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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 3 years

Note

Was Napoleon a tyrant? I don't necessarily think he was: at least, I believe he was a better alternative to the absolute monarchs he was fighting. But there are those who disagree. What are your thoughts on the subject?

This is a can of worms to be sure.

I mean....how are we defining the word tyrant? All monarchs are tyrants to someone. Monarchy, by its very nature, is tyrannical in one way, shape, or form, no matter who is at its head. Even in the more neutered forms we see now days with the British. The Queen still exerts a ridiculous amount of power, all things considered.

Napoleon was no better or worse than any other monarch in Europe at that time. Indeed, better than some, worse than others. Because you know, he was human!

This got VERY long. SO LONG. Choice excerpts from below the cut:

"'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it."

"(And I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system. Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door. Napoleon: Hush.)"

"Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor."

"Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight! (I'm putting my money on Napoleon.)"

tl;dr: a more or less benevolent emperor who had his faults and who was intimately aware, for better or worse, more than most monarchs, that the head is only tenuously attached to the body. (Skim to the bottom for my thoughts on the personal things i.e. how I interpret Napoleon's actions and brain)

But, more seriously, as with most absolute statements, I am opposed to calling him a tyrant because it is reductive and serves no purpose except to make broad sweeping political statements that I believe are far more about the person making the statement exemplifying their modern political, republican position (as in, actual republican-I-support-the-existence-of-republics not the gop) rather than expressing any sort of truth about the past. (wHaT iS tRuTh.)

For historical purposes, it can over-simplify the situation and lead to skewed interpretations of events because you're coming in with this word that has a lot of modern, 20th and 21st century baggage to it.

And, because these people are coming in with this big, bad word of tyrant as a label for Napoleon, it doesn't allow them to engage with the nuance and complexities of his reign.

Anyway.

Napoleon, as emperor, supported centralized power held in his own hands, with support from other governing bodies (senate, council of state etc.). However, Napoleon had a lot of influence in the structuring of these governing bodies and the subsequent appointments as a means to exert control over entities that would otherwise be able to act somewhat independent from him and impinge his power.

We see this consolidation of power beginning, obviously, under the consulate. 'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it.

There was the whole theatre around the Tribunate offering to extend Napoleon's tenure as First Consul for another ten years as a means of thanks/showing gratitude for all he did for France (Fouche was like: fuck that, let's just make a statue of the guy). Napoleon played the part of Humble Servant of the Public and refused both statue and the ten year extension. (Very Julius Caesar: You all did see that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?)

In actuality, though, he was pissed because he wanted it extended for life.

This resulted in the Council of State deciding "independently" (i.e. Napoleon wasn't present but he sure as hell influenced that Council session) to hold a plebiscite in order to ask The People two key questions: 'Should Napoleon Bonaparte be consul for life?' and 'Should he have the right to designate his successor?'

Napoleon nixed the second question saying to Cambaceres, 'The testament of Louis XIV was not respected, so why should mine be? A dead man has nothing to say.' Which is to say, he knew people would vote for him to be Consul for life, but the prospect of him choosing a successor, a la the Roman Empire, and having that choice be without input from the people and respected upon his death? Less clear.

(And, I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system.

Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door.

Napoleon: Hush.)

For the Plebiscite, there were around 3.56 million votes for Yes to the question of Napoleon as consul for life and only around 8,300 for No.

The turnout rate was 60% which is uhh...impressive! (To be fair, there was no real evidence of tampering with the vote. Unlike in subsequent Plebiscites, such as the results for Do We Make Him Emperor, which were absolutely doctored. But, considering the highest turnout ever seen in the French Revolution was around 30/35%, double that is certainly something.)

Lafayette was pissed with this. He kicked up a fuss in the Senate and wrote to Napoleon saying that his 'restorative dictatorship' had been well and fine for now but has Napoleon thought about restoring liberty? and that he was certain Napoleon, of all people, wouldn't want an 'arbitrary regime' to be installed!

Napoleon: Bold of you to assume that, Lafayette.

There were, at this time, some mumblings and grumblings about tyranny from the liberals and those still wanting to continue the experiment of the French Republic, to be sure. They increased as time went on and Napoleon's power continued to consolidate.

Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor.

Lafayette: WhAt Is tHiS??

Napoleon: Look into my face and tell me honestly that you are shocked.

His government, as Consul and as Emperor, was centralized and very top-down in how it operated. Little was done without Napoleon's input.

The seemingly democratic institutions that had propped him up into power were retained and Napoleon used them as a means to facilitate his rule. As noted earlier, Napoleon had a heavy hand in appointments and the processes in place to fill various offices. Nothing was really...independent of him and his influence.

Though, in terms of Image Building of Empire, Napoleon worked hard to try and maintain the façade of impartiality as emperor. That he was head of state, sure, but all state apparatuses operated independent of him.

(Why is Napoleon's hat so big? because it is full of lies supporting the imperial image making machine.)

That said, when it came to filling those offices, Napoleon focused on merit more than anything as he wanted his governing officials to be capable, hardworking and, above all else, loyal.

(A good quote from Napoleon in one of his more Eat the Rich moments of the consulate: 'One cannot treat wealth as a title of nobility. A rich man is often a layabout without merit. A rich merchant is often only so by virtue of the art of selling expensively or stealing.'

Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight!

(I'm putting my money on Napoleon.) )

This is getting really long and I feel that I've not addressed anything in a useful manner, but am I going to stop? No.

Napoleon, himself, at least in 1803, did express some conflicted views about assuming an imperial title. To Roederer he said, 'So many great things have been achieved over the past three years under the title of consul. It should be kept.'

Cambaceres said to Napoleon that upon assuming an imperial title 'your position changes and places you at odds with yourself.' No longer are you merely a public servant, an upholder of the Republic's ideals. Now you are a man wearing a crown, trying to be the upholder of the Republic's ideals.

(nb: I feel that duality is something Napoleon never fully got a handle on. He would veer strongly into authoritarian monarch then have moments of Rousseau-ian Idealism.)

Napoleon was insistent that his rule be a parliamentary monarchy (keeping the governance framework implemented in the Constitution of Year VIII, if I am not mistaken. But don't quote me on that.) and that the French were not his subjects but his people.

So, the imperial government worked thus with the Legislative process divided between four bodies:

Council of State which would draw up legislative proposals,

Tribunate which could debate on legislation but not vote on it,

a legislative body which could vote on legislation but not discuss it, and

Senate which would consider whether the proposed legislation conformed to the Constitution.

The Senate and the Legislative body could, theoretically, curtail Napoleon’s freedom/power. However, considering the fact that he was involved in the appointment process of these offices, and the general rhythm of daily governance, how much power they were able to exert over him was limited.

(This is at his height! Of course, towards the end we see a shift in that. But that's largely tied up in his military defeats and the British banging the door knocker demanding to be let in. Also they brought with them some friends. You might have heard of them? Bourbons?)

The initial terms the Senate brought to Napoleon with their offer of accepting him as a hereditary monarch included, but weren't limited to:

liberty cannot be infringed

equality cannot be jeopardized

sovereignty of the people must be maintained

the laws of the nation are inviolable

all institutions were to be free from undue imperial influence (e.g. the press)

the nation should never be put into a position where it needs to behead the head of state. Again.

Napoleon was uh. Not best pleased with this and had a new version drafted up that included acknowledgement of the sovereignty of the people, but a lot of the other things (e.g. freedom of the press) were cut out.

Yet, Napoleon maintained certain parts of the French Revolution's values which were reflected more in the 1804 Code Napoleon and other legislative and legal pieces than in the initial terms of Senatorial acceptance of his imperial title.

Some of the things enshrined in the Code that were carry-over from the Revolution include, but aren't limited to, the abolition of feudalism, equality before the law, freedom of conscience (to practice their own religion), gave fixed title to those who had bought church and émigré lands during the 1790s, and the equality of taxation was maintained (tax those aristos and the church). Also, there was affirmation of the idea of careers being "open to talent" rather than an accident of birth (as touched on above).

The Freedom of Conscience clause in the Code was a further formalization of several Articles Napoleon amended onto the Concordat in 1802. The Articles guaranteed the principle of religious toleration and made the Protestant and Jewish churches similarly subject to state authority (alongside the Catholic).

These are just a brief summary of some of the more liberal/revolution-informed aspects of Napoleon's governing.

The non-liberal ones I believe we're all pretty familiar with: suppression of the free press, roll-back of rights for women (women are for babies!), reinstatement of slavery (which he later reversed circa 1810/12-ish), top-down Emperor-has-final-word approach to ruling (Napoleon was all about Authority From Above, Trust From Below) etc. etc.

At the end of this, I would say Napoleon's empire falls into that "benevolent monarch" situation. For a given value of "benevolent." As stated at the start, he was like most other monarchs in Europe at the time. Better than some, not as great about certain things as others.

Really, it all ties back to Order and Stability.

Napoleon's assent, and his approach to strong, centralized ruling, was a result of uncertainty and constant government change over ten years of revolution alongside the growing belief, by 1803, that a republic like the Romans or Greeks was not going to happen any time soon. Not without constant warfare and the forever looming threat of a Bourbon restoration.

In addition, Napoleon was doing imperial drag. (If that makes sense.) He was dialing the notch of Emperor up to 11 - being the most emperor of all emperors. So, state control was absolute because he couldn't show any signs of weakness - either in his own body, his familial body, or the body of state. The court protocols were intense and over-the-top at times because he had to prove he was not just a second son of a parvenu lawyer from the sticks. No! he was worthy of this pomp. He was worthy of imperial majesty. He was worthy of the crown and scepter.

Napoleon was not raised to be anything other than a military officer and a middle-class head of a family (would have been a MASTER at doing Sunday Dad Puttering About the House). When he dawned the mantel of power, particularly that of empire, he had to make it up as he went along. For such a self-conscious and proud man, this was difficult. He never wanted to misstep and be embarrassed - on a personal level, political or military.

At the same time, he was reared on Rousseau and Revolution so still had those values and ideals imbedded in him, and those fears and memories. Napoleon knew as well as any Frenchman that a monarch's head is easily removable should it become necessary. Therefore, he sometimes ran roughshod over the liberty to ensure security. For better or worse, that was the choice he made.

Napoleon was a flawed leader with a complex approach to governing that was focused on a centralization of power within him while, at the same time, trying to be the Successor of the Revolution, the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire. Layers! Like an onion.

His approach as emperor really was within the realm of normal-for-the-times when compared to most other monarchs on the European stage in 1800. He also granted liberties to his people that were unheard of in other countries.

I feel like all my Napoleonic ramblings end with the same message: Dude was nuanced. Dude was complex. Dude did good things and bad things. Dude helped people and hurt people. Dude contained multitudes. Because he was simply human, at the end of the day.

ANNNNNNND we are done.

Gods bless all y'all who made it this far.

Have my favourite picture of Napoleon at Tuileries as a prize.

hmm that beautiful heavy, handed symbolism.

#napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #ask #reply #napoleonic #history #19th century #imperial myth making #napoleonic identity

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misterghostfrog · 3 years

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39 FOR THE PROMPTS PLEASE AAAAA

LOOK OK, i’m going to start by saying this one... got away from me a little bit. And I didn’t originally mean to combine the prompts, and neither are technically correct. BUT consider you can’t stop me

39. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

30. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

Cw; This takes place after the unknowing but before Jon wakes up in canon, and Martin starts in a rough headspace. Also accidental compulsion.

(This is actually a sorta part-2 to the pre-unknowing ficlet I did! Tho u don’t gotta read it to understand it works as a standalone too. Anyway welcome to the AU ZONE)

EDIT: fixed a typo

Martin usually visits Jon on Thursday.

He used to visit every day. But the nurses began to give him looks after the first month, and it was hard to balance checking on Jon with regular life things like groceries, laundry, and work. So he’s cut back. If only to preserve his sanity.

He considered Sunday. But Sunday is the day he visits his mum, another thing that has been hard to balance with- well. Everything. Besides, it’s hard to stack that much heartbreak into one day.

The receptionist gives him a funny look. He would give himself a funny look too, he looks a wreck, he knows it. She knows him, so seeing him on a wednesday looking like he crawled out of the back end of hell. Or maybe just hasn’t done any laundry for a few days. Or showered. And got in a fight and lost.

He’s already waited too long though, he thinks. He... well. It’s his last chance, he supposes. If Jon isn’t coming back, then...

Yeah.

It’ll be for the best.

He turns the knob on the door, he knows what he’ll say. Even if he’s talking to a dead man he needs a speech apparently. And-

He bounces off of something- or someone. Who trips back a step in turn.

“Oh god- I’m so sorry-” He says almost automatically.

“No, don’t worry about it I wasn’t-”

“I wasn’t even looking where I was going a-and-”

“Really it’s fine-”

The man isn’t a nurse, Martin’s sees that much. He’s tall-ish. Handsome, certainly. Definitely no-one he’s ever met. And certainly no-one he thinks might have a reason to visit Jon. Not that Jon shouldn't get handsome visitors, but- well. He doesn’t- didn’t? Have many people outside of the institute he ever talked about. And so this guy turning up out of the blue is... well.

“Er- I’m sorry, but who... who are you?” He’s not- he’s not upset. that this random stranger is visiting Jon. It’s just weird is all. Yeah. Really weird, actually.

“Oh! I- I’m- I’m a friend of Jons.” The man says with an awkward smile, his eyes darting down to his shoes for a moment as he says it. “Er- Antonio.” He tacks the name on like an afterthought. This time his gaze flicks somewhere around Martin's shoulder, he shuffles on his feet.

Martin’s never been an expert at picking up on lies, not to say he’s bad at it. He just doesn’t find it something to worry about generally. But it’s hard not to notice when ‘Antonio’ is basically holding an imaginary blinking neon sign that says ‘I AM LYING’ with accompanying metaphorical Morse code with the same message.

He swears he’s heard that name before though.

“Oh. Er- he’s never um, talked about you?” he says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Very old friends. Haven’t um- talked in a while.” ‘Antonio’ waves a hand awkwardly. And casting consistent looks towards the elevator.

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway! I’m uh- I’ll be going now. Visits over stuff to do y’know.” He’s already walking away as he says it, backing up for a moment and casting a quick wave before trotting away down the hall.

“Oh, y-yeah. Sure, bye?” Martin waves- though ‘Antonio’ isn’t looking. Watching as he basically runs down the hall.

“Bye!” ‘Antonio’ throws over his shoulder as he turns the corner to the elevators.

Well then.

“Huh.”

That’s not how he thought this visit was going to start.

He pauses for a moment. He’d been working off of something of a momentum. Check in with the nurse, make his speech. And be ready to say his goodbyes. But that... whatever just happened. Well, it threw him off.

He sighs.

It doesn’t matter. Weirdo visiting Jon. Seems about right, actually. If he thinks about it. Probably left a statement somewhere too, just to complete the weird weird picture.

The word ‘weird’ is starting to sound less like the a word the more he thinks about it.

He pushes the door to the hospital room open, he knows he’s imagining it. But the air feels heavier. The dread of the situation. The finality. Jon is still there, unmoving in his hospital bed. There's several machines tucked into the corner, they’d unhooked him from everything after the first month when it became clear that this is simply his state of being. That’s also about the time the nurses started telling him Jon probably wasn’t waking up.

He’s not going to wake up. Martin knows he’s not going to wake up. He’s been fooling himself for so long but now with the flesh attack he needs to do something. Or at the very least stop feeling like he’s doing nothing. But being miserable isn’t a solution either.

Maybe there is no solution. Maybe it’s just, problems. Stuff he can’t fix or deal with and just- has to let it follow him until he dies.

He shifts, and his ankle twinges.

He’d tripped. It’s so stupid, it wasn’t even the monsters. He’d just- fallen and ended up hiding in a side room while everyone else dealt with meaty things crawling out of the floorboards. Just sat and hid and did nothing.

He’s tired of doing nothing.

Jon snores, interrupting his train of thought.

Martin smiles, god he’d forgotten Jon did that. Those little snorting snores- he’d only heard them a few times, back at the institute. It had scared the hell out of him the first time he’d been living-

Wait.

What?

Martin blinks. And watches as Jon scrunches his nose, making a small irritated noise- and turns over.

What.

His head skips, rewinds. Plays what he just saw back. Jon is breathing, how long has he been breathing? Doesn’t matter, he’s breathing which means he’s alive but what-

That weird guy. “Antonio”

He’s gone, Martin knows he’s gone. But he checks anyway. Even running all the way to the elevators. But he’s gone.

And Jon...

Jon is alive.

The thought hits his brain, and then slips away like a wet fish. There’s no guarantees. This could be a fluke, this could be a trap. It might not even be Jon. Just... something that looks like him, and snores like him. And-

A nurse taps him on the shoulder. And he realizes he’s been staring at the elevators for, well, he doesn’t know how long. Long enough to catch several concerned glances from passers-by though.

“Are you alright sir?” She asks, politely. He recognizes her, he chatted with her once when visiting Jon. She’s nice. She does the check ups a lot of the time, one of the few who’ll actually do it.

“He’s alive.” He says flatly, instead of answering. Because he’s not sure what the answer to the question is anyway.

The doctors do tests, though not many. According to them he’s fine. Fit as a fiddle aside from some fatigue and a little confusion. Which clearly makes them uncomfortable. Which he understands. A man wakes up from a three-month coma like he’d just rolled out of bed on a Monday morning? It makes him uncomfortable too, he thinks.

Basira drops off a statement. ‘Just felt like I should’ she’d said when he asked why. And neither of them felt particularly good about that answer.

After the statement he’s fine, not even fatigued. He’s alive.

He keeps looking at Martin.

Martin isn’t sure why he doesn’t want to look back.

Maybe it’s because it still feels like a trap, all of a sudden he comes back with no- no fanfare no effort. Right as rain and just... there.

Nobody else wants to deal with him right now- not after he just pulled a Lazarus like that. Jon wants to go to the institute. But Martin isn’t having it. He just woke up from a three-month coma. He’s going home. And yes- his lease apparently expired before the unknowing, so he doesn’t have a place to stay. And yes the only person willing to give him a place to stay is Martin. And Martin... well, it’s Jon. and even if it wasn’t, in the wake of losing three months of his life- and a friend. Or someone who had been a friend at a point before this all went to hell. He wouldn’t leave him alone for anything.

Martin tries to force himself to come to terms with it as they both climb into his car- this is what he wanted. He should be overjoyed. But it feels... it feels like if he looks at Jon for too long he’ll just... disappear. Or stop breathing again. Or stop being Jon.

“Good to see not too much has changed while I was gone.” Jon says wryly as he wrestles with the seatbelt. Which squeaks as he struggles to pull it out far enough to actually fasten it.

Martin just hums in response. Not trusting his voice not to betray whatever it is he’s feeling right now.

The drive to his flat is mostly quiet, aside from a few awkward attempts at conversation from Jon that all fall miserably flat. Eventually he gives up, and the rest of the drive is spent in silence.

It’s not too far from the hospital to his flat. So before he knows it he’s leading Jon up the steps to his home.

It’s not much, he knows. Can’t afford anything truly fancy when carrying medical bills around. But it’s nice, homey. He hopes.

“Home sweet home.” He says, dropping his keys on the table by the door and hoping he sounds cheery. Because he doesn’t know what else to be right now. He’s figured out what emotion he’s feeling, though he’s not sure it counts as an emotion honestly.

Numb.

Stupid, isn’t it?

“The bathrooms down the hall- I think your stuff’s all in storage at the moment,” his voice wobbles at that, he swallows “so we’ll have to go get that soon. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge-” He’s stopped by a hand on his wrist. Familiar, too-thin, and cool.

“Martin.” Jon says. “Did I... did I do something to upset you?” It’s a question, small and helpless. Martin just wants to brush it off, he’s fine. He just needs time-

“You died, Jon.” He says instead. The words coming out unbidden.

“I- I came back.” He tightens his grip on Martins wrist for a moment before loosening “In one piece even. I believe that was a part of our agreement” There’s a note of teasing in that last part, Martin wishes it was funny.

“I said come back safe Jon, not ‘come back from the dead’” Jon's hand drops from his wrist.

“Do you not... Are you not glad I’m back?” He sounds- sad. Of course he sounds sad Martin basically just said he wished he'd died.

“Of course I’m glad your back, I just-”

“Then what’s wrong?” The words are just- they’re just words. But Martin feels something pull in his chest.

Martin looks at Jon for the first time since the hospital.

“I’m scared, Jon! I You were dead for three months, Y-you didn’t even have a heartbeat and I-” He brings a hand upland runs it through his hair, Jon doesn’t need to hear this. He should be resting not listening to Martin dump his issues like this- “you were dead and I was the only one left. A-and yeah you came back, but- god what even is this! You’re just, fine. A-and I’m- I don’t want you to not be fine but I- I can’t even prove to myself that you’re real and not- I-I don’t-” He forces himself to stop. clamping his jaw shut around the words that suddenly feel like they’re pushing at the back of his throat like bile. Jon stares back at him, eyes wide and confused and hurt. He’s disheveled and still wearing the pajamas Martin had brought for him in the first week. Small and tired and maybe even real. He looks at Jon until he can’t because his vision begins to blur and his eyes begin to burn.

“Martin, I- I’m- I’m sorry I-” Jon's blurry form moves, and Martin shuts his eyes. Shaking his head. He should be the one apologizing, Jon didn’t need to hear that and he just- threw it at him.

“I’m-” Martin tries to apologize, but it comes out as little more than a croak. Cool hands cup his cheeks, and he opens his eyes. Jon's face is closer now, eyes scanning desperately over Martin's face.

“I- I’m not- I don’t know what I am but I’m- I-I’m me. I-I promise, I don’t know how to prove it to you but I-” Jon starts, and Martin can see his lips move to form the words-

Jon is here, he’s alive. He’s awake. His hands are on Martin's cheeks and he’s running his thumb through the tear tracks, fumbling over awkward reassurances. and looking so, so earnest. Hell, he made a joke about a conversation nobody else heard. Something just between the two of them, nobody else. And to fear entities, maybe that doesn’t matter. But for now, with Jon so close and acting so perfectly imperfectly Jon. Martin can let- no. Make himself believe. Jon’s not dead, it’s not a trap. Not right now, not yet. Just for right now, Martin isn’t alone anymore.

It doesn’t take much to lean forward, pressing their lips together. Jon makes a small, cut-off sound of surprise before melting into it, letting a hand move to the back of Martin's hair and the other fall to his shoulder. Martin's arms wrapping around Jon's waist.

Eventually they have to part for air. Martin doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel Jon's breath on his face, and his hand in his hair and it’s all just another reminder he’s alive. And so wonderfully real.

He feels Jon move after a moment, using the hand he’s left on the back of Martin's head to guide him down. Pressing now-warm lips to the wet patches on his cheeks. Martin tries to laugh, he’s not sure why. It all just seems a little absurd all of a sudden. but it comes out as sort of a wet hiccup. Prompting Jon to tilt his head, and lock their lips together again.

Martin doesn’t know how long they stand in his entryway, trading kisses and just... being in each other's arms. But it’s long enough he’s run out of tears for Jon to try to kiss away, and the strange wired feeling has faded. Leaving him tired and heavy and in desperate need of a lie-down.

He pulls back, though not far. He can still feel Jon's lips against his as he speaks.

“Please don’t die again.” He says softly.

Jon sighs, pressing a small, chaste kiss against his lips.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and Martin can feel the words as Jon's mouth brushes his as much as he hears them. And then he kisses Martin again, like he’s trying to seal the words there with his lips.

And, Martin supposes that promise was enough last time. It might be more than enough for him now.

#tma #the magnus archives #ficlet #jmart #jonmartin #Jonathan sims #Martin blackwood #Ghostly scribble #Ghostly scribbles #coulson-is-an-avenger

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riversofmars · 3 years

Note

Sometimes 13 just poses as a student and attends rivers lectures.

Hellooo! I’ve been saving this prompt for a long time cause I love it so much and now finally did something exciting with it! This is actually a little collaboration I did with @serawalkerwrites. She keeps getting asked to write for DW and never has, so we decided to do a little thing together! Basically, we took turns writing paragraphs! She's written the River bits and I wrote for 13. Really fun thing to do because our styles are quite different but it worked :D Apart from the fact that she made me write in present tense which I hate lmao! Also, if you like American Horror Story or Ratched, check out her stuff!

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2300

Read on AO3 or below

Like The First Time

“I might be younger and far prettier than the other Professors at this University, but that doesn't mean I don't expect the same level of good behaviour from my students,“ Professor River Song barks up the rows of lecture hall seating, slapping her papers on the desk. She tosses her bouncing curls of hair and brings her hands to her hips, watching the chatting students in the back row and waiting for them to take notice. That blonde girl seems to whispering at some speed, with enthusiastic hand gestures to boot. “That means you in the back row!“ She raises her voice again, finally getting the young blondes attention.

The Doctor hadn’t been able to stop herself. When River had started talking about the Venusian tomb she’d visited not long ago, it had been a perfect opportunity to tell the other students about the time she’d been invited to a funeral service there. It’s an incredibly stupid thing to do, of course. She isn’t meant to interact with anyone - as strictly speaking - she isn’t meant to be here. For a start she isn’t actually a student at Luna University; for another, she could very well be causing some damage to the fabric of space and time. Visiting her wife earlier in her timeline is risky… but she hasn’t been able to stay away. Sometimes, when the Doctor misses her a lot, she sits in on her lectures, right at the back. She knows River won’t recognise her and she never speaks to her… there’s no harm no foul is there? However, a slip up is bound to happen eventually.

Now, as she looks at River, who is shooting her piercing glare from the front of the auditorium, the Doctor realises she’s messed up. The Doctor looks left and right to the other students, hoping it’s one of them River is scolding.

“Yes you, don't act like I cant see you -“ River lifts her eyebrows at the petulant student. “Forget it, I’m not shouting at you from down here, stay behind after class. Then we’ll talk, and believe me you won’t like what I have to say.“ River rolls her eyes away, a taut huff tumbling from her lips to find her inner calm once again, before continuing. “Now where were we…“

The Doctor shrinks back in her seat, her neighbouring students giving her sympathetic smiles. Others just snicker and smirk. River has a reputation for strictness, no-one messes with her…The Doctor’s made a big mistake. She glances to the exit; she can still escape this situation. But if she does, she’ll never be able to come back. Perhaps it’s time to face her wife at last. She gnaws her bottom lip anxiously and tries her best to sit still for the remainder of the lecture.

As a shrill bell rings out, signalling the end of class and an end to the Doctors torture, River watches the troublemaker while she packs her things. Students rise to their feet, stuff their bags with books and file out in an eager swarm, heading into the midday sunshine. But not this student. She’s bouncing down the steps to the front, an epic grey coat and too-short trousers have her piquing River’s interest before they start talking. “Ah, good. At least you decided to be smart this time and not run-off out the doors. I would have found you,“ River informs the girl, whose swinging her arms and looking guilty. If this were any other circumstance, then River might have bought her a drink. But as it is, she's her student, however adorable she is. “Care to tell me what is so pressing you had to take time out of my lecture to talk about it?“

“Ah well, you know, the whole thing about the Venusian tomb, just brought back some memories to when I was learning Venusian aikido. There was this one time when I was invited to a funeral at one, which - you know - is a big deal for any outsider and…“ The Doctor starts rambling, unable to stop herself. A grin spreads across her features, hoping to entertain River with her story, as she had done so many times in the past. River always liked to listen to recounts of her adventures.

“Venusian Aikido?“ River folds her arms, skeptical. “They don’t teach that to just anyone. I happen to be a black belt myself.“

“Oh I know.“ The Doctor grins.

“It’s not on my resumé,“ River parries, her eyebrows lifting into an arch. “So someone told you. Perhaps at this funeral, you supposedly attended?“ River laughs doubting the girls claims. “No-one just gets invited to a Venusian funeral, or a wedding, or any kind of ceremony unless you’re a honoured noble. Which you clearly cannot be, no offence Sweetie but -“ River pauses. She stares at the blonde and her mismatched clothing, then bunches her lips. “What did you say your name was?“

The Doctor doesn’t answer immediately. This is it, the moment of truth. She could just tell her… surely there’s no harm in it. This is River Song after losing her parents in Manhattan, and before Darillium; there is no real reason to keep her identity from her. Apart from the fact that she isn't sure how she will react. They didn’t see each other for so long in between Manhattan and Darillium, enough for River to come to doubt if the Doctor had ever truly loved her. Her words still echo through the back of the Doctor’s mind now. The Doctor doesn’t and has never loved me. - But you are the woman who loves the Doctor. - Yes I am. I never denied it. But whoever said he loved me back? Those words still haunt the Doctor, even after spending 24 years with her in which she’d done everything she could to convince her of just the opposite.

“Jane Smith.“ The Doctor answers at last with a thin smile.

River lets out a loud chortle. “Jane Smith? Of course it is,“ River replies not believing her for a second. Who has the most standard name of all names like that? River postures a little, shuffles her papers around into a neat pile already thinking of the lunch that’s waiting for her in the refectory, because she's not getting any truth from this girl. “I don't recall your name on my student register; so…how about you tell me the truth.“ River hooks her bag over her shoulder and takes a long stride forward, claiming the podium as her space, the lecturer to the student. River examines her, because if she’s not her student, then who is she? All beautiful round eyes and choppy blonde hair, River certainly doesn't recognise her. Should she, recognise her? “Or you can come to my office and explain yourself there.“

“I uhh…“ The Doctor swallows hard. Of course she doesn’t believe her, people rarely do initially; but usually she can use her psychic paper to back up her identity. She knows River would see right through that if she tried it, so that isn’t an option. “Well, I’ve actually got somewhere else to be. A really very important…thing. A thing that can’t wait, so…it was really nice talking to you, brilliant lecture. Slightly exaggerated in some parts but - you know - got to keep the students engaged…“ Her eyes flick to the door. She’s parked her TARDIS in a supply closet, so it’s not far away.

“Are you calling my stories embellished?“ River trails after this Jane Smith towards the door, flabbergasted. She’s a bone fide time traveller, she knows her subject matter better than anyone in the known universe, except - “It’s not as though you can possible know better? How old are you anyway, twelve?“ She carries on trying to get under the girl’s skin, who is clearly hiding something. “Where on earth are you going? You realise that’s the closet.“

“Why are you following me?“ The Doctor had hoped to simply shake her but River seems to have different ideas. She doesn’t dare open the supply closet door, River would see the TARDIS and she would be done for. But where else could she possibly go? She looks around anxiously for a way out.

“Mmm it seems you might be trapped…“ River drops her voice to a knowing whisper. She smirks, delighting in watching the girl fret.

“I just… forgot which way I… uhh…“ The Doctor struggles for a response suddenly aware of how close River is getting to her. And that smirk… She knows it all too well. Like a lioness stalking her prey. She can’t even think of a credible lie to get her out of her predicament.

“Which way you meant to go?“ River bobs her finger on her lip pretending to think hard about it. “My office is this way, if you didn't get the hint earlier.“ River ghosts her hands over the girls hips, rubbing into her hipbones with her thumbs and sucking her lips and humming. “Jane Smith. I appreciate the code name. You can slip me your paper later, I’ll be sure to mark it up a grade, well, depending on your performance of course.“ River winks coyly.

“I…“ The Doctor’s mouth suddenly feels really dry, she can’t speak. Flirting and reading innuendo isn’t exactly her forte but River can’t possibly be more obvious with her advances. Is this what River is like when she isn’t around? The Doctor isn’t sure whether to be flattered or hurt. They’re not exactly exclusive but she doesn’t like her nose rubbed in it like this. But at the same time, perhaps this is an opportunity… She could be with River without having to reveal her identity… but is that something she wanted to do under false pretences?

“Good talk, come along!“ River grins and leads the way across the lecture hall to the staff door, and unlocks it with a quick key-twizzle, then presses the door open wide to wave ‚Jane‘ through. River uses the opportunity to loop her arm around Jane’s waist and scoops her in the right direction down the hall towards her office.

The Doctor doesn’t know what to do. Things are moving fast, River doesn’t even give her a chance to protest. Her hearts seem to skip their beats when River pulls her along.

Once inside, River tosses the door shut and wastes no time in pushing Jane against it, roaming her hands up and down her sides and snapping the elastic braces. “These are retro, but I can go with the flow, off they coooome…“ River sings as she yanks them off Jane’s shoulders, then the coat, and where is the edge of this t-shirt? River is keen to feel her hands up Jane’s abdomen, and the flush of her skin. River knows her hands are rough - years of archeological digs will do that to a girl - but Jane is young and sweet enough to need a little roughing up.

“River…“ The Doctor tries to protest, this was moving too fast. Her breath catches when River untucks her t-shirt. The Doctor is still getting used to this new body and she suddenly feels very hot.

“First names already? My my…“ River tosses her mane of hair out the way as she leans in to kiss Jane on the neck, biting her and enjoying teasing her far too much. “Sweetie you do give yourself away, even in this body,“ River tickles her teeth along the Doctor’s collarbone searching for the next spot to bite. “I mean, I like it darling, but give me a heads next time -“ River explores the Doctor’s petite body with enthusiasm. “My apparatus is your apparatus and all that, got to get my head around it.“

“You knew?!“ The Doctor blurts out and pushes her off, holds her at arms length. “And you just played along?!“ She’s breathless from River’s kisses but her outrage overshadows her arousal.

River unbuttons her shirt confidently, tearing the sides apart and presenting her body to the Doctor once again, even if it’s all new for the Doctor, River is still River. “Well what did you think? I do this with all my students, Jane Smith?“ She smiles a broad, proud River smile and holds her hands out for the Doctor to take. “I’m married, remember?“ Mutually exclusive is…a bit of stretch, there might be other husbands here and there, but there is only one Doctor. “So, wife, how about a little ride on the merry-go-round with this new body?“

The Doctor just stares at her for a moment. It’s been a while since Darillium but she still recalls every moment, and River is just as beautiful as she remembers. And just as much of a temptress. She bites her lip, suddenly feeling very insecure. It would be her first time in this body…and it’s her first time being a woman as far as she can remember. That’s a lot to be anxious about.

Softening the come-on, River takes the Doctors hands and steps closer to her, squeezing her hands in reassurance. “I knew it would happen eventually, a wife and not a husband. It’s okay, you know.“ River takes a deep breath, and kisses her wife properly for the first time. Her lips are thinner softer and taste of cinnamon, but she kisses back just like her husband did. Her Doctor. “I love you. This adorable new body is just a bonus,“ she says gently, then kisses her nose for extra effect.

The Doctor can’t help but chuckle as she looks up to her. This was new. She is shorter than her! Though only due to River’s ridiculously high heels.

“I love you, too.“ She whispers nuzzling into her crook of her neck as she wraps her arms around her. River smells exactly the way she remembers, like sunshine on a spring day. “I’ve missed you so much.“ She confesses.

#Doctor Who #fanfiction #collaboration #prompt #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #river x thirteen #thirteen/river #space wives #teen #It's professor song to you #Jodie whittaker #Alex kingston #femslash #fluff #flirting #otp #yes this was the secret project lmao

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soldrawss · 3 years

Note

Could you please post more of your lovely wholesome Rottmnt content? Your AUs are golden and I’m sure all of us would appreciate, love and cherish anything you give us.

I’m ALWAYS down for posting some ROTTMNT AU content, thank you so much for your sweet words and the chance to bombard you with more of my au stories. (You didn’t specify which rottmnt content so I’m taking artistic liberty and answering with BBM content) He’s another little story I wrote for my Big Brother Mikey AU. (Zach had asked if Raph ever outgrows Mikey because he’s genetically built like a freaking tank and I not only said yes, but Leo and Donnie eventually outgrow him too, and then this short was born)

So Mikey's not like, TALL by any means. At around 20 he reached his peak height of 5'7, and that was that. But for a good portion of their childhoods, he was the tallest. Only naturally so, since he was the oldest.

But then the twins turned 16 and hit a goddamn growth spurt and shot up like vines from a fairy tale and effectively outgrew Mikey. Which Mikey saw coming... sorta...

The twins had been around his height for a while, so it wasn't too surprising when the day finally came that Mikey, as he was standing in the kitchen making some scrambled egg tacos, noticed Leo walk up beside him and reach for the stash of chocolate peppermint bark that Mikey had to use a stepstool to stash up on the top shelf, (He hid them up there from their Christmas holiday party because Raph and Donnie had kept eating them to the point of getting sick) and Mikey finally thought, "oh my god, there goes my best treat hiding place". And sure enough, when he forced the twins to stand by the hallway wall, (where they had all their heights measured with color-coded crayon lines, something they used to do as kids with their dad that Mikey didn't really grow out of continuing despite all the times they've moved) the blue and purple lines had overtaken the orange line as the tallest height.

And it was a little bittersweet, Mikey DEFINITELY teared up about it despite Leo and Donnie giving him hugs and teasing him good-naturedly about it, but it was a good bittersweet. Leo and Donnie were growing up. They weren't the fierce and protective kids they used to be, guarded with nervous and untrusting anger that kept cultivating in their unstable childhoods. An anger that was almost seemed second hand, there without them having to reach for it, and Mikey used to lose sleep over hoping that they wouldn't feel like the world was against them forever. He hoped they could be kids for a long as they could be, much longer than he ever had the chance to be.

They were so small, they'd always been so small. Born a month and a half premature, and tiny in Mikey's already small 7-year-old arms. He figured they'd always be that small, always fit right there, perfectly in the circle of his arms.

They still do, but not in the fearful and sheltered and scared way they used to. Not in the perfect way that made Mikey seem bigger than life, and able to shelter them from the worst of the world’s hurt and pain and cold.

Now it's with a bounce in their step and a wry smile on their lips and a contented sigh in the mornings on their way to school, and Mikey lifts his arms up because how DARE they think they can just sneak off to do cool teenager things and not give their embarrassingly affectionate big brother a hug goodbye. And they sorta crouch now, bending over so that Mikey can wrap his arms around them, but they do it, and it feels right, and they hug back just as hard and Mikey is thankful they didn't outgrow this. Mikey isn't upset when the twins grew taller than him. But it's a completely different story with Raph. Because Raph was always a big kid. He was a brick as a baby. Round with baby fat and soft cheeks that Mikey used to blow fat raspberries into to make him giggle and no matter how big he got, he was never too big for Mikey to carry around and hold in his arms forever. At least, that's what Mikey thought, anyway. He didn't notice when Raph stopped jumping into his open arms whenever he got home, not at first. Racing like he had something to prove from wherever he was in their little apartment complex to meet Mikey at the door with a tackling hug to Mikey's middle with all the force of a runaway freight train. Mikey never stumbles or falls back from the familiar weight, because he knows, like he knows all the freckles on Raph's nose and all the curls in his baby brother's hair, that he'll always be there to catch him no matter what, so it was never something Mikey was consciously aware of. And sure, maybe he's a little aware of Raph's growth, but again, Raph was always a big kid. Mikey was always buying him new clothes and shoes, because he either ripped or outgrew his old ones, and he never quite fit into Leo's or Donnie’s or Mikey's quite right. It isn't until Raph's in 8th grade, and he's coming home with a note for Mikey to read about him joining the football team as a freshman come the next school year, and the coach want's Raph to do summer training with the rest of the team, that Mikey has to take a step back because WHAT? Raph is a baby, no WAY is he ready to play football what on EARTH is the coach thinking. It isn't until LH, after hearing Mikey complain about it to him later that night, "Because I don't know El. Raph was pretty excited about it, but Football is whole worlds dangerous. Weren't you just telling me last week about the statistics on brain damage and the correlation it has with contact sports like football? And how that damage is permanent? Raph could get hurt, like SERIOUSLY hurt. I don't know WHAT the coach is thinking putting a Freshman on a varsity team," tells Mikey, "Well, I mean, look at him, Mike. Kid's built like a brick wall. He could probably take a few hits better than some of the seniors can," that Mikey finally looks at Raph and REALLY looks at him. Because,,, yeah ok, Raph IS built like a brick wall. 13 years old and suddenly he's a whole head taller than Mikey and about as big as 4 of him and WOAH when did Mikey's baby brother, this kid, HIS kid, the only one Mikey will ever have, the one he raised since he was 12 year's old, and holding to his chest, shielding from a pot of boiling water, get too big to hold to his chest anymore. Too big to shield. And Mikey has to sit down and not have a panic attack because oh no oh god oh no. All his brothers, all his little brothers, that Mikey put his EVERYTHING into raising, providing, protecting, are suddenly not so little anymore. Not so in need of protection anymore.

Donnie was off in grad school, getting a billion degrees and doctorates because he was smart enough to do everything and anything, and Leo was on a basketball scholarship at NYU, full ride, and he's skating through life on charm and smarts and innate talent to turn everything he touches into gold and Raph is 13, but he's already getting offers to be a centerline guard on a football team at a high school he doesn't even attend yet, and coming home shining bright and brilliant because of it, the same way he comes home after acing a bio test or landing another lead role in his theatre club and suddenly they don't NEED Mikey anymore.

They don't need him like they used to, and certainly not in a way Mikey needs them. Because they're growing up. Growing into their own people, with their own lives, and it's exactly what Mikey wanted, of COURSE, it is. Mikey used to kill himself, working days and nights and holidays and THEN some, working on borrowed time he didn't give to himself, to make sure that his brothers GOT the opportunity to grow like this. To be the magnificent and amazing people they were always meant to be, despite the situation the world put them in. But Mikey has only ever lived, really, for his brothers. Mikey never let himself have anything. He always gave it to his brothers, freely and willingly. But now that his brothers don't need him anymore, what's there left of Mikey? What was Mikey supposed to do now? Mikey stopped growing at 20, but his brothers kept growing and getting bigger and brighter and outshining the universe, and when Mikey wasn't looking, he thinks they got too big from little him anymore. (Cue an existential crisis from Mikey at age 28, where LH and Raph call Leo and Donnie at college, to come down and have an intervention with Mikey because OF FUCKING COURSE THEY DIDN'T OUT GROW HIM ARE YOU KIDDING??? Mikey will always be their big brother and they'll ALWAYS need him. Maybe not need him the same way they did when they were kids. But they'll still need his weekend phone calls, and daily cat videos sent in the group chat, and kisses to their temples and pillow fights on the nights Leo and Donnie spend a weekend home and warm hugs and warm breakfast casserole and the constant "I love you"’s that wouldn't fill their hearts the same way if it came from anyone other than their big brother. And Leo and Donnie are 21 and are tall enough to be trees, and Raph is 16 and can bench press all of them if he tried, and Mikey will never be taller than his little brothers again. But they'll never be too big for Mikey's hugs or love. They'll never be big enough where they won't need their big brother. Mikey is the only thing that they’ll never outgrow.)

#my fic #big brother mikey au #bbm au #rottmnt #rottmnt human #rottmnt human au #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt human #at age 28 mikey is 5'7 #at age 21 leo and donnie are 5'11-6 foot respectfully #at 16 raph is 6'2 #april is 28 and 5'6 #and LH towers over all of them at 31 and 6'5 #and that's the family babes

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gwendolyn02 · 4 years

Text

For Him - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for Spencer to be happy even if she doesn’t think her feelings are reciprocated, and when Maeve’s life is on the line she proves that. Plus reader and Spencer are able to talk effortlessly and have a deep connection not Maeve and Spencer. Also kind of inspired/based on Yellow by Coldplay

Word Count: 1985

Content Warning: Blood, guns you know normal criminal mind things :/

A/N: This is my very first fanfic I have ever written. I don’t really know what i should put as warnings and such so I’m winging it along with all of this. Also I don’t know what to classify this but I’d guess angst with a happy ending. Like I said this is my first fanfic so bear with me. I also did not proof read this because I was so excited to post it so it might have spelling or grammatical errors.

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Spencer and you have been the best of friends since a month after you joined the team, and you’ve had feelings for him just as long, little did you know the feelings were mutual. The whole team could see the longing looks when the other wasn’t looking, they even have a bet of when you guys would get together. You were always there for each other comforting and consoling the other when a case hit a little too close to home for either of you. You’d distract yourselves if you didn’t want to talk about why a case had upset you; You’d read to each other, watch Doctor Who, play chess, or even go on walks late at night to look at the stars.

When Emily “died” Spencer would come to your apartment crying his eyes out and you stayed strong for him as he has had so many people leave him, he needed comforting more than you, and that made your heart ache even more. You decided to take him to your couch, lay his head on your lap, and run your hands through his hair. It would calm him so much that he’d fall asleep. He looks so peaceful well he slept with his head on your legs you couldn’t help yourself to lean down and kiss him on his forehead and whisper, “Do you know, you know I love you so.”

It’s been a while since then, Emily is alive and in London, and everyone has gone back to normal, well everyone except for everyone’s favorite genius. He was happier than normal, but also more secretive. The team thought that you guys must have finally started dating until one day you came in to work looking a little down, and your longing looks towards Spencer also had pain in your eyes. That was the day after you found out about her. You were having one of your normal hang outs with Spence when you noticed he was spacing out a lot and he had this look in his eyes, a look you knew well. It was the same look you’d get when you thought about him. You didn’t like it, you almost denied it but you had to ask him if your suspicions were right.

“Who is she?” you blurted out. He jumped your sudden outburst blush started to creep up his neck.

“Who is who?” he asked hesitantly.

“Spencer I’m not stupid. You've been extra happy and more secretive lately, and you were just spacing out with a smile on your face. You never space out when we’re watching Doctor Who. So, there is only one reason, you’re seeing someone. What’s her name?” you ask hoping he’ll deny it meaning it’s not too serious or that you were somehow wrong.

He’s hesitant but he says, “Maeve, her name is Maeve.” Your heart drops at this, and you tell him your happy for him. You were happy it was getting late so it wasn’t suspicious when you said you were heading home after that episode. As soon as you closed your apartment door behind you, you leaned against sliding down to a sitting position finally letting your tears fall.

When he walked in late the day after that wearing your favorite outfit of his you realized you couldn't go through with your original plan of slowly distancing yourself from him even if you wanted to, because his happiness was more important to you than your shattered heart. So, you continued to be his best friend even if it ripped out your heart every day and you now had to listen to him gush over her.

It was all good until one day at work he told everyone about her and how he was sure she was missing and how because of that he couldn’t focus on anything for more than four seconds making him the dumbest person in the room and needing the team and your help. You have never seen him like that, it hurt you in more way than one, he loves her, it's clear in his voice cracks along with how much pain he is in, and at that moment you promised yourself you’ll do anything to bring her back to him alive.

*Time Skip to outside Diane’s loft*

Diane knew your feeling for him, and that you’re his best friend, how she found out your unsure, but she did, and she wanted you both there. If you had to guess it was to raise the stakes for Spencer.

“Take your guns and vests off.”

You and Spencer followed her orders.

“Now just you two come in.”

You guys got to the top of the stairs and she opens the door with gun in hand, “Put the blindfold on him and lead him to the chair,” Diane says to you. You do so very carefully as she has her gun pushed into your back as she follows you.

Spencer asks if he can take the blindfold off and gets told no. He and Maeve swap hellos as Diane is putting her hand down Spencer’s shirt and complimenting in his brain and looks until he mentions her thesis, as you watch a little confused on what you're supposed to be doing so you start to mouth to Maeve that everything will be okay.

Spencer is trying to trick her into thinking her thesis is valuable enough to keep her save and out of jail, as you are trying to run through all possible outcomes of this situation in your head. He is trying to convince her he loves her not Maeve, and to let Maeve live with her irrelevancy. She makes sure to make Spencer say he doesn’t love you too, which confuses you, he doesn’t love me anyways you think, but he hesitates for a quick second and you and Maeve catch it but somehow Diane doesn’t. She then kisses Spencer and when he doesn’t reciprocate, she knows he’s lying. He grabs her gun and it fires into the air and then Spencer’s arm, it happened so fast you weren’t able to help him in fact you were knocked onto the ground. The rest of the team was in the room now as you hear Spencer repeatedly saying to stay back. Your standing back up when Spencer is telling her, “There is still a way out of this. Diane, I offered you a deal and you can still take it. M-”

“Me for her,” you interrupt him.

“Why should I do that?” she asked.

“Because he hesitated in saying he didn’t love me, if you kill her you wouldn’t kill who he truly loves. You’d still have the real competition for him left,” you lie for the second half of this, but you aren’t looking at Spencer whose eyes got even wider in fear as what you were saying was actually true, and Diane sees that and aims her gun towards you. As she does that the team all have their guns pointed at her head. You hear two guns go off and Spencer screaming “WAIT!” you and Diane are on the ground now. Your stomach was gushing out blood. Diane his down a few feet away from you a bullet hole right between her eyes. Spencer rushes over to you and applies pressure to your wound as he tells the others they need medics, now, your vision as blurring and everything you hear is incoherent. Then everything goes black.

You hear movement around you and even though your eyes are closed you can see how bright the lights are in the room you’re in. You open your drowsy eyes to see Spencer pacing the room, he seems to be a mixture of worried, nervous, and stressed. It also looks like he’d been pulling at his hair some too.

“Hey Spence,” you croaked out. He immediately turns to you and lets out a sigh of relieve.

“Y/N, you’re awake, thank goodness. How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Like I’ve just been shot, but other than that perfectly fine,” you chuckle. He doesn’t laugh back, instead he gives you a very stern look.

“Why’d you do it Y/N, why’d did you trade yourself for her?” he questions. You look up at him and think what the hell, might as well tell him the truth.

“Do you know Spence I’d do anything for you, I’d even bleed myself dry,” you tell him in all honesty. He looks at you completely flabbergasted. Then he flushes pink and looks extremely nervous.

“There’s uh... something I need to tell you,” he mumbles and you look at him intently, telling him to continue with your eyes, “I’ve got to tell you this now, I can’t hold it in any longer, especially after almost losing you, you know, you coded on the operating table twice? I almost lost you, twice. So, you need to know Y/N I'm in love with you and I have been for four years six months ten days eight hours twenty-three minutes,” he glances down to his watch really quick, “and fifteen seconds, and I broke up with Maeve, she knew when I hesitating in saying I don’t love you that I really did, and sure I loved her but nowhere close to how much I love you, I only started dating her because I knew there is no way you’d return my feelings, but that was unfair to her,” he exhales loudly as he rambled forgetting to breathe in between sentences. You look at him in awe, mouth gaped open, and when you realize he staring at you waiting for you to say something.

“I love you too Spence, I have for a long time now, but I thought a genius like you would want another genius, not me,” you say blushing. He moves closer to you leaning towards to you and you lean towards him and gently brush you lips against his. He takes in that you want to kiss him too and smashes his lips into yours for a passionate kiss. You were so caught up in the kiss that you didn’t hear the doors to your hospital room open as the team walks in, you only realize when you hear Derek wolf whistle and Penelope squeal.

“My man,” Derek says slapping Spencer on his shoulder.

“Congrats,” Rossi and Hotch tell you guys, Hotch even wearing one of his rare smiles on his face.

Alex just smiles. While JJ pulls Spence into a hug before carefully doing the same to you. Penelope is so excited she hyperventilating a little bit in the corner with Derek now trying to calm her down, he looks over his shoulder at you two and say, “We’ll give you lovebirds some privacy” leading Penelope out as the others follow. You and Spencer just look at each other and smile contently.

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Bonus Scene

As the team are outside of your room with a finally calm Penny G, JJ calls Emily and puts her on speaker, while the other each hand Rossi a twenty.

“Hey Em guess what just happened?” JJ says, and Emily doesn’t know so she replies with a what with a chuckle as she could hear the smile in JJ’s voice so she knows it's not a serious call. “Y/N and Spe-”

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Rossi cuts in.

“Are you for real?” Emily asks knowing exactly what he was talking about, the bet the made when you first joined the team that they updated every so often and started going by months instead of days or weeks since you guys took so long. They had updated it right before Emily left and when Alex came, she decided to join it too. Rossi had this month.

“Yup,” JJ confirms, “we walked in on them kissing.”

“Well it took them long enough,” Emily says, and everyone laughs in agreement. Even though you were shot it ended up being a happy day.

#spencer reid x reader #reader x spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

heiress - 5

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: more parallels between wanda and reader plus hayward being a bitch to reader. also pierce did not die during the winter soldier events in this universe. at this point this is called wanda and y/n collectively grieving over her how shitty their lives are.

previous chapter

The young woman held a small gun in her left hand, shooting the target at least 10 metres away from her with a mechanical precision, switching it to her right hand and achieving the same type of perfection and precision not even senior agents had. Yet, there she was, one of the newest SWORD recruits. Many people had opposed for her to join SWORD straight after escaping from HYDRA and the Red Room; however, Tyler Hayward had forced for her to become a new recruit. “Having Alexander Pierce’s daughter in our team will be an asset” he said and it somehow convinced all of SWORDs panel to take her in. She had nowhere to go after all, the Red Room will be after her in no time and she had no way to defend herself alone and so SWORD was her only option. An option she thrived under, being much more advanced than any junior recruit yet it was a far cry from what she wanted. She didn’t want to be an agent but that’s what she was, what she had been trained to do.

The trainer slowly blinked walking up to her and giving her a congratulatory pat on the shoulder which everyone could sense was filled of jealousy. She was thrown to the back of the line with someone else who also inspired jealousy in most recruits. Monica Rambeau, daughter of Maria Rambeau, the current SWORD director. They had never spoken too much other than orientation day where they introduced each other by their agent number.

- That was the coolest thing I’ve seen today. - she hide a childish smile as the next recruit started his training. - I’m Monica.

- Y/N. - she smiled and shook her hand. - Is it always like this?

- Most of time yeah. The trainers are dicks about it when you’re better than them.

- Men. - Y/N rolled her eyes, getting an understanding nod from Monica.

- Excuse me? - Tyler Hayward entered the trainee room, always dressed in a polished suit as if that would be of any worth in a fighting situation. - I’m sorry for disturbing but I need Ms. Y/N Pierce to accompany me.

Y/N Pierce. She always hated that name, even more than her code name. The mere thought that she had that last name, the name of one of the leaders of SHIELD was almost like a cruel curse on her. Everyone seemed to think of him as this all around saint yet she knew better; after all, if he had no reservations about submitting his daughter as a project and asset then he would have no reservation in hurting anyone else. SWORD had done their best to keep her existence a secret, not really allowing the connection to pass through but she knew he was looking for her and if he wasn’t the Red Room and HYDRA definitely were.

She shared a confused look with Monica before stepping towards Hayward who led her away from the room and into the hall. He didn’t stop to explain to her why she had been summoned, instead he just kept on walking and she took the lead to follow him, entering a blackened window filled hall. They stopped in front of a window which gave way into an autopsy scene. Y/N was used to seeing death, some would say she was born surrounding it; however, she was not prepared to see what was being shown to her. It was almost as if she were sleeping, her mother. Laid across the metal table with various doctors surrounding her, the HYDRA symbol branded onto her foot. She looked over to the side, hand over her mouth as she felt sick just to see it.

- Our intelligence believes HYDRA is trying to send a message and we don’t believe they won’t stop anytime soon.

- Was it fast? Did she suffer?

- Gunshot to the head. Quite merciful, really.

- Why are you showing me this?

- Well, HYDRA experimented on you but there is the possibility your “enhancements” might be genetic.

- What is that supposed to mean? Why did you really brought me here, Hayward?

- We need the next of kin’s permission to perform an autopsy and it seems that would be you, following your mother’s will.

- No. - she stepped back. - You’re not gonna tear my mother apart for a stupid hypothesis. No. You don’t have my permission

- We’re being kind enough to hide you from your father for no specific reason. You either accept it or we’ll be forced to hand you to SHIELD.

The night air was crisp and sharp as he sat on the swing next to hers. She hadn’t changed much other than her hair which was much longer but her face was still unblemished by the tragic unkindness of the world. After all it had been about 5 years since he last saw her and he hated the fact he had forgotten her. Somewhere, deep within himself he knew her mark was still there; he could still hear her voice in his dreams but he always chucked it to his mind crumbling under the pressure it had been under for so many years. Nevertheless, he had heard her voice plenty times, specially in Bucharest. It had haunted him from nights and nights on end; “Promise?” “Yes”, turns out it wasn’t someone he had killed but someone he had forgotten. Her of all people. It had come back all to him after that woman gave him the file. Her name alone, her lips telling him her name. He remember telling himself he would not forget him as they prepared him to go back in the blender and he did. He forgot about her but looking at her everything came back to him; the good and the bad. But the most of it was he remembered loving her, he still did, a feeling that had been dormant for a long while and suddenly awoke in him. Of course Bucky did not expect her to love him back, he didn’t blame her either. She was a good kid, too good even.

- Uhm ... are you enjoying it here? - she motioned her hands abstractly. - In the hex, I mean.

- It’s better than in hideouts with Sam and Sharon. - he chuckled dryly, looking up at the transparent yet red tinted dome. - I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Sam is great, despite everything and Sharon ... Sharon has helped me so much, I owe her that.

- Oh ... - her heart dropped to her stomach as an ugly feeling took over her. Sure, Wanda would say it’s jealousy but she refused to admit it.

- What about you? I never really asked what you did after ... you know, IT.

- You can say the name. - she smiled at him yet it was voidless of any emotion, as if she were used to people tip toeing around the subject which they always did. - I became a junior recruit for SWORD until the blip then ... I was gone for a while but it didn’t hurt. It was almost like I was finally at peace and then I woke up and Hayward was director. He sent me and Monica to investigate the hex Wanda created, mostly to keep his own project a bay. Then we all ran off, got classified as fugitives. The rest is really not important.

- I don’t really think I need to tell you what I’ve been up to.

- You don’t ... most of it it’s my fault, anyway. - she got up from the swing once she noticed a purple light a few miles away from the limits of the hex. The back of her eyes started growing instinctively white. Bucky got up as he recognised her fighting stance, a hand safely placed upon her shoulder. - Go grab Wanda.

- Y/N ...

- Go grab her, now. - she stood there watching the purple light almost call out for her. Bucky chose to do what she said, the white mist involving around her fingers as she stepped towards the hex, fingers barely touching the wall.

Bucky rushed inside the building, hoping to reach Wanda before Y/N could do anything irrational. However, before he could find the newly named Scarlet Witch, she found him with one of her twins behind her waist. Her eyes were glowing red, almost similar to those Y/N had except those eyes looked desperate, worried even.

- Where is she? - she asked him with an ice like directness. - Where is she, Barnes?

- Outside. She told me to come get you.

Wanda rushed past him with a speed that he had never seen before and he only followed after her. The two stepped outside the building, towards the swing tree where Bucky had left Y/N, except, she wasn’t there anymore. No, he couldn’t lose her. Not again. Vision came after the two followed by Yelena and Monica who had been awakened by the twins; however, Wanda did not need their help. She approached the hex, just missing the purple glow as it entered the woods. Bucky tried to step up but Vision pushed him back.

- Y/N? - Wanda broke through the hex, shutting Bucky out as well as Vision. It was night time, dark and cold surrounded by the woods of the place they had chosen to hide from the world. Breaking dawn was so far away and even the tallest individual would’ve melted into the dark night. - Y/N!

- Are we not going to help them? - Bucky questioned back inside the hex, probably the most awake apart from the synthezoid and the former Red Room graduate.

- It’s a witch thing. - Yelena smirked before springing into action. - We should activate the hex’s protective system in case something happens.

- What about them? - Bucky once again interrupted, not receiving particularly kind looks from Yelena.

- They’ll be fine, Mr. Barnes.

Y/N on the other hand walked further into the confused and dark woods, holding her small trusted silver revolver which reflected the moon light onto its surface; yet most of the light came from behind her coloured eyes. She did not know exactly why they did that, it was almost as if they light up whenever she felt threatened. Whatever it was, it was there inside of her. She, of course, knew it was Agatha lingering around; however, she never got dangerously close to the hex. It was an unspoken truth between the witch and Wanda Maximoff yet there she was.

- God, dear, I thought I’d have to break into the hex to get to you. - Agatha showed up from the darkness, dressed in her typical black and purple palette as if she were royalty. - So, how are you deary? Still playing Queen Elsa? Is that fun for you?

- You’re trespassing.

- Come on, is that how you thank me for giving you Bucky Barnes on a platter? What else do you need to thank me? A love spell?

- Go away, Agatha. What do you want?

- I am trying to help you, just like I helped Wanda. I mean how old are you, sweetheart? Old enough for HYDRA and SWORD to realise you can do much more than just magic tricks. Making a whole room objects disappear? Now that, that was impressive. If I knew you were gonna do that, I would’ve brought Barnes into your life much much sooner. - she crossed her arms. - I think you and I are very similar. Much more similar than Maximoff to be completely honest. Where were the avengers when your father handed you over to a terrorist organisation? Constantly overlooked, underestimated, seen as nothing but your father’s daughter. I understand, Y/N and I can help you if you let me help you.

- I ... - she faltered her response, slightly lowering down her gun. - You can really help me?

- I know more about magic than everyone else, Y/N. I can train you, I can help you more than SWORD or Wanda Maximoff will ever help. I can even give you what you want the most. Barnes, a regular family, everything but a SHIELD recruit. A regular citizen and all I want is for you to give me my regular family.

- I can’t help you, Agatha.

- I don’t mean to cause any harm, Y/N. I’m not the villain, I just want my husband back and only you can give that to me. That’s all I want. It’s a small price to pay for your happiness. I can even take it away, your powers, I can take them away and then you will have what you want. Pretty sure Barnes still has some swimmers and if he doesn’t surely Wanda can get you some kids, she sure did well with getting herself some.

- Y/N! - Wanda’s voice broke through the two woman’s conversation. Agatha smirked, purple eyes replacing her regular blue ones. - Y/N!

- I think you need to make a choice, dear.

taglist: @lookiamtrying

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ohtobeaspettyasleah · 3 years

Note

what’s going on Lorelei?? She has to tell to Gray what’s happening, right? 🤔

Huge trigger warnings: everything to deal with abusive relationships, physical violence.

Lisa Dolan had always tried to teach her three children to help those who needed help. “People who need your help will always appear when they need you the most, in turn— they show up exactly when you need them.” Grayson could remember his mum saying one morning when he didn’t want to help his friend Tom pump up his new bike tires.

Grayson watched as Lorelei held her handbag in her lap. Keeping her oxygen tank upright the way it was supposed to be. His head hurt. Who was this girl, better question? Who was this girl and what happened to her.

“You can uh, park in the parking garage.” Lorelei sighed as Grayson slowly to a stop. “Codes 33399” Grayson smirked. Of course it was.

“You sure?”

“You sure you’re not gonna fire me?” Lorelei asked as she turned to Grayson, he’d told her he’d get her home safe. Grayson felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility, considering it was technically something he said that sent Lorelei spiralling.

“Depends, do I have a reason to?” One hand on the wheel, Grayson parked his Porsche. “Needing help doesn’t technically full under reasons for instant dismissal—“

“How about false pretences—“

“Lor—“

“Look, you don’t know me from a bar of soap okay. I messed up, I knew it was wrong and I went along with it anyway and now, now I don’t know what to do.” Lorelei sighed as she undid her seatbelt. It wasn’t a sad sigh for Grayson’s sympathy— moreso a frustrated sigh. “I just—Yiu should call Adele.”

“Hang on, wa-wait a second alright just chill.” Grayson unclipped his seatbelt before jumping up out of his seat to follow Lorelei towards the elevator. Grabbing her bag for her without hesitation. Still heavy as fuck. “You can’t not tell me what’s going on Lor— I’m confused here. Just, just uh tell me what’s going on and we’ll go from there.” Lorelei looked at Grayson as the doors opened, she stepped inside and tilted her head with a soft smile to say come on then. Like a brown eyed Labrador— Grayson followed. Standing next to Lori and the elevator rose.

“You really wanna know what’s going on?”

“You don’t get to know my bank account details without at least having a little transparency Lore.”

“You call me Lor Why?” Grayson felt the word vomit rising in his throat. He held it back, not wanting to make the slightly awkward slightly bizarre situation he found himself in worse.

“I’ll call your Lorelei, or Lori, if you want me to.”

“I like Lor—nobody’s ever called me Lor.” Butterflies flew in Grayson’s stomach, the same ones he thought had turned grey and cold. Covered in dust bunnies from their dormant state. They flew, colourful and bright as he smiled. Nodding back a grin. “Your like Gray?”

“I’ve been called much worse, believe me—“

“You don’t seem like the type that could be much worse.”

“Well, it’s a two way street Lorelei like you said, you don’t know me from a bar of soap.” Grayson listened when Lorelei spoke. Something she wasn’t used to— she barely listened to herself.

“When did I say that?”

“In the car.” The elevator dinged. Lorelei let Grayson lead her out. Still holding her bag. “Which ones yours?” Referring to the doors that all looked the same in the cream coloured hallway.

“333, 33 level three.” Lori stoped as she pulled out her keys. Grayson felt like he was choking. There’s too many signs he thought.

Lorelei’s apartment was clean, sure it was lived in but it was clean in it’s natural state. A few dishes in the sink, half melted candles on the mantelpiece, some Chinese takeaway containers on the dinning table Grayson could only assume was either a later dinner or early breakfast. He looked around, a picture of Lorelei and Adele catching his eye. The seemingly haunting picture of two girls, one of which he thought he knew, one he didn’t know at all—smiling at him next to a card. The get well soon on the front didn’t match the vibe of the two girls who embraced each other so lovingly.

“You want a cup of tea? I have black or herbal.” Lorelei asked as she boiled herself some water. Not looking at Grayson when she asked. He looked giant in her home. Intimidating.

“Uh black with like half a sugar is fine, you and Adele look really happy here.”

“Don’t—“

“Lor—“

“She put me in to this you know, and this isn’t like me at all! To just throw someone under the bus but it’s true. She forced me out here and set me up in this job so I would bail and run back to the shit I know.” Grayson listened which had Lorelei panicking. “Say something Grayson.”

“Tell me what’s going on, for real, everything. A friend of Adele’s she cares about this much is a friend of mine.” He sat at her kitchen bench. Hunched slightly and waiting for his tea to flavour. Dumping the tea bag in and out of the mug of sugar spiked water. Lorelei did the same.

“Three months ago I had open heart surgery.” Lorelei sighed as she leaned against the counter. Arms crossed softly over her chest. Hiding scares she was ashamed off. “Not because of some underlying heart condition or some unforeseen tragic health issue—my uh, fiancé, well— ex fiancé now.” Lori sipped her tea, she could feel it all the way down my throat. “You want the full story right?”

“Lay it out for me.” Grayson didn’t mean for it to sound like he was pleading with him to come clean. He just wanted answers so he wasn’t so confused.

“I had this bike, loved it—Jacob, he was, well is, bandedos, brothers in arms so to speak.” Grayson looked even more confused. Lori giggled to herself. Sweet boy. “He’s in this gang so to speak, a bunch of thugs who ride bikes and deal crack.”

“Oh—right.” Grayson felt like a child.

“He’s also Adele’s step brother.” Grayson’s eyes bugged wide. “Three months ago he ran me off the road after a fight we had, I called it quits, he didn’t like it, said if He couldn’t have me no one could and came after me.”

“Shit Lori I—“ Grayson was speechless.

“I remember being trapped, that it was hot, only after I woke up in the hospital like three weeks later was u told that my bike had pinned me down and caught on fire. Got some pretty messed scares in my legs. Shorts? We don’t know her.” Grayson didn’t means to laugh at Lorelei’s high spirit and humour why telling such a heartaching stroy. “Anyway, he wasn’t done, Jacob has always had an authority problem. If he wanted me dead it was gonna be from his hands not a burning bike, so what does he do?” Lori paused for another sip. “I was a Jane doe in the system for six weeks, that’s how badly he beat me. My lungs just stop working sometimes? Doctors said It’s like they deflate for too long, especially when I get panicked. Hence the on call oxygen you saw.”

“Adele took two weeks off to see family in Sam Francisco—“

“Her bedside manor could use a little improvement.”

“Lorelei this is super intense. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Adele mentioned she knew these guys who were just total lights in anyone’s life. That if I moved to L.A, got away from Jacob, got away from it all, she’d set me up. Safe. I’d be safe for once in my life since freshman year of high school.”

“Adele didn’t go to collage did she?” Grayson asked as Lorelei’s shook her head.

“She’s back in San Fran, should be back this week sometime. She want me gone as soon as possible so she’s uh— tying up loose ends for me, I skipped out on my job and my rent and a few other things so she’s just— being a good friend.” It was the tears that got Grayson the most. The small ones. Lorelei held them back.

“There’s a lot more, but uh—in summary, I’m pretty fucked. Adele thought you and Ethan would be good for me, like you were for her, I’m sorry to just unload all this on you.”

“Don’t be, I wanna help.”

“Grayson—“

“You’re not fired either, but we can’t tell Ethan. Not yet anyway.” Lorelei felt ashamed, but greatful. “He’ll flip.”

“Understandable, I’m kinda confused why you aren’t like, storming out in undeniable anger from being lied to.”

“You needed a support system, Adele knew that, I trust her judgment and—“ Grayson paused as he stood, waking around to close the gap that had been driving him crazy. Lorelei’s eyes followed Grayson. Darting from his lips to his eyes. “I trust you.”

“Not so sure you should.”

“Give me a reason not to?”

“I could be lying about this entire thing.” Lorelei whispered. It echoed it Grayson’s ears. Sent him into a frenzy. He could see the scare sticking out of her shirt— diagonal leading down her chest. He knew.

“You aren’t Lor—you aren’t.” Lorelei was silent. She didn’t mean to play the game. But it’s all she knew. Her guard was down around Grayson Dolan and it hurt. She watched through hooded eyes as Grayson leaned in the ghost her lips before softly and ever so gently pressing his to hers. Before feeling a shove at his chest:

“What the hell was that?”

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #g.dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan series #my friend lorelei

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captainscanadian · 4 years

Text

Hope | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 4)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Your high school reunion forces you to relive the trauma of your senior year.

Word Count: 4100+

Pairing: (Eventual) Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Patient!Reader

Warnings: HELLA ANGST, Heartbreak, Bullying, Insecurity, Anxiety, Alcohol

A/N: This fic was my entry for @wkemeup‘s 4K Writing Challenge. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS!

Perhaps having a Hollywood stylist on speed dial did have its perks, for the woman who had styled you for your multiple red carpet premieres was more than happy to assist you in deciding what to wear for your high school reunion.

Natasha Romanoff had advised you that a pair of blue jeans and a comfortable sweater could really go a long way, and you took her word for it. “Did you bring your boots with you?” She asked you as you were on Facetime.

Rosie had informed you that the dress code was casual, so you need not to worry about having to borrow Nick’s truck in order to drive all the way to Indianapolis and hunt down a designer dress.

But that did not mean you were keeping it simple with your outfit for the night; you wanted to make an impression, and maybe even rub it in a few of the faces that you were going to be coming across. This was your moment now.

“You mean my black thigh-highs?” You asked her as your lips curled into a smirk, and you reached down to grab them and held them up for the camera. “Did you really think I’d leave them behind in LA when you said that I fucking sass walk when I’m wearing these?”

“That’s my girl!” She exclaimed, looking proud as ever. “Add a leather jacket over that and you’re good to go. Keep the hair and make up simple. You’re going to be getting shit-faced anyways. No need to look too pretty.”

You gave her a nod as you chuckled softly. “You cool with me adding a Gucci belt with that? I’d like to show these fuckers that I can actually afford one.”

“Fuck, yes!” She gave you a thumbs up. “You’re going to sass walk in there, look like a million bucks and you’re going to fucking own it, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You were certainly glad that you had a stylist who was also the best hype woman you could have ever asked for. “I’m going to fucking own it.”

“So, now that it’s your ten year reunion… are you and Mr. Hollywood Reporter finally going to get it on?” Natasha asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “I know I’m totally assuming that he’s going to be there, but you did go to high school together. Maybe revisiting some old memories can light some kind of spark between the two of you? He seems like a good catch, Y/N.”

“What?” You shook your head. “No… I mean, yes. He’s going to be there. But no, we’re not ‘getting it on’ or however else you say it.”

“Why not?!”

“Because…” You let out a sigh. “Pietro is my friend.”

Falling in love with one of your best friends had been hard enough. You could not afford to lose another friendship the same way.

Out of all places that your ten year reunion could have taken place, it had to be at The Country Club of Indianapolis; you did not know if you should praise Rosie Bender for securing such a venue for the event, or curse her for somehow convincing you to come here. Not that you had ever been to that country club when you had been a resident of Indiana, but it was safe to say that the place did bring back some horrible memories.

The words ‘Connie Chapman would be there’ made so much more sense to you now, as you were well aware that the country club was owned by her father. Boy, you could never come to terms with how much you loathed Connie as a kid. Her mere existence drove you up the wall.

Ever since you were in elementary school, it seemed as though the two of were forced to compete with each other. From the good grades to the friendships you made; she had everything you wanted. She had a father who had raised her like a fucking princess, while yours had walked out when you were just a toddler. Her birthday parties would always take place at her family’s mansion in Shelbyville, and sometimes at the country club too. You were never invited to any one of them though, not that you ever wanted to.

She was the teacher’s pet, which was most likely a result of her father’s rather heavy donation to the school. No matter how hard you studied, grinding through every assignment by pouring your blood, sweat and tears into them, she just happened to get a better grade than you did. It was frustrating to know that no matter how hard you tried, she just happened to be five steps ahead of you. She was oozing with privilege, and that made you feel quite bitter.

During high school, she was the captain of the cheer leading team. While she was not the nicest person you’d known back then, it did not matter at all when she looked like some Victoria’s Secret model - when Victoria’s Secret was still relevant. It seemed as though she had somehow skipped the awkward stages of puberty and became attractive without ever paying the price for it; or maybe she did pay a price. You could never tell for sure. Every boy in school would fall at her feet, which was something that certainly boosted that ego of hers. She was the most popular girl in school, and you were a complete nobody. It fucking sucked.

Despite the fact that Connie Chapman had everything you would have wanted in life when you were a teenager, you knew that you had something that she could never have, something that you believed that no one could ever pry out of your hands. Oh how stupid had you been. She had taken him right from your cold dead hands.

As much as you hated to admit it, this was not how you had expected your senior year of high school to be. It seemed as though everything was going to shit this year, and you wanted nothing more than to get out of this shit show that was high school.

The year had gotten off to a not-so-great start with your best friend ditching you to hang out with his new friends from the basketball team. While you had found yourself strolling through the hallways of Shelbyville Senior High School all alone during the lunch hours, your vice principal had forced you to befriend the two new students, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff.

Sure, they were both wonderful to hang out with. But deep down, you just missed Bucky Barnes more than ever. He was your best friend, had been for as long as you could remember. You had no idea why he had stopped hanging out with you since the end of junior year, and you hadn’t even bothered to ask. Things just seemed to be out of your control nowadays, you guessed.

“Y/N!” Wanda had called out to you as she was rushing towards your locker, a panicked expression evident in her eyes as she grabbed your arm rather roughly. “Y/N, you’re not going to believe what just happened.”

You set the algebra textbook that you had been holding in your locker before turning towards her, grabbing your backpack and throwing it over your shoulder. “Wanda, is everything okay?”

“Bucky knows.” She told you, looking at you with wide eyes as she breathed heavily. “He came over to my lab desk during biology and… he told me that he knows.”

Her words had hit you like a freight train, as you found yourself closing your locker in a hurry when you began to feel your heart beating against your chest. “W-What?” You shook your head. “No, no, no… No, Wanda… no! How could that be? How would he know?”

“He said that he… he knows that you like him, Y/N. He sees the look in your eyes when you speak to him.” She replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe you haven’t been all that subtle with him as you thought you were?”

“Oh shit…”

You did not know what to do, for you had not expected for things to get out of control like they had now. You had not intended for Bucky to find out about how you felt about him, not when he had drifted away from you just months ago.

A part of you could not help but wonder if the reason why he had stopped hanging out with you was because of this revelation. Was he distancing himself because of how you felt about him? Was it because he did not feel the same way? Why had he told Wanda that he knew about it instead of coming straight to you?

So many questions had flooded your mind at that moment, and you could not think straight. It felt as though the whole world was closing in on you, and all you wanted at that moment was to be held in someone’s arms and be told that you were loved. It was a simple wish. To feel loved and to feel like you belonged somewhere was a basic need for a human being. It was not meant to be a luxury, though that was exactly what it seemed to be nowadays.

Your mind was telling you to run, but your feet were planted firmly against the tiled floor of the corridor. While you wondered how you were going to face him, you had felt it in your heart to trust him. He was your best friend; he wasn’t going to hurt you.

All it took was that simple trust. That was all it took to break you.

As you got out of the Porsche that you had rented for the remainder of your stay, you noticed a few familiar faces staring out at you in utter surprise. For starters, the car was bound to stir up some attention. But it was your outfit that was to die for.

Just as Natasha Romanoff had suggested, a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt really did go a long way… along with a few other designer accessories that were worn for the sole purpose of making jaws drop. It was mission accomplished.

Not that you minded being the centre of attention this time, but the thought that the people who had once spoken about you behind your back were now gawking at you with utter jealousy sure boosted that ego of yours. You had certainly earned that luxury. Perhaps coming to this reunion was not a bad thing after all.

“Well, well, well…” Pietro Maximoff was quick to rise from his seat as you approached the table, greeting you with a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t you look like you fucking own this place.”

“As ironic as that seems.” Wanda snorted, considering who actually did own the place. “Who would have known that Y/N Y/L/N still had it in her to cause a scene?”

You rolled your eyes at her words, returning a kiss on her brother’s cheek. “It may have been ten years, but some things never change.” You noted, motioning towards the formerly popular crowd who were now staring at you like they had never seen a successful New York Times best-selling author in their midst. “They always fucking stare.”

“Y/N, you made it!” The familiar voice of Rosie Bender caused you to turn around to greet her. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” You smiled at her before you noticed the woman who stood behind her.

Connie Chapman.

“I love you, Bucky.” Those three words had come out of your mouth so naturally, that you did not even beat yourself up for having just confessed your love to him. “I’ve loved you for as I’ve known you.”

A part of you had expected him to say it back in an instant, but you knew better than that. His actions during the last few months had been very clear. But the look on his face was not one of surprise, nor did he show any sign of reciprocation. He had just stood there in silence, biting down on his bottom lip for a moment too long before he nodded. “I knew that.”

“I knew that… you knew that.” You breathed. “Wanda told me that you told her… that you knew…” Your eyes glazed over with every second, for a part of you had worried that he was indeed going to reject you. You knew that you were in for a heartbreak, but you could not handle it either way.

“The thing is… Y/N... I like someone else, doll.”

And... there it was.

“Connie Chapman.” You laughed softly as you looked over at her. “I can’t believe it.” God, the years had been so unkind to her.

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N.”

“You too.” You lied straight through your teeth, causing Wanda to snort her drink and choke back her laughter.

Pietro and Rosie looked rather amused by this whole interaction, but you had just shrugged it off when your eyes landed on the man who had just walked in. Dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black shirt, and a bright yellow leather jacket that seemed to match your black one, you could not deny that he knew how to make an entrance.

The moment he entered the room, Bucky Barnes’ eyes landed right on you. Of course, you were the centre of attention; you should have always been the centre of attention. The way you were dressed in your jeans and your top, not to mention those boots; he could not deny how stunning you looked that night.

Not that he had the courage to tell you that you looked absolutely beautiful, but he knew that he was probably the last person you wanted to hear those words from… for obvious reasons. He had screwed things up when he had the chance, so what even was the point anymore.

“Hey Y/N, did you hear?! Bucky asked Connie to prom!” Brock Rumlow hollered at you in the hallway as you walked past him, causing you to break into tears at the remainder as his minions continued to laugh in your face.

It had been two whole days since you had found out that Connie was the one who Bucky had feelings for. As much as it hurt to find out that you had lost the one thing that you had cherished the most in your life to her of all people, it hurt a lot more that you hadn’t found out from Bucky himself that she was the girl he liked.

Instead, the news of Bucky’s elaborate promposal had spread around the school like wildfire, and Pietro had rushed to inform you after witnessing the gesture that had become the talk of the school. While Connie hadn’t even said yes to him, the fact that he had even asked her to prom was reason enough for people to start picking on you. And in a matter of days, you had become the joke of the school.

But what broke your heart the most was not that Bucky had not reciprocated your feelings for him, nor that he did not have the decency to tell you that Connie Chapman was the girl of his dreams. It was the fact that Bucky had been your best friend since you were in elementary school, and he knew damn well how you felt about Connie. The rivalry that you both shared had not been a secret and Bucky had always known that. Even when he did not love you back, you had expected him to be loyal; and he had done the one thing that he probably knew was bound to cause you the worst pain.

Wanda was quick to wrap her arm around your shoulder and drag you away from Brock and his minions, sensing that you were on the verge of yet another breakdown. Ever since things had taken a turn for the worst, she had been trying her best to keep you calm. She knew that you were a sensitive soul, which was all the more reason for her to want to protect you from your bullies.

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t let them get to you.”

You should your head as you hugged her tight, sobbing softly against her shoulder. “It’s not them, Wanda. It’s not… It’s him. I loved him, Wanda. I loved him so much and he… what is it about her that made him feel that way? What is it about her that made him… fall for her? What is it that she has that I don’t? Because I thought that he was mine, and now he’s not.”

You had to blame your own insecurities for weighing you down like this. After all, you had always envied what Connie Chapman had; and now she had Bucky’s heart too. That was the worst. But deep down, you kept asking yourself over and over again. What was it about her that made him fall for her? What was it that she had that you didn’t?

After a while, you had realized that you could never figure out the answer to those questions. But you wanted the answers, and you wanted them from him. You had been young, stupid, and hormonal. You had been so entitled to Bucky’s heart that you had been willing to fight him for it.

Perhaps going up to him and asking him, ‘can’t you see how much I love you,’ wasn’t the way to go. Because you did love him so much. How could he not see that?

The fact that she had rejected him to his face, and he was still pining over her while all you had for him was true love. You wanted to ask him why he was doing this? Why do you love someone who doesn’t love you back? Why do you humiliate yourself by pining over someone who could care any less about you?

Oh what a hypocrite you were…

“Seriously, what the fuck is it that she has that I don’t?!”

Everything, you should have known that by then.

“Can’t you see?! Just look at her! SHE’S FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!”

And that was it. That was all it took for Bucky Barnes to break your heart at once.

“So, I’m... am I not beautiful?! Is that what you’re saying to me?!”

The whole school had been witness to your screaming match that ended up to be the final tug at your heartstrings.

As you broke down in tears, Wanda Maximoff had dragged you away from him for the last time.

Pietro had glared daggers at him before he followed behind you, his arms wrapped tightly around you to shield you from the nosy crowd that had gathered in the cafeteria.

And that was the last time you had ever dared to look Bucky Barnes in the eyes.

You had barely made it through the first course of the meal when you had lost your appetite. Being at this reunion had certainly stirred up your memories and made you relive the trauma that you had been through in senior year.

You were quick to drop your fork and clutch onto Pietro’s wrist, every breath you took feeling colder than the last as you fought the urge to break down once again, just as you had done ten years ago.

“Piet.”

He turned over to look at you in worry, for he was well aware of how uncomfortable it must have been for you to be surrounded by the people and the memories of your senior year. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, the concern so clear in his voice.

You shook your head, grabbing your glass of wine and chugging it down in one go. But no amount of alcohol could ever let you live down that dreadful day. “Take me home.”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda frowned, seeing that you looked quite distressed.

You looked up at her and shook your head. “I shouldn’t have come here.” You admitted, cursing yourself for thinking that being here could be so much as a means of finding writing inspiration. “I can’t do it.”

Pietro let out a sigh as he nodded understandingly, setting down his fork before wiping off his mouth with his napkin. “How about we head to The Tavern and get shit-faced? Every minute I spend in this place makes me want to throw up, and I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling.”

His sister could not help but nod in agreement. “Honestly, I only came back home because Harry asked me to check in on you. This whole reunion business never interested me.”

“And I came because there’s no way in hell I would let the two of you deal with these people on your own.” He admitted, chuckling softly

“I love you both so fucking much.” You smiled over at the two of them before resting your head against Pietro’s shoulder. “What would I have done without the two of you?”

“Oh you would have been so miserable that senior year.” Wanda joked.

From the corner of his eyes, Bucky was able to see how close you and Pietro had been seated. To say that a part of him was feeling a strong sense of jealousy would be an understatement.

Deep down he knew that it should have been him sitting next to you during your high school reunion, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while you laughed about the memories that were meant to be happy ones.

But instead he had ruined it all by doing what he had done, and now he was forced to watch you from afar with Pietro Maximoff in the place of your best friend.

Bucky never had anything against Pietro, not back then and certainly not now. Back when the Maximoff twins were just the new kids on the block, he could have cared less about them.

He and Brock were tight then, so he hadn’t bothered befriending the oldest Maximoff. He had seen you and Wanda hanging around at lunch, but he never would have thought that you had become close friends. That place had always been reserved for him, and you never opened up to anyone else.

Even when he had distanced himself from you, he had felt possessive over you. But now he knew that it was his actions and the twins’ kindness to let you lean on them at that time that led to him sitting at this reunion in jealousy, while the three of you dined together.

“You know, it’s not that polite to stare.” Rosie Bender remarked cheekily as she nudged her girlfriend’s brother. “And it seems to me that you haven’t even bothered to take your eyes off of her ever since you got here.”

“She looks beautiful.” He noted, finally turning over to look over at his friend. “So… radiant. She could always light up the room she walks into.”

“Oh please, you’re the guy who told her otherwise.” She snickered.

Bucky could not help but roll his eyes at the reminder. “You know it should have been me sitting next to her like that, not him.”

“It could have been you, sure. But you managed to ruin that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“Do you think she would ever forgive me for what I did, Bender?” He asked, a little unsure himself. “Would she ever love me the same way?”

“How would I know?” She shrugged. “Truth be told, I hope she won’t. No offence, but… as someone who watched all of your drama for the sidelines, I’ve always felt that she deserves better than the guy who took her for granted and treated her like shit.”

“I never realized how much you hate the idea of seeing us together.” He raised his eyebrow at her.

Rosie was quick to shake her head at his assumption. “That’s not true.” She admitted, sighing. “You know, when I sold you those prom tickets, I seriously thought that you were buying them for her. All of us in the Prom Committee, we all knew that she had a thing for you. We were rooting for the two of you to finally get together and ride off into the sunset.”

Not that she would ever admit it to Bucky, but she had always regretted the part she had to play in your fallout. Even though she hadn’t intended for things to escalate the way they had, she often wondered if things would have been different if she hadn’t sold Bucky those prom tickets. But she knew that if she hadn’t done that, then someone else would have. In the end, it was Bucky’s fault that he had ruined things with you.

“Wow, I guess I was an idiot.”

“That you are.” She agreed, laughing softly before shaking her head. “Bucky, I know that she’s much better off without you. She’s built herself a whole life after she left town and she doesn’t need you in her life anymore. But I’ve had to watch you be miserable ever since she left.”

He wasn’t even going to deny that, for even he knew that losing you had been the worst thing that had happened to him. Not even being rejected by Connie Chapman could ever compare to the pain that he had caused himself. “Rosie, I...”

“Admit it, you’ve always felt like something was missing in your life, and it’s her. She may not need you, but you need her.You fucked up, and I know that you’ve realized your mistakes now. You could either keep sitting here and look stupid, or you could finally do things right. It’s your call, Barnes.”

#kas4kwc #aj writes #hope #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #doctor!Bucky #doctor au

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fishylife · 3 years

Text

Street Dance of China Season 4, Episode 5

- I love practice montages! I was surprised that we got to see the process of each of the captains (of the competing teams) choosing dancers to their teams. Ibuki and Ma Xiaolong were speaking English to each other, and I don’t doubt that English was probably the main mode of communication across borders for these dancers.

- Okay Ibuki leading Huang Xiao by hand and then Huang Xiao cackling in glee and hugging Ma Xiaolong....very cute.

- So...is Huang Xiao baby?

- Huehuehue love Poppin’C’s laugh

- Ibuki said that Ma Xiaolong helped her a lot with recruitment. I think that’s for two reasons. One is that Ma Xiaolong (and Huang Xiao) are choreographers, so they have a better idea of what styles look together. The other is that Ma Xiaolong knows the Chinese dancers better than she would.

- Moony was saying how Ibuki is the captain but she is the youngest, and is definitely very cute haha.

- Yang Kai was very worried about dancing to a rap song so he recruited as many choreographers as he could. But the issue was that they all had different approaches to choreographing so they spent a lot of time discussing before choreographing and rehearsing.

- Yang Kai deadass brought his laptop to the hotpot restaurant because he was going to turn dinner into a lesson on Three Kingdoms for Boris and Kenken lol. The name of their song was Chitu, which is the horse of Lv Bu. Basically Chitu was just a great super capable horse and that’s why it was so famous lol. Yang Kai was trying to compare their battle to the Three Kingdoms lmao. Kenken was Zhuge Liang, Ibuki was Cao Cao (LMAO), and Chitu Ma was a Ferrari lol. Not gonna lie though, the stories in Three Kingdoms are pretty iconic lol.

- In terms of the performances, I liked them both! I think that Team Ibuki’s performance was very fun in the sense that it was like a story. I don’t think songs like that are popular dance songs, so I really liked seeing how they choreographed the dance and I felt that it was done in a very creative and fun way. I think where it may have fallen short was the cohesion. I like Poppin’C, but I wonder if it was difficult to fit him in because his skill set was so specific. As well, because all of the dancers were wearing different clothes, it was a bit difficult to see their synchronization during the group dance parts. For Team Yang Kai’s performance, it definitely was extremely hype. Whereas Team Ibuki wore different clothes, Team Yang Kai had a dress code so the cohesion was easy to see. But I feel like Team Yang Kai’s performance was being propped up by the fact that it had a very hype song, one that easy to dance to.

- Rochka continues to be the biggest fanboy of every single person on this show. I love him!!!

- Y’all have no idea how much I love hearing Boris speak Chinese. Yes, he has an accent, but he is also very easy to understand. You have no idea how difficult it is to find non-ethnic Chinese people who speak Chinese this fluently. Iunno, he just makes Mandarin seem so much more approachable. Boris said that he’d been in China for 7 years so it makes sense that he feels so confident speaking. A lot of people who are learning languages have to get over that hump where they stop feeling embarrassed about their accent because they have to go out and live their life and buy groceries and go to the doctor and stuff and it’s really interesting to hear Boris expressing himself.

- Henry feeling so pressured when he had to choose which team to pick lmao.

- Yixing went “We’re looking at you because you’re cute!” So bold, Yixing XD

- And Henry went “I feel pressured because you guys are handsome.” XD Two can play at that.

- Then Han Geng went “Henry’s Chinese is so good now!” XD My mom says that to me when I make a good joke in Chinese.

- Yixing has to talk behind his clipboard because he’s so nervous lmfao.

- So the rule is that one judge gets two votes for each matchup. In addition to that, that judge has to cut three members, two to enter a battle and one to be eliminated immediately, not including the captain.

- Ibuki was so upset when she returned to her seat :(

- Ye Yin had his team draw out their feelings as they listened to their assigned song. I thought it was a bit gimmicky, but this visual is cute.

- I thought Team Ye Yin’s performance was cool considering this was a song that would be difficult to choreograph for. I was surprised with how the incorporated breaking and locking elements, as there are breaking and locking experts on their team. But overall I thought the choreography was so nice. It told a story, and it suited the vibe of the song. Props to Bunta for the awesome choreography.

- Han Geng said that their performance reminded him of his youth, and then Henry said that he felt the same, that the performance reminded him of Geng-ge. He was like “ge, do you remember?“ and Geng-ge was like of course! Han Geng said he remembered their romantic days X’D So unnecessary. At one point the director was like did Han Geng and Henry used to have their arms around each other’s shoulders? And both of them were like uhh yeah all the time dude.

- George was asked about his rivalry with C-Lil because they keep getting stuck together lol. Apparently C-Lil became a tea enthusiast which was cute.

- Yuwan clapping his hands while his arms around C-Lil :3

- Team Liangliang’s performance was cut because apparently it was not very good, and the editors cut it out to prevent them from getting haters. I think Liangliang’s Sun Wukong headgear had obstructed his vision, and Yixing said that the performance wasn’t very in sync. A pity :(

- Gogo Brothers’ team is stack af.

- Gogo Brothers + Hilty & Bosch hotel room conference lol.

- AC went for a waacking + krump combo which is cool! Their performance was extremely aesthetically pleasing. Even though the fire power is perhaps less explosive, they worked together as a team very well. I definitely thought the waacking and the krump complemented each other very well.

- AC bought snail noodles for his team members, and apparently it’s one of those very polarizing foods, but Chika really liked it haha.

- Ohh, you know this is gonna be good.

- Team Gogo Brothers’ performance was good, but at the same time...there wasn’t anything new about it? Since there were five lockers on the, most of the performance was going to be high quality locking, but at the same time, the locking kind of overshadowed any attempt to try anything new. It was still good though, I just felt that it had limitations compared to AC’s performance that did something new with combining styles, both in terms of dance and aesthetics (costumes).

- Love to see the baby smile v.v

- Lmao Xiao Jie said that Xiaohai was the good luck charm of their team XD His good luck charm name is Jr. Baby, aka Haibaobao lol

- Yibo and Yixing voted for Gogo Brothers, and Han Geng voted for AC, so Henry, who had two votes, had the final say in who would win this battle. Then we got the theatrics where Han Geng, Yibo, and Yixing went into the audience because their job was done lol.

- Then Henry was like “ge~~~~ didn’t you say you would take care of me?” And Han Geng’s like, I’m letting you have the SDOC experience bro.

- Even though we all know it’s a joke, Han Geng is still so caring and affectionate lol.

- Anyway, after all that shenaniganery, what Henry said was right. It feels so tough eliminating any single member of the team, because it was all of them who helped deliver such a beautiful performance. I know AC had a tough time going up against Gogo brothers but dammit I actually super loved their performance. So cruel!!!!!

- Han Geng felt bad because Auju had said he wanted to be in a solo battle in the 3 vs 3 challenge, but he was put in the 5 vs. 5 battle and then this group performance, so Han Geng wanted to let him have the stage to perform his best. I thought it was a nice gesture, to let him have the stage to show off in the way he was most confident with, to let himself show himself at his best.

- Then Henry was like “what if we had Auju AND Yixing????”

- And then Boi Marble joined!!! Krumptastic

- Yixing said that even though krumpers look really fierce, that aside from the krump, all of them are lil cuties uwu.

- Team Nelson having fun with Hanfu was so cute! :D Sometimes with the non-Chinese contestants, I worry that they find the Chinese culture stuff tedious, because SDOC does try to fit as much culture in. So I’m glad to see that they’re at least finding a way to have fun. I wish I had such pretty hanfu to dress up in v.v

- I’ll be honest though, I don’t think Nelson’s team was very synchronized. He had a lot of very good individual dancers (Bouboo, Zyko, Lil Kev, that firepower is undeniable), but there were parts when I felt like all of the dancers were doing their own thing. Maybe the choreography was too subtle, or maybe the dancers themselves had slightly different rhythms.

- Acky-san giving red pockets to his team, but instead of money, he wrote them letters in different languages T_T

- A full popping team is risky move, but it paid off. Everybody was popping so everybody was dancing to their strength. Compare that to some of the other teams, where there were some dancers who clearly were lagging because they were dancing to a style they were very comfortable with. In addition, the visual style of the performance was fresh and fun. Their costumes were very wacky and fun to look at, and their performance exuded the kind of fun vibes where you felt like you wanted to join them.

- Out of the captains who’d lost their challenges, they would have to battle each other in a round robin style tournament. First place would get to keep two of their "pending” members, and second place would get to keep one.

- Yixing got up SO FAST when Tell Me started playing. I didn’t know this song before so I looked it up and it is a bop haha.

- Yixing dancing along uwu I don’t know the name of this song but it was the second song in the Ibuki vs. Liangliang battle.

- AC vs. Ibuki dancing to It’s Raining Men was A LOT of fun, particularly because everybody including the spectators knew the song haha.

- The first place winner was Nelson who was able to save Tengzai and Lil Kev and the second place winner was AC who could only choose one person to save, and AC chose Fanfan.

- Ma Xiaolong and Huang Xiao comforting Ibuki because she couldn’t save her team members :(

- Ahh I’m going to miss Yuri because she was so cute and fun. AC apologized for not being able to save her :( Gonna miss u bb ;(

- I liked Latrice too T_T Hated to see her go :(

- Brats playing with the microphones. They basically disassembled their standing microphones and waved the part around even after Han Geng already told Yibo not to lmao.

- So this section was supposed to be the captains’ opportunity to tell the dancers what kind of team they were looking to put together. Yixing was so surprised because Han Geng and Yibo had very simple and short statements (though it took a while for Han Geng to get to his point), because the boy deadass prepared a speech. Of course he did.

- Yang Kai said that his speech sounded like a motivational speech from a boss at work. That’s exactly what it is.

- Apparently Henry also prepared a speech XD

- So from what I understand, the captains will recruit a team that they think represents their style. Afterwards, the dancers who have not been chosen will get to choose their team based on which captain’s style they like. I think that’s how it works, we’ll see if I’m right lol.

- Henry trying to gleam information X3 Yibo just deals with the pressure by smiling and shaking his head. Dare I say this is the first time I’ve seen Yibo look shy??????? It’s cuuuute.

- Since the cubicles don’t have ceilings, Henry was like someone could be watching me!

- Nosy housecat in training

- Yibo and Henry and Han Geng were playing mind games being like “oh, you picked Poppin’C? And Yixing fell for the trick ^^;; Luckily he was not allowed to change his answer so at least he’s not going to make a change he regrets lol.

- All of the dancers Yixing picked were not picked by anyone else so he was quite lucky.

- Han Geng had three of his choices matching with Henry or Yibo.

- Henry has no idea how to recruit dancers so he just ends up singing love songs. Of course.

- Zyko’s loyal dude XD I can see why Han Geng is a safe choice though. Han Geng is low on the theatrics, so if I was a low key guy like Zyko, I’d probably feel less pressure being on his team. I could just focus on dance and not on entertaining the cameras.

- I can see why Nelson would go with Yibo. Yibo is quiet but he’s serious and focused and more importantly they both confirmed that they are competitors.

- Henry and Han Geng both chose Ibuki. Here Han Geng is patiently waiting/spying while Ibuki and Henry have their interview.

- Then he was offered a ladder and Geng-ge became the biggest gremlin lmao.

- Yixing the good little helper.

- C U T I E

- When Han Geng was having his interview with Ibuki, he locked the ladder in his own room and kept the key. Then he stole the keys from all the other rooms and gave them to Henry XD Actual troll-ge.

- Ibuki chose Han Geng in the end.

- So all of the people Henry chose picked other captains. This frame lmfao.

- I think last season Yixing had tons of trouble recruiting dancers to his team. In the hotpot preview he said he was super lax about this year and it worked in his favour.

#thinking out loud #cvariety #street dance of china #screencaps

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xlehukax · 4 years

Text

Still Beating Heart

Foreword: Hello! I’ve been working on this thing for a little while now, and it’s finally done! This fanfiction is set in the Pediatric Doctors AU that I made, that you can learn more about here. It’s done in conjunction to writings by @eeveeeclair246, to who has the first installment of this series, titled Inefficent Iron, which you can find here. And, if you don’t want to read on Tumblr, I get it! This will also be on Archives in a hot minute, so check my Masterpost for the link. Now, on with the show!

Ships: Roman x Virgil, Implied Remus x Logan

Word Count: 10215

Warnings: LANGUAGE, Alcoholism, Bars, Panic Attacks, Medical Issues (ie. weak hearts), Cheating, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Rape, that creeping feeling of regret.

Summary: Virgil’s always been the quiet nurse, the prickly one, the don’t talk to me unless there’s an issue one. Roman’s fresh out of a relationship, and looking to go out on the town, and needs a friend to go along with. And Virgil can’t say no to his crush, even if they work in the same place.

~~~~

It’s just another day at the office: by that, Virgil means, Patton’s handing out cookies, Logan’s being a work-aholic and refuses to let any of the patients go to Janus, in which is being very meticulous and annoyingly good at his job and refusing to let Virgil do his, Remus is going through the latest urine samples, and Roman is doing what Roman does best. Ranting about his latest breakup while painting his nails in the receptionist booth.

And Virgil just happens to be the only one around, after Patton leads the last patient of the day to Logan and the waiting room finally empties. Virgil simply sighs in defeat, and tries to shrink into his nurse uniform. Let it be known, he did not choose to be there. Or ever.

“Emo, are you even listening?”

“Yup, yes, I am, absolutely,”

“Alright, just had to make sure, you know, you tend to ignore me, which you’d think is impossible but you never cease to surprise me in that regard. Anyway, so this guy, Ethan- total dreamboat, eyes bluer than you’d ever believe. So I met him on this app, and we went for drinks a few weeks ago: and thirty minutes in, I’m in love. He’s a painter. Sweetest guy- we end up at his apartment, and you know- but I was in it for the long haul. Virgil, I was really ready for a long-term with this guy. He seemed like he was down for it too… and then, just yesterday, you know what I found in his apartment?”

“Another person,” Virgil sighs.

“Some floozy, blond and covered in hickeys, and Ethan painting her. Like, I didn’t know what to be more offended about: the fact that he cheated on me or that he doesn’t have a sexy painting of me!”

“Mhmm…” Virgil’s almost fallen asleep, and doesn’t even notice Roman hovering utop him until he’s right in his face.

“Virgil-” Roman shouts, and Virgil startles right into Roman’s arms. Which he now is realizing quite quickly are not just incredibly strong because they hold his weight easily, but landing their faces inches apart. Virgil sucks in a gasp- Roman smirks. “Hey there… you know, you’re not too bad looking yourself. Under all that makeup, you’re quite the princess, aren’t you?” It takes Virgil a moment to craft a response, he’s so scatterbrained and blushing.

“Fuck off Princey, I’m not your latest conquest,” Virgil hisses, still a large flush on his features. Roman flicks his nose.

“Yeah, but you’re still cute. Maybe I should date you~”

“In your fucking dreams- you cycle through boyfriends so fast, I’ll be dust in the wind,”

“Hmm,” Roman still hasn’t let Virgil go, and it is not helping the warmth in his face whatsoever, “Can’t argue with that.” And then Virgil is unceremoniously dumped onto the chair he was sitting in, with Roman towering above him. Did he always have those pretty eyes? He’s got these fantastically plump lips, it really shows when he’s smirking like that. And that hair is quite… quite royal- now that he’s looking at it-

Bloody hell, stop, now’s not the time to fawn, Virgil curses at himself. Virgil has always been introverted, and this- this interaction, Roman’s boldness with him… it’s completely unfamiliar. A bold move, reaching into his space, completely ignoring all of the protective glares and hisses that Virgil had in place. Disregarded his shields completely. Virgil has been harboring a bit of an infatuation with this confident musical wonder as of late, and this is not helping matters. Roman chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, J.Delightful, now I simply must make use of this situation,”

“What are you getting at-” Virgil snarls, to which Roman simply grins widely.

“You’re going to be my new wingman. There’s a open mic at a gay bar I frequent, and if I’m going to find somebody, then I need someone else to be my safety buddy. You know, watch for creepy old men who hit on me and all that jazz,” Roman pushes, eyes alight with excitement, “Patton won’t go with me anymore because he doesn’t like the loud noises, Logan doesn’t drink, I’m not asking Janus to come he’ll scare them all away or steal the attention, and Remus- well, you can probably guess why not Remus, and it’s not because people approach us because we’re twins. I can’t believe I’ve never asked you to come with me! It’ll give us some good outside of work bonding time too. Isn’t it great?”

“I don’t want to,” Virgil grumbles. Roman tuts.

“Oh come on now- am I so hard to be around?” No, Virgil thinks, and that’s the problem. “Pfft, if it’s really so hard, I’ll just cave and bring around someone else.”

“No…” Virgil whispers, so quiet that he’s sure it’s nearly silent, and Roman’s eyebrow perks up.

“Hmm? Was that a no I just heard?”

“I just- I’m not good in social situations, do you even really want me there? I’ll probably just screw your chances, scare people off,”

“Perfect! I’ll need someone to scare someone off,”

“But- I’ll damper on your fun,”

“Never! You will never cease to be fun to poke fun at,”

“I don’t know, Princey. You really want me there?” Virgil says, looking away and speaking in hushed tones still. Roman grabs his pale hands, squeezing them tightly.

“I need you, Virge,” Roman purrs. Virgil blushes harder, somehow, and tucks his head into his shoulder and murmurs his agreement. Damn it. “Wonderful! I’ll pick you up at 9, how does that sound?”

“Wait, tonight?” Virgil squawks. Roman drops his hands, blessedly, and steps back from him shrewdly. Smart, as Virgil’s immediate response is to throw a punch. Roman easily sidesteps.

“Oh, yes- did I not mention that? Tonight. It’s Friday,” Roman nods, smiling wickedly. Oh my god, I need to bathe, I need to find something nice-ish to wear, unearth my good eyeshadow, fuck it all I need new skin-

“Hey, hey, don’t freak. You don’t have to get all fancy for me: wear what makes you comfortable, and I’ll stop by your apartment at 9,”

“Wait a second- how do you know where I live?” Virgil says, suddenly horrified. Roman snickers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Uh, yes I would,” Virgil growls.

“Pfft, I need to know everyone’s addresses, I’m the receptionist, Virge. It’s my job,” Roman scoffs. Virgil blushes: well, now he feels foolish. But it reminds him: Roman and himself work together. It doesn’t matter if something comes out of this, as it is- Remus and Logan are constantly being sickeningly cute around the office. The real problem is if he screws this up, and still has to go to work with him the next day. This is a really bad idea. But… When will he have another golden opportunity like this one?

“Okay, okay- 9, right?”

“Yes! Thank you, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance- you’re going to have so much fun. I’ll sing a song just for you, as thanks,” Roman grins cheekily, Virgil blows the hair out of his eyes, attempting nonchalant despite the whirlwind of anxiety confined within.

“Alright, fine, whatever. Should I- should I dress a certain way? Wait, is there a dress code? How much money should I bring? Is it credit or cash? Do they have food there? Will I have to dance?” Virgil shudders at the thought of dancing, even with Roman, who is currently blinking rapidly under the onslaught of questions.

“Okay erm, just dress how you normally do? Scratch that, a peg hotter than a hoodie, thank you. No dress code, have you ever been to a bar? Just bring your wallet, think about how many drinks you want, and I’m dancing whether you’re going to or not, so-”

Virgil takes notes internally, already too worried about this whole ordeal. He should really just cancel, say he just remembered something, but he knows he’ll regret that later. Either way, the only other thing he’s doing tonight is hanging with his spider, Missy, and watching Unsolved Mysteries. So…

“I’ll- I’ll see you later then, Princey,” Virgil murmurs, before gathering the few things he has around him and breezing past whilst trying to make it appear like he’s not running away.

“See you!! At least pretend to be excited- It’s going to be one hell of a night, Virge- you won’t regret this!”

As Virgil silently clocks out (Patton will take over the end of the day nurse activities, it’s fine) he thinks to himself, I certainly hope not.

~~~~~

And then, it’s already 8:50, too soon. Virgil showered, twice, because the first time he used his usual unscented body wash for work and not the one that smells like lavender and violets and by jove Roman inviting him out after work deserves more than unscented. Then the clothes resulted in a mini fashion show in front of the mirror for an hour, where upon he finally settled on a black button down over a grey undershirt with some black ripped jeans (it took him another 25 minutes to decide on mostly untucked in a ‘I just threw this on’ careless feel), and his favorite purple and black hoodie just in case it got cold… of which he ended up shivering right away anyhow and put it on anyway.

And then a whole other hour on makeup: a very tasteful black eyeliner and purple and black smokey eye with just a hint of dark glitter. Some lipstick, and a little dust on his cheekbones, and Virgil finally felt confident, an emotion that lasted all of ten minutes when he realized that he hadn’t chosen a pair of shoes yet.

The shoes took another thirty minutes alone. And then the idea of changing his hair up a little occurred to him, and that was another hour wasted that ended with keeping his regular low-hanging hair anyway.

And now he’s trying not to look like he’s waiting, because he doesn’t want to be waiting on Roman, but he needs to see if his car comes up, but he doesn’t want to be desperate, so he’s panicking slightly in his apartment with all the lights off because he was going to leave and now he’s freaking out instead, because he doesn’t know if it’s more appropriate to wait for Roman to text him that he’s outside and head downstairs after that or to just head downstairs now like a normal person or maybe he just shouldn’t go. His head slowly stops pounding, and his breath evens out, the oncoming anxiety attack fading away with the thought. Yeah, maybe Virgil can stay home instead- there’s too many variables anyway.

When Virgil was young, he was always making decisions like this. He was sick, not like crazy-sick, but sick. Anemia, coupled with coronary heart disease, topped off with bronchitis. He had weak lungs, weak heart, weak blood- his whole body was frail, and sometimes his blood didn’t move around fast enough to make him work right. There was no running around, no nothing: he was constantly worried about every little thing, because his parents were. Did you take your pills today? How was your bloodwork? Are you feeling woozy? Until Virgil just stopped leaving the house whatsoever. It was just easier. There was no chance of passing out while crossing a street and getting run over, never going to embarrass himself at school by having a heart attack…

And wouldn’t you know, staying at home made him only sicker. No muscle mass whatsoever, pale as a ghost, always so cold, so frail from not getting enough nutrients. His parents made the best decision of their lives and set him down the path that led him here by… by hiring a nurse. A kind nurse, with funny jokes and encouragement, who helped him go outside for the first time in months. Who taught him little things to make him stronger, like light weights. Virgil grew out of his heart disease, and though he still had bronchitis and anemia, he regularly took medications which made them easy to handle. And just like that, Virgil was no longer sickly (at least externally, he still had anxiety, but he’s managing it). Then he was a normal teenager, who wanted to be strong enough to help someone in the same way that nurse had.

Here Virgil is now- and he’s not going to fall into that same loop he was in as a kid. He’s better now, medicating only when needed. Virgil is all lean-muscle, and he’s better than his anxiety. He can totally go on a date-not-a-date with his crush to a gay karaoke bar. Totally. Taking a deep breath, Virgil checks his phone (which is fully charged with two mini backup batteries on his keys tucked into his back pocket) and realizes with horror that Roman texted a whole six minutes ago while Virgil was panicking that he was waiting downstairs.

“Shit!” Virgil slams his door, and just runs down the stairs instead of taking the elevator (he only lives on the fourth floor anyway, because anything higher than like 10 fire ladders can’t get to and there’s a 50% possibility of surviving a fall from four stories), and hopes his meticulous makeup job isn’t ruined. By Roman’s expression, he doesn’t think it did-

He had been grinning teasingly, mouth open to say some quip, but his jaw goes slack when he sees Virgil. Roman’s eyes are wide, leaning up against his red car, as he watches Virgil stop by the curb only a few feet in front of him. Roman whistles.

“Damn, Virgil… you look- damn. Wowza, do you clean up nice,” Roman falls over his words, making Virgil flush. Roman thinks I look good- I did good, it’s all good.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Princey,” Virgil whispers. Because really, he doesn’t: Roman’s white dress shirt has the top two buttons undone, showing off his pectorals and just a hint of his abs, and some nice pants. His hair is done over to the side, and one crown earring hangs from an ear. It’s really a delightful look, but makes Virgil feel out of place with his dark clothes and his heavy makeup. Roman only has a light bit. “Did I go overboard? I can- I can wash it off,” Virgil asks, hating that he’s offering to change this intensive and difficult look for a stupid guy.

“No, no- you look gorgeous. Seriously Virge, you should do my makeup. Like, I feel outdone, and I never feel that way! Come on, get on in, let’s go,” Roman shoos Virgil into the car, where he feels just as much if not more awkward. Still, he’s excited, out of this world excited: Roman likes how he looks. Roman finds him attractive, and they’re going to the club, together.

Not together, Virgil- you’re just his buddy. Virgil has to remind him that this is not a date, that he’s gotten all worried and dressed up for sitting at a bar and watching Roman flirt with other men. It makes his heart ache, but at least they’re together now .

“We’re almost there, Emo. You ready to have a good time?”

“I uh- erm, I mean. Yeah. Yeah sure, I’ll have fun sitting in the corner doing fucking nothing, that’s what I’m ready for,” Virgil’s suddenly defensive and feels horrible about the crude outburst.

“Oh my- Virge, do you not want to go? I don’t want to force you into anything!” No, I do, I do!

“Eh, it’s whatever. I got all dressed up, be a shame to not go out. I just- I don’t like to- I’m-”

“I know you don’t like being left alone! Don’t worry, I’ll be close by the whole time. I’ll watch you if you watch me, yeah?”

“Why are you so worried about being watched? You’ve clearly been to a lot of these things…” Virgil changes the subject to hide his flush at Roman’s empathy for him.

“Ah, well- I have been to a lot of these things, and I’ve had some… unfavorable experiences. A few times now, guys have put stuff in my drinks, or waited for me to get drunk and then take me home. It’s… it’s not what I want. I go to meet new people, not to get a one-night stand that I didn’t want. They don’t make me feel good. I hate it,” Roman growls at the road, and Virgil makes what might be a rash decision and places his long pale hands on Roman’s tanned worn ones by the gearshift. Roman looks over at him, and Virgil ducks his head. Roman smiles.

“I’ll watch out for you, I promise. I don’t really drink either, ‘cuz of my blood issues, so I can drive home too,” Virgil murmurs, still looking away. Roman moves his hand around, grips his tightly. Virgil doesn’t look at it, but knows they’re intertwined, and it makes his head hurt.

“Thank you, Virge. Aaand, we’re here,” the bar is bright in the dark evening, a neon sign advertising it, and Roman pulls into a parking space behind the building. He takes his key, and reaches out to put it in Virgil's pocket. “Don’t trust myself to hand em over, this thing’s my baby. I’m trusting you, though, and you gotta be good about that, alright?”

Virgil nods, and allows Roman to exit the car and help him out the other side. Roman throws his arm over Virgil’s shoulders, and saunters into the bar. As expected, it is loud. Someone’s already singing, a song by Chicago, and is doing pretty okay. There are bright lights here and there, some spots illuminated completely and others in darkness. There’s a whole load of people here too: some make eyes at him as he walks in. Virgil sticks to Roman, who chuckles, as they both head to the bar. The bartender seems to recognize Roman.

“Here for the open mic, are you, King?”

“You know it! Sign me right on up,” Roman laughs. Roman’s arm drops from Virgil’s shoulders. The bartender rolls his eyes, swipes some green dyed locks from his vision and writes Roman’s name on a pad.

“What song are you singing?”

“It’s a surprise, like usual, Vincent, I don’t know why you even bother asking,”

“Uh huh. And I see you brought a friend… you wanna sing too, baby-cheeks?” Vincent asks, leaning forwards.

Virgil hisses at him, then clears his throat.

“I don’t fucking sing,” he snarls, adding in his mind, in public. Vincent smiles knowingly.

“Aha, a feisty one. You really know how to pick em’, eh? Can I get you a drink then?” Virgil feels like he’s about to explode: this is not what he signed up for. He is here to be with Roman and watch out for him, not take this guy’s shit. Roman notices, and slings his arm once more over him.

“Nah, just a work colleague. He’s a nurse~ and doesn’t drink. It’s a shame, I know, but it’ll work better in my favor anyway. I’ll save money on the taxi. Incredible Sulk, how does a black coffee sound?”

“I guess that’s okay,” Virgil grumbles, glaring at this man even as he shrugs and complies. They both take a seat at the bar, Roman ordering some complicated fancy thing to match his personality and Virgil immediately hunching over his hot coffee. It’s surprisingly good for a bar, bitter yet flavourful, and Virgil finds himself smiling down at it.

“Eh, I think that smile says it’s more than just okay!” Roman purrs, shimmying closer to Virgil and bumping their shoulders. It seems as though the alcohol is already having an effect, his disposition somehow brighter. Virgil shies away slightly. Someone else saddles up to the bar and introduces himself. This man has long swoopy raven hair, and is even more lanky than Logan. He leans by Roman, eyes colder than Virgil would like. The dark haired fellow decides to listen in on the conversation… just in case.

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” the stranger says. Roman puts his hand on the bar, slurps the rest of his drink down in one go.

“I’m not sure- I do tend to get around. Where do you think you know me from, blue eyes?” Oh no. The guy’s got blue eyes, he didn’t even notice that. Virgil mourns his only chance at getting with Roman- this guy’s stealing it.

“Oh, I know! The theatre, right? You were Jason Dean in the Heathers production! Scary shit, man. You’re a fantastic singer. Hey, can we get another drink?” the stranger waves over Vincent, who fixes Roman another bright cocktail. Roman immediately starts fiddling with the straw, and looks up at the stanger.

“The name’s Roman. What’s yours?”

“I’m Lucian. It’s nice to meet you. Man, it’s so loud here: I wish we could go~,” Lucian says. Virgil narrows his eyes at the stranger, takes another sip of coffee. Roman smirks, and turns and winks at Virgil as if to say Look at this catch. Virgil tries to smile, but is pretty sure it’s just a grimace. It may just be Virgil’s luck (despite how it affects Roman) but Virgil notices Lucian dropping something in Roman’s drink. Virgil slams the table, slaps Lucian, and pushes the drink away. He fists his hand in Lucian’s shirt, able to lift the man a foot or two in the air. Patrons gawk at the events unfolding, Roman seems shocked.

“Don’t fucking touch Roman’s drink, what the fuck did you put in there you bastard?”

“Dude- that’s my drink. It was a little additive, I can consume alcohol without risk without it! He seemed to be enjoying it so much, I asked for one too, can you please- let me down, you’re hurting me-” Virgil snarls, but drops him anyway. Roman touches Virgil’s shoulder gently.

“He’s right, it’s his drink, Virgil. Thank you for defending me, but really it’s okay-” Roman reassures him, smiling placatingly, and all Virgil can feel is embarrassed. Embarrassed out of his mind and his anxiety is shooting through the roof.

“I-I… I- uh… I-” to make matters worse, another man comes stomping up to him, throws his drink on Virgil. His hoodie is now soaked, his shirt too. Virgil’s lower lip trembles. He grits his jaw against them, holding it in. Despite the fact that he’s made a total fool of himself in front of Roman. Virgil wants to bite his nails, to go home, to run away and never return. This new man points his finger right in Virgil’s face.

“Who the hell do you think you are, grabbing my husband’s shirt like that?” he growls. Virgil wants to hide in his sopping wet hoodie. Hide and never come back.

“I- erm, uh- umm-”

“My friend here is very sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Hey, can I buy the both of you a drink? Tell me how you met,” Roman leads them both away, looking pityingly at Virgil, “How bout you go to the bathroom and clean yourself up a little, huh? I’ll take care of this.”

Virgil ducks his head and runs with his tail between his legs. He throws himself into the surprisingly clean stall and locks it tight before falling down on the seat fully clothed. I can’t believe you did that you fucking idiot you’ll never shape up what were you thinking doing some stupid stunt like that? You’ve ruined it. Ruined everything. There’s no way Roman will ever want you now. Virgil’s panic attack is coming on quickly, like a train hurtling down a track with no end in sight. He doesn’t want it to happen, but he starts to cry.

Usually, Virgil looks to his familiar hoodie for comfort. But his hoodie is soaked, and Virgil is shivering in it. He should take it off. But he doesn’t want to, he just wants to wallow in it and wither away.

You’ll never amount to anything. You should have just stayed inside: no one would have missed you. Roman had to clean up after your mess, you were supposed to be helping and now you’re just rotting in the bathroom like an idiot. Why did you even come, if you’re just going to be a let down?

Virgil’s breath is coming out in uneven gasps, his heart is palpitating dangerously. He really shouldn’t be alone, he should go out and- no, no, no. His skin is too tight, his head is too small, and his hands are pressing bruises into his arms, he is holding them so tight. What is he supposed to do again? When his thoughts get too big for his mind and he feels like fainting, feels like how he was when he was younger and like his heart could just give out any minute and the next time he blinked open his eyes he’d be on a hospital bed.

His hazy, anxiety-filled mind vaguely recalls a conversation he had with Logan once, after he had pulled him back from an attack in the workplace (he mixed up two patients and fell apart in an empty room) that he should… he should ask for help. Call me, he had said, no matter the time. Just call me for help, and I’ll talk it out with you.

Logan is on speedial, Logan, Logan can help- with shaking fingers, Virgil can just make out the emergency phone button on his cell to call Logan.

The ringing of the phone helps station Virgil, stations him better than the pain in his hands. It picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello, Doctor Logan Berry speaking.”

“Logan,” Virgil’s voice sounds so fucking raspy and teary, sounds so horrendously uncertain, “You- you said to call, and- if you’re busy just hang up, it’s fine you don’t have to worry, actually this was a bad idea, I’m going to hang up-”

“You will do no such thing, Virgil. Stay on the line with me. Scale of one to ten, how bad?”

“I- uh, I dunno, probably like- like a seven? I messed everything up, Lo, I- fuck, I can’t do anything right-”

“Well, that is one foul-tempered lie. Let’s calm down first, yes, and then you’ll tell me all about what happened. I’m sure it’s better than it seems,” Janus’s voice, even hindered through the phone, forces Virgil to relax. He had no idea that Janus could hear, but apparently they’re together. His mind recalls lamely that tonight is when they get together to go over payments and make sure everything is in order. A part of him is glad that Janus can hear; He’s like a hypnotist with his voice, a snake. Virgil nods, then another wave of idiocy flows through him because it’s over the phone.

“Okay, Virgil, now exhale through your mouth. I want to hear it through the telephone,” Logan instructs, no nonsense.

Virgil shakily breathes out.

“Good. Now close your mouth and inhale quietly through your nose. I’m going to count to four, alright?”

“O-okay,” Virgil complies, breathing it in. Janus counts him off rhythmically over the phone: Logan’s on the right and Janus on the left, and the result is relaxing.

“Hold your breath now for seven seconds. I’ll count for you once more.” Janus-

“Exhale again, for a total of eight seconds. Here we go-” Logan-

“Exceptional work, darling. You’re doing so well. Let’s repeat the process a few more times, how does that sound?” Janus-

Holy hell, do they make a good team.

And just like that, Virgil feels better. His chest eases, his mind soothes, and he’s no longer shaking.

“Thank you, both of you. That was- it was really fucking helpful. I don’t know what would happen if I was here alone,”

“If you don’t mind me asking… where is here?” Logan asks, dry and with no sense of privacy whatsoever.

“I’m at a bar with Roman. He- he invited me, because he wanted backup, and I made a total fool of myself. I got all aggressive on this guy who did nothing wrong,”

“Aha, jealous?” There’s a sound of Janus wrestling the phone from Logan, much to his displeasure, “Just finish this weeks, Berry-” is heard through the phone.

“Maybe… hey, wait a second! Who told you-”

“I’m not blind, Virgil. Nor stupid. Don’t even try that on me. It might work on the nerd, and even Remus and Patton, but unlike them, I’m not clueless,”

Virgil pouts, grunting softly. Is he really that obvious?

“Whatever! And now… I’ve got no chance with him. I don’t know why I even came here, anyone could see that it was a stupid idea.”

“No- well, yes, this was very stupid and most likely going to end in strife, but you still certainly have a chance! Remember, this is Roman we’re talking about: he’s a carousel when it comes to men, always changing.”

“That’s part of the issue, Jan- where am I? I’ll be left behind, and have to watch as he finds a another and another and another-”

“You’re starting to panic again, Virgil. Calm yourself. And I know that won’t happen.”

“How?”

“You’re more perceptive, attentive, and caring than any of those guys will ever be. Roman would be even more of an idiot than either of us could possibly imagine if he were to let you go. Again, I am not blind: I see how good you are with the patients. You are careful and thoughtful. Despite how you might see yourself, Virgil, you are a good person. A wonderful person, who makes mistakes, but always fixes them. You do not leave them behind you. You feel empathy, and guilt, two very humane things, and you remedy your problems. That’s what happened with me, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess, I guess you’re right,” Virgil’s blushing again. It’s true, that he doesn't like to leave things unsaid or unfinished: it makes him terribly worried, and the only solution he’s found is confronting them head on. Janus and Virgil had met long ago, when they were both younger: Janus had just started medical practices, and done work for Virgil. It ultimately failed and hurt Virgil more, which sparked deep hatred on Virgil’s side and a continued regret on Janus’s. They eventually reconciled, reuniting later when Virgil started out as a nurse, and everything had become much better.

“Now, get back out there, darling. You’ll do great.”

“...Thanks, Janus,”

“Anytime,” and with that, Janus hangs up the phone to return to Logan. Virgil sighs to himself, and exits the stall: in the mirror, he sees his makeup all ruined. He washes it off, cleans his hoodie (which is relatively drier now) and ends up taking off the damp shirt as well. Thank goodness he’s wearing an undershirt: walking out topless seems hellish, and this only slightly better.

It’s been a while since Virgil has gone anywhere without his hoodie on or makeup. He barely recognizes himself, and he sees this face every morning. But… it’ll be what it’ll be. Checking his phone, Virgil realizes that he’s been in the bathroom for… nearly two hours?

Oh my god, I hope Roman hasn’t left yet- Virgil flies out of the bathroom, holding his damp dress shirt and beloved hoodie in one crooked arm. Scanning the room, he notices Roman sitting at one of the small square tables watching some guy sing “Mad World” somewhat decently. Virgil sighs in relief, and walks over and sits right in front of him.

“Princey, thank god you’re still here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Virgil says, his voice softer than usual from all the crying. Roman looks at him, a smile curving on his features.

“Hello there, you’re- you’re pretty,” Roman slurs slightly mid sentence, and Virgil gapes. Roman is drunk. Very drunk. So drunk, that he doesn’t recognize Virgil without his makeup and hoodie. While Virgil stares openmouthed, Roman reaches over and squeezes his bicep. “Ooh, you’re so strong too! Pretty face, and a hot body-”

“Roman, you seriously don’t recognize me? Honest to god?” Virgil insists. Roman blinks slowly, but there’s no spark. Roman seriously has no idea, Virgil’s a stranger.

He should probably bring him home.

Or… he can start over. Roman won’t remember it anyway: this might be his only chance.

“I think I’d remember such a handsome prince” Roman huffs. Virgil, unsurprisingly, blushes.

“That’s very kind of you. You don’t look half bad yourself,” Virgil purrs.

“Oh- you’re a flirt too! I like you,” Roman smiles widely, “Do you want to get another drink?”

“I think you’ve had enough… do you want to go up and sing instead?” Virgil suggests, scooching closer to Roman. Touching his clothed shoulder, he feels how warm Roman is. Roman snuggles up to Virgil just a tad- he’s over affectionate, and with no filter, and no sense. It’s adorable, and Virgil is glad he got here when he did, because who knows who would take advantage of this cuddly child-like man?

Now he understands why Roman needs a drinking buddy.

“I love singing, I’m very good at it. I like Disney too. Do you like Disney?”

“Yes, I like Disney,” Virgil snorts. They’ve had this debate over and over: the both of them like the franchise, though Virgil sees the darker bits that Roman tends to ignore.

“You wanna- you wanna sing Love is an Open Door with me? I like that song, it’s a good song-” Roman rambles, looking excited. Virgil hates public speaking, let alone public speaking, but… he doesn’t know anyone here, what’s the issue?

“That sounds good. Let’s go sign up, shall we?” Virgil suggests, Roman excitedly clinging to Virgil’s arm.

“You’re so cold, it’s so nice,” Roman murmurs, rubbing his face on Virgil’s bare shoulder. Virgil can’t help but smile: his heart is beating fast, but in a fantastic way. Vincent doubletakes as they make it to the bar.

“Hey you two- heading home? Ro looks pretty slammed…”

“I’ll take him home in a bit. He wants to do one more song,” Virgil explains. Roman giggles, and Virgil’s heart does another flip. His smile widens.

“Ah, sorry folks- Roman can’t do another one. He’s already exhausted the limit of five: you should have heard him sing some of those. An undercover celebrity, he is,” Vincent reaches over and mussies Roman’s hair, to which Virgil slaps his hand away.

“Princey, did you hear? You can’t sing another one,” Virgil tells him, his voice still soft.

“Aww, really? I wanna- I wanna sing some ‘ore,” Roman pouts, his lower lips trembling. Virgil kisses his cheek, just a peck really, that’s all he can manage without exploding. Roman turns on a dime, sadness morphing to elation all at once. He leans in for another, to which Virgil declines, pushing him away with a palm.

“Hey, how about I sing a song for you, huh? How does that sound?” Virgil asks, nervous beyond anything at singing in front of all these people, but Roman seems so ecstatic at the thought that Virgil knows he’ll be going through with it.

“You sing? But you just-” gawks Vincent. Virgil glares at him.

“Don’t act so surprised. And yes, I do. Just didn’t feel like saying it. Totally. When do I go up?”

“After this guy,” Vincent points at the person going on stage, and Virgil steels himself for this experience. It’s okay, you’re the only one who’ll remember. It’ll be fine. Virgil starts walking closer to the stage, Roman hanging on him still. “Hey, dude, are you going to tell me what you’re singing? I’ll set it up for you,”

“I got it. We’re good, right Princey?”

“I’m so good, I’m the best, you’re so nice, gonna sing a song for me-” Roman rambles. Virgil shakes his head good-humoredly, adoring this side of him. Not suave or fanciful at all: only cute. They come to a table right by the stage, miraculously empty and clean.

“Okay, Ro, you wanna sit here and watch?” Roman smiles, nodding quickly, and plops down in one of the chairs. Virgil goes beside him, fanning his confidence by reaching for his large hand. Just like in the car, Roman takes it and squeezes.

“I’m so moved, you’re going to sing something for me! So romantic!” Roman gushes. Virgil blushes, rubbing his thumb on Roman’s sun-kissed hand.

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking. Or any of this stuff… but you’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter. I really really like you, Roman. I’ve known you for a while, so it wasn’t all at once, but you tease me with all of your flirty winks and tell me about how much you get around and today, calling me pretty- you’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice. You never do, and- Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend. I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that. You like- you like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that. Except for today, when I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing. It’ll just be for me. Just for me to remember, for you to enjoy now. You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me. Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Virgil tells him, under the lights and despite the singing in the background. Roman blinks a few times, not understanding.

“I- uhm… I don’t understand, whadda ya mean?” Roman squints at him. Virgil sighs, presses their foreheads together and gets up.

“Doesn’t matter. I only want to say… whatever, it doesn’t matter. It’s my turn to go,” and Virgil pulls away, waving slightly to the confused man, and hunches his shoulders to make him look small as he walks to the center of the stage. Scrolling through the music (it operates sort of like a karaoke machine), Virgil selects a song he knows.

Virgil doesn’t particularly like his singing voice: his mother loves it, would sing along with him during Nightmare Before Christmas, and told him it was very nice. It’s kind of low, gentle, and the words flow into the next.

“The dawn is breaking, a light shining through… you’re barely waking, and I’m tangled up in you,” Virgil sings quietly. It’s awkward, and he can’t look out into the audience at all, and he hears them ignore him. He takes a deep breath, and continues. “I’m open, you’re closed. Where I follow, you’ll go. I worry I won’t see your face light up again,”

People are starting to notice Virgil, as his voice rises, and it’s frightening but also exhilarating. He refuses to make eye-contact with them, unlike Roman who always does, and speaking of him- it’s very clear that Roman’s watching, enraptured. Virgil can practically feel it.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme- Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find you and I, collide,” Someone in the crowd whistles, causing Virgil to struggle a bit, but he picks it up right after. He’s imagining that it’s only him and Missy and- Roman. Virgil glances up at Roman barely: he’s awestruck, and it fills Virgil’s heart with glee.

“I’m quiet you know.You make a first impression. But I’ve found I’m scared to know you’re always on my mind,” Virgil messes up the lyrics a bit, but no one notices at all. They’re cheering him on, listening attentively- it helps him go on, return his gaze to the floor.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the stars refuse to shine, out of the back you fall in time, somehow find, you and I- collide,” Virgil’s voice is still quiet: even as his confidence rises, he can’t seem to raise it at all.

“Don’t stop here. I’ve lost my place. I’m close behind,” Virgil used to sing this song with his parents, when he was young: his mother and father would sing and dance with him. It has sentimental value, it reminds him of childhood and pain and love and survival. They used to sing it to him, comforting him with the words. He knows every one.

“Even the best fall down sometimes. Even the wrong words seem to rhyme. Out of the doubt that fills your mind, you finally find that you and I collide. Finally find that you and I collide. You finally find you and I collide,” the music plays for a while longer, with Virgil humming along rhythmically. When it finally fades out, Virgil scurries off the stage to thunderous applause. It is way too much attention, all at once. On his way, he grabs Roman’s sleeve, dragging him out as people fawn. As they rapidly exit, Vincent calls out from the bar.

“Hey, grump- I don’t sing, my ass! You sing gorgeous! Come back anytime, with or without Roman!” Virgil glares at him, and then he’s out into the parking lot.

“Phew- that was- oh my god, that was exhilarating. Roman? What did… what did you mmfp-” Virgil was smiling until he was cut off by Roman’s lips on his. Virgil moans into it: it’s more decadent than he could have ever imagined. Roman’s lips are deceptively soft and taste like strawberries. He finally moves back for air, and Virgil leans against the car, holding his mouth. Did… did that just happen? It takes a second to register that a) Roman kissed him, and b) that it doesn’t matter because he’s not in his right mind. It’s worth nothing beyond right now… but it means so so much. Virgil will remember this for the rest of his godforsaken life.

“Ro-Roman, what was that for?” Virgil murmurs, touching his lips addictively.

“You’re the kindest guy I’ve ever met. God, I want to take you home. Handsome, and sweet, and caring and a voice of an angel. I wish I met you forever ago,” Roman says, approaching closer to Virgil until he’s pressed up against the car and can feel Roman’s warmth, “Fuck… I don’t even know your name, but you’re… you’re magic,”

“You’re making me seem better than I am, really,” Virgil flushes, feeling all sorts of fuzzy feelings. Roman chuckles, coming in closer to lean his head on Virgil’s shoulders.

“I don’t… I don’t think I am, beautiful… I just- I don’t want to go home alone tonight. I’m so freaking lonely, all the goddamn time. So lonely… it’s only me, and no one really cares, when it comes down to it,” Roman sighs, on the verge of tears. Virgil is dumbfounded: who would have thought? Roman, the Prince of Theatre, who sings songs to children and flirts easily, and never is by himself because he’s a magnet for conversation… is lonely.

“Maybe we can be lonely together,” Virgil whispers aloud, meaning it to be internal but slipping out anyway.

“Can… can we?” Roman pleads, “Please?” Virgil exhales: he’s so cute. Remember though- he’s not going to recall any of this. It hurts, all of a sudden, that Virgil is at once Roman’s world and at the same time an illusion.

“Alright, alright. We’ll see,” Virgil smiles at him. Roman leans down for another kiss, and now Virgil lets him. What’s the harm? I’m the only one who will hurt. I can take it. “I should take you home now, huh? You can’t drive, you’re drunk,”

“Pfft- I am not-”

“You are,” Virgil rolls his eyes, unlocking his car, “Now get in.” Roman shuffles his feet around. Virgil glares.

“In the car, Princey, you have to go home now,” he demands. Roman frowns, looks away stubbornly. And, just like a puppy, he’s adorable but persistent as all hell. Roman murmurs something under his breath, inaudible. Glancing at him kinder, Virgil asks him to speak up.

“I don’t wanna go home, I wanna stay with you,” Roman mumbles, slightly louder. And, Virgil is struck right in the heart. My god, is it even legal to be that cute? Virgil sighs: he should bring Roman to his house, that’s what he had asked before he was intoxicated, and he definitely can’t take advantage of him, but… those eyes are begging for him to stay with him. He can’t refuse.

“Okay, okay, you win. It’s going to be impossible to explain this to you in the morning, but whatever! I’ll drive you to my house,” Virgil agrees, and the look of pure elation on Roman’s face is more than reward enough. Though Virgil has to help Roman’s wobby body into the passenger seat and buckle him up, he can’t stop smiling.

Even as he starts the car to drive it home.

Even as Roman says he’s going to be sick.

Even as he has to rush Roman upstairs to his apartment before he pukes all over the place, Virgil is happy.

Roman hugs Virgil’s middle after he cleans him up. Missy and Roman get along swimmingly, Virgil offering to let him hold her, and Roman enraptured by her. He’s enthralled by Virgil lending him a toothbrush, seemingly blessed by the offering of a piece of toast to calm his stomach at the small kitchen bar. Roman stares at it, sitting on one of the stools.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he wonders. Virgil frowns. Are people usually unkind to you?

“This is normal, Princey. People are supposed to look out for one another,”

“Oh. Yeah,” Roman says to himself. Virgil can’t hold back from reaching over and kissing his forehead.

“Anytime you need, I’ll be nice to you. I don’t mean to be so prickly: it’s a defense mechanism. You only have to tell me you’d like some care, and I’ll give you everything,” Virgil tells him. This charming man, he hiccups and his eyes water as he blubbers. Virgil is good with a lot of things: crying crushes are not one of them. “Hey, no crying, don’t cry! Let’s go to bed, huh? Yeah, that sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Roman makes a pitiful little nod, and Virgil leads him to the bedroom. There’s only one… so either they share, or Virgil’s going to the couch. So, he tucks Roman into the warm black duvet and brushes his forehead as a way of good night. As he goes to leave, Roman grabs onto his arm.

“Stay with me? Please?”

“Ro, I don’t- I don’t think this is a good idea, buddy. No, it’s really not a good idea,” his heartbeat is picking up again, and Virgil bites his lip nervously. Roman ignores it, pulls his hand to kiss it.

“Stay with me, princess,” he purrs. Are you trying to kill me? Roman’s too attractive, too flirtatious. And Virgil’s too head over heels to say no. And that’s how he finds himself sharing his bed with Roman King.

Who fell asleep almost immediately, and snuggled up right into Virgil’s side. So close, that there is a permanent blush on Virgil’s face and his breath on his neck. Okay, this is not going to work. I’m never going to get to sleep if this goes on. Fuck.

Virgil shuffles away, attempting to get out of bed and go sleep on the couch, but Roman slings and arm over him and growls “Stay”.

Well, can’t argue with that, now can I?

~~~~~~

When morning filters through the window, Roman blinks awake. Jiminy Cricket, does his head hurt. Ugh, what happened last night? This isn’t his bed: it’s not colourful at all, all blacks and purples. For goodness sakes, the curtains that are blocking most of the sun have spiders on it. Roman rubs his eyes: did he go home with someone? He must’ve. But who? Roman can’t really recall: he doesn’t remember talking to anyone. After Virgil ran out to the bathroom, Roman just wanted to drink and be alone. Anyone who approached him was turned away instantly by one of his cold stares.

He couldn’t help but feel as though it was sort of his fault: he said he’d be with him. That Roman would leave Virgil alone. And yet… he was in the bathroom for two hours, and not once did Roman gather the courage to go and check on him. And then what? Then he went to some strangers home and left Virgil?

What kind of asshole would do that to someone? Virgil, despite how he acts, is amazingly perceptive. He can tell when something is wrong, it’s why he’s so good as a nurse… he’s just genuinely a good person. And Roman left him?

He can’t imagine he’d do that to the emo, even drunk. He wouldn’t be able to forget Virgil, would he?

No, he really has no clue.

Think, Roman, think- he presses his hands to his pounding head, as if it would squeeze out a memory. All that happens is scraps of a song. Oh great, not only do I have no idea where I am but now there’s a song stuck in my head. Wonderful.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme-” he murmurs under his breath. Then an image follows right after: a man, holding onto the microphone at the bar, singing the words so soft, so sweetly. It makes his heart pang, it’s so lovely. Is that the guy I went home with? Roman thinks to himself. He focuses harder on the memory. The man, he looks up shyly, nervously, and meets eyes with Roman.

God, he’s fucking beautiful. Love at first sight? Maybe not, but whatever this is, it’s as close to that as it could possibly be. It makes Roman feel all warm and bubbly inside. He bites his lip and looks at the ceiling of this stranger’s bed. Things come back in bits and pieces all out of order; kissing that man by a car, his car- that man laughing at him as he gawks at his, what is that, a spider?- the man sitting at a table in the bar right next to him, letting him nuzzle his shoulder (embarrassing, it makes Roman blush he was so mushy)- a kiss to his forehead to calm him, wiping away drunken tears ever so gently. His hands felt baby-soft, despite the obvious muscular frame he sported.

Who is he…?

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking…” in his mind, this man’s voice follows: it’s soft, muted a touch. Focus now, Roman, you’ve almost got it-

“You’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter…” Of course it matters! I’m not a blackout drunk! Roman wants to scream.

“I really really like you, Roman,” his voice, saying such kind words, is like what he’d imagine an angel would sound like. Or some sweet interaction that only comes between A-List celebrities in a scripted movie.

“I’ve known you for a while…” Okay, finally, getting somewhere. He knows him? Does he do tech at the theatre or something? It’s a possibility.

“You’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice…” Well, that’s harsh. Kind makes him feel guilty: this gorgeous meal of a man was lusting over him, and he didn’t even notice? What kind of idiot-

“Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend…” So he knows the snakey doctor. That can either be very good or very bad: is this fellow a sleazeball? No, Roman assures himself blushing heavily, He’s too sweet to do that. Too kind and loving. Did you see him sing that song? Just for you too- and he looked so nervous! Precious!!

“I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that…” Roman wants to pull his hair out. Did Roman say or do something wrong? Did he ruin his chances with this Adonis, because if he did, he’ll be furious.

“You like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that,” I don’t care! I don’t care about any of that! I just want someone to hold my hand and not treat me like shit! Just a sweet cute guy!

“I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing,” Ah, sorry to break it to you, but hey, I’m remembering! And I’m going to track you down!

“You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me…” he sounds melancholy, so very sad, and Roman wants to hold him. Hold him and kiss the top of his head and make him feel better. This person, he doesn’t deserve to be ignored. Why was Roman ever-

“Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Roman’s mouth runs dry. Virgil? Virgil. He- the man he went with- Virgil. Virgil was singing to him, with that angelic voice, Virgil drove him to his house because he didn’t want to leave him alone and every other little wonderful thing, the forehead kisses and the smiles and the hands- oh my stars, I am an imbecile.

How didn’t he notice? How Virgil would bite back at him whenever he flirted with him teasingly, how Virgil wilted whenever Roman talked about his relationships, how careful and thoughtful he was with every move, hell, he even agreed to go out to the bar with him to find some other guy because he was worried for Roman’s safety.

How was I so blind that I missed the perfect man right in front of my eyes?

And this… this must be Virgil’s house. It’s… very Virgil. Is that a Nightmare Before Christmas poster? Yes, it is- how wonderful. How him.

How didn’t Roman notice? It’s that classic blunder, unseeing of the person right in front of him. How did he not see how romantic Virgil is? Little gestures, smart moves, kindness. Thoughtful. He had said that he wasn’t a romantic, but by Jove- he’s sweet. His mind can’t stop repeating Virgil’s soft singing and his gentleness. God, it’s so beautiful it’s painful. He should tell him to go without makeup more often. And a shirt. Yes, without a shirt sounds good. Undercover buff, much?

His mind swirls with the knowledge of Virgil.

Oh shit- how is he going to face Virgil now? He’s in his house, he’s most likely in the living room: should he just pretend like he doesn’t remember?

Roman’s a good actor, he could pull it off: but Virgil would still be wanting and lonesome. And Roman would know, and that hurts. He won’t do that to him, not anymore.

He should just come out, say that he remembers and... ask him out on a date. A proper one. They both have the day off today, it could be now!

They’d do Virgil things, things that make the emo happy, maybe a zoo or watch movies or coffee shops or whatever. And... Roman will hold his hand, hold him, and hold him and hold him. Yes, yes, this is good.

Roman wishes he had more time to plan. Time to get flowers, or chocolates or anything, really. Wait, you don’t even know if he’ll say yes! Maybe he’s so embarrassed by the whole interaction that-

Wait.

Is that pancakes?

Roman sniffs at the air: yes, it is. Blueberry ones, at that. And coffee. His stomach rumbles, and hunger is enough to spur him out of bed. His legs are wobbly, and his head is swimming, but he makes it out of the room eventually.

“Oh hey, Princey, finally decide to wake from your endless slumber, huh?” Virgil teases. His makeup has returned, as usual. He’s wearing another hoodie, a black one, and it’s hanging off his shoulders as he flips pancakes. Roman’s mouth runs dry. “Also, umm, sorry about not taking you to your apartment. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh... it’s fine,” Roman sounds odd, even to himself, and Virgil gives him a skeptical look. “Heh, anyone who makes me good morning pancakes is alright in my book!”

Virgil snorts, and pushes a plate over the kitchen bar for Roman to sit and eat.

“How’s your head? What do you- you know, never mind,” Virgil ducks his head into the fridge to receive some maple syrup, “You like it warmed?”

“Uh... if it isn’t an issue,” Virgil casts another weird look to Roman: is he being too nice? Roman can’t help it, how could he be rude? He puts his syrup in the microwave, with the long pale fingers.

“I uh- Virgil,” Roman starts, more nervous than anything, “Oh fuck, this is hard but- I uh-”

“You’re making me worried, Princey, spit it out or shut up and eat my food,” Virgil glares. Roman gulps. It’s like a bandaid, rip it off, come on, just spit it out-

“I REMEMBER! I remember everything, I always do after I’m drunk, it’s why I get a buddy, because I always remember in the morning and I hate what I’m like when I’m intoxicated, because I always remember, I think I’ve said that a few times- uh, Virgil, are you okay?” Roman finally looks up at Virgil- or rather down, as the man has crumpled to the floor in a heap. Has he fainted? Roman gets up and squats next to him.

“Virgil?” he whispers into his ear, poking at him. Virgil jolts up, narrowly missing a collision with Roman’s head as he sits up straight. He groans, and puts his head in his hands to try and hide his full-faced blush.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot, oh my god, I’ve made a total fool of myself- oh god, please just leave me alone to die, Roman, just go,” he yells. Roman chuckles, and peels Virgil’s hands from his face. He seems about to cry, moisture glistening at his eyes. Roman’s heart can’t take it: he thinks he looks foolish? No, never.

Roman kisses the corners of his eyes.

“You’re not an idiot, you’re most certainly not a fool. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you before at the office. I’m the only idiot between the two of us, because I didn’t see how wonderful you were until you had to be blatant about it. I’m so very sorry, and in your debt. I feel silly to even try and ask, but would you… perchance, want a real date? One where I’m not flirting with other people- only with you, you Incredible Sulk,” Roman consoles Virgil pulling him into an embrace.

“Really?” Virgil asks.

“Honestly,”

“Then yeah, yeah, that sounds okay. I uh… I don’t do a whole lot so-” Roman cuts Virgil off by pressing his finger to his lips. Virgil raises his eyebrows.

“How’s right this second sound?”

“Yeah- uhm, that works for me-”

“Fantastic! And I believe your pancakes are burning,” Roman notes, laughing as Virgil shoots up cursing colourfully as he discards a very black pancake. Even as the man squawks and yells and forces Roman back into his seat, he can’t help but feel fulfilled. After the pancake fiasco is remedied, Virgil breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at Roman.

“Sorry about that, Princey,”

“Hey, it’s no problem for me! Kind of entertaining, actually,” Roman snickers, earning him a slap upside the head. And then, just to push Virgil’s buttons, he snakes his hand through his dark locks and kisses him deeply over the counter. It’s a knee-shaking kiss, a heart-stopper, a signature Roman smooch. One he should’ve given Virgil last night, but was too drunk to make happen. It seems like Virgil likes it too, if the noises are any indication. Virgil is the first to pull back for air, and presses his chest, gasping.

“Oh my goodness, was that too much? Are you okay, Virgil?” Roman frets. Virgil, he recalls, has some sort of horrible cocktail of medical issues. Most he’s grown out of, but the effects still linger.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s cool. Hah, my heart’s still beating. It’s stopped once before, and I have a defibrillator in my room but- I’m okay. I guess that just means I’m fragile, right? Gotta be careful with my heart, both ways, alright?” A still beating heart. How romantic, how delightful.

“Now you must stay with me, so I can restart your heart whenever it’s required!” Roman announces. Virgil rolls his eyes and scoffs, despite his small smile, then returns to finishing off the end of his pancake batter. Roman pokes his bicep, his deceptively strong bicep, to pester him into an answer. Virgil catches it, squeezes.

“Hey! My heart’s still beating, you’re going to have to try harder,” he teases. It has to be the most lovely seductive challenge he’s ever been issued. And you said you weren’t a romantic.

His heart still beats, and it beats just as hard for Roman as the other way around.

How positively lovely.

~~~~

And from that day on, the entire pediatric office would all go out once a month to a particular bar’s karaoke night, and Roman and Virgil would sing many songs but always one. They always sang one at the end, and it was so beautiful that people cry every time. It’s longing and love and acceptance.

They like to hold hands while they do it, perhaps to show off their relationship… or maybe just the matching rings that adorn their fingers.

~~~~~

The End! Thanks for reading!

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deliberatelyvague · 4 years

Text

You Do Deserve It (obey me brothers x fem! reader)

Started: May 16, 2020 at 5:55pm

Ended: May 16, 2020 at 7:01pm

Pairing(s): (obey me brothers x fem! reader) (oc!mc x fem! reader)

Trigger Warning(s): suicide talk, loneliness, being ignored, confrontation, maybe some more.

Author’s Note: hey! I can’t answer your ask since you dm’ed me (which is totally fine 🥰) so I’ll tag you here: @leowillbefine . Also for the fem MC I decided to just insert myself, nothing will really change other than using they/them pronouns 🥰 I hope you like it!

Prompt/Request:

————

The lights of emergency rooms are blinding. You had always been told that, but you never really believed it until you experienced it after you tried to end your own life. The fluorescents were so bright, it was almost as if the doctors wanted you to stay longer because you had ended up blind.

“Hey! You’re finally awake,” a voice came from beside you, and you turned your head to see another figure sitting up on a bed, hunched over what looked to be an embroidery object. “Your parents were just here, but they had to leave because visiting time was over.”

You continued to sit there, looking around the room and the person coughed and leaned over the side of the bed a little bit, spitting into a trash can. You winced a little bit, and they took notice.

“Sorry about that. I guess having your stomach vacuumed will do that to ya,” they giggled a bit before turning back to their embroidery. “My name’s Esther, but that name is too biblical, so I go by Coda. I go by any pronouns, but I prefer they/them. Whatever’s easier for you.”

You continued to be quiet, before looking over at them and seeing what they were working on.

“Oh! Do you want to see what I’m working on? Hold on, I’ll come over,” they offered, and moved over to you, kneeling on the ground beside your bed. “Look, I’m trying to make a flower, but I’m new at this, so I don’t know if I’m doing well.”

“I think it looks good, Coda,” you complimented, and they lit up.

“Really? Thank you,” they cheered, before moving back over to their bed. “I would stay over there, but I got in trouble last time I tried to move around without someone in the room with me.”

“I’m in the room with you, though?” She looked thoughtful for a moment before smiling again.

“Good point, but I don’t want the doctor informing my parents I wasn’t cooperating again,” they explained, and then looked up from their embroidery. “What’s your name?”

You looked over at them, frowning slightly. They could’ve just read the patient info at the end of the bed. Or asked your parents.

“My name’s [Y/N]. Did my parents not tell you?” You asked, and they shook their head.

“Nah, they tried not to look at me much. It probably didn’t help that I was dry heaving when they were in here, anyway,” they answered, putting one final stitch in their work before setting it to the side. “They seemed kind of.. off. Of course, I can’t really judge how I would react if my child tried to take their life,” they thought some more. “What am I talking about? I don’t have children.”

You laughed a little bit, and their eyes lit up. You two sat in silence for a little bit, until you looked over at them. They had been heaving a little bit, but it was gradually becoming less and less as the night went on.

“So,” you started, and they gave you their attention. “You mentioned you and your stomach pumped? Sorry if it’s too personal, but what happened?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I just tried to overdose,” they said lightly, but it held a sad undertone to their voice. “My big brother caught me in the act, but I had taken them already, so he drove me here.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. You didn’t look at them again, and you thought back to earlier that day when you had tried to kill yourself. You two were such different people, it was hard to imagine someone like Coda feeling what you felt, and you felt bad for them. You wouldn’t wish anyone to feel like that, not even your worse enemy. “I also tried to off myself.”

They nodded, smiling a little bit.

“Yeah, but hey! We’re both still here, that has to count for something, yeah?” They offered, trying to cheer you up. “Beside, judging by how they roomed us, we’ll probably be together for a few days.”

After that, the two of you became good friends. You exchanged numbers, and kept in contact, talking often.

But the day that you were transported down to the Devildom, you were filled with sadness. They had taken your phone, so you couldn’t talk to them. You felt dread, but that feeling quickly changed when you met the other exchange student.

It was them, dressed in the same jacket as you, but with a button up, small tie similar to Asmodeus’ and pants. They were talking with Diavolo, about something, but the prince laughed often, which didn’t surprise you. Finally Diavolo’s eyes landed on you, and he pointed to you, and they turned.

A squeal was heard, and you were quickly bear hugged by them.

“[Nickname]! I can’t believe you’re the other exchange student! Fate, right?” They let go of you before assuring Diavolo that you would be well taken care of and that they would personally introduce you to the boys. They sent a jolt of anxiousness through you, and they lovingly put their arm around your shoulder. “It’ll be alright, I’m right here. If those boys even try anything, I’ll let them know what up.”

On the way to the House of Lamentation, they explained to you what you needed to know, and about the brothers, so you wouldn’t have to learn it yourself.

“Yeah, I heard the last exchange student I think their name was.. [MC]? Yeah, they had to learn it all by them self, evidently almost died a couple of times? I dunno, that’s just what I’ve heard.”

You didn’t know what to make of the brothers, they seemed to be pretty doting on Coda, even when they kind of brushed off the advances and tried to get the attention back onto you. They was more frusterated today than you think you had ever seen them, and finally they showed you to your room.

“I hope you don’t mind, but they wanted us roomed separately. Of course, they can’t really stop us if you want to room with me, but-”

“It’s fine, Codes.” They looked over at you concerned.

“You sure?” They asked, and you nodded, opening the door to your plainly decorated room. “Alright well, if you need anything, remember I’m always here for you, ya know?” You nodded again, and they hugged you goodbye. “Oh! Also my room is just down the hallway, the last one on the right. My door is always open.”

With that, they left toward their room, taking off their jacket and shoes, leaving the shoes outside the room. You found that peculiar and remembered to ask about it later, but right now you just wanted to lay in your bed.

This day had been weird enough, and you never dealt with change easily. So you tore off your clothes and changed into some clothes that happened to fit you perfectly and crawled into bed.

———

The boys ingoring you (pretty much) didn’t just happen the first day. It spread into the next day, then the next, almost like an infectious disease you couldn’t stop. You wanted to say something about it, but you didn’t want to be needy. But one day, you didn’t need to worry about bringing it up.

You all were sitting in the lounge room, you sat on one of the big chairs playing a video game you had bought off of Akuzon, and Coda sat between your legs on the ground, continuing the embriodery project they had been working on for the past few days. Now they was sewing leaves and what looks to be a cat.. holding up middle fingers? Anyway, it was calm, with Satan also in there, but reading a book and Belphegor sleeping.

At least it was calm before Mammon and the other brothers came in and started pulling Coda in every which way. Coda was started to get frusterated, before they ripped their wrist from Mammon’s hand.

“Why don’t you guys ever dote on [Y/N] like this? She can get attention from y’all too.” They explained, frusterated at the boys.

“She’s fine, she’s been more than fine in her classes and getting used to RAD,” Lucifer answered as that was the most obvious answer in the universe.

“Plus, she’s kind of quiet, anyway,” Mammon explained more, and Coda’s eyes snapped over to him.

“Shouldn’t that be more of a reason to talk to her? She’s quiet, get to know her,” they scolded. They then looked over at Lucifer. “And how do you think Diavolo would feel if he found out you all were neglecting one of his beloved exchange students?”

Coda grabbed your hand and lifted you up, leading you to the threshold of the room.

“Now, is you’d excuse me, I’m going to spend a lot of quality time with my.. friend, for the rest of the week, or until y’all get your priorities in order.” They declared, before being stopped by Lucifer’s voice. You dug your face in their back, trying desperately to stop the tears from coming. You didn’t really like showing emotions, but you also didn’t really like confrontation, whether it was between you and another person or two people.

“Who do you think you’re talking to with that attitude?” He asked, and Coda’s head whipped around.

“You, Lucifer. I’m talking to you. And Mammon. Each and everyone one of you that ignored her for the first week of her being here, but decided to give me all the attention like she was worth less than me. Which by the way, she isn’t.”

They then turned and led you to their room, locking the door behind them and putting you on their bed. Their room was decorated in greens and blues, a light colors, with books and miscellaneous embroidery designs and threads here and there.

They knelt down to your level after you say down.

“Are you alright?” They questioned, and you nodded, not looking them in the eye. They frowned, and cupped your face, but you smacked away their hand before standing up, hunching over in a corner and covering your face, hiding the rivers running from your eyes.

“[Y/N]-”

“Esther, why did you help me?” They flinched a little bit at that name before telling you that you were their friend, and they couldn’t stand the look on your face anything the brothers would talk to them but not you.

“I don’t like seeing my friends in pain, and they were obviously causing you that. So I put them in their place.”

“Coda, I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve to be treated like that, I don’t deserve any acts of affection you try to give me, I don’t-”

“I swear to God if you saw one more thing about you not deserving something that you do in fact deserve, I will cuddle you until you realize your worth.” They threaten, crossing their arms over their chest. “[Y/N], you deserve to be treated like how they treat me. And any acts of affection I give you, I give you because you do deserve them.”

You just looked away from them, and you heard them sigh and walk toward you, wrapping their arms around your waist from behind.

“[Y/N], c’mon. Let’s watch some Netflix and cuddle. I need to show you a lot of love to make up for the amount that you’ve been missing out on, obviously.”

———

It’s not needed to be said, but the boys started to treat you a lot better. It’s not like all of them were mean to you, Satan talked to you everyone once in a while before that as well as Asmodeus, Belphie also slept with you in the room occasionally, but the others didn’t really.

Now they included you in everything, and you felt a lot more included, but you sometimes felt like they just let you be there to please Coda. When you felt like this, Coda knew almost every time, and would grasp your hand and tell you to stop thinking like that. Nothing good would come out of it, and that you could rant to them later tonight about what was bothering you.

The rest of the year was great.

————

This was written by me in no way trying to romanticize mental illnesses. I try to write what I feel would help me in the moment. I completely understand that mental illnesses don’t just ‘disappear’ when you’ve figured out that someone loves you or someone helps you once- that’s why I don’t write what happens after in most cases. If you are struggling, please reach out to anyone you trust, or call a hotline.

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me oc #obey me imagine #obey me oneshot #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me angst #obey me diavolo #lucifer #mammon #satan #belphegor #tw suicide

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captainrexisboo · 3 years

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THE COUNTDOWN IS OVER. Y’ALL-

I’M AT 501 FOLLOWERS.

Upon reaching this TREMENDOUS milestone, I present, my dearest babe: Witcher ✨

He’s my beloved Clone OC...this is where he came from. Sorry if it reads like a DND background story. It kind of is!!! Witcher holds a very dear space in my heart, I made him while I was hurting pretty bad, threading him into my life through my Nightsister OC. These two are pretty personal to me, and I’d love to share their story with you!

Asva Strasi is an old self-insert/Star Wars DND character I played with that I’m beginning to flesh out, and her story goes hand in hand with Witcher. There can’t be an Asva without a Witcher, nor a Witcher without an Asva.

Witcher’s introduction to this blog is in V pt iv, and more info about him can be found at this ask. (Edit: also here!) Please let me know if you would like to be put on the Witcher tag list (present tags are at the bottom of the backstory)!!!

Thank you all so much with your love and support, I can’t wait to share more with you!!! I love you all!!! And without further ado, I give you:

The First Meeting

It’s the very start of the war, where Asva Strasi is a witch of the Nightsister Clan on planet Dathomir. She’s a younger witch (19 years old, 22 BBY), in the process of completing her training to become one of Mother Talzin’s assassins, she’s never known life outside Dathomir and seeks to change that. Strasi always dreamed of travelling and learning about life outside her planet, like many of her assassin sisters. One day, she was out for athletic training with her sisters. Going a little farther than usual, Strasi came across an armored body. Deciding the body was indeed a male, and close to death, she convinced her sisters to bring him back to base. They brought him to Clan Mother Talzin, who classified him as a Mandalorian based off of the signature T-shaped visor of his helmet, but other than that the armor he wore was strange. It seemed too stark, and not as decorated, not even a clan symbol to be seen. Knowing of the Mandalorians code of honor, as well as their universally praised strength and strategist mind, she thought of bringing him back to health to gain his gratitude, and push for an alliance. Mother Talzin brought her most talented witches together, and as a reward for bringing her the Mandalorian, she allowed Strasi to be a part of the ritual. Once his health was restored and consciousness gained, he was met with the gazes of Mother Talzin and Strasi. Mother Talzin began to answer his questions, and upon learning Strasi saved his life, he was extremely thankful but told them he needed to be off world immediately. He needed to return to the war.

“Ah, of course. You Mandalorians are always in one sort of war, or another. We’ll help get you home-”

“I’m not a Mandalorian ma’am. Well, not technically anyways.”

Talzin and Strasi listened to the soldier, now learning he was only a clone of the Mandalorian Jango Fett. CT-2457, not yet named. He fought alongside the Jedi, lightsiders, for the Republic.

“And who dares defy the Republic?”

“Separatists, ma’am… I’m sorry, who did you say your planet aligns with?”

“We’re a neutral planet, sir.”

Strasi answered for her Mother, assuring the clone they meant him no harm. She explained how she and her sisters' only goal for him was to take him home.

“Asva will accompany you back to Coruscant,” Talzin declared, surprising Strasi, who still had a final trial to go through before becoming a full-fledged assassin to be allowed off-world. CT-2457 left with a respectful thank you to Strasi before going with a duo of witches back to where he had landed to see if he could find any salvageable supplies that might’ve dropped from his crash along with him.

“When you get to the...what did he call it? The GAR headquarters, please extend an offer of our services to the Republic. I’m sending a group to go find and extend the same offer to whoever runs the Separatist forces. When you come home, we’ll put you through your final trial.”

Strasi takes 2457 back to Coruscant...only for them to say due to him being accounted for as deceased, he’ll have to go back to Kamino for them to decide what to do with him. Strasi sees the clone make the slightest twitch of discomfort, and before the nat born GAR officer can alert anyone to take the clone back, she volunteers her service, “I can take him to Kamino. Just let them know we’re coming. My name is Asva Strasi, I’ll be flying a Lancer-class pursuit craft, Vigilance.”

She left with the proper extension of the Nightsister’s services in the future.

Aboard the Vigilance, she spoke to 2457. A little hesitant, he opened up about life on Kamino, raised to be what they are, not who they could be.

“On my planet, males are seen as slaves. Good only for the harvest, sometimes protection, and breeding,” Strasi recounted, chuckling lightly at 2457’s uncomfortable face, “Don’t worry, I won’t treat you as such. I’m just saying, you received a very special treatment on Dathomir. If you can’t find yourself a happy place on Kamino with your brothers, please think of me as your sister. And Dathomir, a place of rest.”

She holds out a small object in front of him, a chunk of dark metal, the size of just the tip of her thumb, the point tinged green with the light hitting it just right.

“What is that?”

“A focus. I use it to help center myself in meditation, to channel my energy and thought into. And now-” she breaks it, the metal really just a shining stone, handing half of it to the clone, “-you’ll always have a part of me with you. Brother clone.”

2457 takes it gently, wary of how brittle the stone may be. He marvels at it for a moment, how the green looked to nearly be glowing, and looked back up to the kind face of the witch in front of him, nodding his head, “Sister Asva.”

She lands on Kamino, and the Kaminoans are already waiting for them, along with a couple of other clones to serve as guards.

“Would you care to tell us exactly your healing methods, miss Strasi?”

“Magicks. Nothing to leave a scar that wasn’t already formed. CT-2457 just needs to be reentered into the system so he can get back to his proper clan.”

“Magic. Clans. Dathomirians,” a different Kaminoan rolled his eyes, spitting out his words, “The primitive ideals of your planet mean nothing for us, we will need to recommission it-”

“No need, sir,” Strasi bit out, venom lacing her formal request, “CT-2457 is perfectly well, Mother Talzin saw the ritual through. Or, I’m sorry, should I word it differently? Perhaps in a way you understand? Kaminoans. CT-2457 was put through our traditional medical procedure, headed by our lead doctor, and he will need nothing more than a regulatory physical to ensure he’s fit for battle with his company again. Is that more clear, sir?”

“Young lady-”

“Am I clear?”

Before the other Kaminoan could speak again, Nala Se stopped him, putting up a hand and motioning Asva to come closer, “Stay for the physical. If anything proves to be out of place, you will be put on trial as representation for your planet, charged with tampering with Republic property. If you’re correct and nothing is wrong, we will hand you a reward and you will be free to leave. Is this fair to you?”

“Yes.”

CT-2457 was getting looks as he passed through the halls, side by side with the white haired young woman dressed in ruddy colors. He didn’t stray from her side, steps falling into line with hers. She brushed her hand against his, causing him to look down to her, to see her tapping her half of the focus against her leg. He nodded once, breathing deeply. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he just thought of the little rock stuffed in his pocket, thought about giving it his entire self, and breathed.

Before he knew it, his physical was over, passed of course, and he was waving goodbye to Strasi’s ship as it left the atmosphere. He was hounded by his vod about where he had been, what had happened, what had been done to him. He told them about Dathomir, the Nightsisters and their magick, Asva Strasi and her focus. By the end of the night, he had a name; he was Witcher.

Tags: @bad-batch-of-fics @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @vesperstalksclones @haloangel391

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Something Just Like This - CH36

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Fluff, a dash of angst

WC: 3386

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean never thought they could talk things out in such a short time. He thought it might take days but all it took was some cuddles and a warm bath. He should have known though, because Y/N ticks the same way he does. She’s simple, says what’s on her mind, asks the hard questions even if she doesn’t really want to know the answer.

She’s shaking as he dries her off and carries her to the bed to help her dress in a fresh pair of pj pants, a shirt and one of his oversized sweater before he tucks her in. He threw a shirt over his own head, wears some fresh underwear and walks out to get her pills. He comes in, asks if she’s hungry but she wasn’t. It’s still a couple of hours until dinner time anyway. He slips into bed with her after, can’t really spoon her because of her ankle but he gets as close as possible, lays his head on her good shoulder and noses at her neck.

He breathes in her scent and whispers, “You smell good again.”

Y/N laughs at that, “Thanks?”

He has to laugh too because he didn’t mean for it to come out like it did. “No, I mean, you smell like you again. I missed that.”

She has her hand in his hair, scratches his head and he can hear her steady heartbeat.

“There’s something I want you to see.” He says, rolls on the bed and gets his phone off the charger, hands it to her wordlessly.

She takes it, a frown on her face.

“Look at it.” He urges her and she pushes at the button, making the phone light up in the dark.

It’s still the picture of her and Cuddles on his home screen.

“Dean,” She whispers, “I—”

“0502” He says simply and she looks at him perplexed, frowns when she realizes what the numbers are for.

She thumbs over the digits, punches in the code and when she unlocks it, she sees a picture of her which he once took while she was still sleeping. Hair a mess, mouth open. He thinks it’s cute but she wouldn’t agree. She doesn’t say anything though.

“Open my call activities.” He whispers and she does, opens it and looks through it, he doesn’t have a lot of callers on there, so it’s not hard to see that there are 3,212 calls he made to her old number.

Y/N has tears in her eyes and Dean brushes his thumb against her cheek before he goes on. He’s not going to stop now, wants to get it over with because he wants her to know.

“Look at my messages.”

She thumbs around on his phone, and opens the texting app. Her hands fly to her mouth, covering it.

He nuzzles his nose against her shoulder as she looks through it. There are messages he sent to her old number, and it starts from the moment she walked out. She can’t possibly go through them all because the last one was only sent three days ago. He never stopped texting her, if sometimes only for him to say hi and that he’s missing her.

She opens her mouth, “I’m—”

“—it’s okay.” He interrupts her.

He’s told her everything she wanted to know. Everything he thought was important anyway. And everything he told her was the truth either. He wished he knew about the FBI thing sooner though, but what good would that have been? If he could go back, he wouldn’t have changed a thing. Would still have loved her. Would have wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Dean takes his phone from her hands and moves up a little, lays his head next to hers on the pillow instead, rests his forehead on her temple. “Are you staying?” His heart is beating fast as he asks the question, and is kind of prepared if she’d say no, although it would kill him but he’s not the one who wouldn’t let her go if that’s what she really wants.

“If you want me to?” She asks, and it’s like music to his ears.

“Yeah,” He smiles, “I’d like that.”

***

Dean’s in the living room making breakfast when Sam knocks at his door.

Dean let’s Sam in and immediately Sam senses that something’s different, because he grins so fucking idiotic and it makes Dean nauseous. That big ass sasquatch always knows when something’s up.

“How did your night go, huh? Wink wink nudge nudge.”

“Sammy, stop being so fucking creepy.”

“I see a pair of women's shoes at the door that’s obviously not your size, Dean, of course I have to be creepy!”

Sam walks in further and takes the cup of coffee out of Dean’s hand before he steals a strip of bacon from a plate. “You’re making breakfast for two, too! Guess she performed really well, that you let her stay.”

“Sam,” Dean growls, it’s a warning.

“I hope you used protection.” Sam’s taking another mouthful of bacon and washes it down with the coffee, “I don’t think you shouldn’t let people sue you for child support.”

“Sammy!” Dean didn’t mean to be so loud, placing his fingers to his lips as a way to warn himself. And then, softer, he says, “Y/N’s here.”

“What?” Sam shouts.

“You’re being loud!” Dean hisses.

“Sorry, okay,” Sam says and then he hisses too, “What? Where did you find her?”

“She was in a car accident. Messed up her ankle real bad. Long story short—”

“—Too late.”

“Oh, haha — shut up.” Dean mocks grumpily and goes on, “I was still her emergency contact on her phone and that leads us here.”

“Okay, fine, she’s here but have you talked it through? I hate to see you sad again, man.”

Dean smirks, “Don’t worry we talked plenty. She explained everything and I had my closure. I feel good. Haven’t felt this good in what?”

“A year.” Sam says drily.

“Yeah. She needs a lawyer to sue that son of a bitch who crashed into her car. You in?”

“Sure, send me the details because I gotta go now,” Sam knocks at the counter twice, “Was only on the way to the office, wanted to see how you’re doing. Is Y/N staying?”

“I think so, why?”

“Bring her around for dinner?”

Dean grins, “Sure.”

“Oh, that Lambo? Yours?”

“Cas. You wanna drive it?” Dean lifts his eyebrows in question.

Sam’s sending him a bitchface. “Nah, my dick’s way too big.”

***

A couple of days later, Dean got Sergei to check up on Y/N. The doctor still lives in one of his apartments, even though he too, got more money than he probably will need in his life. But Sergei’s always been a one weird creature of habit, maybe that’s why he didn’t want to move. And maybe it’s also because Dean lets him live here rent free. It’s the least he can do since Sergei helped save Y/N’s life.

She’s doing much better and they can now lower her pain meds intake. Which probably also means that she’s gonna be awake more and Dean considers that a win. It’s still going to be a little over five weeks until she can take her cast off, though.

Y/N’s workplace had called in to lay her off. She was a little sad about that. It’s not really like she needed the money because Dean has plenty. He could give her half and would still have more than enough left to last him a whole lifetime. He thinks it’s more because she really likes to work, likes to have a purpose in life and he gets that. He tried to cheer her up, telling her that if she wants, she can pick up drawing again and he can fund her own art gallery. His idea wasn’t well received. And by mentioning the art, she suddenly remembers the drawing she left on her bedside table and asked him where it was. He said it’s in a safe place because he doesn’t want to tell her yet, but the truth is, that he framed it and took it to the new house, hung it up right at the entrance so every time he would go in there, he’d see and be reminded what he’s doing it for. Never actually gave up on the idea of finding her again one day and showing her the house, even if at that time he wouldn’t be in the picture of her new future anymore.

One day, he’d tell her. But it’s still too early now.

Cas came by last night to exchange his Baby against the hideous Lamborghini. Thank fucking god because Dean was starting to feel very awkward driving a Lambo around town to do the simplest of things. Cas had asked to see Y/N but she was already sleeping. He promised to take her around once she’s better. Maybe Dean should start to make a list of all the people who want to see Y/N to keep track and not to miss anyone.

Gabe called too, Sam had been talking, like the gossip girl he is, and Gabe is overly excited that she’s found. Gabe was the one who helped Dean search for her because he hated to see Dean in the state he was in. He said to Dean that it’s worse than after the time their camp had been destroyed in Afghanistan. Dean owes Gabe a lot and Gabe’s also the only one who still lives nearby. He never needed much and only took enough money from Dean to tie him over until he can find another job. More than money, Gabe needs distraction, he once told Dean. He doesn’t need money because money would bring him back to the habit that he wants to shake off. So, now, if Dean needs anything, he’ll contact Gabe. Gabe actually insists on it.

Y/N comes out of the bedroom, wearing one of his shirts. Dean doesn’t know why she raids his side of the closet when she has enough clothes herself. But he doesn’t really mind. She’s wearing a skirt because it’s easier to get it over the cast. Dean absolutely hates how cute she looks with the oversized shirt and the frilly skirt. Hates it because it makes him want her in a way he doesn’t allow himself to want her. Not yet.

“I’m ready.”

“Good.” Dean says and it came out grumpy but he’s really not. It’s just that her outfit does things to him and he absolutely hates that he likes it.

He takes the key and gives her a hand to walk to the door. She clutches one crutch on the other side.

“Jesus, this will take forever.” He mutters under his breath and sweeps her off her feel, carries her over his shoulder while she’s holding the crutch.

“Dean!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I’d like to get back by tonight and not still be here by then.”

She’s still over his shoulder when they get into the elevator and he sees their reflection in the mirror. He has his hand on her thigh and her skirt almost rides up to her ass. He turns his gaze down, doesn’t look. He carries her over to his car and they get in.

They’re driving to her apartment, moving things back to his place. Because it’s final. She’s staying. She really fucking stays.

Yesterday morning when he brought her a coffee to bed she looked at him and just smiled. Nothing else, just a smile. And her smile lasted an awful long while until he had to ask what’s wrong.

“I’m staying.” She said. Nothing less, nothing more. But it’s enough for him to sit down and kiss her. He wanted to ask if she really meant it. If she really thought it through because if she stays this time, there’s no running away and he had made it clear that he’s not letting her go anyway. He didn’t ask though, didn’t feel the need to because he’s sure that she knows.

She lived in a rundown building. It's a studio apartment and it’s nothing like her last one. The staircase smells of piss and he’s sure that he saw some kids selling drugs at the corner of the street. It’s surely not a nice neighborhood. Her apartment is small, cozy and it’s a stark contrast to the outside world around the building. Still, it makes Dean mad. He’s angry that she had to live here for so long without him knowing. But he guesses that if the circumstances would have been different, if Dean would have come knocking, she wouldn’t have wanted to come home with him anyway.

Sometimes, things need time to fall into place and letting her come back on her own might have been the best for the both of them.

He brought a big duffel because she said that there’s not a lot to take back anyway. There’s notebooks where she keeps her drawings. Some books, a laptop. She packs only the clothes she really likes and that’s it. It doesn’t even fill the whole duffel he brought with him. Gabe is going to come around to clear and throw things out sometimes later in the week.

Dean carries her and the duffel down the stairs, breathes relief that his Baby was still standing and waiting for him at the curb where he left her.

She rolls her eyes when she sees him talking to the car, telling Baby how happy he was to see her still here and ready to roll.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad around here.”

“Yeah, right. I saw someone exchanging his own grandma for drugs. It’s clearly not that bad.” Dean snorts and tells her to get in.

They get home in time for dinner and pills. It’s only one pill now and it doesn’t make her mind as foggy as the ones before. She can even stay around and watch TV with him. He has his legs propped up on the coffee table, she’s leaning into him on the side and he wraps his arm around her.

It’s easy, Dean thinks. He welcomes the good feeling back into his heart.

One step at a time.

She falls asleep against him, so Dean scoops her up and walks her to the bed. He tucks her in and slips in next to her. And he’s able to spoon her now, her ankle isn’t hurting as much anymore. He breathes in, the familiar scent makes him light headed.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“You’re welcome?” He replies but doesn’t really know for what. Not that it matters.

She chuckles at that and Dean listens as her breathing evens out.

***

They’re almost at half time now and the skin underneath her cast starts to itch. She’s on the couch drawing when Dean walks in after he went out for errands. He looks over to see her poking around inside of her cast with a pencil.

“Stop that!” He shouts with his boss voice. It’s low and loud and she jumps up, almost dropping the pencil into the cast.

“It itches!” She whines and fucking pouts at him.

Dean unpacks the groceries, “I know but you’re gonna make it worse.”

Y/N lets out a frustrating groan and lets herself fall back on the sofa, her back hitting the leather with a thud. “This is ridiculous! This stupid cast is driving me nuts!”

“You’re driving me nuts!” Dean’s laughing. It’s easy how quick things progress with the two of them. How quickly they become comfortable with each other again. As if there was not a whole fucking year which separated them. He really missed that. Miss the silly arguments, the petty fights, miss someone who understands his humor.

He pulls out a container of ice cream he just bought, gets out a spoon and walks over to where she's lying with her arm thrown dramatically over her face.

Dean sits down, digs into the ice cream — chocolate chip cookie dough, because it’s the one they both like and can compromise on. He’d rather have anything with peanut butter in it and she’s more of a coconut girl — and holds out a spoonful of ice cream out, waves it in front of her face. She still doesn’t see anything because of her arm.

“Y/N, come on, open your mouth.”

She doesn’t stir, “This better not be your dick, Dean, I’m angry.”

“What’s wrong with my dick?”

“It just doesn’t really make me feel better.”

Dean frowns and shoves the spoon into his own mouth, smacks his lips loudly as he eats it. “You contradict yourself because you used to say, and I quote, your dick always makes me feel so good.”

He actually wouldn’t know if it would still make her feel good because they haven’t done anything yet since she’s back. Just little kisses here and there and a lot of cuddling. Dean’s quite okay with that but it’s fucking hard to really stay away and he anticipates the day the cast will be off because maybe then she’ll be in the mood. He waited one year, what’s a couple of weeks longer, really. He just knows that it’ll be worth it and besides, he enjoys the thing they have as it is. It’s not just about sex, he once told Sam, and it’s still true.

She opens her eyes when Dean takes another spoonful. “What are you? Oh my god I want ice cream!” She sits up, and moves closer, pushing her head through his arm that’s holding the container, so she basically headlocks herself.

“What? I just told you to open your mouth but you didn’t want to.”

“Please?”

“Yeah, beg for it.” Dean smirks, digs into the container, scoops up a spoonful.

She pouts then and it’s not fair that it still manages to make him weak. He feeds her the ice cream and she smirks around the spoon.

They’re sitting and eating together when she suddenly asks, “Can I ask you something? I need advice from a friend.”

He smiles because he likes that. “Sure.”

“So, you remember my ex-boyfriend?” She starts and the mention of the word ex hits him.

“Yeah, faintly.” He plays along.

“Yeah, do you think if I would try to get together with him again it would work out?”

Dean’s heart is racing stupidly fast. “I don’t know. Do you wanna?”

“I kind of do.”

“Does he want to?”

“I think so. He’s been taking care of me since my accident.”

Dean takes a spoonful of ice cream, an attempt to cool down his face. “Do you still love him?”

“I do.” It comes out fast. She didn’t even have to think about it.

Okay, now his heart is doing the weird flip thing.

And then she adds, “I just don’t know if he still loves me like he used to. Or if he’ll be able to love me like that again. He’s been a great friend the last couple of weeks, though. I just don’t really know where we stand yet. I wanna try it again. Maybe if we try we could make it work? Taking one day at a time?”

Dean sets the ice cream down, pulls her against his chest, he’s sure she can feel how fast his heart is beating but he doesn’t even care.

He kisses the top of her head, “Baby, I never stopped loving you. I would love you in any shape, any form, with any past and present, never doubt that.”

It’s the first time he dares to say baby in front of her so she’d hear it, didn’t feel like it’s his place when they still haven’t figured out what’s next. But being able to say it again feels good. It actually feels great. Like it’s a word only fitting for her, apart from his car, obviously.

She cries into his chest, and it’s good, apart from the crying of course. It’s good to feel her close again. It’s good to be able to work towards what they were. It’s good to work towards what they will be.

CH37

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