling her belly in my hands, and plant a slow kiss in the center of the swell, just above her navel. “I love you, River. Don't get too eager to come out, okay? Your daddy wants to be here to meet you.”

I gently rest my cheek against her belly and feel a few soft pats from tiny limbs. Alodia winces.

“I think she's a daddy's girl already. Feels like she's trying to get out so you can hold her.”

“No, River, I said not yet!” I scold mildly. “Not until Sunday at least. Give me time to get home and some sleep.”

“I hope she'll wait a little longer than that.”

“Hey, Grandpa!” I get to my feet, turning to see Mike waving at me from the plane. “The sooner we fly, the sooner we can get back, and it's a long way to Santo Domingo!”

I sigh. “Unfortunately, he's right.” I give my wife one last long kiss. “I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, Top Gun. Go on. I think I need to hit the bathroom again anyway.”

We finally manage to untangle from each other's arms and go our separate ways. I join Mike in the cockpit and set about doing my final checks. It's a few minutes before I happen to glance over and notice something grim and distracted in his expression that sends a brief shiver of unease down the back of my neck.

“Hey...you okay?”

“I...got a text from Rebecca.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You getting texts from my sister now? How long has this been going on? Do I have to lecture her about cradle-robbing?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “She's had my number since we sent Lundgren to prison so we could keep tabs on your dysfunctional ass. And how many years are there between you and Alodia again?”

“Ouch. Okay, what's she got to say?”

“Check your phone. She sent it to you, too.”

I'm about to ask what, but realize it would be faster just to pull out my phone and check myself. Sure enough, there's a text from Rebecca to both me and Mike.

Rebecca: Got word this morning, thought you guys should know. Rex Lundgren was stabbed in a prison fight this morning. He's dead.

For a long moment, I can't think of what to say. My first instinct is relief. Even elation. But I can't hold onto that. It's not that I feel any remorse that he's gone. But I haven't forgotten how the same information played out with Rourke.

“...You think it's real?” I ask softly. I know he knows I don't mean whether it's official or if Rebecca believes it. He shrugs.

“I want it to be real.”

“...Lundgren was only in with Rourke on the island out of necessity. He was planning to turn on him in the end...do you really think they'd be working together now?”

“I don't know. I don't know if Rourke could pull the same trick he pulled with Lundgren that he pulled with himself to fake his death. Or...the trick we think he pulled. I can't imagine Lundgren going along with that.”

“Maybe not. Besides, it's not like a prison fight isn't a likely way for him to go, right? He was such a goddamn bully, I'm sure soon as he got in, he started clawing his way to the top of the inmate heap.”

Mike looks over at me. “...You don't have to come. There's enough time to get another pilot to cover for you.”

“...I ain't keen on sending a stranger to the island.”

“I would still be there. I'd keep whoever it was away from the village.”

I do consider the offer, silently weighing the pros and cons. A big part of me thinks I really should stay here. Stay here with Alodia. But I know it would be so much safer not to let strangers on the island. Besides, Alodia has Varyyn and Diego with her, and Rebecca not too far off. I trust them to have her back. I don't really like the idea of Mike making the journey with no one but a stranger watching his. I sigh and reluctantly shake my head.

“I think we're making ourselves jittery. Come on. Let's not leave Sean and Michelle stranded. They got a flight to Tokyo to catch.”

Tahira

My team spends Friday searching for the children, trying to turn up any leads we can, but we're not having much luck. I've tried to reach Caleb using the number he's been calling me from, but it goes straight to a generic voicemail, and the police haven't been able to track its signal either.

“People who don't want to be found have ways of staying hidden,” Eva muses when I express frustration at our lack of progress. “Caleb's been evading the law since way before I even started stealing. And we all know this isn't the first time those kids have run away from foster care.”

She's right, of course, but it doesn't help. They're treating the situation as a kidnapping on account of Caleb's involvement, which doesn't bode well for him. The kids would be considered runaways otherwise, especially given their history. The most comfort I can give myself is to tell myself that they wouldn't have gone far with Eva still looking after their dog. But that even that doesn't help a whole lot, because I don't actually know if it's true.

I can't make sense of how cut up I am about the whole wretched situation. I want to shut myself in my apartment and keep the world at bay, and I haven't wanted to do that since Mom told me I came through the Prism Gate as a baby. Those kids are orphans because of a battle I was part of, but I can live with that. I didn't start that battle, and I did what I could to stop it. But this...what's happening right now...it feels like failure. And failure cuts like a knife.

Jake

It's a little after 7pm local time when we land in Santo Domingo, seven hours later. We'll spend the night in a hotel and then set off for the island tomorrow morning. I call Alodia as soon as we land to check in and reassure myself that everything's all right. I also tell her the news about Lundgren. She takes it...carefully, is probably the most accurate way to describe it. Mostly wants to know how I'm feeling about it. I confess my concerns, and she admits to sharing them. We end up spending about an hour just going on about nothing in particular, just listening to each other speak, reassuring ourselves that we're all right. During that time, Mike and I are able to get to the hotel, check in, order food, and have it arrive. At that point, Alodia admits that she should be getting ready to go to a dance class. Recitals are coming up in May and the costumes are starting to come in. We exchange 'I love you's and reluctant good-byes, and then we hang up. I eat my dinner, watch a little TV, then decide to hit the hotel's gym in an attempt to burn off some nervous energy. I exhaust myself on the treadmill, spend too long in the shower, and finally crawl into bed.

Sleep doesn't come easy. When I do sleep, I have a distressing dream that my sister is dying of some rare disease and she's only got a day left to live, and it happens to be the same day that I'm meeting the half-sister I never knew I had who's the result of an affair my dad had that he never told anyone about, and it all sucks because I'm devastated that Rebecca's never gonna meet her niece, and I'm not sure I like this new half-sister because she's kinda snobby. I wake up sweating, and it takes me a few minutes to convince myself that Rebecca isn't actually dying. And that I shouldn't actually call her right now because it's about 8am here and three hours earlier in California, and if she's not on duty, she's probably asleep. That's when I realize that Mike's bed is empty and I can hear retching from the bathroom, where there's a sliver of light under the door.

“...Mike?” Concerned, I push back the covers and flip on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness. I make my way to the bathroom and tap on the door with my knuckle. “You okay in there, buddy?”

“You want an honest answer?” he croaks back. I open the door and find Mike slumped over the toilet, sweat shining on his ashen skin and soaking through his undershirt. Another spasm goes through him and he chokes something up into the bowl.

“Jesus!” I grab a washcloth from the rack and run it under the tap, wring it out, and press it to the back of his neck.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “That's...nice.”

“Just months ago, I was up with Alodia doing this every morning.” I frown. “But what's going on with you? Did you go get drunk after I fell asleep? Pretty sure you're not pregnant.”

“You're lucky I'm not up for punching you right now,” he scoffs, wincing. “I'm not sure what this is. Something I ate, or some kind of stomach virus. Didn't drink anything last night. Just woke up and I had to hurl.”

I gently ease him upright and put a hand to his forehead. It's clammy with sweat, but it doesn't feel warm. “Don't think you have a fever. Maybe that fish last night was off.”

“Maybe.” He wipes at his forehead. “...Think I'm empty now. ...What time is it?”

“Getting on a quarter after 8.”

He groans. “So no time to sleep it off before we hit the water. Never mind.” He starts to struggle to his feet and I move to brace him.

“You sure you should be getting on a boat if your stomach's off?”

“I'll be fine. If I puke again, I puke again. But I'm sure I'll feel better after I've had a shower.”

“Well...we'll see. I'm gonna go get us packed. You holler if you need me.”

He snorts. “Yeah, like I'm gonna call you to help me shower.”

“I'm serious, Mike. You know I saw worse than your skinny naked ass in the Navy. And if you pass out in the shower and crack your head on the tap, I ain't gonna worry about your dignity. I'll call an ambulance and leave everything on display for the paramedics.”

Mike gestures ruefully at the skeletal bionic legs and feet that descend from his flesh-and-blood thighs. Cutting edge prosthetics that attach permanently and use some kind of advanced robotics to communicate with the nerves that still exist in his thighs. Alodia has speculated that the Endless' right hand was of a similar design.

“Great as these are in general, they don't lend themselves well to showering without a seat most of the time. I won't be in any great danger of slipping.”

“You better not.” I leave him to it, returning to the room to gather our belongings. I don't hear any alarming thumps, but ten minutes later, I realize I can hear him retching again. I knock on the door again.

“Cover up, kid! I'm coming in!” I don't wait for an answer before I push the door open. The shower is still running, but Mike has a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, preserving his modesty.

“Wanted some water to rinse my mouth with. ...It didn't sit well.”

I shake my head. “Well, that settles it. You're gonna stay here and sleep this off while I pick up Sean and Michelle.”

“You can't go out there alone.”

“It's fine. It's just about a three-hour sail there, and then I'll have Sean and Michelle on the way back. I'll have plenty of food, water, gas, and life vests, and if anything goes really wrong, I can call the coast guard. You won't be any use puking your guts up under the Caribbean sun when you can't even keep water down. You know that.”

He sighs. “I guess dehydration in the middle of the ocean wouldn't be very helpful.”

“Damn straight. Stay in here with the air conditioning on and get some rest.”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

“I trust you're gonna know when to panic?”

He rolls his eyes as he gets to his feet, but he does offer a weak smile. “Yes, Grandpa. Now if you're gonna go without me, go. I'm gonna go back to sleep.”

Alodia

Diego drives me to the dance studio on Saturday morning. I'm capable of driving myself, but try telling that to a houseful of loving, overprotective men who saw me dissolve into stardust five years ago not to coddle me when in my last month of pregnancy. I don't begrudge them a little fussing, and letting them chauffer me around inconveniences them more than me most of the time. At least this morning, Diego isn't just dragging himself out of the house to be my driver.

“I've got a few meetings with students on campus,” he explains as we get into the car. “Midterms are coming up, so naturally everyone's starting to get nervous.”

“Midterms for you, recitals for me...remember when we used to experience these things from the other side?”

“I definitely don't miss midterms from the other side.”

“...I kinda miss recitals,” I admit.

He smiles at me as he pulls on his seatbelt. “I have a break around noon. Wanna get lunch?”

“As long as it's somewhere nostalgic. What was that place we used to go when we cut class in high school?”

“Waterfall Cafe. I haven't been there since the last time we went together. I don't even know if it's still open.” A quick check on my phone assures us that it is. “Then that's where we'll eat. I'll pick you up around 12:30?”

“It's a bestie date.”

* * *

I remember costume-fitting days being something close to magical when I was a student. The first time we pulled the costumes on, they were a work-in-progress, straight out of their bags. We endured several minutes of teachers and assistants pinching and safety-pinning fabric, noting where it needed to be let out or taken in. The elastic shoulder straps came attached only at the front of the costume, and they too were pulled snug and secured at the back with safety pins. As soon as we were allowed, we scooted away to do our barre exercises in our glittering tutus. We may have been full of safety pins, without headpieces or stage makeup, but we were getting our first glimpses of how we would appear on stage just a month or two down the line. And in the final weeks before the recital, the costumes would come back complete. As a child, I had no concept of the amount of work that teachers and volunteer parents had put into altering the costumes to make them fit just right, and putting needle and thread to countless elastic shoulder straps. They might as well have been completed by Santa Claus and his elves picking up some extra work in the off-season. All I knew was that after the second fitting, the costume was mine forever.

Of course, now that I'm a teacher myself...

“Hold still a second, Ji-hu,” I say for what feels like the fiftieth time as I try to get a safety pin into the side of his black-and-yellow striped tunic. “Can you hold your arms out to the side for me? Atta boy.”

“Bzzzzzz! I'm a bee!” Ji-hu yells, although his announcement is pretty much lost in the din of a dozen other similar announcements from his classmates who are already decked out in black and yellow stripes. At last, I get him pinned and give him permission to go running out onto the dance floor with his friends. I wipe at my sweaty forehead and rise to my feet, wincing a little.

“Are you all right?” I turn to smile at Olivia, the woman in charge of costumes for the entire studio.

“I'm fine. Knees are just protesting a little. All this extra weight is getting to be hard on the joints.”

“If you need to rest, you can go ahead. You've kinda got the perfect excuse, you know.”

I shake my head. “I'll rest while Vikki's getting them warmed up.” But I can't resist putting my hands to my lower back and stretching backwards slightly. “So, who thought it was a good idea to move the five-year-olds to the early slot on Saturdays, and who thought it was a good idea to give them the Honeybees dance? Not the same person, I hope.”

“Hey, you had your chance to veto the Honeybee idea at the meeting five months ago. Just be grateful you don't have Ivan's class set. His five-year-olds are rainbows, and for some reason, he thought it would be a good idea to let them dance with flags.”

“Oh, god! You can barely trust the advanced classes with props!” I laugh ruefully and sigh, steeling myself for the next one. “Megan, sweetheart? Come here and let me pin your straps!”

Jake

There appears to have been some sort of confusion at the docks regarding the yacht I'm supposed to be sailing to La Huerta. It gets cleared up in the end, and I am finally supplied with the Rourke International vessel I was supposed to have in the first place, but I lose an hour and a half in the confusion. I radio Seraxa to let Sean and Michelle know I've been delayed, and set off from Santo Domingo in a foul mood. I don't arrive at the island until after two in the afternoon, but the journey itself is unremarkable, and the sail calms me down. Sean and Michelle are all ready and waiting for me when I hit the dock, their suitcases already packed and piled up on the platform.

“Ahoy, lovebirds!” I call. “We're running a little behind, so if you guys wanna drag your stuff aboard while I give 'er a little more gas, that would be really helpful.”

Michelle frowns a little. “Is Mike not with you?”

“Oh, geez, did I forget to mention? Mike stayed back at the hotel. He was puking his guts up this morning, didn't think a boat was gonna be the best place for him.”

“You were probably right,” Michelle assures me. “Do you know what the cause is? Did he eat something off?”

“Not exactly sure. He didn't have a fever, at least not as of this morning. But he couldn't even keep water down.”

She frowns. “Well, that'll be concerning if it's still going on tomorrow, but it sounds like it could be as simple as a stomach virus. I'll give him a once over when we get back to Santo Domingo if you guys have time. When's your flight back to California?”

“Nine tonight. Though, worst case scenario, we miss it and call Aleister or Estela for a chartered flight.”

“But let's try not to make that necessary,” Sean remarks, gathering up a couple bags. “I'll take these down below.”

Tahira

I give myself permission to wallow a little on Saturday. I keep my phone on so I can be reached if there's trouble, and I at least shower and get dressed. But I otherwise stay curled up on the sofa in my apartment with hot drinks and finger foods, trying to read or watch TV.

Unfortunately, I can't really concentrate on my book and there isn't much that appeals to me on TV. There appears to be a marathon of superhero movies on my favorite channel, and that's obviously out right now. I try to watch stand-up comedy, but that doesn't get much more than a half-hearted chuckle out of me. I actually spend the longest amount of time on a documentary about the American Civil War, but I have to turn it off when it finally registers that the endless quotes from soldiers' letters are just making me feel worse.

Maybe staying in isn't actually the best idea. Although it takes some effort, I manage to stuff my supersuit into a messenger bag, put on my coat and gloves, and drag myself out of the apartment. I don't know where I'm actually planning to go. Maybe Grayson's apartment? The Grand? Maybe I'll just go for an aimless walk.

I'm about a block from my apartment when my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. It takes a surprising amount of willpower to make myself answer it. Particularly when I pull it out and see that it isn't a number I recognize. Before I became Dragonness, my policy was usually to let unfamiliar numbers go to voicemail, figuring that if it were important, they'd leave a message. But since we officially formed an alliance with the police, Dax has all our calls routed through some kind of service center that scrambles our numbers or something so they can't be traced back to our civilian phones, and in the process, that sometimes scrambles the caller's number too. I summon my energy, and thumb the green button.

“...Hello?”

“...Tahira?” The voice makes my heart wedge in my throat. I know this voice.

“...Caleb?!”

“Hey...”

“Don't 'hey' me! Where the hell are you?! Where have you been?! What have you done?! Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?!”

“Uh...are you alone right now? Because I can hear traffic.”

“It so happens that I am out taking a walk, not that it's any of your business. Answer my questions!”

“I will, I will. But not over the phone. ...I need you to meet me where we were both held captive. Come alone. And come as you, not Dragonness.”

I am quiet for a moment as I find a quiet corner to slip into. “Why should I come alone?” I whisper. “Why shouldn't I bring anyone with me?”

“Because I'm asking you not to,” he answers softly. Softly enough that I can hear a note of quiet desperation in him. “Please.”

“...Just tell me this, Caleb: are the children with you?”

“Yeah. They're here. They're safe. Tahira...I'm counting on you to be a hero right now.”

This feels like a bad idea. A very bad idea. But I already know what I'm going to do. “...Hang tight. I'm on my way.”

Diego

“I'll see you Monday, Danielle. Good luck with your other midterms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Soto. See you Monday!”

Danielle gathers up her things and heads out, leaving me alone in the lecture hall where I am holding my classes this semester. Sitting in a rolling desk chair at the computer, I lean back, stretching my arms over my head and giving a good yawn. That was my last meeting of the morning, and it went quicker than I expected. Now it's about time I get ready to meet Allie for lunch. As it stands, I'm probably going to be early to meet her, so I take my time getting myself packed up.

“Diego Soto?”

I look up to see an unfamiliar young man standing in the doorway. He looks about the right age to be a student—and he's dressed like one, too—but I can't say that I've seen him anywhere around campus.

“That's me. Can I help you?”

“I'm Gabe. Gabe Madigan. I'm just visiting this weekend, but I'm gonna be transferring here next semester. They told me you'll be teaching your course again next semester?”

“That's right. I'm here the rest of the school year. You interested in taking it?”

He grins. “Well, yeah. I wanna be a screenwriter, and I'd be pretty insane not to take the opportunity to learn from a best-selling author on storytelling in film.”

“I'm always happy to have another film enthusiast in the class, no matter who they are.”

“Actually, I...” He gestures a little sheepishly at the backpack secured on his shoulders, “I have my copy of your book with me. Could you possibly sign it for me?”

“I'm sure I can spare the time for that.”

I head over to the desk to take out a pen while he takes his bag off to search for the book.

“You know, I was still in high school when all that stuff in the Caribbean went down. You know, the whole thing with Rourke International...”

I pause for a moment before pulling out a chair sitting down. I hold my hand out for the book. “I certainly haven't forgotten.”

Gabe hands me the book. “Is that a sensitive subject? Sorry. I just remember how close my family followed the story. My older brother was a Hartfeld student at the time. He'd entered the Rourke contest. He was pretty pissed off he didn't win. But once the story broke that you guys had gone missing, he actually felt pretty lucky.”

I can't help shifting awkwardly in my seat as I flip the book open to the front cover. “I won't lie. It was a...harrowing experience.”

I put my pen to the inside cover page and scrawl a quick note: “To Gabe: I look forward to seeing you in class next semester. Keep writing! – Diego Ortiz Soto.”

I see Gabe gazing at the array of personal items I have decorated my desk with: the two action figures Vaanu gave me on the island, a group picture of the Catalysts and friends this past New Years' Eve, one of me and Varyyn at our Vegas wedding, and the picture of me and Allie on the first day of third grade—one of the pictures that first heralded her return. Gabe points to that one, his finger hovering over Allie's eight-year-old face.

“Who's that?”

“Believe it or not, that's Alodia Chandler. The student who went missing on that trip and didn't come back for five years. And that kid she's with is me.”

“She's the one you dedicated your book to. So you knew her before the trip?”

“She's been my best friend since we were in diapers.”

“...That must have been hard, losing her like that.”

“It was. It was the hardest thing I've ever gone through. ...For five years, almost everything I did, I did in her name. For the longest time, the only way I could let myself be happy was by reminding myself that she would want me to be happy. So for a long time, any ounce of happiness I could feel was a dedication to her memory...” I trail off, suddenly embarassed at having gotten so personal with a stranger. I close the book and hand it back to him. “But she's home now. And actually, I'm supposed to meet her for lunch soon, so I should get going.” I pull open the desk drawer to retrieve my wallet and keys.

“Alodia Chandler and her Catalysts...”

Every hair on my body suddenly stands on end. My heart starts to thump with alarm and my stomach goes cold.

“...Gabe, where did you hear tha--”

Before I can finish, I am pulled back hard against his body. His forearm presses against my adam's apple, and a damp cloth obscures my mouth and nose. I struggle, but he caught me by surprise, and I'm being held at a distinct disadvantage.

` “You know the problem with you lot—the Catalysts, I mean—is that you're all so...insecure. There's no challenge in exploiting your weaknesses, because you all wear them on your sleeves.”

I reach for my desk drawer. My keys are sitting just there. If I can get them, maybe I can jab them into something soft and sensitive on his body. But he sees where I'm reaching and drags me off the chair with a sharp tug. I feel the ground tilting beneath me as the room starts to swim before my eyes.

“Don't get me wrong, you've all shown marked improvement since she came into your lives. But you were still entirely too responsive to flattery. It makes you vulnerable, being so desperate for praise.”

My vision is starting to narrow, filling with static at the edges. The voice in my ear is becoming distant, overpowered by the rush of my blood against my eardrums.

“Don't worry,” he sings as I start to fade. “You will see her again. As long as she behaves...”

Alodia

My twelve-year-old class is not as out of control about costume-fitting as the four-year-olds, but no one is immune to the excitement of that first look at performance-wear. And as Graceful Willows, their shimmery green costumes are decorated with soft frond fringes that awaken their playful sides. Wrangling them and getting costumes pinned still takes time, and I start to realize about 12:15 that I might not be ready when Diego gets here. About 12:30, as I'm helping the students out of their costumes and carefully putting them back in their bags, I check my phone. No messages from Diego yet, but he's probably on his way. I tap out a text: Hey, things are running just a little overtime here, but I should be out soon.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm still clearing things up and I check my phone again. No new messages, but I don't think anything of it, I just send another text. Just come inside if I'm not waiting for you when you get here. Just getting costumes sorted.

Ten minutes later, we finally finish up. Diego hasn't come in, so I put on my jacket and head outside to the parking lot to look for him. At this hour, between classes, the parking lot is nearly empty. It doesn't take me long to see that Diego isn't here. But Divya Gupta is, sitting cross-legged on a bench, hunched over a book that sits open on her lap.

“Hey, Divya, can I wait with you?”

Divya looks up and smiles. “Sure. My mom's coming to get me, but she's running late. Says traffic is really bad.”

A sense of relief floods through me. If traffic is bad, that's most likely the reason Diego's late. He's also scrupulous about not texting and driving.

“I'm guessing my friend is stuck in the same traffic,” I remark ruefully.

“Is your friend picking you up?”

“Yeah. We're going to go to lunch together.”

“What about your husband?”

“He's away until this evening.”

Divya turns her face toward me, propping her cheek up in her hand. “How long until you have the baby?”

“Oh, not more than a few more weeks.”

“Is it gonna hurt?”

“It will probably hurt some,” I answer honestly. “But there are a lot of ways to ease the pain. One of the advantages to living nowadays.”

“...It's a girl, right? Your baby?”

“That's right. We're going to name her River Skye.”

“That's a pretty name. My grandma says she can't understand why anyone wants to know if the baby is a boy or a girl before it's born. She says it spoils the surprise.”

I chuckle. “My husband's father says it's like opening your Christmas presents before Christmas.”

Divya laughs, then turns her eyes back to the parking lot. “Oh, I think your friend might be here.”

I look up to see a figure crossing the parking lot—and immediately I feel my veins turn to ice. The figure coming toward me is not Diego. She is not a friend. But I know her. I haven't seen her in years. She looks different now, her long dark braid replaced with a stylishly layered cut, and a combination of skintight jeans and a leather jacket taking the place of her high-tech military uniform. But I know her. Familiarity is a deep, bubbling dread in my gut. She smiles.

“Hey, Alodia,” Fiddler purrs.

“...Jeanine.” I'm surprised that my voice doesn't quiver. I speak to her with measured calm. “I wasn't expecting you. I thought Diego was picking me up.”

“He's going to meet us,” she says simply. “We should get going. Don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Not until Divya's mom gets here. I can't leave her waiting by herself.”

“It's okay, Miss Alodia. I'll be all right.”

“No, Divya,” I reply firmly. “I'm your teacher, and until your mom gets here, I'm responsible for you.”

“Oh, it's no skin off my nose,” Fiddler assures her cheerfully, though I'm pretty sure that's bullshit.

We lapse into a tense silence as I draw in a slow, calming breath. I don't know what Fiddler wants. But she's here and Diego isn't, and that's enough to let me know that something is very wrong in this situation. I search for Varyyn's presence in my mind. If I can find a memory close to the surface of his mind, I can slip into it and speak to him directly, the way I did so many years ago at the Vaanti tribunal.

I can feel right away that he is distressed. Even panicked. The most prominent memories are extremely recent and disjointed, but what I can pick up on puts together an increasingly alarming picture:

A phone call. Diego is...sick? Injured? A frantic rush to the hospital. But Diego isn't there. No one can tell him where his love is.

I find a place to plant my psychic projection, in the lobby of the hospital that Varyyn left in tears only moments ago. But in this moment, he is arguing with the receptionist, his fear and distress rising with every word.

“Varyyn!”

He turns to face me. The receptionist, as well as the rest of the hospital lobby's faceless population, continue with what they were doing, going through their motions like recycled animation.

“Alodia! I cannot find Diego! They told me he collapsed at the school, that he was taken to a hospital...”

“I'm pretty sure whoever told you that was lying. Fiddler is alive, and she's here with me.” I hold out my hand to him. “Keep your mind linked with mine, and don't forget anything that is said, do you understand?”

Varyyn, reading between the lines, nods and grasps my hand, his panic quickly replaced with grim determination. With our minds linked, I return to my own consciousness.

“Bye, Miss Alodia!” Divya calls as she trots over to her mother's car.

“Good-bye, Divya,” I manage to call back. “I'll see you next class.” The car pulls away from the curb, and I am left alone with Fiddler.

“So. Are you going to come quietly?”

“Where is Diego?” I hiss.

“Safe. For now. Whether he stays that way depends entirely on you.” She grasps my upper arm, and gives me a subtle but firm tug. “Come with me.”

I go where she's leading me. I'm walking straight into danger, but I don't have any choice. She has Diego. I can't leave him, and in my current condition, I can't fight her. I have to place my trust in Varyyn.

“If you harm a single hair on his head, you're a dead woman, Jeanine. That's a promise.”

“Listen, sweetie. I would love to cut your throat right here. Take out Wolf's skinny blonde hussy and his grubby little brat in one go. But someone's got a lot of stake your crotchfruit, and I've got a good take coming to me if I bring you and it in whole and healthy. But if I can't kill you right now, you'd better believe I'll take a lot of pleasure in breaking you by hurting your little gay puppy in front of you. Now, I don't have to do that if you don't give me trouble. But ask yourself this: how loosely do you think I'll define 'trouble' if it gives me an excuse to watch you suffer?”

I don't have to fake the way my breath quickens at her implications, even if the submission in the way I lower my eyes is a complete lie.

“...I won't make trouble.”

“Good girl.”

She's led me around the back of the building, to a driveway that is rarely used, except by savvy local drivers who know it can be used to illegally avoid a long traffic light about a block away. There is an ambulance parked dead center of the driveway, blocking potential traffic from both ends.

“Now, from here on out, I can't allow you to have any contact with your blue freak friend. Don't worry. This won't hurt your precious cargo. But it is gonna hurt like hell.”

Before I can respond, the palm of her free hand slaps against the back of my neck. Searing pain floods my senses, and then I drop into darkness.

Caleb

Okay, so I may have gotten in a little over my head when I helped the kids run away from their foster homes. I'm not exactly equipped to take care of them, and I don't really know where to send them. The clocktower isn't safe anymore. I doubt this place is going to be safe for long, either. Plus, I'm not exactly thrilled about hiding out in the same place Silas Prescott held me captive. But at least for now, the kids are out of the cold. The first night, I went digging through a few charity basements and came up with enough blankets to keep them comfortable, and I got enough money to feed them for a little while, but it won't last indefinitely. I just gotta hope Tahira will have some kind of plan. I just gotta trust her.

The silence is awkward as the six of us sit on the floor, stuffing our faces with McDermott's. Ysabel and the younger boys got kiddie meals, with the prize inside being action figures from some popular cartoon. I kinda gotta wonder how long it'll be before they start making action figures of Dragonness and her team.

“I miss Zelda!” RJ announces.

“She's safe. Minuet's taking care of her.”

“Yeah, I know, but I still miss her.”

“I don't like it here,” Alex whimpers. “It's cold and scary.”

“Hey, look. It's not gonna be for long. Our friend Tahira is coming. Remember her? She'll know how to help.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, she's really smart and she's Grayson Prescott's girlfriend. Grayson Prescott basically owns this city.”

“It's his dad who owns the city, not Grayson,” Dylan mutters.

“His dad's in jail,” Ysa points out.

“Well, he's not actually in jail,” I correct her. “He's under house arrest.”

“What's that mean?”

“It's like being in jail, except he just has to stay in his house.”

She wrinkles her nose with obvious distaste. “That doesn't really sound like a punishment.”

“Maybe not, but it still means that Grayson's in charge now, so he can help us.”

RJ frowns. “If Grayson's the one who's gonna help us, why did you call his girlfriend?”

“...Eat your fucking chicken nuggets.”

“Don't swear at my brother!” Dylan snaps. I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. Where the flying fuck is Tahira? Finally, my burner phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, I see Tahira's number flashing across the screen. I answer.

“Tahira? Where are you?”

“Caleb...hall...the...hall we escaped from...Hurry...”

Okay...that doesn't sound good at all. Alarm bells are going off in my head like there's a fucking air raid. I quit the call.

“You kids wait here. I'll be right back.”

I take off for the corridor at a run. I'm not sure what I was expecting to find there, but I was right about it not being good. The hall is pretty dimly lit, but I can still make out the figure that is unmistakeably Tahira slumped on the floor against the wall, and the smell of blood is sickeningly strong.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I rush to drop to my knees at her side. “Tahira, where are you hurt? Lemme see...”

Her eyes flutter and she nods weakly downward. Her hands are pressed to the lower right side of her abdomen, where I can see blood pooling between her fingers.

“Think...I'm gonna need you...to be the hero...this time...”

Jake

I mostly leave Sean and Michelle alone. They're still on their honeymoon, and I didn't come here to be the third wheel. I grab myself a beer from the minifridge belowdecks and head back to the bridge to keep an eye on our progress. It's about an hour into our sail that my phone starts to ring. The sound makes my pulse spike, and when I see that it's Varyyn calling, that only makes me more anxious. My first thought is naturally of my pregnant wife, and the possibilty that she's gone into labor while I'm miles away in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. I snatch up my phone.

“Varyyn? What is it? Is it Alodia? Is she in labor?”

“...No...” Varyyn's voice is quivering. “I'm afraid it's worse than that, Jake. ...She and Diego have been abducted. By Fiddler.”

All the blood rushes out of my head. I actually feel myself fall to my knees as my vision tunnels.

“...No...no, God, please. Please, no...”

“Alodia linked her mind with mine just before she was taken, but then...Fiddler did something, and now I cannot reach her.”

I taste bile at the back of my throat. I can't breathe. This can't be happening. “Wh-what does that mean?!” I choke out. “Is she dead?! Did Fiddler kill her?!”

“No. I don't think so. I can almost feel her presence still, but...it's as if there has been a wall put up between our minds. I cannot speak to her, I cannot see where she is.”

“Fuck...Okay.” I shake my head hard, trying to clear it. I can't help Alodia by panicking. “Okay, Varyyn, listen. I need you to call my sister. She'll know where to start. I'm gonna make sure Mike and I got a plane on the tarmac soon as I get back to Santo Domingo 'cause no way am I waiting around for a commercial flight.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I will call Rebecca.”

I don't wait for him to say goodbye before I hang up the phone and climb unsteadily to my feet. Jesus, where the hell did my sealegs go? I still feel dizzy and breathless, and my stomach is threatening to rebel, but I force all that to the back of my mind. How I feel doesn't matter right now. Alodia is all that matters.

“Sean!” I call as I stumble toward the staircase that leads to the lower deck. “Michelle! We got a problem--”

I feel myself stumble and I stagger against the side just as my phone starts to ring again. Mike this time. I answer.

“Mike, we have a problem...” My tongue is starting to feel heavy. It shouldn't be feeling heavy. I've only had one beer.

“Jake!” Mike's voice comes through the speaker as a harsh whisper. “G.Q.! Bingo! Find another port!”

“Mike, Jeanine's alive. She has my wife.”

“Just promise me! Don't come back to Santo Domingo, Jake! Promise—ungh!”

“Mike?!” Only the distant sounds of something shuffling answer me. “Mike, buddy, say something!”

There's another moment of silence. Then another voice comes through the speaker. “Hello, Wolf.”

My blood goes cold in my veins. “...Lundgren...?”

“Surprised? You should know I'm not gonna die while you and Mouse are alive. How ya feeling, anyway? Dizzy? Hazy?”

I grasp the side of the boat, struggling to pull myself up, but my legs seems to be made of rubber. My vision is blurring, the horizon doubling before my eyes.

“Wha...what's...?” I feel the phone slip from my grasp as I slump back to the deck, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. Michelle...Sean...where are they...? Alodia's in trouble...Diego...Mike...I have to...

There's a figure approaching. An unfamiliar figure in an Arachnid uniform. The last thing I am aware of is a man's tenor voice: “We're just about done here, Commander. The wolf's going under. Sit tight. You'll have your prize soon.”

#pixelberry choices #play choices #choices stories you play #Endless Summer #Hero #Diego Ricardo Ortiz Soto #Jake McKenzie #sean gayle #raj bhandarkar #Craig Hsiao #aleister rourke #quinn kelly #estela montoya #grace hall #zahra namazi #michelle nguyen #dax darcisse #grayson prescott #eva minuet #kenji katsaros #poppy patel

[outroshooky]

when you see me, when you touch me | pjm

⇢ genre: fluff, the tiniest touch of angst / stripper!au

⇢ pairing: park jimin x reader

⇢ word count: 2.8k

⇢ warnings: implied or stated nudity, strip clubs.

⇢ a/n: this came to me while listening to exo’s the eve, and i wrote the entire thing in one go while listening to that and the full length version of serendipity on repeat because that’s just how i roll. a huge thank you to @minnsvga, @bultaotae, and @lolnxcole for reading through and editing this. i love y’all to the moon and back.

“You brought me to a fucking strip club for my birthday? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your best friend shrugs beside you, bracelets clanking as she adjusts the purse on her arm, her heavy eyeshadow giving her raccoon eyes in the darkened hallway. “You need to get out more.”

“‘Getting out more’ does not extend to strip clubs! My parents would kill me if they found out we were here!” You hissed, eyes flickering from stranger to stranger hidden in shadows, taking seats at tables whose- centerpieces- stretched from floor to ceiling.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re literally a legal adult.”

“Shut up!”  You shuffled your high heel-clothed feet uncomfortably, fidgeting with the snap of your clutch. “I know we had joked around about this in high school, but seriously, you went too far this time.”

“Okay, I’ll put it to you this way.” Taken by the wrist, you were led to a corner away from the trickle of people flowing through the door. Your best friend faced you, hands steadying your shoulders. “Four years ago, while discussing the looming threat known as university and its beloved sidekick, student loans, we made a pact that if we ran out of cash, we’d ditch school and open up a men’s strip club.”

You arched an eyebrow. “I remember, continue.”

“We ended up not running out of cash- well, one of us anyways, but that’s beside the point- and I still wanted to honor the bet. I thought it’d be a fun surprise, hence why I led you in here with your eyes closed. Look-” she met your eyes, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the fabric of your dress. “If it makes you that uncomfortable, we can leave. I thought it’d be a nice flashback to the past, and an ode to the I’m sure absolutely booming club that might’ve once been. So, ya know...”

A tiny spark of curiosity alit inside you, igniting, growing into a small fire as the seconds passed. The flames swelled into a bonfire, licking at your fear of the unknown- what could be, what will be, what might be- and you sighed, caving in, the decision having already been made. “Let’s go grab seats.”

The air was choked with smoke and mist, the sheen of silver tables and leather chairs glinting under candelabras and chandeliers. Reflections flashed on mirrors inset into dark walls, heavy ivy-clothed columns hinting at royalty yet betraying nothing. Crimson curtains hung low on a stage illuminated by floor lights, the neon glow whispering secrets and possibilities untold, luring with a siren’s call the lonely, the needy, the weak.

You were shown to a table by a- could you call him a waiter?- whose face was lost in darkness, and you settled on the edge of the leather chair with hesitance. Before you had a chance to brace yourself, someone stepped into your frame of vision, and you glanced up to be met by the most beautiful man you had possibly ever laid eyes on.

Oiled combat boots met the bottoms of skinny jeans that clung to sinewy thighs and slim waist. Fine lines and muscles pulled taunt the fabric of his button-down shirt. His sleeves were half-rolled to the elbow, showcasing veiny hands, slender fingers, silver rings that glinted in the low light. Oriental dragons peeked from under the fold of his sleeve, curling over his bicep, tipping back their crimson and ivory-scaled heads to roar triumph eternal.

Following the sharp edge of his jawline, you took in lips, puffed and plush, a button nose, soft cheeks. His raven hair was swept off of his forehead, and you glimpsed a flash of honeyed skin when the strobe light swept across his back. Hooded eyes stared back into your own under an elegant brow, unceasing and undeniably sexy.

Your best friend let out a sound somewhat akin to a squeak, clutching your shoulder and muttering some bullshit excuse; just like that, your sole companion was gone, and you were alone with him.

When he spoke a greeting, his voice was higher than you’d expected, yet commanded authority, made your back ramrod straight with inhibitions not whispered, hints of what could be to come and what might never be.

“I, uhm-” That was it. Your train of thought disappeared, and you were left blank-minded in front of this unbearably attractive stranger who belonged here, in this swirling mess of cologne and neon and leather, belonged to a place where you most certainly did not. It was too much, and you faltered, begging for an escape, something, anything, but it seemed as if you could do nothing but stare and fall headfirst into his stunning eyes.

His face softened when he saw you struggling, the seductive poise of his features giving way to a soft, easy smile. “First time here, huh? Can I take a seat?”

“Yeah, sure,” you managed, gesturing to the empty seat next to you. He sat, angling it to face you and sitting with his elbows on his knees, fully invested in you. The tiniest hint of a smile crept onto your face as you admitted: “I got dragged here by a friend as a surprise birthday gift.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Your friend brought you here for a birthday gift? I’d seriously reconsider who I’m friends with if I were you.”

“I don’t have many to pick from.” It was an easy confession, one you’d said more times than you’d like to remember, and your fingers twist the hem of your knee-length dress.

When he smirks, something in your stomach burns low, twists in a way you haven’t felt since high school. “Are you accepting applications?”

You struggle to control your breath when it hitches; the curl of his smirk tells you that he’s noticed it all. For fuck’s sake, you don’t know this man. You don’t know him, this very, very attractive man who may very well only want a nice tip along with his salary rather than hearing the sob story of the ages from a client who most certainly did not come prepared. I’m not nearly good looking enough to entertain him, you think, this is only his job. He is only doing what he has to do. And with that, you change the conversation topic. “So, what’s your name?”

He signals a passing scantily clad male, asks for two glasses of water, turns back to you. “You can call me Jay.”

“Okay, Jay. Do you work here?”

His gaze is piercing when it slips from two grinding bodies to your own. “Does it matter?”

“I just want to know, like- if you’re trying to get me to ask you for a dance, it’s not gonna work, okay? I’m not that kind of-”

Jay brushes the query away with a wave of his hand. “If I was trying to get you to ask me for a dance, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Why are you, then?”

Two glasses of water are placed in front of you, and Jay sips one, glancing to the side, watching the lanky male onstage strut, bare thighs and naked chest shining. “I like to appreciate beauty.”

The water, halfway down your throat, catches when you choke, garbling: “Wh-what kind of beauty?”

“Dance.” He says the word with such reverence, such respect. It seems to affect him at the very core when it’s spoken aloud; he awakens from the intoxication that is alcohol and sweat and perhaps a faint hint of sex to come alive. You wonder who you’re seeing now, Jay the salesman or Jay the man who seems to have struck up a conversation with the most out-of-place person in the room simply because he wanted to. “Whether it’s alone in a studio or on a street corner at midnight, a trained professional or a little kid, dance is beautiful. And where else to appreciate it than a place like this?”

Jay looks up at the chandeliers that seemed so gaudy upon first arrival, at the columns behind you and silver poles next to you and swept-back curtains that surround, insulate the tiny, brief little world you share with him. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Isn’t this hypocritical? How can dance be beautiful here? They’re just trying to show off their bodies and earn some cash.’ Well, let me tell you.”

When he faces you, his voice drops low, intimate; this is meant for you and only you. “Showing off your body for the sake of cash isn’t dancing. That’s not art, that’s desperation, or some sort of fantasy. Showing off your body because you desire to emote, to create something beautiful for your own sake? That is dancing. Our canvas is our surroundings. We are the paintbrush, our movements the strokes that layer to form a transient work of art. You’ll know when you see dancing rather than its antithesis. Trust me.” Jay turns to watch the stage, smoky eyes flitting from one figure to another, seemingly a master studying his students. You have to ask him.

“How long have you been here?”

He tilts his head back and forth, pondering. “Long enough to miss Monet, Van Gogh, and Picasso.”

“I’m sorry.” Something in your heart goes out to this man, this stranger whom you’ve just met, who you feel has just told you his life story in a few brief sentences. You regret your initial mistrust, but there is still a wary feeling, something that screams that Jay is not all he is made out to be. Yet, when he stands, you cannot help but feel a pang in your chest.

He smiles, wider this time, and god, he’s so magnificent when he is himself, not just sultry and sexy but human, an unintentional work of art worthy of the finest galleries. “That’s the way things are sometimes.”

Jay pauses by the side of your armchair, bends so that his lips nearly graze the shell of your ear, his breath curling hot against your cool skin. “But you, my darling- you are a masterpiece.”

When your friend returns, much, much drunker than before, and several hours later, loudly announcing she’s ready to vomit her liver from the amount of alcohol she’s consumed, she finds you still staring at Jay’s chair, apparently lost in thought.

She slurs, hollers if you’ve had a dance, asks if you’d enjoyed it, but you don’t hear any of it at all, because-

But you, my darling- you are a masterpiece.

The next night, you find yourself surrounded by the very things you swore to forget.

Smoke and mist and mirrors, an endless maze of gauze and gold and leather that’s hot to the touch. A raven-haired man, a two-faced artist, the enigma, living and breathing. He is as out of place as you are here, yet he hides it with an aura, weaving the atmosphere of sex and bodies and beauty into his own personal shield. He wields the very thing that holds him back as a weapon- one only has to look a little closer to strip away the layers, to carve away oil paint and pastel to find the original pencil sketch hidden, buried underneath the finished final product. Not perfect, but still beautiful.

You have no idea if he’s here. You are alone, and somehow, you feel that is enough to draw him out of hiding, but all inhibitions are thrown to the wind when you see jet-black hair, a well-knit frame, honeyed skin glowing under the sweeping lights.

It is as if every eye in the room is on him.

Jay does not merely grind and drop and thrust like every other body you have seen grovel before you onstage. He commands an entire crowd, demands attention and relishes in the spectacle. When his body rolls, ends with a sharp thrust of his hips into nothing, a deep heat liquifies in your stomach, burning hot and searing with want. He levels his gaze to the crowd, drinking in their scrutiny, melting away all skepticism. He is the one in control. He grasps all in the palm of his hand, paints a picture of sensuous escape with his own hands and actions and expressions. We are the paintbrush, our movements the strokes that layer to form a transient work of art. You’ll know when you see dancing rather than its antithesis.

You pause, your hand on the faux carved marble railings near the back of the room. You are hypnotized, he is sucking you in like he is everyone else, bringing them higher in this haze. The siren calls the weak, the needy, the lonely.

His head snaps up, and his eyes find yours.

It is beyond late, and you are beginning to wonder if this entire venture is fruitless.

The club is closing down, Speedo-clad men beginning to wipe down tables and clean up empty glasses. You take one last look, the room now looking like any other, intoxicating atmosphere eradicated under overhead lights and empty tables. The bouncer is eyeing you, arms crossed, and he’s about to step over and give you what for when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Jay takes you by the wrist without a word, leading you through changing rooms and open doorways and profiles of people throwing on sweatshirts and wiping off makeup and being human, and you wonder if so many paintbrushes remain dry for the sake of fitting in with the rest.

You follow Jay out into a small side alley, into a pool of light from a flickering streetlamp that catches the edges of his jaw and brow so perfectly. He paces to the very edge of the lamplight as you lean against the chipping brick wall, and when he faces you, half of his profile is in shadow.

“I have to apologize for what I said to you last night,” He murmurs, steps closer. “I wasn’t completely honest with you, and-” another step. “I understand if you can’t forgive this kind of thing, but there’s something I need to tell you. My name is Jimin. Park Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you whisper. You like the way it sounds, you feel it in your bones that this is him, and your stomach flips when you see him shiver slightly, imperceptibly.

“I am a dancer here at Satan’s Den. I work in a strip club, this strip club, and I’m sorry for misleading you like that when we met. I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to get you to pay for a dance; I was on break when I saw you through the curtain, and- can I be honest here? I think you’re the most beautiful work of art that’s ever walked into my club.” When Jimin closes the distance, he outstretches his arm slowly, hesitantly, cups your face in one hand and strokes the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“Why?” You don’t mean for your voice to crack, but it does, and your hand comes to rest over his own. “I’m literally the most awkward, out of place person in there, Jimin. Are you sure you have the right person?”

His eyes shine in the glow of early morning and fading streetlight bulbs, the same eyes that drew you in hours ago, fascinating and seductive and so very very real, unguarded this time. “That’s exactly why I found you. Don’t you see? You’re different from all the rest.”

“I hate that I’m different,” you protest.

Jimin hushes you, his index finger pressing lightly to your lips. “Don’t. It’s why you are special to begin with.”

Your eyelids flutter shut when the back of his finger grazes your lips, tracing the rosebud curves and soft corners, and you can feel it, feel him everywhere, and then he’s kissing you.

“A masterpiece,” he mumbles against your mouth. “So beautiful.” He sucks gently on your bottom lip, nibbling carefully, lightly. “And I’m not going to let you forget that.” He is the first to pull away, but when Jimin does he beams, all open heart and soft, vulnerable man, a vulnerability he is okay with expressing in front of a muse who has stolen his heart from the first moment he opened his color palette.

You sigh against him, hands fisting in his sweatshirt. “This isn’t something I expected to happen when I got dragged to the first strip club of my life.”

He gazes at you, thumbs tracing down your jaw. “This was different from all the rest, yeah.”

“Would you have it happen any other way?”

Jimin leans in closer to you, this girl, his muse, an enigma who slots so perfectly into a place he never knew was empty. You are different from all the rest, a masterpiece worthy of plaster museum walls, worthy of being cherished forever simply for being you. He tilts his head, brushes his lips against yours. A masterpiece. His masterpiece. “Never.”

#bts #bangtan boys #bangtan #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #bts jimin #bts x reader #jimin x you #bts x you #jimin fluff #jimin angst #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writtenthanerased #writing #fluff #angst

[patton-croc-agenda]

Coral and Crowns (Ch.2/4)

A/N: YES I KNOW THE ORIGINAL SAID OUT OF 3 BUT THIS CHAPTER GOT LONG SO I HAD TO CHOP IT IN HALF SO RRY

Anyway, it’s my pal @impatentpending‘s birthday today, so go leave nice things in her inbox and don’t tell her it was me. A special thanks as always to my beta reader @pattonistooprecious also!

Here come the boys. Oh, and I guess we figure out what happened to Patton.

Pairings: Royality, Implied Analogical

Warnings: None

Words: 5,708

Previous: Ch.1

Next: TBA

Read it on Ao3

A week. A week since their date, and a week since Roman had seen Patton. He sighed, tired, and ran a hand through his hair as he slowly sat down on the rock, dipping his feet in the cool water. Roman didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Maybe he had been too intense with their makeout session last time. Then again, it had been Patton who had initiated it, technically.

Maybe when Patton had mouthed “don’t” he had meant, “don’t just sit there you useless buffoon.” Or, maybe, just maybe, Patton was one of those people who told you one thing then expected you to do the opposite. Damnit, Roman thought only girls did that.

Then again, Patton wasn’t like that. He knew Patton...didn’t he? He put his face in his hands. At the start of the week, he couldn’t believe that Patton would ditch him. He stayed up all night just waiting. Waiting for Patton to show up, to explain. He never did.

Then, Roman had been angry. Angry at Patton for just leaving him, angry at himself for getting so worked up over what was probably nothing, angry at whatever was stopping Patton from coming to see him. Because, that had to be it, right? He plead that was all it was. He prayed it wasn’t because Patton hated Roman now.

At this point, Roman was just sad. Sad that he’d lost the best thing that had happened to him in years. Sad that he might never see him again. Sad that Patton didn’t lo-

“I think that’s him,” a voice hissed, quiet. Roman’s head snapped up and he looked around. No one else should be around at this time of day, it just wasn’t a thing that happened.

“Indubitably, he’s the only one out at this hour.” Roman scanned the beach again. He must be going insane.

“Shit, I think he heard us,” the first voice groaned.

“That’s alright, we were going to talk to him anyway,” the second said.

“Can’t we just drown him?”

“No, we need him.”

“Ugh, this feels so wrong.”

“Well, it is technically illegal, so your feelings would be correct,” Roman swept his gaze across the water, only to see two men who had definitely not been there about ten seconds ago.

“Um...hello?” Roman said, cautious. One of the men swam closer. He appeared to be wearing eyeshadow under his eyes, which was strange both as a fashion choice and for the fact it had yet to wash off. He scowled at Roman from behind purple tinted bangs as he fidgeted with the strap of a bag slung across his shoulder.. The second man swam forward, adjusting glasses that looked uncannily similar to Patton’s.

“Salutations, my name is Logan Meer, and this is my most favorable companion, Virgil Pike. Are we to assume you are Prince Roman?” Roman blinked, the names sounding familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

“Uh, Roman Prince, actually. It’s just my last name, not my title,” Virgil glared.

“Great, Patton couldn’t even pick actual fucking royalty,” he seethed. Logan gave him a funny look.

“Actually, considering what we are about to request of him, if he were truly royal this might cause even more drama then is already present.” Roman froze. Virgil had said Patton. That was where he’d heard the names from!

“You’re Patton’s friends!” He gasped, Virgil turned his attention back from Logan to Roman and huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yeah, and you’re an asshole,” Virgil snapped. Roman threw his hands up.

“You don’t even know me!”

“Are you sure we can’t drown him,” Virgil asked Logan as he turned to him once more. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Roman. I am sure Patton has filled you in on...our situation...correct?”

“Uh. No?” Roman said, “He hasn’t said anything about his personal life, really.” Virgil scoffed, as if it were somehow Roman’s fault that Patton decided he was some mysterious anime character with a deep and strange past.

Logan, who had until that point been fairly expressionless, gave Virgil a panicked look. A sort of “shit I didn’t expect that answer what the fuck am I supposed to do with that” look that Roman swore he must’ve pulled at least twenty times across his lifetime; emphasis on ‘at least’

“Relax,” Virgil held up a hand to Logan, “I got it.” He swam forward, and Roman felt hands wrap around his ankles.

“What are yo-”

“Virgil, NO!” Roman barely heard the end of Logan’s shout before he was yanked underwater. He tumbled around under the waves, trying to regain a sense of up and down. Once he did, he began to swim up again when he saw something black and purple. It looked a lot like...a large fish tail.

Suddenly, the tail moved down, and attached to it was a grinning Virgil. Roman let out a shocked sound, which translated as bubbles underwater. It was then that Roman remembered that no matter how shocked he was about Virgil being a fucking merman his body still needed air. Honestly, so demanding.

Something wrapped under his arms, and he looked up to see Logan had grabbed him. He swam upward, pulling Roman with him. Roman gasped for air, scrabbling back up onto the rock.

“What in all of earth’s oceans were you thinking?” Logan snarled at Virgil. Roman wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating those sharp teeth or not. Virgil looked offended.

“I was just trying to show him! You think he’d believe it if we just told him?!”

“Better than pulling him underwater and shattering his sense of reality!”

“He fucking deserved it! Plus, I’m pissed and worried about Patton!”

“AND YOU THINK I’M NOT?!” Logan’s voice seemed to echo across the empty beach. He was breathing hard, and a tense silence filled the air. Roman had to cut it, though. He had to know.

“Why are you worried, what’s wrong with Patton?” Roman asked. Logan and Virgil shared a look before Logan hesitantly swam over, pulling himself up onto the rock. His tail was various shades of navy blue.

“Seven days ago,” Logan began, softly, “Prince Patton Coral of the North Atlantic Kingdom went missing.” Virgil pulled himself up next to Logan, pointedly not looking at Roman.

“Prince?”

“Yes. Patton is the only heir to our king, which made his disappearance all the more worrisome. The good news is, we have located him,” Roman sat up straighter at that, and Logan threw him a weary look. “The bad news, The Sea Dragon Witch has him.”

“The Sea Dragon...Witch?”

“Correct. She is a powerful creature. She told the kingdom she had him, but made no demands of ransom for his return. See, she is a creature of chaos- and with Patton’s father being old and unwell, leaving him heirless would cause riots and war among the people on who should next lead our people.”

“Then why reveal she had him at all?” Roman asked.

Logan stared at his tail, “It amuses her. She wants us to come after her so she can slaughter us.” Roman swallowed nervously.

“How did-”

“How did she manage to kidnap Patton?” Roman winced, “Simple. Patton went to her in order to gain legs so he could go on a date with you. We assume afterwards she grabbed him when he was unaware.” Logan’s expression was unreadable, but Virgil hunched down. Roman felt guilt coil in his belly.

“What do you want me to do?” he whispered. Virgil finally looked at him again.

“You. You’re gonna help us save Patton.” He turned and reached inside the bag he was wearing, pulling out two small bottles and passing them to Roman.

“Drink these. One is a potion to help you breathe and speak underwater, and one is to stop the pressure from crushing you like a tin can.” Roman blinked, narrowing his eyes at Virgil.

“Did you make these?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Why should I trust anything you give me? You attempted to drown me!”

“I wasn’t trying to drown you,” Virgil scoffed, “I mean, I wanted to, but it wasn’t my intent. Still, you’re just gonna have to trust me on this. We’ll need a lot of that if we’re going to help Patton.”

Virgil turned to Logan and hesitantly put a hand on his arm. Roman noted a slight blush as he said, “Uh. You alright? You’ve been in the sun for a while.” Logan nodded.

“Yes. The sun began to set about halfway through our discussion, and should be gone entirely within a few moments,” Logan briefly put his hand over Virgil’s, “However, I think I should get back underwater now, as I am getting a bit lightheaded. My kind was never really meant for seeing the shore. I will meet you two down below.” Logan slid into the water without a further word.

“What did he mean by his kind?” Roman asked. Virgil shot him a look.

“He’s a deep sea merman. S’why he’s got sharp teeth. They don’t do well in sunlight since they typically live at the bottom of the ocean. You can ask him about it if you get the chance, he loves to gush,” Virgil shrugged.

“Okay,” Roman breathed deeply, “Okay…” he muttered again. Virgil sighed in response.

“I’m gonna meet up with Lo. We won’t wait long. Make up your mind, asshole.” With that, Virgil dove in after his friend. Roman looked at the bottles and ran a hand through his hair, laughing a bit.

“This is...insane. This is actually fucking insane!” Roman said, standing up and pacing across the rock best he could. His brain was swirling, tumbling. Merfolk were real. Patton was a prince. Patton was a prince for merfolk who existed. Also, dragons and magic were real too?

Roman gripped his hair and took a deep breath. How could he do this? In the grand scheme of things, he’d only known Patton for a little over a month. Was he really going to risk his life for a man he hardly knew when he had a job he had to get to tomorrow? When he had rent due soon? When he had-

When he...had nothing. Patton had been the closest friend he’d had in a while, and now he was missing. His beautiful starfish. The man who puffed out his cheeks like a pufferfish when Roman had a rough day. The man who could eat an entire pizza within a minute. The man who tasted like sweet tea and the sea. The man who he lo-

“Screw it, I never liked my job anyway,” Roman cut off his own train of thought, picking up the first bottle and opening it. Without letting himself think about it, he downed the whole thing.

It tasted alarmingly like sea water and nothing else. Roman drank the second one. It tasted the same. Roman was about 99% sure he’d been jipped, but he guessed there was only one way to really know for sure. He took one last breath of air before he leapt into the water.

The second his head was submerged, Roman let his breath go. Then, he inhaled deeply. Trust, right? Water flooded into his systems, but oddly enough he felt some weird rushing around the sides of his neck, and the water didn’t seem to reach his lungs. Air did though. Roman touched the sides of his neck, half expecting to feel some kind of gills, but the skin was still smooth.

“Coming, pretty boy?” Roman turned to see Virgil further out in the water, arms folded. His tail swished, reminding Roman of an annoyed cat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Roman kicked after him. The pair had to swim downward a bit to meet up with Logan, who was sheltering under a dark overcropping of rock.

“Okay, question,” Roman said, causing the two mermen to look at him, “If you guys can do magic stuff, then why did Patton need to go to a Sea Dragon Witch for legs?” The pair shared a look, before Virgil sighed.

“Not all merfolk have magic,” he gestured to his tail, “with the exception of the royal family, merfolk with magical capabilities typically have a plain black or white tail with colorful stripes,” Virgil pointed in turn to the four bright purple stripes lining his tail.

“One stripe is the lowest level of magic, six is the highest. We typically have two to four. Only a merperson with six stripes would be able to pull that shit with Patton getting legs, and we only have one in our kingdom. And, before you ask, Patton did ask him. He turned him down, not expecting for Patton to take a more drastic measure.”

Virgil clearly didn’t feel like explaining any more, so Logan took over, pulling what looked like a book from Virgil’s bag and swimming over to Roman.

“The reason we acquire your assistance is this,” he handed Roman the book. It felt totally dry, which was freaky since they were completely submerged in the water. Roman opened it to the page Logan had bookmarked. It didn’t appear to be in English.

“Is this some...ancient merfolk language?” Roman breathed. Logan sighed.

“No, it is German,” Logan took the book back, looking at the page again, “And it tells the story of one of our first Queens, Margo Coral. She was engaged to a beautiful mermaid named Amara, but the night before their wedding, Amara was kidnapped from her personal chambers by the Sea Dragon Witch.

Despite all protests, Queen Margo went out after the beast. Regardless of her royal position, Margo was a talented swordswoman and blacksmith. She created her own sword, one so full of love and desperation that it had enough power to injure the Sea Dragon Witch so she and her fiance could escape,” Logan snapped the book closed in a flurry of bubbles.

“I still can’t believe we’re trusting a fucking fairytale,” Virgil hissed. Logan raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, unless you can think of any other weapons that could possibly slay the Sea Dragon Witch with nearly impenetrable scales, then this is all we have,” he turned to Roman again.

“The sword was lost eons ago, but there’s a riddle hidden in the palace about how to find it. I, erm, Patton and I found it when we were young and exploring the castle:

‘To find the sword of power true

Reach out for one of deepest ocean blue.

To reach the sword you need

Acquire one of magical esteem.

To gain the sword of love

 Seek one from the world above.

And in order to begin your journey,

You must find the key

From the very bottom of the sea.’”

Roman frowned, and Virgil crossed his arms, leaning against the rock Logan had previously been sheltering behind.

“That’s still awfully vague. Which part of the bottom of the sea is it referring to?” Roman asked. Logan sighed and shook his head.

“I believe we narrowed it down to Mariana Trench, the deepest point in all of the oceans in the world. I do wish they said ‘bottom of the ocean’ and not ‘bottom of the sea’, however. It would have made things so much easier.”

“But then it wouldn’t rhyme,” Roman informed. Logan scowled, ignoring the comment.

“I inquired a few merfolk who lived there, and they informed me of a small cave guarded by a puzzle lock. I have yet to check it out, as we did not want to proceed before filling you in. We should swim there now, and you two will be required to wait as I swim down.” Roman made an offended noise.

“Virgil gave me a potion to resist pressure, why can’t we come?” Virgil actually laughed at that.

“Logan’s a deep sea merman, remember? Sunlight merfolk and twilight merfolk have pressure limits, but deep sea merfolk are built to live in the depths. The potion I gave you will keep you from being crushed at up to 3000 meters deep, but any further and you’re pretty much screwed.” Roman swallowed, not enjoying that imagery.

“Correct, now, we really should get moving. Even at top speed the journey will be roughly forty eight hours,” Roman felt ice in his veins at the thought of Patton having to spend even another minute in the clutches of a Sea Dragon Witch- much less two days, but he supposed it couldn't be helped.

 “Right,” Virgil nodded and before Roman could even blink, the pair were gone, leaving only two small streams of bubbles. Damn, maybe he had been hallucinating this entire time. That wouldn’t explain why he was breathing underwater, though.

Roman blinked, and the pair were back, both looking annoyed.

“Are you not coming?” Logan asked, irritated. Roman rubbed his eyes.

“I mean, I am, but I didn’t even see you guys go,” Logan snapped his fingers, a task Roman would have previously thought impossible underwater. Then again, merpeople were real and he was in lo- dating one; nothing was impossible anymore.

“Right, humans can not swim at the same speed as merfolk. Well, shit,” the last part was muttered, as if swearing were not a thing Logan was often granted. Virgil gave him a funny look, swimming over to Roman.

“Alright, Prince shithead, grab on,” Virgil shrugged his shoulders. Roman blinked.

“What?” he and Logan spoke at the same time. Virgil cringed.

“Just- hold onto my shoulders, alright? I’ve done this with Patton loads of times and so long as his…” Virgil aggressively gestured towards Roman’s legs, “...k’now, don’t get in the way, then I should only swim slightly slower than normal.”

“Okay,” Roman said, sighing. A strangled sound wrestled its way from Logan’s throat, and Roman and Virgil both looked at him curiously.

“Problem, Specs?” Roman asked. Logan’s face went pink, and his teeth were obviously grit as he replied.

“No that. That logically makes sense. However, I am also stronger than Virgil, perhaps I should carry Roman,” Virgil shot him an unimpressed look.

“You can carry him later, I don’t want him for the entire trip,” Virgil wrinkled his nose.

“Fine. Let us depart for real this time,” Logan turned away from Roman and Virgil in a way reminiscent of a pouty child. Roman wondered what was getting under his scales as he hesitantly put his hands on Virgil’s shoulders and let his legs float up a little in the water so they wouldn’t get in the way of Virgil’s tail.

“Alright. Off we go to solve a puzzle,” Virgil said.

“To find the sword,” Logan added.

“To save Patton,” Roman said, gripping Virgil’s shoulders harder as the two mermen shot off, taking Roman with them.

~~~~~

After what Roman had to assume was roughly eight hours of straight swimming, Roman decided that Logan was tolerable. Unlike Virgil, who seemed to grunt or hiss at everything he said like a goddamn cat, Logan would actually engage Roman in conversation.

“Watson is not a useless tool!” Roman seethed, arms tightening around Logan’s shoulders.

“Yes he is. He is nothing but a hindrance to Sherlock, and his feelings ruin everything.” Honestly, Roman wasn’t sure how Logan got his hands on any Sherlock media- something about merfolk using magic to keep books dry even underwater- but either way Logan was an idiot if he thought Watson was useless. Then again, Roman had only ever seen the show, and Logan had only ever read a few Sherlock Holmes novels.

“Well what about the time he-” Roman cut off as Logan swam straight into Virgil, who had stopped. Virgil reached his hand out and closed it in a fist, and when he pulled the fist towards himself a sword seemed to materialize from thin ai- water.

“What the fu-”

“Halt, who goes there?” Roman was surprised to see two merfolk swim towards them, both holding spears and looking more than a little pissed. Despite knowing merfolk were real now, Roman had for some reason not expected to see any on this trip; and judging from the tiny little “shit” Logan whispered, he hadn’t either. Roman felt Logan pry his hands from his shoulders. Virgil swam in front of Roman while Logan swam over to the newcomers.

“Greetings. I am Sir Logan Meer, Advisor to Prince Patton Coral of the North Atlantic Kingdom. This is my companion, Sir Virgil Pike, personal guard,” Virgil dipped his head, sticking his fist back out and causing the sword to vanish.

“Who is the third?” one of the merfolk, a mermaid with a bright red tail asked. Her hair was done up and Roman quietly admired her makeup while simultaneously wondering how she got makeup underwater. Logan glanced at Roman before returning his gaze to the two.

“A citizen from our kingdom- Roman Capistratus. He is traveling with us.” The second merperson narrowed his eyes. Roman noted an eel swimming circles around his head, occasionally burying its face in his short, dark hair. It was both scary and adorable in equal measures.

“I apologize, Sir Logan, but we are guards of the South Atlantic kingdom, and we were told to report any sightings of you. Surely you know you were ordered not to leave the palace?” Roman couldn’t see Logan’s face, but his tone of voice had an edge.

“King Emile did not need to spread the word far as the South Atlantic for me. I am merely his advisor.”

“He is simply worried after what happened with his son. Rumor has it that if the Prince is unable to be saved, he will name you heir,” the mermaid chimed in. Roman swore he could hear Logan grit his teeth.

“That will not be necessary, as we are on our way to save Patton now.” The guard Roman had dubbed ‘Eel Man’ in his head jerked to attention at that, eel swimming down to coil against his arm.

“That is a suicide mission. Sir Logan, I must insist I return you return home at once-” Roman felt something brush against his arm. Virgil leaned back and whispered in Roman’s ear.

“Trust me?”

Roman gave Virgil a disbelieving look. He’d already drank his seawater potions, how much more did this man need.

“Sure,” Roman whispered back, deciding to go along one more time. The thing that had brushed against Roman’s arm had been Virgil’s hand apparently, as his fingers tightened around his wrist. Virgil suddenly shot up in the water, swimming over the heads of the guards. Their gazes flicked up and they started back.

“Is that a human?!” Eel man asked, gripping his spear tighter. Fashion icon mermaid threw her spear at them, just barely missing Roman’s leg. Logan saw the opportunity and swam after them.

“Logan, they’re after you. I need you to swim down as far as you can until they stop following,” Virgil said. Logan shot him a look.

“Virgil I am not going to leave you,” his voice was fierce, and if it were anyone but Virgil Roman was sure they’d cave. Virgil just scowled.

“You’ll draw their attention temporarily. It will be the best for everyone,” he reasoned. Logan clearly still despised the idea, but he shot downward. The merperson and his eel shot down after Logan, but the mermaid kept after them. Roman felt Virgil’s nails dig into his wrist.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Virgil shot sideways, dragging Roman with him. Honestly, being yanked around like a ragdoll by a magical merman was not what Roman was expecting at all when he started dating Patton.

“Okay, you can do this Virgil. C’mon, c’mon,” Virgil muttered to himself, screwing his eyes shut. Roman didn’t know what he was trying to do until he suddenly vanished from view.

“Virgil?” Roman asked, He could still feel the nails digging into his wrist, and heard the quiet hiss to shut up, so he knew Virgil was still there. Must be more of his magic.

The mermaid swam around, looking confused and muttering a few curses before she slowly swam back, occasionally looking over her shoulder as if hoping to spot them.

The second she was fully from sight, Virgil appeared in Roman’s vision again. He looked even paler than normal, and his fingers were still an iron grip around Roman’s wrist. Roman realized with a start that Virgil was shaking.

“Hey, hey, she’s gone now. It’s alright,” Roman watched as Virgil opened his mouth, as if he wanted to speak, but couldn’t.

“Virgil, may I touch you?” Roman asked softly. Virgil managed a sharp nod, and Roman laid a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his thumb across the skin in soothing circles.

They stayed like that, just hovering in the middle of the ocean, until Virgil seemed to relax a little.

“Sorry,” Virgil grumbled. Roman offered him a nervous smile.

“Don’t apologize. Um, would you mind if I asked how you did that thing. With the sword?” Roman was curious, but also wanted to distract Virgil from whatever had caused such a reaction. It seemed to work, at least a little.

“Oh, it’s really simple magic. Patton taught me how to do it, actually.”

“Patton can do magic?” Roman could hardly mask his surprise. Who would’ve thought his boyfriend was not only smart, funny, talented, and beautiful- but also magic. Virgil chuckled a little.

“Yeah, everyone in the royal family can do a small amount of magic. They’re the only merfolk I can think of with any sort of magical ability that don’t have the traditional looking tail,” Virgil shimmied his fins for effect, causing Roman to snort.

“What does his tail look like? I never got to see it,” Roman asked, voice growing soft. Virgil looked at him with an expression Roman could only call calculating.

“It’s beautiful. Sky blue, with a large, frilly fin. He loves accessorizing it too. Usually with pearls or gold,” Virgil’s smile was fond. “If it were anyone but Patton, it would seem like a show of wealth and status, but nah. Patton just likes to look pretty.” Roman chuckled softly, his heart aching to see his lo- boyfriend again.

The two were silent again, stewing to themselves. Suddenly, Virgil perked his head up, and Roman looked to see Logan swimming towards them. He felt relief flood through him, and swam along with Virgil over to him. It was then Roman noticed there was a fish in Logan’s mouth- body pierced and bloody under his now stained fangs. Logan spit it out.

“There you two are. Sorry for the wait, after I lost the guard I decided to grab something for dinner. I think after all that we deserve a moment to simply relax.”

“Relax? We can’t relax! We need to save Patton,” Roman protested. Virgil and Logan shared a look.

“Roman…” Virgil began carefully, “you aren’t the one who’s been swimming almost non-stop for eight hours dragging something that weighs more than you.” Roman scowled and folded his arms, but didn’t put up any more of a fight. They were right, and it wasn’t as if he could continue on his own. Not just because he was much, much slower than the two, but also because the stupid riddle thing required both a deep sea merperson and and magic user. Neither of which Roman was.

“Okay, but I’m not eating that,” Roman gestured to the fish. Logan frowned.

“Have you chosen to be an herbivore?” Logan asked, grabbing Roman by the jaw suddenly and prying his teeth apart. “Because it appears you have the same teeth as twilight or sunlight merfolk, who are omnivores.”

“What? No, but that fish is raw and looks disgusting,” Roman scowled. Virgil snorted, picking up the fish.

“Seriously? How do you make it less ‘disgusting’ then?” Roman rolled his eyes.

“By cooking it, duh.” The two merfolk stared at him blankly, before Logan’s eyes lit up.

“Oh! Isn’t that when humans use “fire” to char their food to try and remove harmful bacteria?”

“Um. Yes?”

“Fascinating.” Logan said, “Sadly, we can not cook this, so unless you’d rather eat seaweed or algae, fish it is.” He took the fish and ripped into it with his fangs. Roman was seriously considering algae at that point as he handed it over to Virgil, who looked at Roman a second before turning away from him to eat. Apparently, merfolk could still feel self conscious. He handed the remaining chunk to Roman, who looked at it, then up at the mermen who stared expectantly. He sighed, screwing his eyes shut and biting down.

~~~~~

Virgil slowed to a stop next to Logan. Roman, who had maybe been half asleep, jolted awake when Virgil slapped him with his tail.

“Wha?”

“We’re here,” Virgil said. Roman felt something akin to relief at that. After two straight days of travel with only four or five pitstops (apparently merfolk potions slowed digestive functions, which baffled Roman and embarrassed Virgil to talk about), they had finally reached Mariana Trench. Roman had obviously never seen it before, but it looked like a looming crack in the ocean floor. Logan adjusted his glasses and looked over at the two.

“I will be heading down. I do not know how long it will take to reach the bottom, nor how long it will take to solve the puzzle, so you must have patience.” The two nodded and Logan swam over to the trench, taking a moment to ready himself.

“Lo,” Virgil said. Logan turned, and Roman swore he saw whatever it was die on his tongue. “Nevermind. Just...just be careful.” Logan’s eyes softened.

“Of course.” He turned back to the trench and dove down into the depths.

Five minutes.

Ten.

“Hey, Virge?”

“What?” he sounded bitter. Roman bit his lip, trying to decide how likely it would be for Virgil to punch his teeth out.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask...are you and Logan dating?”

“WHAT? NO!” Virgil snapped, glaring at Roman as if he had asked if he had committed murder. Roman held up his hands in a peaceful gesture.

“Alright! Sorry for asking!”

“What gave you that idea anyway?” Virgil grumbled, hunching in on himself. Roman looked at him curiously.

“Uh, he seems to flip out whenever I even look at you? Also, whenever you take over carrying me, he tries to convince you not to,” Virgil's face went pink.

“That could be anything. He doesn’t like me like that.” Roman swam closer, Virgil swam back.

“But you like him?” His words were met with silence. Roman sighed, settling down on a rock and patting next to him. Virgil looked at him warily before swimming down and settling next to him.

“Virge. I know it may be hard to see, but I really think he likes you as well. He probably just doesn’t know how to show it. You should try and be bold! Ask him out, y’know?” Roman didn’t know what he was expecting, but for Virgil’s face to darken was not it. He glared at Roman and swam back again.

“You don’t know anything about him! About us!” Virgil hissed, “He doesn't like me. He’ll never like me, and even if he did I wouldn’t want to be his stupid rebound crush.” Virgil’s voice began to grow louder, as if he were spilling what he had kept locked away for a long time.

“I’M NOT A REPLACEMENT! I DESERVE TO BE LOVED TOO! I just-” Virgil’s voice cracked, and his body began to shake. Roman swam closer, slowly opening his arms. Virgil swam forward and buried himself in them. Roman enclosed him in an embrace and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the water around Virgil’s face grow slightly warm with his tears.

“Of course you aren’t, Virge,” Roman murmured, “I’m sorry I pushed you.”

“I just wish he loved me,” Virgil whispered. Roman hummed, staring at the trench as he rocked the sobbing merman comfortingly.

~~~~~

Roman stared at trench, wondering how long it had been. It felt like days to him, but it could have only been a few hours. Roman sighed, looking down at where Virgil had fallen asleep in his lap. After his slight meltdown, Virgil had gotten even more hostile for a short period of time before giving up and just letting Roman in.

Apparently, Logan had a crush on another merman who had recently gotten in a relationship- a fact Logan had confided in Virgil, so Virgil was afraid that even if Logan ended up returning his affections, it would be in an attempt to get over his original feelings. It was a sentiment Roman could certainly relate to on some level, as he had multiple boyfriends throughout his life. Roman sighed, running a soothing hand up and down Virgil’s back.

He considered also taking a nap, despite the fact some dangerous sea creature could come and kill them at any moment when something shot up out of the trench. Roman squawked, falling back and causing Virgil to jolt awake, summoning his sword and positioning himself in front of Roman (which made Roman feel slightly offended. He could take care of himself, thank you very much). The thing turned, eyes wild, and Roman finally recognized him.

“Logan!” Roman laughed in relief. Logan spotted them and swam over, something clenched in his fist. He suddenly flung his arms around Virgil’s shoulders, pulling him close.

“You’re alright,” he mumbled. Virgil looked frozen, turning to Roman for assistance. Roman just shrugged. Logan, apparently coming to his senses, pulled back, holding out his fist and opening it. An old looking key sat in his palm.

“I found the key, as well as our next location. It’s not too terribly far from here.” Virgil still looked to be going into shock, but Roman couldn’t help but let out a giddy laugh.

“We’re so close!” he said, “We’re so close to finding the stupid sword, and then we can finally save Patton!” Virgil managed to shake himself, and turned to Roman, a small smile growing on his lips.

“Damn right we are!” he turned to Logan. “Lead the way then, Lo,” Logan nodded, sharply.

“We are going to save our friend.” Roman grinned.

“Or we’ll die trying!”

General Writing Taglist:  @angeliclogan @pattons-constellations@amuthefunperson @tatergator27@honeycoloredcorduroy@1esor2 @that-royal-ravenclaw@sardonicsanders@iridescentroyalty @sheeparecutest @pathos-logical @virge-of-a-breakdown @doodlesxkiwi

Royality Royalty: @notveryglittery Coral and Crowns Taglist: @impatentpending  @why-things-go-boom @moralitytime @2sporky4you

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sander sides fic #ts #ss #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts roman #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #royality #analogical #wow adventure #Jack writes

[mama-m1na]

Children of the Crown: Chapter 1

                                                     ~~~I~~~

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                                                  Warnings: None

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A twenty-year-old male sat patiently in the bleachers as he watched various groups perform their shows.

The combination of dance, music, flags, sabers, rifles, and various props not really bringing him much excitement.

He blew some of his dark hair out of his face before pulling out his phone to see that the group he came to see was coming up next.

A few minutes later the voice of the announcer rung out through the gymnasium, “And all the way from Temecula, we have Infernus Royal Guard with their show titled ‘Wear the Crown’!”

At the same time a group of girls and a boy wearing red dresses or shirt and black leggings came out and pulled out their mat, set up their castle props, and set their equipment before going behind the castle.

“Infernus, is your guard ready?” the announcer asked before a single red clad female gave a nod before stalking off behind the castle, “Infernus Royal Guard, you may now take the floor in competition.”

The music started as the audience clapped and one by one the individuals came out with their hands on their hips and toes pointed.

Once everyone had reached their drill spots they began their dance work and were for the most part in sync despite not looking at each other save for a few individuals.

The crowd applauded as the sabers were introduced in with simple tosses with their hands placed on the sides of their heads to fit the theme of the Queen of Hearts.

As the show continued on the male watched with his full attention even as various females seemed to try to get his attention in the audience.

He watched the performers until he spotted the familiar form of his house mate on the floor amongst the rest of her teammates.

She had gotten up at six in the morning to eat then make sure her makeup and hair were perfect.

She didn’t disappoint in the slightest.

On top of her head were two identical buns with a black/red crown in between them with the rest of her long black hair cascading down her back.

The crown was secured with elastic loops that went around each of her buns and the one she wore was bigger than the others.

Her dark maroon eyeshadow was smoked from the crease of her eyes with a dark red eyeshadow on her lids and winged liner sharp enough to kill a man. Under her right eye was a perfect red heart that he had watched her trace and fill in without any mistake. Same went for her red lip in the shape of a small heart, like the ones found on porcelain dolls.

All the red makeup popped out against her tanned skin giving it definition.

The intense eye look only added to the facial expressions she gave throughout the performance and whenever she would catch.

When she would somehow lock gazes with the males dark irises he could feel a mischievous and playful aura come from her brown orbs speckled with gold flecks.

About halfway into the show the five girls on saber switched out with rifles as they worked their way around the floor while doing their complicated work.

During the parts where they turned the red tails of their dresses would flutter behind them gracefully.

Once the weapons had completed their ripple the previous flags came out from behind the castle with rifles of inverted colors as they made an “X” formation with no work until all the girls made their way to the edges of the floor.

One by one all the girls came across the floor with white flags that had red and black card symbols decorating the silks as they began their flag feature.

It was full of different work and as they tossed their last toss of the show all the girls screamed in unison, “Heads roll!”

The metallic clang of their flag poles echoed throughout the gym as they slammed their flags onto the ground and began more dance work.

The show ended with the girls looking up into the audience before dropping to the floor as the music ended.

Once the crowd applauded the girls got their equipment off the mat and started to quickly fold it before carrying it off to another part of the gym as parent volunteers picked up the flags and weapons before following the kids.

Outside the gym the groups stopped as a ravenette cried, “Oh my god I botched that rifle work!”

“Mina, you did fine,” a male wearing a red shirt encouraged, “Sister slay!”

Before the ravenette could berate herself further a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her waist and spun her in the air for a few seconds.

“Seung-hyun!” she scolded turning back to see the Korean male who she spotted in the stands, “You can’t just do that!”

“You did so good!” he chuckled ignoring her faint glare and looks from the rest of the group.

“So you’re Ramen’s room mate, I’m assuming?” an older woman with long brown hair and darker skin asked giving her hand to shake.

“Yes, and you must be Krystal,” the male answered after letting go of the sixteen-year-old, “I’m Seung-Hyun, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” the woman greeted with a smile as she shook his hand, “Are you two a thing, perhaps?”

“Oh no,” the male chuckled, dismissing the notion the pair got often, “We’re just really close. We’ve known each other since we were really young. Like toddlers.”

“That makes sense, the others, mostly that one,” Krystal said pointing towards a brunette with cartilage piercings, “Keep teasing about you two being a couple.”

“Oh, Kerstin? That makes sense but no we aren’t and even if we wanted to it would be illegal,” the male chuckled thinking of a way to get to a different topic.

“Oh, trust me there are ways around that!” Kerstin exclaimed earning a smack from the ravenette.

“Kerstin, no!”

“Bitch, you’re the one who keeps saying how-” Slap!

“Language we are in public and you’re in uniform!”

The adults watched as the ravenette’s expression changed to one of absolute disgust before she wiped her hand off on Kerstin’s leggings after the brunette most likely (one hundred percent actually) licked her hand.

Once the group had finished loading their mat, equipment, and props they all drove over to a nearby restaurant to get some lunch.

In one of the cars a phone began to ring which Kerstin answered.

“Hello?”

“Kerstin, can you give the phone to Rhamina real quick?” asked Seung-Hyun from his car which was driving behind the one they were in.

“Can’t she’s changing right now.”

“...the car is moving though.”

“Yeah.”

“...”

“Mina, your boyfriend wants to talk to you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend and let me finish getting my shirt on!” Rhamina hissed from in front of Kerstin’s seat as she tried to get her clothes on as fast as possible due to being in a window seat.

All Kerstin heard from the phone was a sigh from the male before he hung up.

As the party of about twenty waited to be seated the younger ones went up to a chalkboard the restaurant had for waiting children and began to completely fill it with inside jokes from marching band season or from their previous winter season.

Rhamina sighed out of relief as the group was finally seated and she didn’t have to witness her friends being absolute idiots.

“Guys, this is where we sat last year!” Aurora chirped recognizing the corner seats near the restroom they had eaten in from the previous winter season.

The girls all got comfortable at their table talking about the performance and the other shows they had seen before going up to perform themselves.

Soon the waitresses came around and took their orders for food and drinks before going back to the kitchens.

As soon as the teens were sure the parents weren’t listening in they all huddled closer together and began to discuss their plans for the following day and night.

“So we all down for the overnight at Imperial Hospital?” Kerstin whispered at the table that seated most of the team.

“We can’t,” Emme said gesturing at herself and Cadence, “We have a field trip.”

“Same, I have a track competition tomorrow,” Amelia added.

“Shay and I have a party to go to tomorrow,” Juliet said.

“I’m going to Michigan,” Moh said, “Sorry sisters.”

“Okay so it’s me, Mina, Sam, Sophie, Hannah, Tijarah, Aurora, and Chloe,” Kerstin listed.

“I’m going too,” Seung-Hyun added before taking a sip of his drink.

“Aw, you want to keep, Mina, safe,” Sam teased while she nuzzled up against Rhamina who sighed in disappointment, “That’s cute.”

“Sam shut your face,” the ravenette hissed as she slapped away the female of Mexican descent.

“I’m sure my beloved Mina can take care of herself in those situations, I just want to go for fun,” the male chuckled as he earned a glare from the ravenette who sat a few seats away from him.

“I never asked before but do you believe in the supernatural, Seung-Hyun?” Sam asked glancing up at the male, “I know Mina believes in this stuff but do you?”

“To an extent I guess,” Seung-Hyun replied after some thought, “I haven’t experienced anything like Mina or Kerstin but I do believe in spiritual presences.”

“Interesting,” Kerstin nodded, “Has Mina told you about the thing in my house?”

“Yes actually but I’m pretty sure it isn’t there anymore right?”

“Well, we don’t know but it if it’s still there it hasn’t really done anything recently.”

“Kerstin, didn’t you sneak out just last night because you thought there was someone in your house?” Rhamina asked with a raised brow, “You even looked through the whole house and there was no one there so you just went to Sam’s house.”

“Oh, yeah!” Kerstin said upon remembering earning a laugh from Sam.

“You stupid bitch!” Sam chuckled, “you could’ve died and you don’t remember shit about it?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sam!” Kerstin retorted, “I will expose you!”

“For what? I’m an open book, Bitch. Do it.”

“Fuck you.”

The table erupted in laughter at the exchange between the teenagers before they turned back to the meals which just arrived.

“Don’t eat yet!” Rhamina said as she grabbed Sam’s and Aurora’s hands, “We must pray to the Guard Gods.”

The whole table followed suit and joined hands before turning to the ravenette.

“Okay, Kerstin, go for it.”

“Hey, Guard Gods, We’re sorry for not praying to you during Fall, or really at all for the past year but we still respect you and, um, let us place today and have a good meal without anyone getting constipated or diarrhea. On three guys. 1. 2. 3…”

“Hail Guard Gods!” the group cheered in unison before eating their food.

Once they were finished with their meal the groups went back to the competition site in their separate vehicles.

As the girls reentered the gym as spectators this time they wore more casual clothing.

They watched about five more groups before the floor was cleared and it was time for awards.

“And in third place with a score of 50.51,  50.51,  Infernus Royal Guard!”

“Off with their heads!” the girls cheered in response as their guard captains walked forward to receive their trophy.

“Yeah, Sophie!” Kerstin screeched over the applause from the audience as the captains did their salute.

Rhamina chuckled before she screamed along with the crowd as the award ceremony came to a close.

“See you back at school, Seung-Hyun,” Rhamina said with a smile before the gave the male a hug and walked off the the red car of one of the parents.

“Yo, when are you going to ask her out?” Kerstin asked once the ravenette was out of earshot.

“We’ve told you multiple times that there’s nothing between us, Kerstin,” the male said.

“Bullshit, you it’s so obvious you both fucking like each other.”

“She’s not wrong you know,” Sophie said walking past the two earning a groan from the male.

“Bye, Kerstin,” Seung-Hyun said as he turned to go to his car.

“You know I’m right!”

When the red car transporting Sophie, Rhamina, Moh, Aurora, Kerstin, and Sam arrived back to the school they were all laughing.

“Oh my fucking God! Our new cheer is just going to be Shaniqua!” Moh laughed referring to one of the performances where one of the women’s underwear was visible.

“Hey, someone is probably telling her, ‘Oh, honey I’m sure no one saw it’ and here we are laughing our asses off about it!” Kerstin wheezed causing another fit of laughter to rise from the teens.

“Oh my god!” Rhamina wheezed before opening her door and stepping outside, “I need air!”

As Hannah rolled down her window from a different car Moh asked, “Were you guys talking about Shaniqua, too?”

“The purple with white polka dots,” Sophie clarified upon seeing the red head’s confused expression causing her to burst out in laughter.

Rhamina then shook her head as she gathered her things out of the other car to already see Kerstin in the back seat of Seung-Hyun’s.

“So, we’re taking you home?” Rhamina asked as she put her things in the trunk.

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

About five minutes into the drive Kerstin looked up from her phone and asked, “Can I sleepover?”

“Sure,” Seung-Hyun replied, “Did you need to pick up anything from your house?”

“Yeah,” Kerstin replied giving Rhamina a look that read ‘I need to take a shit.’

Once the car reached the home of the younger, sixteen-year-old Filipino both girls dashed out of the car and into the house once Kerstin unlocked the door.

Immediately the brunette rushed up the stairs to her bathroom leaving the door open and Rhamina to sit on the floor with her back to the door.

They made small talk as Kerstin was taking care of her business.

As soon as Kerstin had gathered her things the two girls got into the car once again and pulled out their phones.

“Oh god, someone uploaded the performance to Youtube,” Rhamina groaned as she clicked on the link sent in the guard group chat.

“Oh! I want to see!” Kerstin said as she scooted closer to see the phone screen, “We didn’t do bad in the beginning.”

About a minute into the video Kerstin screamed, “God dammit, Cadence! Why are you looking over at Aurora?!”

Rhamina winced as she watched herself drop her saber toss because Cadence wrapped her flag a count too late.

“Fuck that was such a bad run,” the ravenette sighed as she clicked out of the video before opening Tumblr.

“Hey, you didn’t place last and from what Krystal told me your show isn’t finished yet,” Seung-Hyun stated as he looked back at the two females using the rear view mirror.

“Yeah, but I’m literally the liability of the rifles,” Rhamina scoffed earning disagreeing responses from the other two.

“You saw how shitty I did!” she continued, “Why the hell did Krystal even put me on weapons again?”

“Shut the fuck up, Mina, this was one of your first runs with that work, your first season on rifle-” “Exactly-” “Shut the fuck up and let me finish! You fucking care about what you’re doing unlike the one who’s always late and fucking around even though she doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing,” Kerstin finished referring to another team member without saying her name.

“She’s been on rifle before, she knows more than I fucking do,” Rhamina huffed as she leaned her head on the window of the car.

“Mina, keep talking like that I’m going to rape you.”

“Bitch, I’ll tuck and roll out of the car.”

“Mina, I swear to God if I have to start using the child locks,” Seung-Hyun teased as the car pulled up in front of the large house belonging to the two people.

The group was greeted by the faint scent of sandalwood as they walked into the home.

Immediately the girls walked up the stairs and passed Rhamina’s studio to her room.

Rhamina left the door ajar behind her as Kerstin took out a vape pen from her purse to which the ravenette responded by closing the door completely.

As soon as the brunette removed it from her lips she offered it to her friend as she attempted to blow rings.

“You’re still practicing?” Rhamina asked as she took the pen from her friend.

“Yeah,” Kerstin said as Rhamina brought the pen to her mouth, “Seung-Hyun doesn’t know?”

“Nope,” Rhamina said after letting out a long, thick stream of the smoke.

“Jesus, that stream was so clean!”

“You can do tricks but this is all I’ve got,” Rhamina chuckled as she handed the device back to Kerstin.

Soon a knock came at the door and the girls began rapidly fanning at the remaining smoke hoping the haze wouldn’t be obvious.

“What is it?” Rhamina asked nicely opening the door a crack.

“What do you guys want for dinner?” the male asked ignoring the unusual smell of the sixteen-year-old’s room.

“Kerstin, what do you want?” Rhamina asked turning back to the brunette who stuffed the pen in her shirt.

“Poke.”

“Alright, and you Mina?” the male asked.

“Pho, since it’s close to that shop,” Rhamina responded.

“Okay, I’ll see you when I get back,” Seung-Hyun smiled reaching down to give the girl a hug, “I love you, bye.”

“Love you too,” she smiled pulling back and closing the door again as the male walked away.

When she turned back to Kerstin, Rhamina was greeted with a skeptical glare.

“We’re just friends.”

“Just friends my ass.”

“I tell all my friends that I love them.”

“... Mina, there’s going to be a day when you realize that statement is bullshit and when that day come I’ll laugh because I know when you realize you’re actually in love with him you’ll one hundred percent be freaking the fuck out about it,” Kerstin said as she plugged her phone into the wall to charge.

“Did you have everything you needed for tomorrow with you so we can just meet up with the others straight from here?” Rhamina asked as she turned on the tv and went to the youtube app.

“Yeah, I think so,” Kerstin replied as she pulled out a portable battery from her purse, “Can you charge this?”

“Sure,” the ravenette replied as she traded the remote with the other female for the battery, “It’s going to be in the other room though, I’m out og outlets in here.”

“That’s fine.”

As Rhamina walked into the next room she looked through the open blinds to see the sun starting to go down giving the room a harsh glare.

She hissed in irritation as she quickly closed the blinds before plugging the battery to charge with a cord she had on the really old computer desk.

Once she finished she went back into her main room leaving the door open a crack.

On the tv was a video of unsettling stories of the dark web which both of the girls liked to listen to from time to time.

“It’s kind of disappointing that the deep web is just an illegal google,” Rhamina sighed as she plopped onto her bed.

“It’s better than being stalked by creeps though,” Kerstin replied as she scrolled through something on her phone.

After about thirty minutes Seung-Hyun returned with the food requested by the females and they gathered in the living room to eat while they watched bad horror movies.

“Jesus christ that’s disgusting!” Kerstin exclaimed as they looked at the screen to see the main character turned into a walrus using human skin.

“I know right,” Rhamina said casually slurping up from pho, “That’s what I said when I first saw this.”

“Why would you suggest this?” Seung-Hyun asked before eating some of his ramen.

“I wanted to share this disturbing mess so Bunni and I wouldn’t be alone.”

After the movie they played episodes of Ghost Adventures in the background as they discussed what would happen tomorrow night.

“So what’s the plan?” Rhamina asked, “There isn’t much security but the people who live near the hospital don’t really like people on the property.”

“We’re going to have to get there like in the afternoon to check it out for any possible entrances,” the male stated lying across the couch with his head in the ravenette’s lap.

“Yeah, there’s a restaurant nearby so we can just be ‘passing by’ then we can actually eat dinner there before we go in,” Kerstin said as she was looking up some things about the chosen site of exploration.

“Oh yeah, Kerstin, can you text in the group chat that everyone who’s coming needs to be wearing all black and no bright colors?” Rhamina requested as her phone was upstairs at the time.

“Yeah, should I tell them about the plan too?”

“Yes, tell them to ring money,” Seung-Hyun said, “And an extra set of clothes just in case we need to sneak our way out.”

“Seeing as this is pretty illegal I’m surprised you agreed to this,” Rhamina said looking down, “You’re supposed to be a responsible figure.”

“I’m supposed to be keeping you safe and I’m one hundred percent sure even if I didn’t come with you guys, you would have done it anyway,” he replied as he sat up.

“You right, you right,” Rhamina chuckled as she made her way to the kitchen and opened a can of coconut juice.

“Hoy, kuha mo isa sa akin din,” the male called from the couch.

“Ikaw na, ayaw ko,” the ravenette replied as she put in a straw, “Don’t be lazy.”

“You’re already in the kitchen.”

“No.”

“Wow, so ungrateful.”

“Hey, I’m paying for half of this house too, you buttface.”

The male clicked his tongue as he got up to get himself a drink.

As they passed each other Rhamina stuck her tongue out at the male before seating herself at the couch again.

“Hey, Mina, should I tell Sophie to bring her ouija board?” Kerstin asked looking at the texts in the group chat.

“I didn’t even know she owned one,” the ravenette chuckled before taking a sip of her drink, “But yeah tell her to bring it.”

“You’re bringing the Go-pro, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in my office, you should tell everyone else to bring them if they have one,” Rhamina suggested, “It’ll be interesting to see different POV’s.”

“Yeah!”

At about ten at night the girls went upstairs where they began to pack necessities into their bags.

They each had a change of clothes, some snacks, and water.

Rhamina brought a knife, like she does everywhere, and a first aid kit.

Kerstin had extra chargers, a lighter, a candle, some matches and other random items Rhamina didn’t bother to remember about.

“Fuck, I’m so excited!” Kerstin squealed as she zipped her backpack shut.

“Dude, me too!” Rhamina squealed back, “This is our first abandoned exploration!”

“I hope we don’t get arrested.”

“You don’t need to run the fastest, just as long as you aren’t the slowest.”

“...Mina, what the fuck?”

“Shhh-ut your face. It’s true.”

The girls kept up their talk and watching of really bad horror movies until about midnight when both decided to go to sleep.

                                          ~~~Fin. Chapter 1~~~

#children of the crown #chapter 1 #Rhamina Miyu #original story

[vexation-virgil]

Colors (Part 3)

Fandom: Sanders Sides (Soulmate AU) Pairings: Prinxiety, mentions of Logicality Warnings: General angst, cursing(Again, if there is anything that needs tagged, let me know!) Summary: Everyone knows when you meet your soulmate, the world is supposed to fill with color for the both of you. Unfortunately for Roman Patrick, that is not always the case.

Taglist(!!): @pendragonqueen09

A/N: I very much appreciate everyone who has read this, like, seriously, can’t even tell you how much I appreciate you guys. AHHH! Here, have some more.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10  PART 11 PART 12

The next couple of weeks seemed to drag on for Roman. After about a week of hoping that maybe the color would just go away and his brain had just tricked him or hoping that Virgil would just speak up and tell him he saw it too, he tried to make himself believe he was one-sided. Which, might have been easier if Virgil would at least talk to him so that he could figure out why this would’ve happened in the first place. The guy sank into his seat before class even started and never took off his headphones, practically shut himself off from the whole world.

The one time Virgil did speak to him it was to tell him to “stop fucking staring” which… Roman should have really expected after a couple weeks in class where he couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, especially after he had colored his hair in the third week of school. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around why someone who hadn’t met their soulmate yet had dyed their hair purple. It wasn’t as if he could see what he was looking like, so why did it matter so much?

Roman had moved to the front of the class after that incident and just forced himself to focus and give Virgil the space that he seemed to want so badly. It was surprisingly difficult when all he wanted to do was be near him and get to know him and figure out just what went wrong.

Patton was being more observant of his behavior, lately, too, and was constantly asking him if he was alright and Roman was getting so close to cracking. But then the other would start to worry and that would cause his brother to worry and then his parents would want to know and Roman couldn’t handle disappointing them like that, not again. So, he started spending a lot of time in his room to keep that from happening, citing extensive amounts of homework as the reason despite the fact that he spent more time staring at the ceiling or watching Disney movies than actually doing his homework.

It got easier to hide away from his family when the play began.  Unsurprisingly, Roman had won the lead in the show as the Prince Charming in the story which meant he got to throw himself into it and not worry about anything else. Rehearsals took up several hours in his afternoon and then memorizing his lines took up his time once he returned home and he was able to explain away his time unlike the weeks leading up to the auditions. And it was a great distraction. He got to pretend to be someone else for hours at a time and forget about his own problems. This had been a coping mechanism for years, but it felt more anchoring now than it ever had before.

Of course, this was until he decided to stay late with the costuming crew one night to help them sew together some costumes in the workshop. It was all going swimmingly - the people there were his friends, after all. Most of them were still unbonded, so it wasn’t something that typically came up in their conversations unless they needed someone to pick out colors. One of the girls had asked him to pop out and grab one of the pieces the crew had been painting so that she could match the colors on the banner for the prince’s sash (a dashing red, if Roman remembered correctly) and he had made it halfway to the back of the workshop before he crashed into another person wandering through the different set pieces.

“Excuse me, could you please watch where you’re--” Roman stopped himself half-way through his sentence with his hands freezing where they were brushing off his chest as his eyes landed on the person in front of him. Virgil, in a deep maroon shirt splattered with different streaks of paint. “What are you doing here?” Virgil gave him an unimpressed look, rolling his eyes. “I get the strangest feeling you feel like you own the place,” he grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest. Great to know Roman left that sort of impression with his soulmate. “I work with the crew sometimes after school when my dad works late. Better than being home by myself and I used to do it all the time at my old school. I’d ask what you’re doing but I’m sure I can guess. You’re the theatre guy. Too dramatic not to be.”

Roman did his level best to not be offended by the annoyed tone in Virgil’s voice, but placed a hand over his heart, all the same, to play into his dramatics. “Why I’m afraid you hardly know me and it is not your place to make those judgments,” Roman told him, flipping his hair and grinning at Virgil, only to receive another eye roll from him. “Though, it’s not far from the truth. I do quite enjoy the theatre and this has been my thing since I was in the sixth grade. You could say I’m a pretty good actor.”

“Yeah, can you act like a normal guy?” Virgil asked with a raised brow.

Roman snorted and shook his head, perking up with a, “now, why would I do that?”

“That is a great question. Now, if you don’t mind, creepy staring guy, I was looking for a hammer. So I’m just going to…”

Virgil started to slip past him and Roman’s hand flew out to grab his wrist before he was able to get too far away. The crazed look his soulmate gave him had him immediately dropping his hand and blushing as he took a step back. “Look. I don’t want to have the reputation of ‘creepy staring guy’ with you. It is just that you are very striking, what with the eyeshadow. Perhaps, you and I could be friends and I could prove that I’m not creepy” Roman suggested with a small shrug, trying for nonchalant with his heart thudding against his chest at even the idea of spending any amount of time with the other boy.

Virgil looked him up and down as he took a silent moment to think over the offer, the mere seconds feeling like hours as Roman tried to contain the hope he was feeling. “Fine,” Virgil agreed and Roman released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “But it’s going to be here, at the school, and we’re not doing anything too crazy. Mostly because I want to be able to get away pretty quickly if you’re actually insane. I still need someone to review my paper for lit on the last short story we read. I’ll do yours if you do mine? We could meet in the library tomorrow after play rehearsal.”

Roman smiled widely and nodded, face hurting from how wide his smile had grown. “Thank you for the second chance, Headphones. Tomorrow after rehearsal, in the library,” he repeated. Virgil returned the smile with one of his own before he walked away from Roman, this time without interruption.

When Roman finally returned to the costume shop to questions about why it took him so long, the smile still hadn’t fallen from his face.

#colors #my fics #color #prinxiety #logicality #even though it's hardly even mentioned this time #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #nervous pt 3 #less nervous than on beverage tho