#and i keep in mind scroll reading AND the regular page flip/turn when i do layouts

[brother-emperors]

Night raid anon here that’s so cool!!! Obviously post or don’t post whatever you want but if you ever did post any of it I bet it’s awesome

thank you!! 💕 It'll eventually get posted somewhere at some point, I'm just Going Through It™ and also it's. oof. it is a much longer sequence of pages than I usually post on tumblr and figuring out how to format it is like looking at a precariously stacked jenga tower

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

hey so i'm hoping to get some writing advice about creative burnout? like i seem to write in fits and spurts. some months i can churn out a oneshot or chapter everyday and some months i can do one (1) creative thing only. so i'm wondering how to prevent creative burnout and how to just create more smoothly <3 thank you!

Creative Burnout & How To Ward Against It

First, I’d like to preface this all by saying you’re definitely not alone. You probably already know this, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.

I know from personal experience that creative burnout can leave you feeling hopeless, detached from yourself—the kind of identity crisis no one needs in 2020. 

So buckle in, folks. It’s a dosy.

I. The Symptoms

Not to be the local WebMD page here, but signs of burnout can include:

Procrastination (more than usual)

Dreading writing and feeling stuck or overly perfectionistic when you try

Physical tiredness and/or irritability

Feeling like everything is monotonous

It’s more than just writer’s block. It’s a physical and emotional exhaustion response to something that goes deeper than a simple lack of inspiration. In my experience, and from a bit of research, I’ve found that what your brain is really looking for is dopamine.

Dopamine is essentially your brain’s chemical reward system for doing something interesting or exciting to you. As someone who is diagnosed with ADHD, I have chronically low levels of dopamine, so this is a constant struggle for me—but it is absolutely made worse by creative burnout.

II. The Problem

Studies have shown that the more we do A Thing the less that thing will give us dopamine (unless a component of the activity changes regularly). This is because eventually our brains desensitise to the stimuli provided by the activity, and subsequently, we become disengaged.

But it’s not necessarily The Thing (i.e. writing) that becomes boring. Actually, more than a few factors could be at play here, and the first step to finding a solution is to identify the problem.

1. ENVIRONMENT LACKS EXCITEMENT/CHANGE—

Sometimes, the monotony of everyday life can feed creative burnout. This becomes especially applicable in quarantine when you’re not leaving your house.

What we don’t realise is that even something as small as the variables of driving to and from work, or interacting with passing coworkers, gives us dopamine. So if you have the same routine every day that does not involve any added variables, your brain will begin staunching that dopamine supply.

2. EITHER TOO EASY OR TOO CHALLENGING—

In 1975, Hungarian-American psychologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, coined the term “flow”, which refers to a heightened state of creativity and concentration on an activity. Csikszentmihalyi posited that if your skill level is equal to the level of challenge in any given activity, you will experience this state of flow.

The chart below is taken from Csikszentmihalyi’s own study on the subject of flow and motivation. It examines “your skill level” on the x axis in relation to the “challenge level” on the y axis.

Essentially:

Too much challenge + not enough skill = anxiety, worry (which might lead to procrastination and perfectionism)

Too much skill + not enough challenge = boredom, apathy (which might lead to monotony, irritability, and other depression-like symptoms)

Skill level = Challenge level = Flow

3. NOT ENOUGH “ACTIVE” STIMULATION—

When it comes to dopamine seeking, there is a distinct difference between active and passive stimulation in the brain.

Active stimulation is any form of activity that you have to actively engage in. For instance; exercising, doing a crossword puzzle, or reading a book. These kinds of activities not only give you dopamine, they also facilitate critical thinking and problem solving thought processes, which act as catalysts for creativity.

Passive stimulation, on the other hand, comes in the form of television, social media, and YouTube. It’s anything you can consume without having to actively engage. Passive stimulation will indeed give your brain dopamine, however, it won’t activate your creativity.

The problem also lies in the speed at which you receive the dopamine from passive activities. Passive stimulation is so easy to access that the more you consume, the harder it becomes to pick up active stimulation. Your brain expects a hit of dopamine just by picking up a phone or turning on the TV—it becomes addicted to the quick fix of a Netflix binge.

III. The Solutions

Based on the problems mentioned above, I am going to list a few solutions. Keeping in mind that not every solution will work for everyone, these can act as both preventative measures and remedies for someone who is currently burned out.

1. CHANGE UP YOUR ENVIRONMENT/ROUTINE—

Aim to do at least one thing per day that will add “variables” to the monotony. This can be as simple as going on a long walk, dressing up in that bold outfit you always wanted to wear to the office but never did, or sitting at a different workspace in your home.

Anything you can do that’s simple, but might provide an extra variable to your day to spice things up. Note: this shouldn’t be the same thing every day.

2. CHALLENGE YOURSELF MORE—

If you find yourself bored by your work, try challenging yourself more. This could mean setting goals for yourself that go a bit beyond what you’ve been doing. 

For example, if you’ve been writing 500 words per day, see if you can beat your own word count every day for the next week. If you’ve been writing mainly fluff pieces, switch it up and do an angst piece. See if you can write a book in a month, or start a blog where you don’t write fiction at all!

Anything you can do to add a little kick to your workload. Note: Beware of challenging yourself too much! This can lead straight back into burnout.

3. CHALLENGE YOURSELF LESS—

If you’re on the flip side of that coin, and find that you are anxious, procrastinating, and perfectionistic when it comes to writing, fret not. Just because you’re experiencing any of these things, doesn’t mean you’re incapable of doing the job with your skillset.

It just means your perception of the job needs to be shifted.

Procrastination, at its heart, is a fear of failure, which results in actively avoiding the negative emotions associated with the task that causes this fear. Perfectionism is a type of procrastination that is a combination of a fear of failure and a fear of success (or, more accurately, other’s critiques of your success) all at once.

Neither have anything to do with your actual skillset, but they have everything to do with your perception of your skillset. Obviously, this is a harder thing to fix, as it has to do with deeply ingrained levels of self-esteem.

What I can offer you is a tactic to trick your mind into thinking you’re capable.

If you have a task, big or small, and you are feeling overwhelmed by it (like you might go curl up in bed and scroll Tumblr), immediately break that task up into smaller tasks. Keep breaking up the smaller tasks until you have the smallest possible part of the bigger task without doing nothing.

Then do that smallest possible thing.

If your goal is to write a 2000 word one shot, a small part of that task is writing half of it. An even smaller part of that task is breaking the one shot up into “scenes” and writing one scene. For instance:

Jude wakes up to a sore throat, a runny nose, and a fever.

She tries to go to work, but Cardan, being the mother hen that he is, threatens to never make her another grilled cheese sandwich (her favourite food) ever again if she doesn’t stay home.

Jude agrees begrudgingly, and Cardan sits her down in front of the TV with a bottle of Gatorade. He leaves to go get medicine from the store.

When Cardan comes back, Jude is worse than before. He makes her soup and saltine crackers and spoon feeds her.

She complains the whole time and, in her feverish state, threatens to never buy him another bottle of wine (his favourite food) ever again if he doesn’t let her feed herself.

Each bullet point represents one “scene” of about 200-400 words each. Obviously, there will be more details that you work out as you write. But with these five smaller scenes, your goal is no longer writing the 2000 word one shot. Your goal is writing the first of the five scenes.

If you complete the smallest possible task, you can stop, and you’ll still feel like you’ve accomplished something because you can cross off that task from your list. But chances are, by the time you cross off one task, you may have inspiration enough to keep going.

4. ENGAGE IN ACTIVE STIMULATION—

Since active stimulation has been proven to turn on the creative “tap”, try incorporating more of these activities into your daily routine:

Exercise: As the resident couch potato, I hate to say that exercising is good for creativity, but it is. Even if it’s just going on a short walk, so long as you’re moving.

Reading: Sometimes you have plenty of ideas, but no words to fit those ideas. Fill your well of words by carving out an hour or two each day for reading a good book.

The Creative Process: In the writing world, the creative process is a process of about 20-30 minutes that the writer partakes in every day before they start writing. This process should be creative, but also have nothing to do with writing. You can try colouring in a colouring book, painting, organising a page in your bullet journal. Anything that is creative but does not make you think about everything you have to do that day. Think of it as creative meditation.

Listen to music: Having APD, I personally can’t listen to music while I write. However, studies have shown that if you listen to at least ten songs per day, it will significantly benefit your dopamine levels and overall mood. If you’re like me and prefer to work in silence, maybe stick on a couple songs during your creative process. If you can manage music and writing together, get out those headphones!

5. KEEP A REGULAR SCHEDULE—

I know this is the most cliche point in the book, but it’s valid. This doesn’t mean do the same thing at the same time every day over and over, because ultimately we’re looking to avoid monotony. 

But having pillars of structure to bolster the excitement can definitely work to keep you from slipping into burnout. Going to sleep, waking up, and having your meals at relatively the same time every day are good examples of this. 

Feel free to change up the things you do between breakfast and lunch, but make sure you have those pillars of consistency so your brain knows that a break is on the horizon and doesn’t get tired.

6. PACE YOURSELF—

This is particularly difficult for those of us who are coming out of a creative burnout, but I urge you to pay special attention to this one. If we are suddenly hit by inspiration and the writing is flowing and flowing and flowing, eventually we will hit the point of highest dopamine capacity for writing.

Not putting a check on the flood of inspiration coming out of a creative burnout, I’d argue, is actually a guarantee that many of us will experience burnout all over again. It becomes this vicious cycle in which we are trapped.

While it feels great to write non-stop and receive immediate validation for that work, try to limit yourself to how much you’re writing and how immediately you post your writing (if you plan on posting it).

Whenever I finish a one shot or a chapter of something, I like to allow at least one day for editing before I post. This timeframe is important, because it acts as a buffer of rest between writing marathons. 

You can take however long you need for the editing process, but definitely make sure you have a set amount of time in place. Otherwise, your brain might not have enough time to come down from what is essentially a writing high, and you will always need to reach greater heights in order to achieve that same level of dopamine.

~~~~

Overall, the most important things to take away from all of this are: 

Change up your environment

Keep your brain actively stimulated 

Have pillars of structure between which you can run about chaotically to your heart’s content

PACE YOURSELF!

Hope this helped. Happy writing!

-Em 🖤🗡

Writing Tip Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

Celebrate 2K with me!

[youngbloodlisk]

Worth It // Kim Sunwoo Model AU

Chapter 2

chapter genre: slight angst, fluff

Worth It series masterlist can be found: under my tbz masterlist in my pinned

"Everyone, I'd like you to formally meet our newest members."

A room full of perfect looking people give a round of applause while staring at Juyeon and me. The director tells them our names and I hear some scattered murmurs of 'oh, I recognize that name'.

I look into the faces of some of the greatest models of all time. Models who are used on a regular basis by some of the biggest brands.

Lee Sangyeon, famous for his work with Calvin Klein (yes, that means exactly what you think it means).

Ju Haknyeon, famous for his work with Dior.

Ji Changmin, famous for his work with Louis Vuitton.

And of course, Juyeon's (intensely denied) celebrity crush, Choi Chanhee. Famous for his work with Gucci, as well as having his own monthly Worth It magazine. Issues of NewShot sell out entirely every month, without fail.

NewShot aka the magazine which has made Juyeon cry way too many times, no matter how much he says he 'had something in his eye'.

"They're from Imaginary Parties. I'm sure you know the agency recently went bankrupt due to a corrupt leadership partner. We are extremely excited that they got our offer and decided to join us. They're here to stay. Be nice. Ah, and if you two haven't already met your roommates..." The director flips through the pages on the clipboard in his hands. "Here." He reads off my roommate first, and I'm quite shocked to hear him say Sangyeon's name instead of the "Park Sanhyo" that I was expecting. However, I'm not given much time to think about it before I catch my friend trying to control his red cheeks. "Lee Juyeon, you're with Choi Chanhee."

As the director walks off and people begin to mingle and talk again, Chanhee smiles and raises his hand to wave Juyeon over to talk with him.

Juyeon turns around and stares at me with wide eyes.

"I can't."

"You can."

"I can't."

"You have to, you're living with the man."

"I'm gonna freeze."

"You're gonna be fine."

"I can't do it, I really can't-"

"Hey, I'm Chanhee." Juyeon chokes and starts coughing when he looks to his left to see Choi Chanhee has approached him. "Woah, are you okay?" Chanhee lightly pats Juyeon's back.

"Ju, I'm gonna get you some water." I subtly wink at him as I walk away from the boys, knowing the kitchen is on the other side of the large house and that would give them plenty of time to talk... or plenty of time for Juyeon to embarrass himself. Tomato, tomahto.

I lean against the counter and sip on the cup of water I got for Juyeon, debating if I should go back to him or "accidentally get lost".

I decide I'm gonna "get lost on the way to kitchen", but I do sneak back to spy on Juyeon.

I find Juyeon and Chanhee laughing, smiling, talking, and neither of them (Juyeon) are hyperventilating. Seems to be going well.

I feel a pair of eyes on me from somewhere, so I scan the area around me until I lock eyes with a certain Ji Changmin.

However, as soon as my eyes find him, he turns and averts his gaze...

-----------

I swipe my glossy, white keycard and slowly push the door open just enough to speak through the crack.

"Is anyone in here?"

"Yeah, come on in!" A male voice prompts me. I push the door again and enter the room, giving a shy smile to Sangyeon. "How's your first day going?"

"It's alright. Everyone seems nice enough. I do just have one... question-"

"Why am I in your room when the door says it's supposed to be Sanhyo?"

"Yep, that's the one."

Sangyeon chuckles. "This used to be Sanhyo's room, no roommate. She left the agency a week ago when they told her she'd have to give up her solo room." He notices my horrified face and quickly adds detail. "Don't feel bad! She was always a diva about everything. I'm sure if it wasn't the room, it would have been the minor schedule changes they just made. Don't worry. When she left, staff forgot to change the room signs. I used to room with Chanhee."

"Why didn't they just put me and Juyeon together?"

"They wanted you both to feel more welcomed. Figured that putting you together might just make you feel isolated from everybody else."

I nod, letting him know that I see how that makes sense.

"Do you want some help unpacking your stuff?"

"Huh? Oh! No, no, no... that's okay. Thank you though."

"Are you sure? Here, I can at least handle the bedspread for you. And if I do it wrong, feel free to yell at me."

I smile lightly and pick up the box labeled "bed", handing it to him.

"Thanks."

Silently, we both start unboxing and unpacking my stuff.

Once he finishes making the bed, pristinely, he sits on his own bed on the other side of the room.

"Hey... if rooming with me makes you uncomfortable at all, I can unofficially bunk with Haknyeon and Changmin. I'm sure being put in a room with a man you don't know isn't exactly what you were hoping for."

His thoughtfulness makes me smile, as well as makes me feel a bit safer.

"No, it's okay! Really, I don't mind. Even thought I don't know you personally, it feels as if I know you on some level. The famous Lee Sangyeon. I think I own at least half your issues of Calvin Klein."

He laughs with a beautiful smile on his face.

"You might rival my parents' collection. Gotta be honest... it's a little weird for your mom to buy eight copies of a magazine just because you're on the front cover in your underwear giving the camera bedroom eyes. But you can't stop a proud parent."

Our funny banter continues on as he keeps helping me unpack and decorate.

Soon, my new room looks quite similar to my old room.

"You have a lot of pictures with Juyeon. You guys must be close, yeah?" Sangyeon asks, looking over my photos on the wall.

"He's my best friend. Losing him was the scariest part of our company going under. I'm really thankful that Worth It wanted both of us... I don't know what I'd do without him."

"Well... I'm really glad to have you both here." A genuine smile as sweet as candy grows on his face, with kind eyes to match.

-----------

"Thank you all for gathering, we have some very exciting news." The same staff member who introduced me and Juyeon yesterday now stands alongside a couple other staff members.

"More new people?" Changmin's eyes are wide with excitement and hope at the idea of more new friends.

"No, Q, we'd have to build more dorms. We have something far more exciting to tell you about. Somebody from Versace called today and said they wanted to use some of our models, in collaboration with them and some models from Guy.exe, to reshoot all of their products. All for a special edition catalog."

Gasps and chatter erupt, until I hear Haknyeon groan next to me.

"Guy.exe..." He mutters, his voice full of distain, with a sharp eye roll. "That place is full of snobs."

"Haknyeon, play nice. You're gonna have to work alongside them." Sangyeon nudges him.

"Who exactly from Guy.exe?" Chanhee asks.

"Uhh..." One of the staff members flips through the papers in her hand. "Versace has confirmation from Kevin Moon, Jacob Bae, Kim Younghoon, and Eric Sohn. Still no firm answer from Lee Hyunjae or Kim Sunwoo, but they were requested."

Half the room groans and rolls their eyes, almost directly mirroring Haknyeon's earlier reaction, at the mention of the name "Kim Sunwoo".

"I know!" The staff cuts them off. "I know, you guys have never gotten along with the boys from Guy.exe... especially Kim Sunwoo. But like Sangyeon said, you have to play nice and be professional at the shoot. That being said, if anyone would like to reject the offer, now is the time."

The room is silent, despite the energy being heavy and very loud.

"Alright. I'll call them back and confirm that you will all be attending. You're dismissed, more details will come later."

-----------

(3rd person POV)

"Sunwoo!" Eric jumps over the back of the expensive leather couch to drop down next to his friend. "Check this out."

"What is it?" Sunwoo's eyes don't leave the video game he's currently winning.

"It's from Worth It. They have fresh meat."

Sunwoo turns his head immediately, suddenly forgetting about his game, and drops his controller to grab Eric's phone. Sunwoo scrolls through the photos and reads the welcoming caption, before clicking on the models' own Instagrams and looking through them.

"Fresh meat... from Imaginary Parties? So they're new and desperate... Will they be at the Versace shoot?"

"Kevin said they would be."

A cocky smirk appears on Sunwoo's face, clearly already coming up with ideas.

"This should be fun."

[kidney9-9]

Petty Chapter 1

Hey everyone! This is the first chapter to the new series, Petty! This is an Enemies-to-Lovers with mutual pinning series with Peter Parker. I’m happy that this is out now! Taglist is currently open, and I’ll be tagging people that were interested in the series before. Send in an ask or comment on the series masterlist to be on the taglist!

Canon divergence!! Endgame happened, everyone is still alive and happy. Peter Parker and Reader are seniors in high school, and they are both 18+. There will be smut in this series, additional warnings will be added on with each chapter, and on the series masterlist. This is a female reader insert series :)

Chapters should be updated every other day unless specified! 

Reblogs are very welcomed! Hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist Chapter 2

Peter Parker x Reader Warnings: swearing Word Count: 1.6k

-

You sighed into your coffee mug, already done with the morning as you saw Peter Parker swing into school, two hours early. Did he not realize that at least one person was at school this early? And that person would be you? You rolled your eyes, not getting how his secret identity hasn’t been revealed already. It was just so ridiculous. With Peter running around the city with a half-zipped bag, and a spiderman suit sticking out of it; just so stupid, in your opinion. You scoffed when you heard him crash into the closed front door, and you sunk into your seat even more, glancing back at the laptop in front of you, shaking your head.

The front door of the school was always locked, only people that had keys could unlock one of the backdoors, and only the principal and janitor had the key to the main entrance. You had your teacher’s key right now, and you snuck in when you noticed the janitor had just arrived, sitting in his car. You never got caught before, and you surely didn’t want to get caught ever. But Peter crashing into the doors, and lockers was bound to get either one of you caught soon.

You rolled your eyes when you heard one of the doors closest to you open, and you dimmed your laptop’s light as you saw Peter pass by, not paying attention to anything. What’s he doing here, right now? You could only assume it’s for his Spiderman business thing. You giggled silently when you peeked out the window in the classroom, noticing the janitor started to unlock the main entrance.

Your teacher left you the keys to the classroom and the school, to finish up all the work she didn’t do, meaning you had to grade every paper from all her classes. She teaches five different classes, and always comes running to you for help, since you were her chosen aide for this school year. 

Another reason why she thought it was completely fine to do this to you was because she’s your cousin. “Stupid fuckin’ Mandy. Why’d you even go to college, fuck…” You trailed off, cringing at the amount you still had to grade. You grinned when you saw yours though, and you quickly put in an A+, knowing Mandy wouldn’t really care.

You pressed to the one after yours, groaning quietly when you saw it was Peter Parker’s. Ironically, he chose to write about himself- or Spiderman. You shook your head, scoffing at how stupid he was at choosing this topic. You chose to write about the use of colors in older books, and you wrote over three pages! 

And here was Peter Parker, who wrote about Spiderman, comparing himself to the fucking Joan of Arc. You barely skimmed through it, hearing his footsteps down the hall, going to a different classroom. 

The mouse scrolled straight up to put in his grade, and you giggled silently, pushing the letter F in. “Fuck you, Parker.” You scoffed, setting his grade in completely, and watched his final score in the class drop down to a D.

You beamed at it, seeing all the other students range from As to Cs, and only Peter’s was a D. “Looks like you aren’t passing this week…” You whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes at the thought of Peter again. You pressed onto the next person, sighing in relief to see they wrote about the use of personification in a recent book, everyone had read this year.  

You didn’t worry about Peter not hearing you as you slammed the laptop shut with a loud groan, nodding to yourself, proud that you managed to get it all down in two hours. The school doors officially opened, after the janitor had unlocked them, letting students in. They mingled in the hallways as you strolled back to your regular student’s seat in the same classroom, after you dumped the rest of your cold coffee down the sink and set the mug in one of the closets.

You set your head on the desk, closing your eyes, just wanting to rest as you heard Mandy walk through the door. “Hey shithead, did you finish the work?” Mandy asked you, knocking on your desk harshly, making you bump up. 

You rolled your eyes at her and nodded, completely annoyed. “Are you,” You paused, eyes widening as you glanced down at her outfit, noticing it was the same as yesterday, “Are you doing the walk of shame?” You whispered cheekily, grinning in victory as she scoffed at you, rubbing her face with one hand, obviously hung over.

Mandy raised her eyes to you, laughing almost playfully as she tried to ignore her headache. She tilted her head towards you, grinning and teasing you back, “Yeah, I am. What’s it like knowing I was pounded into last night, while you were stuck here doing my work?” You scrunched your face up together in disgust back at her, shaking your head.

“Mandy’s got a man, now?” You questioned, wincing when you looked at her neck, and seeing bruises and bite marks. 

She flipped her hair around, feeling proud of making you uncomfortable and shook her head. “It’s a woman, shithead. I told you I was done with boys after that dumbass tried stealing money from me, again.” She deadpanned. You raised your eyebrows at her, surprised but happy that she got rid of that guy.

You leaned back into your seat, stretching your arms out behind you with a yawn. “Good for you, guys are either stupid or shit.” You replied, making her chuckle. 

She slid her bag onto your desk, digging through it to grab a little mirror to look at the marks on her neck, and the left over make up smeared on her face. She groaned at the disaster her face looked like and pouted over to you, almost pleadingly, without saying anything. You rolled your eyes and nodded, leaning forward as she took out her make up bag, and handed it over to you.

“Thanks, shithead. Really, thank you. It’s been a month and she and I couldn’t do anything cause our schedules never matched up, till last night.” She whispered, closing her eyes as you dragged the concealer across her under eyes. You shrugged, knowing she couldn’t see you as you glanced back to the class door, making sure no one had walked in. You blended it in with one of her brushes, cringing at the dirtiness of it.

Mandy continued, as you basically poured the concealer out on your hands and patted it on her neck, trying to cover the purplish marks. “She used this awesome move like; oh, wait I probably shouldn’t talk about that right now. But uh, anyway, thanks kid. Anything I should know about the papers?” You rolled your eyes, automatically thinking of Peter Parker’s paper and you paused, thinking if you should let her know.

Did you want her to know? Not exactly, since she’d likely change it back to his regular A in the class. But should you tell her? The options weighed in your mind for half a second and you opened your mouth, responding to her with a slight, “No, all’s good. Just followed that rubric you gave me, and everything was graded accurately.” Your voice was almost off, but you cleared your throat, getting rid of the slight questioning tone. Mandy nodded back, as you blended the makeup on her neck in, smiling when you noticed most of the marks were covered.

“Think you look okay, just zip up your jacket and keep your hair down today.” You concluded, sitting back and gazing at her appearance. Mandy groaned in relief, thanking you again as she zipped up fast, and shook her head, getting her hair out of place but it was better that way, since it covered more. 

Mandy paused before she turned away to go to her table and glanced at you making your eyes widen just the slightest, feeling guilty at ruining Peter’s grade.

“Gave yourself an A, right?” Mandy laughed out playfully. You nodded, relieved that she didn’t realize your expression was off. “Yeah, definitely.” You giggled back, glancing back to your desk as she lifted her bag off, and walked away.

“Oh, fuck.” You whispered to yourself, wondering what the hell you just did. You shook your head, thinking it was probably going to end up being nothing, as you unzipped your bag. 

You pulled out your notebook and a few pens, glancing back up as Mandy greeted some incoming students. You smiled at a few of them before you opened your notebook with a muffled sigh, pushing off the guilty feeling you were experiencing from Peter’s grades.

But then you shook your head again, groaning at yourself.

You shouldn’t have ever felt any guilt for what you did, Peter was stupid and even the concept of “Spiderman” was stupid. Why did he even become Spiderman? If you remembered correctly, Spiderman came about two or three years ago now, and your eyes widened, scoffing aloud at the idea of Peter running around in a spandex and shooting people with that yucky string thing. And now the both of you were in senior year, and he’s still in this weird superhero phase, that he’s not at all secretive about.

Mandy cleared her throat loudly, making you flinch and look up, to see that the rest of your classmates arrived. She glanced over to you, smiling slightly as she greeted the class, “Good morning everyone. Grades are in lock starting today, as we head into the next semester. Before we go for winter break, we’re reviewing English concepts from the beginning of class, and the final will be on a Wednesday.” Your eyes widened, oh shit.

In lock?

You coughed in surprise, glancing up to the ceiling as you drowned out your cousin’s voice, thinking about how you might have just potentially fucked up Peter’s chances of graduating.

--

Tagging: @hey-its-grey @kyberphilosopher @babe-dont @fantastic-fans @spidey-may09 @wayhoraeken @akidinlcve @cyrusandhiscollaredahirts @colddays-heavyrain @xoxohollands​ @spidey-reids-2003​ @annacipher101​ @pink-or-red-roses​ @hollandprkr​ @cazslaughter​ @armitageskywalker​ @smellslikecraiglist​ @naikaryofficial​ @prismroot-starlight0​ @tjitskedotinga​ @nicholas-nikki​ @marvel4geeks​ @itscaminow​ @iiamdeadinsidee​ @reality0verfantasy​ @tonywinnergavincreel​ @avxcodo​ @s-trawberryv-eins​ @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr​ @lozzypoz321​ 

Taglist is open! These tags are from the people that were interested in the series before! I won’t add y’all again for the next chapter but if you’re interested in the series still, leave a comment on the series masterlist, or send an ask and I’ll add you to the official taglist! 

Hope you enjoyed! Thank you!

[leviathanswingman]

love is a losing game, chapter 5: at the doctor’s office

Lucifer was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room of the doctor's office, clad in what could only be described as a mediocre attempt at a disguise. He had swapped his pristine waistcoat and dress shirt combination out for an oversized black hoodie he had borrowed from Beelzebub without asking beforehand. His face was partially covered with a face mask, more so to hide his identity than prevent his fellow demons from catching whatever seemed to be ailing him. After all, Lucifer was a well known face in the devildom. Landing on the front page of some overrated gossip magazine was the last thing he needed at the moment, especially since he had conveniently failed to mention his visit to the doctor's office to anyone who knew him. It would be quite bothersome if they found out from a not so well meaning third party, so the safest option was for him to remain in disguise Lucifer pulled the heavy hood a bit further down to his face as he took note of the other people in the waiting room. Of course, Lucifer had chosen the perfect time to have a scheduled doctor's appointment. The room was packed to the brim with sniffling demons of all ages. There was a little D running around, apparently trying to win the award for most annoying toddler to walk hell. Lucifer massaged the bridge of his nose and let out a deep breath of air. The stuffed waiting room felt suffocating and the overlapping scents of different strong perfumes, stale coffee and disinfectant  did nothing for the headache that had been pestering Lucifer ever since he'd returned home from the club with a drunk Asmodeus in tow. Lucifer started to shake his left leg up and down in what could be misinterpreted as a nervous tic, but was actually nothing more than proof of his current impatience. The demon sitting next to him tried multiple times to engage him in polite but nonsensical small talk as Lucifer scrolled through his DDD, trying to look as bored and unapproachable as possible. He was annoyed to see that his tactic did not work out whatsoever. The demon next to him was apparently hell-bent on making a new friend at the doctor's office. Lucifer crossed his arms in front of his chest and suppressed an annoyed groan. The close proximity to this other demon did nothing to soothe his terrible nausea. However, since the waiting room was packed already Lucifer had no choice but to remain in his seat and put up with it. Although in the beginning Lucifer did find a certain kind of interest in seeing the way people interacted with him, thinking he was regular demon, he had quickly found himself bothered by the lack of respect even faster. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and then be left alone. The universe however seemed to have different plans for him. Just as the ever so adamant demon pulled out their very own DDD to show Lucifer a picture of some brat he had taken in,the doctor's assistant peeked her head through the door, her pretty curls bouncing with the slightest of movements, and nodded towards Lucifer. To his luck, she had apparently remembered Lucifer's request to not be called by name to keep his identity a secret from the public eye. After all, Lucifer was not the most common of names in the devildom. Lucifer removed himself from the waiting room as quickly as possible before the demon that had been bothering him for the past half an hour could say one word more, or even worse, ask for his number. Without looking back even once Lucifer followed the secretary who was already leading him towards the doctor's examination room. „Terribly sorry for the long wait, but as you can see we're swamped right now. The practice down the street got closed because the doctor's wife found out her husband was cheating on her, so she ripped off his right hand. An eye for an eye, you know? A real tragedy though,“ she chattered on as Lucifer stepped into the empty examination room. „Not for him, but for the wife of course.“ „Most certainly,“ Lucifer answered stiffly, a bit taken aback by the situation, hoping the conversation was over now. He wasn't sure what sort of answer the assistant expected from him after this conversational bomb she had dropped ever so casually. She hovered in the doorway for another moment. „The doctor should be with you in a second, honey.“ She closed the door behind herself as she left in a pace far too comfortable considering the state of the practice. Lucifer stared at the door for a moment, perplexed. To have another demon address him so casually despite knowing damn well who he was. That woman certainly feared nothing and no one. Although normally Lucifer would feel offended, right now he found himself somewhat amused by this woman's strangely laid-back behaviour. He slipped back his hood, pulled down the face mask and sat down on the chair opposite the doctor's desk. Now finally by himself again, he took notice of how the nausea gradually subsided again until it had simmered down to nothing more than a dark, buzzing premonition in the back of his mind. A few minutes later the door opened with a soft clack and Lucifer made sure not to turn around until he heard it close again. The doctor, a tall demon with impressive horns and an almost weirdly symmetrical face, approached him with confident steps and shook his hand quickly after he had stood up. It was a good, strong handshake and Lucifer couldn't help but nod in approval. „Welcome, Lucifer,“ she greeted before walking around the table and dropping down onto the chair, motioning towards Lucifer to do the same. „So what brings you here? I see your brothers come here all the time, yet I don't think I've treated you more than three times ever since I started working here. Are you maybe a bit of an iatrophobe?“ Lucifer pushed his hair back before starting to speak. For some reason, today he found himself surrounded by infuriatingly talkative people. „I do not have Iatrophobia. I refuse to go to the doctor for something as simple as a cold. If I can cure it myself I will do so, which is why you see me less often than my brothers. I do not see any problems with that.“ The doctor simply watched Lucifer as he answered her question. „Interesting,“ she nodded. „So what can I help you with?“ Lucifer took a deep breath. Technically, he still had time to leave the doctor's office to deal with whatever this was by himself. He was Lucifer the Morning Star, he did not need anyone. Yet despite these strong feelings of aversion that were boiling inside of him, Lucifer knew that he needed to do  the correct thing right now. Lashing out out of a misplaced feeling of overwhelming arrogance was not the kind of behaviour that Lucifer could display proudly. So rather reluctantly, he forced himself to relax his shoulders and lean back. After all, knowing what exactly was wrong with him was already a step towards improvement. „Since Saturday morning I have been experiencing strange bursts of nausea. They seem to differ in intensity depending on the situation, but in the worst case I have had until now I ended up having to rest on the floor for a quarter-hour. I assume you understand that I cannot afford to have side effects like these. They are disruptive and unpleasant and keep me from doing my job to my best abilities.” The doctor nodded as she propped her chin up with one hand. „Any other symptoms?“ „Aside from headaches and migraines, no, but I have been getting these for ages so I am quite certain that they are in no way related to the nausea.“ „Alright. I will take your blood and run it through the system, so we should know more in a second.“ At the doctor's request Lucifer moved over to the surgery couch and rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie. He watched her closely as she disinfected her hands, put on gloves and gathered the appliances she needed to draw his blood. Lucifer stared at the needle as it was routinely pushed into the sensitive skin at the crook of his elbow, followed by dark red blood quickly filling up the vial of an empty syringe. When she was done the doctor pressed soft cotton against the little red puncture wound and suddenly yelled out loud. „Sweetheart!“ Lucifer refrained from rubbing his temples. „Next time I would prefer a warning, alright?“ he said rather pointedly. The door opened and as Lucifer's head snapped around to see who had entered, he recognized the assistant from before. „Yes, Miss Doctor?“ The doctor simply extended her arm and shook the vial of blood. The doctor's assistant seemed to understand her without any words and simply grabbed the vial before leaving the room again. „Got it!“ Lucifer turned back around to his doctor and noticed a small smile sneaking up on her face. „My wife,“ she explained before turning back around to her patient. „Let's get your physical over with while Preta gets the results of your blood work. Please remove your clothes.“ Lucifer did as he was asked to. As the doctor whose name tag read 'Naamah' in bold, black letters, carefully examined his body the room was filled with silence. Naamah turned to Lucifer's backside and suddenly halted for a short moment before finishing the exam. „You can put your clothes back on.“ Lucifer pulled his hoodie back over his head as the door opened once again and the doctor's assistant, Preta, hurried over to her wife, handing her several sheets of paper. „Thank you, darling.“ “You're welcome!” She left again and Lucifer watched the doctor closely as she flipped through page after page. While she scanned through the last sheet of paper however, her eyebrows furrowed bit by bit. „So?“ Lucifer asked almost impatiently. Naamah put down the papers and sat down on her chair again, then picked up the last sheet of paper one more time to reread it. „Alright. I think I see the problem here,“ she finally said. „I have one more question for you, just so we can rule out anything else.“ Lucifer crossed his arms in front of his chest. The faster he got all of this over with the better. „Have you had any significant romantic or sexual relations in the past week?“ The world seemed to stop for several seconds as Lucifer stared at the woman in front of him. He had expected any sort of uncomfortable question, but this... „I hardly see how this could be of importance to you,“ he answered harshly. There was no reason for a medical professional to ask him this specific question. Or rather, there simply shouldn't be a reason for his doctor to ask him a question ever so private in nature, not when his sole symptom was debilitating nausea. „Answer the question, please.“ He had already stepped over his own shadow and dragged himself to the doctor with his problems, so Lucifer accepted defeat and rubbed his temple with two fingers as he answered. „Yes, I have had sexual relations in the past week. You are inquiring about this because?“ Naamah folded her hands together and leaned slightly forward. „Multiple partners or a singular partner?“ „One person. Only one person.“ The doctor nodded her head as if Lucifer had just confirmed her suspicions. She lifted her head and looked at Lucifer directly. „I'm just going to give it to you straight. It's very rare to happen, but it seems that you have formed a bond without you nor your partner knowing.“ Lucifer simply stared at her for several moments. „What are you talking about?“ „It seems like the reason for your side effects is that you have become mates with your partner, but neither of you have been aware of it. Your body is showing withdrawal symptoms. Headaches, dizziness, nausea, poor concentration, heightened irritability. As I said, this doesn't happen often, but it's definitely not unheard of.“ The world stopped turning right then and there. This was what Lucifer had feared the most. Not only were his symptoms serious and acknowledged, they were undeniably tied to Diavolo. Although a part of him refused to even consider the possibility of what the doctor had just told him, an even bigger part inside of him knew she had to be right. He didn't want her to be right. This was the kind of truth that he happily refused to believe in because there was no way for him to accept it just like that. „You must be wrong.“ Naamah shook her head and pointed at Lucifer himself. „I understand that you can't believe me that easily, so please go over to the mirror and take off your shirt so you can see for yourself.“ Lucifer walked over to the mirror with almost robotic movements and took of his hoodie once again. „Turn around and look at your neck please.“ Lucifer did as he was told and upon raking his neck, he saw a truth he simply could not deny. Right there, on the nape of his neck, where days before had been a dark purple hickey, was now a pale, yet definitely noticeable sigil forming with delicate dark red strokes. Shocked, Lucifer slowly reached up and let shaking fingers run over the fresh sigil. He felt neither bumps nor edges, but instead noticed how his skin tickled in an almost coy fashion upon contact. This could not be his life. There was no way. Perhaps all of this was nothing more than an intricate lucid nightmare, it had to be. „Lucifer?“ His head snapped back to Naamah. For once, he found himself at a loss for words. How would he ever be able to explain this situation? Lucifer stared at his reflection and noted dark circles and tired eyes.   „Does he need to know?“ The doctor sighed as she returned to her chair. „Technically, no. I would strongly advise you to tell him though. The fact that you have developed withdrawal symptoms already tells me that were the one to accept the mark first. Your partner might not experience symptoms at all, but the sigil will appear on his skin as well.“ Without wanting to, his hand shot back up to the nape of his neck. There was no way he could just accept all of that. „You must be mistaken. I can tell you, there is no way i could have formed a bond in the span of one single night,“ Lucifer forced out and the doctor sighed. “It is impossible.” „I know this is hard to accept, but this does happen from time to time. Your symptoms will only become less intense if you go and clear things up with your partner. Until then I can prescribe you suppressants which will help with the nausea and the headaches, but keep in mind that they are not an eternal solution. You can safely take them for a month if you stretch it out, but not longer than that, do you understand me?“ Staring straight ahead for several seconds, Lucifer found his mind adrift, far away from the clean doctor's office his physical form was sitting in at the moment. The universe really seemed to have it out for him. How could he have been so foolish to just abandon his beliefs in the heat of the moment in exchange for what? A romantic night with Diavolo, Lord Diavolo, his superior and friend of decades upon decades? This was the universe's way of punishing him for daring to be arrogant enough to assume that his actions wouldn't have consequences. If anything, he should know better than any other demon walking in hell that every single one of your actions had consequences. With all of the many mistakes he had ever made, this one might have been the most stupid one. Because usually, Lucifer knew better. He had refused to look at Diavolo as anything more than his lord and his superior for so long exactly because he knew better. He knew for a fact that some things were too good to be true. Those kind of things were generally followed by great misfortune. And now, Lucifer had to deal with the repercussions, had to deal with the punishment for allowing himself to follow his emotions instead of relying on cold, brash logistics. „Lucifer?“ He snapped out of his train of thought and hurriedly put his hoodie back on. „Of course. What were you saying about suppressants before?“ Naamah narrowed her eyes, but did her job without mentioning anything else that could possibly push Lucifer's boundaries. After all, she was a doctor and her job was to make sure her patients were correctly informed and cared for. She simply had to trust that they would follow her words.

Twenty minutes later, Lucifer left the office, a freshly printed prescription sheet weighing heavily in the back pocket of his trousers. On his way back to the house of lamentation he picked up the suppressants and stared at them for a good minute. He hated the sight of them, hated what they were implying. The back of his neck tickled tauntingly as he threw the orange pill bottle back into the white plastic bag, applying much more force than needed before he continued his way back home. He could've taken the bus back to the house of lamentation, but somehow, Lucifer felt restless and unhinged. So instead of a 10 minute ride he took on 45 minutes of walking instead, hoping that it would give him enough time to  calm down, keep his face and portray the meticulous big brother again as if nothing of significance had happened. It turned out that in the end, taking a 45 minute walk hadn't helped much with the disarranged state of his mind. Lucifer entered the house of lamentation and let the doors slam shut behind him. On the way up to his room he passed no one but Mammon, who simply stared at him in a confused manner for several moments,but didn't utter any words to his big brother, which admittedly, was a good thing. Lucifer wasn't all too sure how he would have reacted if Mammon had dared to approach him. The doors to his room slammed shut behind him and Lucifer threw the white plastic bag onto his bed before going after it and pulling out the orange pill bottle. He popped it open and shook out one singular little pill, turning it around between his thumb and pointer before swallowing it dry. Lucifer let himself drop down onto his bed, not even bothering to switch Beel's sweater out with his usual waistcoat and dress shirt combination. He simply laid there and stared at the ceiling. He knew he should be coming up with a plan by now, thinking about all possible outcomes and most agreeable endings, but after having found out that he had formed a mating bond with Diavolo, in the middle of a one night stand of all things, Lucifer had to take a moment to breathe. He had to take a breather to simply come to terms with all of it. Just as he was about to get up again the ringing of his DDD filled the silence. Lucifer retrieved it from the hoodie's kangaroo pocket and stared at the screen in aggravated defeat. It was Lord Diavolo. He gathered himself and fixed his hair before accepting the call, letting his professional persona take over. He was Lucifer the Morning Star and he would be damned if he let something as simple as a misplaced mating bond destroy the life he had built up ever so diligently. Without any hesitation Lucifer picked up the call as he took note of the way his body filled with nausea in the span of mere seconds. „Diavolo. What can I assist you with?“

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,  Chapter 6 , Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10

[jem-2096]

Brunette from Mars - (Peter Parker One shot)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of fighting/abuse, FLUFFY AF! 

(This could be read as ftm!peterparker and/or regular MCU Peter Parker)

This one shot is inspired by the song mars by Yungblud. Go give it a listen if you haven't! 

You and the brunette haired boy with deep honey coloured irises quickly became good friends. You commuted to school each morning together after learning you lived in the same apartment in Queens while your first day of highschool in homeroom. You were paired for some lame icebreakers to get to know other students. He had nervously blabbed to you about how he had moved apartments with his aunt over the summer and as you got to know him better over time, he let you know the reason why they moved.

You quickly learned that the brunette was a great listener, quick witted, fairly thoughtful, determined with his studies, had a passion for tinkering with programming and computer tech and secretly kept a picture of Daisy Ridley as Rey from Star Wars in his desk that you won't let him live down. 

Two summers ago, the brunette had quite the glow up that to be honest made your stomach do flips. After returning from a trip to Detroit with his Aunt May to visit family, the brunette came back to school with his braces off and a nice build to him compared to the lanky string bean he was when he had left in that June. 

With this overnight glow up also came this new habit of him flaking on you and really everyone without reasonable explanations. He would come to school with bruised knuckles, scratches on his face, and more often than not bags under his eyes. Although he seemed exhausted, his smile and upbeat self usually didn't seem to waver. His eyes did however seem to say otherwise whenever his honey brown irises met yours. 

Unless he flaked on an important commitment, you didn't display emotions or words for his lack of presence. His world didn't revolve around you and you accepted that. You reminded yourself to try not to hold him back from what he loved because you were a good friend and wanted what was best for him, even if it was draining him. 

"I'm free to study for algebra after dinner tonight." You stated to the brunette, looking past him out the city bus window as the buildings, and trees whirled past you. You weren't looking for an answer at this point, just giving him an open invitation to come over if he had nothing better to do on his Thursday night. You saw him nod out of the corner of your eye as he leaned his head against the pole you both were holding onto and closed his eyes. The bus was quiet this morning as you watched the orange sunrise dance over the brunette's features and could hear the beat of whatever song he was listening to through his headphones. 

A GPS like voice came over the bus intercom as you turned the corner. "Grand Central Parkway at 65th Avenue". You pulled the chord on the side of the bus for the bus driver to stop and gently shook the brunette's shoulder. As you saw his honey coloured eyes once again, you nodded in the direction of the door for you to both get off. 

You were early to school today seeing as you made the transfer bus in time for the first time in forever. Walking through the dewy grass on the field together, you pointed at an open picnic table near the tennis courts. 

Setting your backpack down, you opened it grabbing out two granola bars and an apple. The brunette slumped down beside you to face away from the sun. As he set his coffee on the table, his head immediayley went into his folded arms. You placed one of the granola bars infront of him, and sat facing the courts. Stretched your legs out and crossing your ankles, you flipped through one of your novels, quickly finishing up your AP lit reading before class. 

"Thanks." You heard him pipe up in a monotone voice as he shoved the granola bar in his pocket. You nodded, nose still in your novel. He knew by now that he didn't have to put on an act around you. "We gotta go in, in 20. I'll wake you in 15, kay?" 

He nodded as his head was back in his arms, facing away from you. You heard him let out an audible sigh as you finished up the last of your notes. 

"Pete?" You ask hesitantly, resting your hand on his shoulder. He didn't respond. "You know, you can tell me anything right? I won't push you. The offer still stands. No judgement. Alright?" You say quietly, softly rubbing your hand down his jacket clad back and let it drop off to collect your things and pack up your bag. 

The alarm you set on your phone goes off as you see him prop his head up and wipe his eyes on his sleeve out of the corner of your eye.

'Oh Peter. Sometimes, as close as we are, I wish it didn't feel as though there was a cement wall between us.' You thought to yourself as you scrolled through your phone. As you both stood to walk up to the school, to your surprise, as cold and distant as he had been recently, he pulled you into his side. You wrapped your arms around his torso giving him a quick hug. 

After taking attendance in home room and catching up with MJ about her latest find in the school library, you were dismissed to your first period class. "Leave your window open at 6." You heard the brunette pipe up at your lockers. "Always." You nodded, giving him a small smile before parting ways to your classes. 

You quickly glanced at your alarm clock on your desk reading 8:30 pm. Quickly realizing you were running out of graph paper in your notebook as you flipped to a fresh page, you scribbled down the next practice question. Your headphones blasted one of your new favourite songs as you disconnected them from the bluetooth on your phone to play out loud. "Do you feel like your irrelevant, do you feel like your just scared as fuck.." You quietly sang along, writing a note to get more graph paper in the near future, as you heard a thud from the window beside you. 

Swiveling in your chair, you look up to see the silhouette of the brunette. As he steps into the light of your desk lamp and sits on your bed you can see his eyes are red and his knuckles are beginning to bruise again. He kicks off his sneakers as you hesitantly stand from your chair to go and to sit beside him. 

He immediately buries his face in his hands as he quietly cries. You try your best to not show the hurt on your face from seeing him like this as you gently rub his back. You go to sit behind him up against the wall. You bring your hands around his waist gently holding him, letting your legs dangle on either side of him and rest your head on his shoulder. 

When you no longer hear uneven breathing, you sit back up and one hand goes to the hair on the nape of his neck, softly playing with his locks, while the other gently rubs circles on his back. 

"I'm sorry." You hear him sigh out. "Im so fucking sorry." He pleads as he begins to cry again. "I'm here. Just breathe Pete." You say calmly as you wrap your legs around his waist and hug him tighter. You take deep breaths for him to mimic to try and calm him back down. 

"I keep fucking up Y/n/n, and I don't know what to do anymore." He painfully lets out. You take in his words and quickly think of an appropriate response. "Everyone I try to become close with has ended up hurt or passed away, I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders and have to fill his shoes. No matter what decisions I make I still always end up letting someone down. I'm just so fucking tired Y/n." Although his words are a jumbled mess to you, you nod. You let go of the tense brunette and sit beside him. "Take your shirt off and go lie on your stomach." You say to him as he looks at you somewhat confused but does as he's told and props his head up on his folded arms. 

You can see the faded scars and healed wounds on his arms, shoulders and back, wondering who gave these to him. As you sit straddling his waist, your hands go to his shoulders and back massaging his tense and knotted muscles. He lets out a big sigh of relief after realizing what's going on. He softly mewls as you gently work the knots out. Once all the tension in his back and shoulders is gone, you lay close beside the half awake brunette. 

"Thank you." He states sincerely, as he rolls to face you. You know that his words of gratitude are for more than just the back massage. You nod, reaching your hand up to run your hands softly through his locks to relax him further as his eyes flutter shut at your touch. "We're all only capable of so much Pete. Please, don't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. It's a hard pill to swallow but its impossible to win every battle and win everyone over. I know it's easier said than done, and it'll take some time to figure everything out, but I'll be here every step of the way though alright?" You whisper softly, and reach for his hand giving it a squeeze as he nods. "I'll let you get some rest." You sigh out, sitting up, bringing the blanket at the end of the bed over his larger frame and bend down giving a kiss to his temple. "Goodnight love." You whisper.

After another hour and a half of battling through algebra questions, you quietly change into some sweats and open up your netflix account to get your mind off your math problems and your worries of Peter. Picking up your laptop, your half empty waterbottle falls to the floor with a thud. Your gaze darts over to your bed to see the naturally curly headed brunette sound asleep. Your heart flutters as you catch him pull the covers up to his chin and nuzzle his nose into the pillow and blankets while he curls his legs up into the fetal position. You sit on the floor beside your bed as the light from the movie on netflix illuminates your bedroom. You have the subtitles on and the movie on the lowest volume as you rest your back against the bed frame. 

After a few minutes you begin to hear the brunette stir and roll over to face the movie. "Is this that BoxTrolls movie?" You hear him croak out in a deep voice that makes your heart flutter. "No, this one's Paranorman. It's in my top 5." You respond, your gaze still on the screen. You feel his fingers playing with the ends of your hair softly, trying his best not to disturb you even though you've seen this movie more times than you can remember. 

He pushes all of your hair over to one of your shoulders and rests his chin on the opposite one. "You know, you don't have to sit on the floor right? I don't bite Y/n." He states sleepily in your ear. You quickly catch your breath at how close he is as you comprehend the words coming out of his mouth and nod standing. You place your laptop on your desk chair and wheel it over in front of the bed. Looking over to the brunette laying confortably in your bed, he holds the blanket open for you to get in. "One sec." You say as you take off your hoodie, revealing your white tank top underneath that clung to the hills and slopes of your natural curves. You had ditched your bra long before the Brunette had arrived, remembering that it's laying in the clothes hamper and not on your body. You looked back down to see the brunette's arm still holding the blanket open, his honey eyes on you. They slowly wandered down your silhouette to see the loose sweatpants hung low on your hips and back up to meet your gaze. The dark room concealed the deep blush you felt on your cheeks from his gaze. 'Too late now..' you thought as you climbed under the blanket. Your back rested up against Peter's larger frame. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Is this okay y/n/n?" The brunette questioned. You nodded, trying your best to calm your breathing as you felt his warm, gentle touch on your skin. You hoped and prayed he couldn't hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest. 'I feel so safe and at home in his arms but the last thing he needs right now is a girlfriend. And why would he want to be with me anyways. We're just friends and he probably just needs physical affection from someone right now.' You thought to yourself. 

You let out a soft sigh at your thoughts. "You okay sweetheart?" He asks softly, as you feel his warm lips peck the back of your exposed neck. Your face is on fire at this point. 'He's just tired Y/n. Calm down. Dont say anthing stupid'  "Yeah, I just feel safe in your arms." You murmur loud enough for him to hear. 'Idiot. You ruined it. Shit shit shit.' 

It became deathly quiet between you two. You could hear his breathing, the rain hitting your bedroom window, the cars driving on the street below, your upstairs neighbour walking around their apartment and the dull volume of the movie playing from your laptop.

"Y/n/n?" You heard him whisper.  

You rolled over to face him, burying your face in his chest, breathing in his warm cologne and body wash as you wrapped your arm around his waist and tangled your legs in his. Although you didn't have all the answers you were looking for, this the closest you two had been in over a year and you were happy that he was finally starting to let down his walls. 

He stroked your hair, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Goodnight love." He mumbled before all the sounds around you in the silence of your bedroom coaxed you to sleep. 

You had woken up to your alarm at 6:30am to find the spot beside you empty. 

The brunette swore that was the best sleep he had had in months he thought, reminiscing as he climbed down the fire escape after quickly showering and getting ready to meet you before catching the bus. You heard a knock on your window before he slid it open and sat on the sil. He fiddled with tge metro card in his hands as a small smile crept onto his face watching you concentrating on finishing your eyeliner and mascara. You take a step back to look in the mirror to see if your wings are symmetrical, seeing the brunette looking at you with a sheepish grin in the reflection. He looked well rested for once, his eyes kind and soft, glancing at you in adoration. Your heart beats out of your chest as you spin around to look at him. 

"One sec." You say quickly rushing out to the kitchen to grab some food before packing up your bag. Pulling on your coat and beanie, as you walk towards the window sill the brunette is lounging on.

"Before we go, I uhm... forgot to tell you something.. last night." He says looking down at his hands as you reach out gently hold his larger ones. "Y/n.. I uhm-" he looks up at you, scanning your features, trying his best to read your emotions. You see him glance down quickly at your soft lips. 'I can't take this. Screw always being a good friend.' You thought as you leaned in, placing a hand on his cheek and a soft kiss to his lips. Your thumb stroked his cheek as he leaned back in for another. Your forehead rested against his. "Was that what you wanted to tell me?" You asked in a hushed tone, looking down at his lips again. He nodded before giving them another peck. "Uhm.. we better go before we-" "oh.. yeah, your right. Shit!" You say, quickly checking the time on your phone. 

As you dashed down the fire escape and towards the bus stop, his hand never left yours as you jogged behind him giggling at his antics of repeating "Shit" as he saw the bus waiting for you at your stop as you both jogged towards it. You couldn't see it but for the first time in a while, a genuine smile adorned the brunette's face and through whatever he was battling with, knowing you were by his side, there would be plenty more to come. 

[sourcherrybomb]

SoKai Week 2020 - Day 4 - How to (Incorrectly) Summon a Demon

Synopsis: Sora, a wizard in training, prepares to summon a demon in a desperate attempt to improve his magical prowess. However, things don’t go exactly as planned...

Sneak Peek:  “Hey now, didn’t your mother ever teach you not to stare?” the demoness asks Sora in a playful fashion. “At least focus on my eyes for now, darling.”

Tags: Light Romance, Comedy, Slightly Mature, Slightly Coarse Language, F/M, (It’s not smut, I promise)

Prompt for the Day: AU Day!

Words: 2.4k

Fanart By: karya_mukti (Fiverr)

As a pale moon rises, a wizard-in-training rushes around the confines of a messy tower chamber. Curious-looking tools hang on the walls of the chamber alongside the lamps that light the darkness of the room. Various scrolls, textbooks, and phials of mysterious elixirs are strewn across the floor in a messy and uncaring fashion. The moonlight is let in through a singular, round window, the young wizard waiting for it to line up just right with the carefully detailed magic circle drawn in chalk on the floor.

The trainee’s master would most definitely be angered at the state the room is in. The thought of her in another rage brought a shiver down his spine. Besides making a mess, the various summoning taboos the young man was breaking would be enough to make a more rule-abiding student faint. 

But to Sora, none of that matters. 

After years of messing up and being the laughingstock of his fellow trainees, he would finally have the power to succeed. His days of messing up incantations, having spells blow up in his face, and more would all end once he summoned a powerful enough demon to assist him. Sora wasn’t just aiming for any regular old demon, he was aiming for an Archdemon.

Everything was set up. In the sky was a full moon on the sixth month of the year and the stars of Altair and Vega aligned at the perfect angle. Within Sora was enough mana saved up through the use of elixirs. On his right hand was a special tattoo made to match the summoning circle drawn on the floor. And finally, the coup de grace, a forbidden tome from his master’s personal library, one that would aid in demonic summoning rituals. Written in demontongue, Sora had spent a whole month deciphering the text in secret.

All of these tools would aid Sora in summoning a demon and becoming their master.

Wiping the sweat off his brow, he rolls up the sleeves of his uniform’s cloak. Picking up a book bound in a scaly black leather, Sora opens the ancient tome to a page he had previously marked. Raising his right hand, he waits for the moonlight to shine through the window and line up with the magic circle on the ground.

It’s now or never… he thinks to himself. As the lunar rays make their way across the room, Sora begins to speak.

L'ta raeq yoq aem saowar… 

The marks on his hand begin to glow a crimson red.

Aem nph soin… 

The flames from the candles surrounding the magic circle on the ground change to a violet hue.

Aem aony ardor…

The various runes within the circle begin to glow

Maezzael zes gazina…

The center of the magic circle begins to glow various shades of red.

Oth yaeza qae esaeun zoedabbi!

A blinding red light fills the room as a powerful force knocks Sora backwards and onto the floor, scattering all the texts and tools within the room alongside him. As he rubs the back of his head and his eyes regain focus, the light starts to dissipate. In its place in the middle of the magic circle was a young woman sporting a devilishly smug grin. Garbed in pink and black garments, at first glance she seemed normal, but only if you ignored the blood red horns and demonic wings behind her back.

“Hey now, didn’t your mother ever teach you not to stare?” the demoness asks Sora in a playful fashion. “At least focus on my eyes for now, darling.”

Shifting his surprised gaze away, Sora stands up in confusion. “This… is not what I was expecting to happen.”

The demoness pouts and she inches closer to the young wizard. “Oh, so you didn’t mean to summon little ol’ me?”

“W-well I meant to summon a demon,” Sora stammers out. “Besides the wings and horns, you aren’t exactly what I imagined…”

“Oh don’t forget the tail, darling,” she says as the aforementioned limb slowly wraps itself around Sora’s right hand, eliciting a reaction from him that the demoness finds particularly amusing. “I swear, sometimes it has a mind of its own. As for what you imagined, at least when it comes to Succubi like me, I can’t imagine any other appearance would be as… Sensually inclined.”

“S-succubus?!”

“One of many, darling!” The succubus says as she winks. “What, don’t like what you see?”

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s just-”

“Ah, wonderful! Here I thought you were trying to summon an Incubus.” The succubus stares up and down at Sora. “You certainly do give off the disposition of someone who would do so… But darling, your reaction to me certainly proves otherwise!”

As she laughs, Sora sighs and makes a mental note to watch his words around the demoness. “Listen when I attempted to summon a demon, I was aiming for an Archdemon!”

“One of those prudes?” The succubus scoffs. “Honestly darling, you’re better off with me. Afterall, you did use a summoning circle specifically for succubi.”

“I what?!” Sora grabs the demonic summoning tome off the ground and flips to the page he bookmarked. Pointing at the page, he shows it to the succubus. “Here, doesn’t this read Archdemon?”

Pulling a pair of red glasses from thin air, the demoness reads the page. “Hmmm, nope this is a summoning ritual for me and my many sisters. Demontongue is a complex language for humans, I’m not surprised that-”

Sora lets out a frustrated yell and throws the book at the ground. It’s enough to surprise the succubus and cause the glasses to disappear. “Damn it! Why does this always happen?!” This accident was all too reminiscent of how his magical studies would go. Attempt something, fail, look for a crackpot solution, and fail again.

From behind, the succubus wraps her arms around Sora. “Awww, what’s wrong darling? Want to tell little ol’ me? I promise I’m a good listener.”

“And why do you keep on calling me Darling?” Sora asks angrily. “I have a name, you know!”

Letting go of Sora, the demoness puts her hands on her hips. “Ah yes, and I certainly would love to know it. As much as I adore calling you this little pet name-” Moving closer, she softly strokes Sora’s face. “I’ve been told by many men and women that they love it when I call their names out.”

As she continues to caress Sora’s face, he feels the anger melt away. Amongst other feelings and emotions, the gesture calms him down from his rage.

“Sora… It’s Sora.”

The succubus flashes a warm smile, one much different than the smug one she had been wearing since her summoning. The sight of it is enough to get Sora to blush ever so slightly, something she keeps a mental note of for the future.

“Well then, Sora. I’d imagine it’d be my turn to introduce myself.” As she floats backwards away from Sora, he subconsciously takes a step forward towards the demoness. “I am a Greater Succubus amongst my succubi sisters. My name in its native Demontongue is unpronounceable by most humans, but if I were to roughly translate it, in the human language it would be Kairi.”

That’s… A surprisingly cute name, Sora thinks to himself. “Okay then, Kairi. Is there any way to send you back to the Underworld?”

“My my, Sora!” Kairi feigned surprise. “I didn’t peg you as the type to toss aside a woman if she bored you.”

“N-no! It’s not like that!” he persists. “It’s just that, I did summon you by accident. The least I can do is send you back to your home without issue. I’m starting to think this whole demon summoning thing wasn’t a right fit for me, with me getting the translations wrong and all.”

“Pfft. That literal hellhole isn’t much as a home as you’d think it be. It’s been many decades since I last stepped foot in the human world, in all honesty I'd much rather stay here.” Kairi points at the mark on Sora’s right hand. “Not to mention, that seal on your hand? That’s not just for show, that’s my contract with you.”

“Contract?”

A master who can’t or didn’t read all the instructions, Kairi thinks to herself. This will be fun… 

“Yes, a contract! With this seal I am bound to you until the end of your mortal lifespan.” She says to Sora, lying as easily as she could breathe. After all, the seal was less of a binding contract and more of a leash that could be taken off by the master when needed. 

Looks like I have a new mana reservoir for the next… Let’s say thirty to forty years, tops. Kairi thinks to herself. After all, that’s just enough time to play around with my new boy toy…   

“So I’m stuck with you then?” Sora asks, his voice slightly annoyed.

“Oh darling, I wouldn’t say stuck…” Kairi’s eyes flash red at the idea of being labelled as any sort of burden. “After all, this relationship between you and me is mutually beneficial!”

Sora slightly shrinks back when he sees the demonic red behind Kairi’s eyes. “I-If I may ask, how so?”

A sly grin shows up on Kairi’s face. “I’m glad you asked! It’s quite simple, all you need to do is give me mana daily. In exchange, I will act as a servant both in the magical sense-” Once again, Kairi closes the distance between her and Sora, putting her face barely an inch away from his. “And physical sense. I am a succubus afterall, depriving me of my more carnal desires wouldn’t be the best for either of our interests…”

Sora, being the blushing mess he his, could only let out a nervous laugh.

“Of course, you do seem much younger than most of the people who have summoned me in the past.” Kairi floats away, making space between the two. “How old are you anyways?”

The tight feeling in Sora’s chest fades away as he lets out a sigh of relief. “I’m sixteen as of this year.”

“Tsk tsk. Naughty boy, summoning someone such as myself at your age.” Kairi teases. “For now, your dreams should suffice. At least, until you become of age.”

Deep down, Sora becomes slightly disappointed that he’d have to wait a couple years. However, Hell would be more likely to freeze over before he admitted that to Kairi. Pushing those thoughts away, Sora shakes his head to refocus himself. He may have messed up the summoning, but he was going to make the best of this situation.

“Okay so you say you can help me with my magic,” Sora states. “Even someone as inexperienced as me?”

Kairi lets out a chuckle. “Can you really call yourself that after summoning the wrong demon? There’s definitely potential in you, after all. I had every right to avoid your summons and let one of my sisters take my place, but I chose to answer it.”

“But why?”

“Like I said, I wanted a taste of the human world once again!” Kairi stares out the window, gently smiling as she stares up at the starry sky above. The moonlight shines on her in a way that makes Sora stare in awe. “Oh how much I missed it! The last few masters I had always kept me at arms length, never letting me enjoy my time here. I’m only asking this because you seem to be a kind one, but please don’t be a spoilsport and let me have some innocent fun?”

Can’t help but wonder what your definition of “Innocent” is, Sora thinks to himself. “Okay, then. I’ll make a deal with you then.”

“I’m certainly listening.” Kairi focuses her gaze on Sora.

“I supply you with my mana and let you have your ‘innocent fun’ here in my realm,” Sora says sternly. “In return, you assist me in everything having to do with my magic. Giving my spells more power, creating potions and elixirs, you name it.”

Sora extends his seal-adorned right hand. Smiling, Kairi puts her hand on his.

“It’s a deal then,” she says. Pulling his hand, Kairi once again closes the distance between her and Sora, creating an intimate amount of space between them. “Of course, when you come of age, I have a feeling you’d want to revisit our arrangement to factor in my other services.”

As she speaks, Sora feels her scaly tail stroking his chin. Between that and her suggestive smile, he finds himself paralyzed. Sora finds himself unable to say anything in response. 

I may have bitten off more than I can chew, he thinks to himself as images of what Kairi could do to him fill his mind.

“Now then!” Kairi claps her hands together. “I know it’s nighttime and you might pass out after all the mana you’ve just expended summoning me, but I saw a field of flowers at the base of this tower and I demand you take me to them now!”

I do feel pretty damn tired right now, Sora thinks. Some fresh air might do me good before bed, though.

“Let’s head downstairs then.” As he leads Kairi to the stairs, she does a little spin in the air and follows him.

“You’d best prepare yourself, Sora!” Kairi says. “When you wake up, the first thing you’re doing is making me some human food!”

“Hey now, aren’t I the master here?” Sora asks.

“True, but what woman wouldn’t want to be fed breakfast by their boy toy?”

Sora lets out a sigh. He knew what he was signing up for when he planned to summon a demon, he just never expected their mischievousness to include so much teasing.

Things are about to get a lot more interesting, aren’t they? 

---

Gonna be real, part of me really wants to make this oneshot a multi-fic story. I’d change some details, but I think it’d be doable and a pretty fun experience. Fun fact, the root words for Succubus (succuba) and Incubus (incubāre) actually imply who’s on top or bottom, Succubi being the former with Incubi as the latter. 

(Demon girls ftw, go play Helltaker on Steam. It’s free!)

Since this entry was for AU Day, so I decided to go a bit nuts and write something that’s a bit out there. Like before, thanks to the Sokai: Destined Oath Discord server as well as the member Gee for acting as my Beta Reader!

Thanks for Reading!

[sun-spark]

Shadow's of the Past Haunt and Creative Monsters Hide

In celebration of a new Sander Sides Episode, I finally finished editing the 36 page fic that has been completed since March of 2018. Yes, 2 years. No, don’t ask and take it up with my depression.

Summary:

Directly 'After Can Lying Be Good?' Thomas and the sides make an effort to accept Deceit as part of their famILY and see past his function to his personality, much like they did with Virgil, not wanting to have a repeat of when the anxious trait had disappeared with Deceit. As the half-snake gets more comfortable with them Thomas starts to notice that he is always tense, waiting for something, and he intends to find out what it is. Before he can ask carefully the thing Deceit was afraid of comes back from eh past to haunt them all.

The mysterious thing from Deceit and Virgil's isn't the only thing to return, as Roman loses control and is forced to deal with his other half, long hidden and unknown to the others...well most of them.

Warnings: Reference/Past Abuse (Verbal, Physical, Emotional) - This is stated not described.

Tags: Sympathetic Deceit, Protective Thomas, Protective Virgil, Protective Roman, Protective Logan, Caring Patton, Hurt Deceit, Hurt Roman, Hurt Virgil, Hidden Side, Hurt/Comfort, FamILY, Healing, Trauma, Trauma Recovery, Angst.

Ao3 Link: Here

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

It was hardly easy, but Thomas had been making an effort to make Deceit feel like part of the family, as had the others, not wishing to repeat what had happened with Virgil. True, none of them were particularly fond of what he represented, but they attempted to set aside his function and focus on the person behind it, and they had to admit that sometimes his function was self-preservation for Thomas’ sake rather than a source of darkness. It was a rocky journey to be sure, unlearning stiff morals they’d had ingrained from childhood. It had taken some time for Deceit to drop his walls and let them in, to stop snarling and spitting lies dripping with cruelty every time they addressed him.

Things were better, though still tense. Patton took to it the best, practically shoveling food at his new ‘snakey-kiddo’ when he realized how thin he was, and layering blankets on top of him at every random interval. The abrupt and energetic affection made Deceit jumpy and elicited many hisses out of him, but he soon learned to just accept it, startling a bit and settling with an eye-roll as Patton bumbled around him affectionately.

Logan had “seen the logic in treating the other as a member of the group rather than ostracizing him, after all his function is not to harm you or us, Thomas” and had, as such, made an effort to converse with the lying trait whenever possible. It had been frustrating for both of them, Deceit not used to calm conversation that didn’t hide danger, and Logan annoyed at having to flip all of Deceit’s words around to mean the opposite. It didn’t help when Patton laughed gleefully and said he was “proud of his kiddos for playing opposites!”

Virgil, oddly, had been both the worst and the best of them. He knew what it was like to be shunned and hated for a nature he couldn’t change, but Deceit’s very nature made him uneasy. Their attempts at cohabitation had been halting and tense at first, but eventually they settled into a truce on the common ground of them both acting to keep Thomas safe above all else, even if neither of them liked how the other went about it. These two could often be found silently curled up near each other, sharing the silence as they read or scrolled through their phones. To the others, it seemed tense, but Deceit and Virgil both appreciated the calm nature of their time together.

Thomas had shocked all of them when he had not only been the first one to suggest they include Deceit, but when he had gone the extra length of summoning the half-snake for the sole purpose of keeping him company. All of them, especially Deceit, had expected their host to be hostile towards the manifestation of his deception, but apparently the young man’s kindness had won over his apprehension.

Deceit spent nearly a month waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Patton to disown him, which had admittedly come to a few close calls with the strict-moral compass the side had. Waiting for Logan to snap and yell at him in anger, shunning him permanently and attacking his core with cold facts. Waiting for Virgil to finally bare his teeth and tear at him with claws and teeth alike. Waiting for Thomas to either admit it was helpless or drop the charade of pretending he didn’t despise everything Deceit was. But it never happened, none of it, and, albeit haltingly, Deceit started to hope that maybe he was truly welcome.

The only problem was Roman, and Thomas became aware of this as Deceit began popping up more and more often, unbidden and uncalled. He didn’t really mind, the half-snake wasn’t obtrusive, and he seemed kind of lonely when he first showed up, though he denied that relentlessly. At first, he thought his Deceitful side was just more comfortable with him, that he was beginning to feel more included, and that had made him happy, but then little things had started to catch his notice. Deceit still startled when Patton popped up, but he began looking around with wide eyes, every muscles tense, as if waiting for an attack, even though Patton wanted nothing more than to wrap him in blankets, knowing the half-snake ran cold. He tensed when Logan rose up to speak with him, eyes darting to the corner nervously as he carried on the conversation, and Thomas watched, noting how he seemed ready to bolt. When Virgil appeared and flopped on the couch next to him, Deceit jumped before settling, but his eyes stayed on the tv, though nothing played on its black surface. Thomas hung back and observed, frowning as the progress they had made seemed to be erasing itself, replaced with an ever-growing fear.

He had pulled Virgil aside briefly and asked him about it, but the dark trait had only shrugged. “He’s worried about somethin’. Darn near terrified, but I dunno what.”

That hadn’t been the answer he wanted, but it was the only one Virgil had to give, so Thomas resigned himself to watching and taking note of Deceit’s reactions to, and interactions with, the others. He watched for nearly another month after the first, silently taking it all in to examine later. More than one night found him without sleep as the niggling pit of worry in his stomach kept his focus. As he stared at his ceiling late in the night, he would examined Deceit’s reactions to each side in turn, and how their interactions had changed. Thing was, at nearly three months since they had accepted him as part of the family, they hadn’t changed in any massive way. He still quietly submitted to Patton’s excessive affection with eye-rolls and snarky comments. He still sat in companionable silence with Virgil with occasional conversation and sibling-esq bickering. He still debated with Logan, and while that had not become less tense, it also had not become more so. He and Roman…Thomas sat up wide-eyed with realization.

Three months and he had never seen Deceit interact with Roman outside of a few videos. Indeed, the snake-like side had always managed to disappear when the fanciful side showed up to talk with Thomas or one of the others when they were manifested. He would go silent and slip away as quietly as he could, while Roman held the attention of everyone else, not to reappear until Roman was gone once again. He thought about it for a moment, a sick feeling twisting in his gut. When one side showed up Deceit would scan the area where the others normally stood, as well as the rest of the room, before turning his attention to his companion, panic lessening only when his scan was complete. His eyes were always drawn to the corner, to the tv, whether it played something or not...where Roman usually stood. Thomas had seen that mentions of Disney or theatre, or any point that usually sparked an argument with the creative trait elicited muted panic from Deceit. He just hadn’t made the connection, assuming that Deceit either didn’t enjoy Disney films or loud conflict.

Thomas frowned as he lay back down. Was Roman acting toward Deceit as he once had Virgil? He had hoped that Roman had learned better than that by now. Or perhaps things were merely tense between them because of Deceit’s manipulation of the creative trait months ago? He wanted an answer to these questions, but…. he sighed, he wasn’t going to summon them and risk accidentally cornering Deceit and making him panic with his queries. Or getting Roman defensive and hostile. He would wait, he wasn’t sure for how long, but he needed a better plan than that.

***

As fate would have it, finicky mistress with a twisted sense of humor that she was, he never got to make a better plan, though he did get the answers to his questions, just not how he would have liked.

Very rarely did all the sides, or even more than one or two of them, gather in Thomas’s physical living room if they were not filming a video or if he wasn’t having a crisis, but today was different. Thomas was relaxing on the couch, Logan was reading a novel in the armchair, Patton was ‘doing’ a puzzle on the floor, meaning he was haphazardly putting the pieces together, Virgil was curled up on the other couch on his phone, and Deceit was contentedly curled up under Thomas’s arm like an adorable puppy, half asleep. He’d figured out rather quickly after Deceit had started to trust them that the half-snake trait got cold very easily and would take almost any excuse to leech body heat from someone else, not that Thomas or Virgil, his usual ‘victims’, minded. The only one missing from their gathering was Roman. That was soon to change as the Prince rose in his regular spot, boisterous voice filling the room without warning.

“Thomas! About the next video, I was just thinking, and we should totally-“ he stopped as his eyes fell on Deceit, who had gone tense and wide-eyed but was unable to sink out, held as he was to Thomas’s side. Roman crossed his arms over his chest, both eyes and tone falling flat and cold. “What is he doing here?”

Thomas’s brow tic’ed up as he looked at Roman, his own voice betraying nothing of his sudden annoyance. “He spends quite a bit of time here, Roman, which you’d know if you spent any time with him.” It was a mild reproach for not making an effort, and he certainly wasn’t expecting the response he got as the prince’s eyes quite literally flashed an amber color in anger before returning to brown.

“Spend time with him?” Ah, well, storms were so often calm before they roared. “Why the hell would I want to spend time with that vermin?!” The prince spat. Deceit curled into Thomas’s side as Virgil grit his teeth, unconsciously settling into a tense posture, fight or flight gearing up. To his side, Logan set his book down, cold steel in calm eyes as he gazed between Roman and Deceit. Patton went still, trembling as if sadness and anger and shock were warring inside him and he couldn’t decide which to settle on. Thomas leveled a glare at roman.

“What. Was. That?” Virgil flinched minutely, having never heard such an icy hard tone from the normally joyful man, but Thomas paid him no mind as his attention remained on a now agog Roman. The fanciful side recovered from his shock quickly, red flushing his features with anger, venom rivaling any snake’s lacing his words. “You heard me, Thomas.” He scoffed “I have no wish to consort with the likes of that snake. I fail to see why you would!”

Thomas tightened his arm around Deceit ever so slightly, stopping the increasingly nervous side from leaving. “I wish to spend time with Deceit because he is a part of me. Part of me that I care about. And he is far more than his job Roman, which you would know if you made any effort to know him.”

Roman scoffed, a hand waving through the air dismissively. “Oh please, Thomas! He is a villain. There is not a single good thing he can do. All he does is lie and hurt us, and you, and your friends when he influences you! He is a dark side!”

No one noticed Virgil flinch a second time, wounded eyes glaring at Roman. Deceit couldn’t take anymore, he had had enough. He lurched off the couch, tearing himself from Thomas’s grip, teeth bared and eyes glaring furiously as he stood before Roman, the several feet between them irrelevant as he spat. “And you most certainly aren’t one yourself, Pride!”

Deceit went still, his eyes going wide as the blood drained from his face. He clapped a hand over his own mouth, terror at his own words clear as he began shaking. Logan stared at him, emotionless and evaluating, while Patton was momentarily jolted out of his inner conflict for sorrow or rage by shock. Virgil jolted into a standing position, fight or flight thrown into overdrive to the point of short-circuiting, eyes widening to show more white than color as his gaze locked onto Roman, seeing him in a way he hadn’t before. Roman, for his part, had gone still, ice creeping in where a moment ago there had been fire. Everything remained still a moment, a single long echoing click sounding through the room as the clock’s hand moved, before the tense silence was broken as Roman audibly snarled. He lunged forward and grasped the sides of Deceit’s collar, lips pulled back in a snarl. “You take that back you foul creature! I am not like you!”

Thomas stood quickly, Roman’s name catching on his tongue, as Virgil made a jerky movement forward and halted again, fight to flight unsure how to handle the current situation as memories of another royal side flooded his memory, blocking his desperate wish to protect Deceit. Patton stood with a cry of “Roman-!” but stumbled and Logan gripped the sides of his chair with white knuckles, eyes fastened unblinkingly on the dispute before him, ready to move should he need to, but unwilling to act before he understood what the hell was going on.

Deceit, despite his trembling, bit back his fear, figuring the only way to handle this was to face the monster he had just unchained, though his anger may have fueled that particular, ill-advised, plan. He pulled his lips back in a snarl of his own, glaring furiously at the other. “What? Don’t want everyone else to see you for who you aren’t?” He got his footing, regaining his balance despite Roman’s hold on him. “Or don’t you want to not look at yourself?” His tone turned mocking, despite the hatred in his sneer and the fear in his chest. “Pity, you used to ~love~ nothing more, what with all those mirrors you didn’t used to have in your room, Pride.”

Roman’s eyes flashed in pure rage, a snarling growl wrenching out of his throat as he pulled Deceit closer to him roughly, one hand raised into a fist as if to strike the smaller side. “That is not my name!” He roared furiously.

Deceit looked up into no longer brown eyes, seeing the chains falling away and the creature so long caged inside coming out. He began to shake in earnest, mindless terror wiping any trace of bravery from his being.

Thomas moved, quickly grabbing hold of Deceit’s shoulders and pulling him back sharply, resulting in the smaller stumbling back and landing against their host’s chest. Thomas’s arms encircled him protectively as he stared at the enraged side before him, shock, but not quite fear lancing through his tone. “Roman! That is enough!”

The side in questions growled, stalking forward a step, his eyes only for Deceit. Patton’s eyes caught on Roman’s chest and he stumbled up from the floor, a cry on his lips as worry won out over rage and sorrow both. “Roman, stop it!” He made to grab the other, but Logan stood swiftly, an arm outstretched to stop the movement. Patton stopped and stared at him wide-eyed, Logan only shook his head silently. The moral side swallowed thickly and nodded, holding still. Thomas bared his teeth. “Princey, I’m warning you, enough already!”

The royal trait paid him no mind, gaze locked on the half-snake trait who was pressing back against Thomas fearfully, yet meeting his eyes defiantly. He’d be damned if he was going to go out sniveling. Virgil’s fight-or-flight response finally pulled out of its spiraling nose dive and he jolted forward through the step he had frozen halfway through. He stared at Roman, eyes wide with fright, chest beginning to heave in preparation to hyperventilate, still, he kept his tone even, dripping in panic though it was. “Roman.” The other didn’t acknowledge him. ‘Damn it. He can’t be! Please, he can’t!! …but his eyes…’ he took a shaky breath and stalled his mounting panic.

“Roman. Your eyes are red.” Red. Orange. Gold. Amber. Colored like fire and shifting wildly in rage.

Roman jerked back as if physically struck, eyes breaking away from Deceit and flying to Virgil in near panic. “No.” His voice was tight, fear coating it, freezing the flames of his rage. ‘nononononono!!! Not again! No! This can’t be happening….this is just a nightmare! Not real, notrealnotrealnotrealnonononono!’ he stumbled back, hands tangling in his own hair as his breaths began to come in short bursts, half the words in his head, the other mumbled frantically.

Patton’s timid voice filtered through his racing thoughts from where the father figure was protectively held behind Logan’s side. “Ro…what’s wrong with your chest?”

Roman’s eyes flew to his chest, wide and panicked, and took in a sight he’d hoped never to see again. An inky blackness was seeping through his pristine white clothes, a pinprick starting over his heart, spreading out like an oil spill. It clung to him and stretched, arching away from his body like a living darkness. He stumbled back another step, panic clear in every line of his body as his hands frantically clawed at the darkness, trying desperately to tear it away from himself. “N-no! I-I” His eyes flew to Thomas and back to his chest. “I-I have to go!”

He popped out of existence in the manner Virgil and Deceit did, not risking the time it would have taken to sink out, ignoring frantic twin calls of his name from Patton and Thomas. He reappeared in his theatre, center stage under blinding spotlights, the world around him a haze of yellow light and the blurred shapes of the darkened auditorium.

He looked down at his chest and his thought were overrun by panic.

‘No, not again!’

Inky blackness, living darkness.

‘I threw you out! Not again!’

Rising from his breast, from his heart.

‘I can’t!’

It arches around him, living, breathing,

‘I banished you!’

It slid over his skin, caressing him, surrounding him, he tore at it, felt it choking him.

Y-you can’t have me, not again!’

Like the greeting of a lover,

‘D-don't! Stop!’

It covered him, suffocated him, he couldn’t claw it off,

‘Leave me alone!’

It seeped into his skin, slid down his throat, choking him, poisoning him as it filled his being.

‘I don’t want this, not again!’

It swirled around him in a vortex of darkness, sinking into him and changing him, warping him into something else. When all stood still, silence reigned.

‘Well hello there~.’

Where Roman had stood was a slightly taller man, dressed in black robes not unlike those the creative side normally wore, intricate golden buttons and cords decorating the fabric, and a crimson cape draped around his shoulders in place of the scarlet sash the prince was known for, falling to brush the heels of polished black boots trimmed with delicate golden chains. The spotlights fell on him, their light striking perfect skin and sharper features, pale pink lips curled in a sharp smile. He stood tall, chin held high, power radiating from his posture. A crown of silver and black rested on his head, impossibly deep, blood-red jewels set around its circumference, sucking in all the light that hit them.

“Roman. Roman!”

The figure cocked his head to the side jerkily. He hadn’t been able to hear the calls during his transformation, but now that he looked, he could see the others and their host standing on the side of the stage, watching him in varying degrees of shock, curiosity and horror. His moves were lithe and graceful as he turned dark flame-red eyes on them.

“Well, well, what have we here?” He purred in a voice deep and soft like velvet, it felt like ice sliding down Virgil’s spine, clawed poison stealing his breath away while it snapped his spine. The man grinned as he stepped toward them, swaying with easy poise, presence filling the room in a manner that the great actors could only dream of achieving, and he purred, “Come to watch the show~?”

He stepped closer to them but did not leave the circle of light radiating from the spotlights, still standing center stage. His red gaze fell on Deceit and he sneered, voice cold and arrogant. “I suppose I ought to thank you for releasing me,” he sniffed turning his head away dismissively, “but I don’t make a habit of showing such kindnesses to lowly creatures such as you.”

Deceit, hiding behind Thomas, shrank back with a whimper, stumbling into the curtain as his body shook violently. Virgil’s protective instincts kicked in, overruling the dire need to run as far away from this thing as he could, and he stepped in front of the other, arms raised protectively as he stared wide-eyed at what had been Roman, panic racing in his veins. They both remembered quite well what this creature had considered ‘kindness’ to ‘lesser’ creatures, and the memories paralyzed them.

Thomas’s eyes flicked back to them in concern but wisely focused back on center stage. Perhaps not as wisely, he stepped forward and cleared his throat before meeting the stranger’s eyes. “What is going on?”

The figure smiled brightly, “Oh just a show, that’s all!” He said it almost jovially as he turned toward the front of the stage, half facing them, flicking a hand dismissively. “Any great actor must master the art of transformation, as you’ve just witnessed. Sadly,” he sighed forlornly, but the smirk on his face was smug “few ever manage it~.”

Thomas frowned and went to speak but a second whimper cut him off, louder and more pitiful than terrified as Deceit’s had been. It emanated from a distraught Patton who was being held back once again by Logan’s outstretched arm. “Roman? Kiddo?”

The figure sneered disdainfully, and Virgil spoke up, the words he’d been trying to form finally spilling from his lips, squeezing their way through a panic choked throat. “Th-that’s not Roman Patt, tha-that’s-” he choked off, breathes coming too quick and short to speak as flaring red eyes gazed coldly into his own. Deceit’s shaky voice sounded from behind him, filled with more terror than either logic or morality had ever thought possible, a whisper, a whimper, and a scream crushed together in his vocal cords to create this single syllable. “Pride.”

With all eyes back on him in varying degrees of concern, alarm, and fear, what once was Roman rolled his eyes. “Well!” He huffed “That introduction was just dismal!” He smiled wide and turned back to face Thomas, grace and arrogance dripping from his every pore as he raised a hand in a graceful arc so like the prince’s normal gestures but so much more sinister. “But indeed, I am ~Pride~.” He finished with a flare, and one might think he would have bowed dramatically with a sweeping gesture, but this man did not bow to anyone, not even his host.

Thomas glanced at the sides behind him, worry for their safety overtaking his penchant for resolving things with humor. He took a deep breath to steady himself and forced his eyes to meet those of Pride. “Roman? What is going on?”

The figure sneered. “‘Roman’?” He scoffed and waved a hand as if batting the offending name from the air. “What a pathetic name.” He drawled, “No, I am Romulus.” He finished dramatically, holding himself up like a king over his subjects.

Logan stood in preemptive protection before Patton, hummed as he often did before providing information. “‘Romulus’. Founder and first king of Rome. Considered in Roman myth to be among the most powerful and impressive men to ever live. Blessed by the divine and raised by wolves. Stronger and more accomplished than any general who followed after him. Killer of his own brother and descendant of the Roman gods and both Latin and Greek nobility.” Romulus smirked, but Logan continued, voice sharp. “Also one of the most highly conceited and foolish men to ever exist, if indeed he ever did.” The dark man sneered and looked as if he might leave his precious circle of light, if only long enough to strike Logan.

Thomas side-stepped ever so slightly and placed himself in front of the others as if to block them from Pride’s gaze. He pressed his lips together unhappily, keeping his tone even. “Where is Roman?”

A scoff preceded his answer. “I am Roman. Or rather, he is me, I came first after all.”

“Then why are you…. this version of you…here now?

The other hummed, tilting his head and swaying side to side as if bored with the whole conversation. “I simply saw no reason to continue as I was. Denying myself was quite…detrimental…” he frowned at speaking negatively of himself. “to my success. Honestly, why I ever bothered subduing myself so others would feel less inferior,” He broke off with a scoff and a shake of his head, burning red eyes glaring at Virgil and Deceit. “I’ll never know.” He waved a hand dismissively as he turned away, moving as if half remembering a dance. “But no need to worry Thomas! The work you share with the world will be beyond adequate, rather, it will be quite spectacular now that I no longer see a need to play nice.”

Thomas frowned but attempted the gentler approach he normally took when one of his traits was acting out. “Wha- hey now, no need for that. I’m sure we can all get along just fine without anyone feeling inferior.”

Pride rolled his eyes while Virgil grit his teeth, forcing out words past his chocking panic. “Thomas.” Brown eyes focused on the anxious trait curiously, and worriedly at the strangled sound. “He…he won’t listen… he’s Pride!” He said the name almost frantically, as if trying to convey the sheer depths of his terror through that one word alone. “He thrives off feeling superior…I…. we…” his voice broke and he stopped to take a breath. “Pride doesn’t play well with others Thomas, he can’t, not knowing he can never be good at their roles.” He had intended to say more but a vicious snarl cut him off and he flinched back violently, lowering into a crouch and pressing back against Deceit, who clung to him from behind, eyes flying to where Pride stood, fist curled at his side, looking for all the world like he might just cross the stage and attack Virgil.

“I thought I taught you manners brat.” He spat the cruel nickname, “or do you need to be taught again? You and your” he adopted a high, squeaky, mocking voice, as he tilted his head condescendingly, “precious little snake~?”

“Now that is enough!” Pride’s eyes tracked to Patton, the fatherly figure having stepped out from behind Logan just a bit, fists balled at his sides and anger in his eyes as his whole body trembled from the force of it. “You have no right to come here and threaten our family. Even Roman wouldn’t cross that line!”

Pride smiled, mocking and sickeningly sweet, bouncing once on the balls of his feet and clapping three times in mock excitement - a mockery of Patton’s usual gestures. “Oh Morality, so you finally grew a spine, hmm? Shame it doesn’t make an appearance when your lungs are being crushed by depression, eh?” His smile grew wider, sharper, as Patton flinched back. “How dismal a job you do Morality, too bloody broken and malfunctioning under your own emotions to even work properly.” His eyes and voice took on a hard glint. “If you can’t stand up straight and do your job, maybe we should remove that spine of yours and let someone else do it, hmm?”

Patton shrunk back with a whimper and Logan stepped in front of him with a frown. “Surely your functions do not require harming the other facets of Thomas’s personality? What purpose could this possibly serve?”

Pride paused, tilting his head to the side in contemplation, a neutral expression sliding over his face. “Logic. Perhaps the only one I have no issue with. You work well, and you take great pleasure in your work, carrying it out efficiently and with dignity. Tsk.” He clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing as he shook his head in disappointment. “But you can’t even make yourself heard without someone else to silence the drivel. Shame really, that you conflict with my goals. You’ll learn to be silent, even if I have to remove your vocal cords.” He smiled sweetly, saying it like a child who just told their mom they just saw the most amazing thing. Thomas’s back straightened and he lifted his chin, fear-driven defiance taking root, but he was stopped before he could speak as Pride let out a series of high, childlike laughs.

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, Thomas!” He shot a look at Virgil and smiled sickeningly sweet and cruel, making the other cower. “There won’t be any reason to soon enough~.” He laughed then pouted playfully. “It really is all for the best, you just don’t take any real Pride in your function or your work.” He smiled, wide and sharp and deadly, playfulness gone and replaced with cold cruelty, voice falling to a deep and melodic tenor, hypnotizing. “We’ll fix that.”

He took a step forward, towards the group.

‘NO!’

He stumbled as the shout both sounded through his mind and echoed through the theater, resonating through every cell of his being.

‘No! You can’t!’

His form began to blur and he clutched at his own chest. “What the hell?!”

‘I won’t let you’

As the others watched, the dark kingly form began to pull away, separating from the prince beneath like a specter.

‘You do enough damage in me! You don’t get to come out and do more!’

A violent gust of wind nearly blew them back, forcing them to close their eyes as dust flew up from the stage. When they looked again four gasps and a fifth grunt of surprise sounded, echoing through the empty room.

Roman was kneeling center stage, slumped over and panting, face turned up to stare brokenly at the dark form of pride, hovering in the air above him like smoke, form flickering and almost transparent. Only his top half was manifested, while what should have been his bottom half turned into inky darkness at his waist, curling elegantly down like smoke and toward the other, connecting him to Roman in slimy tendrils that stabbed their way through his black shirt, into his chest.

It appeared very much like a broken man facing a spirit that had been possessing him, now forced partially from his body. Distantly Virgil’s snark informed him that Hamlet would be proud.

Pride scowled down at Roman, seemingly more annoyed than bothered. Roman panted and grit his teeth, voice a whisper, rough as sandpaper. “No.”

Pride scoffed, his voice sounding musical even in that harsh sound, while Roman sounded as if he had been screaming a thousand years without reprieve. “‘No’? Whatever do you mean by that~? Not ready for the performance to end?” He smirked, voice turning sickly sweet and cruel. “Don’t worry~…. There’ll be plenty more~”

Roman’s eyes flashed, the golden orange of a sunrise instead of bloody red. “No!” He clutched his side and coughed, red speckling the ground before him. He paid it no mind as he glared up at Pride, snarling. “You do enough damage without a physical form! You’ll not take one and harm them!”

Pride snarled, leaning down inches from Roman’s face. “You can’t even move, and you think you have any say in this?” He hissed furiously, then straightened back up, pouting like a disappointed teacher. “Tsk. How unsightly, arguing with yourself!”

Roman flinched but continued to glare, unfalteringly, up at the other, coughing up more red. “We are not the same.” The specks of red began to pool into small drops on the floor.

His counterpart laughed, a magical sound like a hundred musical bells in a summer breeze. “Oh Roman, Roman, Roman!” He leaned down, grasping the prince’s chin harshly, tilting his head back painfully, and looking him in the eye. “I. Am. You.” He tilted his head to the side, smiling in a manner that might have been kind, as one might smile at a child they found endearing, but its sharp edges spoke of nothing but malice. “Good thing too~ lucky little prince you are.” He released Roman’s chin with a snap of his wrist, nearly giving the man whiplash, standing back up with a click of his tongue. “Could you imagine any of them being a king?” He scoffed “No. They are far too flawed to hold such an honor.”

Roman stared down at the floor with a broken expression on his face, small trails of blood dripping from his lips. “You couldn’t handle being imperfect, could you?” He whispered. Pride just hummed and turned away from him as far as he could while they were connected, flipping a hand dismissively. “Why should I? There is not an imperfect thing about me. Something you should be grateful for, seeing as I am quite literally, you. I don’t know why you bother to hide it. You’re a subpar actor Roman, hardly a creator at all, simply stunted while you deny your nature.” He hummed as if in thought. Logan wondered if this is what it was like to stare up at a madman before they dissected you. “We’ll have to fix that as well.”

Roman looked up at him, gazing past him with hazy vision to see his family cowering. Logan holding onto a crying Patton, Virgil crouched protectively in front of a terrified Deceit, the both of them shaking in fear, all of them cowering behind Thomas…Thomas…his host was staring at him, not at Pride, but at him. He stood straight, almost relaxed, staring and somber. Roman couldn’t read his expression, and that alone stabbed pain into his gut. He looked back at Pride, expression withdrawn and resigned. “A King?” He whispered, a small sound, so much like an unsure child.

Pride smirked, not turning back to him. “Yes. The little prince could be a king again, perfect and powerful.” he said in a sing-song manner before his voice started dripping honey “Wouldn’t you like that Roman?”

Roman raised a shaky hand, grasping the crown on his head and bringing it down to chest level. He held it there between shaking palms as he stared at it. Perhaps it was his imagination, too many hours spent in the theatre, but the weight of his family and host’s stares seemed so heavy they might crush his lungs, their fear so thick in the air it was stifling. He gripped the crown tightly and twisted, muscles straining and protesting, ignoring the blood that spilled as his fingers slid over the sharpened edges of the steel spires. The metal creaked and Roman strained. The crown snapped in half, the metallic ‘schlink’ echoing through the auditorium, seemingly endless. He gripped the halves in shaking hands as Pride spun around to face him, surprise etched on his face. He let them fall, the two halves falling with his blood, the hollow ‘thunk’ as it hit the wood of the stage marking the moment he met Pride’s eyes. “Some princes don’t become kings.” He meant to spit it vehemently, but it came out surreally calm and hoarse.

Pride stared, then he laughed. “You think breaking your crown makes you any less a king?!” He laughed again “You were never a prince, Roman! You only pretended to be, dressed in white, no crown on your head. Another part executed nearly perfectly.” He leaned over and picked up the edge of roman’s cloak, holding it up. “But your true colors shine through, don’t they, majesty?” The last word was taunting as he stood again, letting the edge of the cape fall, lazily through the air, settling over Roman’s bloodied hands.

Roman stared at it, watching his blood seep into the fabric, barely darkening the crimson cloak. His eyes fell to his own chest, to the black fabric there, taunting him with its symbolism. His hands lifted of their own accord, before the thought was finished, and fisted in the fabric. He pulled, the cloth tearing under the force, and he tossed it away, shirt and cloak landing a few feet away. He sat there, bare-chested, and met pride’s eyes again, expecting anger, but the other merely clicked his tongue and shook his head, seemingly amused with this all.

“Such a petulant child! Clothes don’t make the king, Roman. They aren’t part of you, they simply hide you from prying eyes, an indication of status.” He chuckled, light and airy as it was dark and terrifying. “Honestly, if perfection was always on display, lesser creatures would never get anything done!” He scoffed then, staring down his nose at Roman with disdain. “Stop being such a child.”

Roman dropped his hand to his knee, palm up and open, summing an ornate dagger to his hand. A gleaming silver blade the length of his hand melted into a golden handle, carved in intricate designs and inlaid with shining jewels. He held it up at chest level, slowly twirling it around in his hand, examining it without expression. Inwardly he snorted, ‘So dramatic. Even now.’

Pride raised a brow at him, sneering at him from where he hovered, hands folded behind his back in an almost military style. “And what are you going to do with that? Stab me? You’ll just harm yourself you fool.”

Roman pulled his lips back in a snarl, the first expression he’d shown since his outburst. “No.” He raised the blade to the side of his face, laying its side against his temple. He held the other’s gaze, tone mocking. “But then, you can’t stand imperfection, can you?” He brought the blade down swiftly, cutting a gash that ran from his forehead to his chin, cutting over the corner of his eye but barely missing the eye itself. He cried out and dropped the blade, pressing his hands to his face and curling into himself in pain as blood flowed from the wound.

Pride screeched in rage, all pretenses of grace or elegance cast aside, lunging forward with hands reaching out toward Roman in claws. “Damn you!” He broke apart as he fell, fracturing into smoke that settled over Roman’s back, seeping into him and settling under his skin.

Roman sat where he was, curled tightly into himself, shoulders shaking in quiet sobs.

It took a moment for the others to react, for them to comprehend what they had just witnessed and for them to process it. Deceit slowly uncurled himself, clutching to the back of Virgil’s hoodie as he whispered, “Is he not gone?” Virgil nodded softly, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat, “Yeah, I think he is.” The two slowly uncurled themselves from their defensive positions, adrenaline still coursing through their veins in anticipation.

Patton unlatched himself from Logan’s side and tried to run forward, but he stumbled for the tears in his eyes. Logan caught him round the waist and the moral trait held onto him, eyes not leaving Roman’s figure as he cried. “Is he alright?!”

“I believe he will be Patton, but I cannot know that without examining him.”

Patton made to move again but fear held him back and he froze with a whimper, “Is…is Pride…?”

Logan nodded curtly. “I don’t believe he will return any time soon, but I cannot be sure.”

Thomas remained silent in all of this, though it was only a mere few seconds, watching everything happen. He released the breath he was holding quietly and walked forward when the others could not on their own, luckily, he wasn’t any of them, he was all of them. He sank to his knees next to Roman softly, not wishing to startle the distraught side, and gently laid a hand on the other’s back. “Roman?”

The side in question flinched at the touch, whimpering pitifully and curling into himself more tightly.

“Roman, it’s ok.” He rubbed his thumb over Roman’s shoulder comfortingly. “Whatever just happened, we’ll figure it out, ok? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that all of that wasn’t in your control. It’s gonna be alright.”

A whimper and a choked sob were his answer. He sighed, not wanting to push the issue, but he could see crimson blood slowly spreading over the floor and he knew he couldn’t leave this until Roman was ready, the wound couldn’t wait that long. He gently grasped Roman’s chin and lifted his face, meeting his utterly destroyed expression with one of near serenity and concern. “Roman. You have to look at me. We have to take care of that cut.”

Roman’s eyes met his briefly, but the creative side flinched, and they jerked away to land, unseeingly out at the rows of seats. Thomas didn’t sigh, he didn’t reprimand him, he didn’t react in any negative way, merely tilted his head a bit to the side, kept his eyes on Roman’s looking away from him, and spoke softly, more breathing the word than speaking it. “Ro.”

Roman whimpered quietly, eyes falling shut as he twitched, body seeming to want to fold in on itself but frozen in place under his host’s gaze. The nickname had broken something in him though, the need to hide overcome by a wish to do what was asked of him. He opened his mouth but only a choked sound came from his throat, prompting new tears. He squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop them from falling and gritted his teeth, nodding once tersely.

Thomas sighed lightly through his nose and sat back a bit, turning his gaze to the others, taking note of each of them in turn as he curled his hand over the back of Roman’s neck, comforting and firm, grounding.

Logan’s eyes were cold as he stood at near military attention, but not emotionless. Thomas knew this was Logan’s care for the others manifesting in a protective need to understand everything, so he could defend them from harm, logic cold and unbending as steel. But where there was wariness, there was no anger.

Behind him was Patton, hunched in on himself and pressed to Logan’s shoulder, hands fisted in the polo always pristine, now rumpled under the fatherly trait’s hands. Logan’s arm was still outstretched protectively, to keep Patton back and to place himself as a barrier between the other and any potential harm, it wasn’t straight through, it was curled backward, nearly wrapped around Patton. Morality’s eyes gazed out from behind thick glasses, worry and sorrowful pain mixed with a bit of hurt shone through unshed tears, as his teeth worried his lower lip. Thomas’s gaze moved on.

Deceit’s mismatched eyes laid on Roman, clear fear overpowering everything else, though concern peaked through at the edges. While Patton was barely hidden behind Logan, Deceit was barely visible from where he hid himself at Virgil’s back, hands fisted in the other’s jacket just under his shoulder blades, his nose tucked behind Virgil’s shoulder to reveal only the top of his head and those piercing eyes. He was scared, but Thomas could see he didn’t want to abandon the others, or, he suspected, Roman. Lastly, his gaze shifted to Virgil and he almost wanted to chuckle at the dual nature of everything about the side. He stood nearly as tense as Logan, arms at his sides and hands fisted, lips pulling back ever so slightly at the corners as if he wanted to snarl, his fight reflexes more than ready to tear any threat apart. Yet he pressed back against Deceit, as if he wanted to both shield the other and curl back into his chest, his shoulders were hunched ever so slightly inward with his chin tucking towards his chest, his legs too were tense, but they were angled as if to run away, so his flight reflexes too were overwhelmed. His eyes though were the oddest bit. Fear lit their edges, but the centers focused on Roman with such intensity that, if not for Thomas’s understanding of the anxious side’s nature, he wouldn’t have known if that gaze wanted to tear roman apart or mend him.

Thomas himself was more somber than normal, a rare jaded maturity replacing his playfulness. He wasn’t angry, in fact at the moment he wasn’t even upset, rather, it was as if an unearthly calm had settled over him. A need to protect those that felt more like family than mere aspects of his personality clashing with a need to mend and heal that one that was injured, spinning round and round until they merged. He released a second deep breath and turned his gaze back to Roman for a moment.

Roman was…scared. No…he was terrified and in pain, every line of his figure screamed it. Thomas shook his head minutely and let his eyes slip shut, centering himself silently he exercised a power he knew he had but didn’t fully understand. The world seemed to tilt slowly on its axis before righting itself upside down. When he opened his eyes again they were back in his living room. The others were all standing by the stairs while he and Roman found themselves kneeling in the center of the living room.

He breathed deeply, quietly, and centered himself. Gently he grasped Roman’s shoulders and made to lift him just a bit. “Roman.” He kept his voice soft, but the other flinched all the same “Roman, Let’s get you on the couch, ok?”

Roman didn’t answer, but he did get his feet under himself and try to stand. His legs were weak, and he stumbled immediately. Thomas had anticipated this and practically picked the other up, using the prince’s momentum to set him on the couch. Roman hunched into himself once again as soon as he was seated, legs curling close to his chest and shoulders hunching as his eyes pressed shut. Thomas knelt on the floor beside him, a hand on his shoulder, and paused a moment to send a searching glance over the others. From the corner of his eye he could see Logan standing close to his normal spot, merely further forward and closer to Virgil’s, turning himself ever so slightly to let Patton lean against the wall and still remain curled into the logical man’s side. Virgil was in his normal space, and he had herded Deceit to sit on one of the steps, the lying trait having done so but remained pressed forward, every line of his body making it clear he wanted to press himself into Virgil’s side and stay there. Virgil likely would have let him, but his protective instincts and fight or flight reflexes had him half knelt half crouched in front of the stairs, easily ready to spring up and run or come up swinging if needed, so he settled with reaching back to place a hand on Deceit’s arm in comfort. One of Deceit’s hands was nearly crushing Virgil’s. Both kept their eyes on Roman and Thomas, one fearful the other tense.

Thomas looked away from them all and closed his eyes again, breathing steadily, pushing down the sudden swell of sadness in his chest. The sides were something between imagination and reality, everything about them one step from nothingness and an equal step from solid form, Thomas knew this. He understood it on a base level and knew that it was the reason he could interact with them as he did. He also understood that the games the sides played, making sweaters and sheet music and rubiks cubes appear out of thin air was a similar concept. It didn’t come as easily to him as it did to them, but he could use that ability. After a few moments, he felt a weight settled in his empty hand resting against his leg and opened his eyes to find a first aid kit in his grasp. He didn’t question it, understanding that focusing too hard on the fact that this thing was only half real would make it fade. Instead, he turned his gaze and attention back to the creative trait.

“Roman.” He sounded as if he were talking to a frightened animal, intentionally gentle and conveying steady strength, but sure enough Roman flinched inward regardless. “I need to treat that cut. I need you to move your hand and let me clean it.”

Roman’s whimper was the quietest in existence, Thomas was sure. But he remained calm, no frustration in his tone, or even his mood. “Roman, you need to move your hand.” He let his hand trail slowly down Roman’s arm from his shoulder, then up to his wrist. There he gently curled his fingers around the other’s hand and applied a gentle yet firm pressure to pull the limb away. Roman was tense, but he didn’t fight him as Thomas pressed the hand against Roman’s leg, silently nudging the other to drop his legs as well.

Thomas scanned the wound with his eyes and frowned. Starting at the inside of Roman’s temple it dangerously skirted over the outer corner of his eye, bowed outward slightly on his cheek, and fell in a sharp line down past his chin. He was lucky the momentum hadn’t made the blade hit his throat. It wasn’t deep enough to be deadly, barely going beneath the layers of skin to the muscle beneath, but it was deep enough to worry the man, and certainly deep enough to scar. Gently squeezing Roman’s hand on the prince’s lap, both for reassurance and to make sure he kept it there, he opened the medical kit and retrieved the disinfectant and a few cloths.

Gently grasping the other’s chin, he tilted his head to give himself more room to work. He kept his hand there afterward to ensure Roman wouldn’t move. Silently he started at Roman’s temple and began cleaning the cut, taking great care around his eye. For a time, they sat in silence, the others slowly relaxing the tiniest amount, but not fully, where Thomas kept an eye on them in his peripheral vision. Roman sat still and tense, silent tears slipping from his closed eyes, his lower lip no longer trembling but nearly white from the pressure where it was trapped between his teeth. Thomas worked silently and carefully. For a time, the silence reigned, but once Thomas had reached Roman’s cheek he broke it, tone even and calm.

“So that was Pride. I know who, what he is…in theory…but who is he to you, Roman?”

Roman’s eyes flew open as he flinched and tried to look away, his whole body trying to recoil but he didn’t move far before Thomas’s grip stilled him. “He…I….” He closed his eyes again, voice choking with tears. “I was him… to start with…when you were younger, still a child.”

Thomas frowned as he continued to clean the cut, wincing as Roman flinched in pain. “Then why are there two of you? You’re my creativity, aren’t you? How can you be both?”

Roman’s eyes opened halfway, focusing on the floor before him without truly seeing it. The prince smiled, but there was no humor in it, just tired weariness. “None of us have only one function. I was…him…when you were a child, before your imagination grew, back when your fantasies and dreams were fueled by the creativity of your parents. Eventually, as all children do, you began to imagine on your own, without their stories….and you were so…proud” his voice hitched in pain, “of what you created, that eventually, I became creativity too.”

The host furrowed his brows as he began closing the wound and securing it with steri-strips. “Then why are you separate now?”

A small sound of sorrow and pain broke out of roman’s throat, tears brimming at his eyes that he held back. “I am your ego, Thomas, that hasn’t changed…. but as time went by things…changed. You…you began to love Disney, and it fueled the majority of your imagination, of my new role… you loved the princes and, as a child, loathed the villains…..” His quieted with sadness. “even as I was then, it did not take long to realize that I was the opposite of what you wished to be, despite now embodying your hopes and dreams, that I was, in fact, what you despised…. I did not wish to be that way. I…. I locked it away, that part of me, buried it beneath everything you ever wished to be, the traits of every prince you admired…”

He sighed and stopped talking as Thomas started bandaging his jaw. Perhaps sensing that Roman wasn’t finished, Thomas didn’t ask anything else yet. When he was finished he sat back and waited. Roman didn’t meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor and fidget, drawing his legs back up to his chest and hugging them tightly.

“I buried him so far that it ceased to be an act, that we truly became two halves of one being…. I…I despised him. I despised how he made me think and feel, how he pushed me to act…so I pushed him as far away as I could. It was never enough though, and you’ve seen him affect me, the days when ego and harshness overcome the rest of my being…” he sighed and tightened the death grip on his legs, hugging himself. “I don’t understand it completely myself, Thomas, hell, the day I appeared in the ‘light side’ of your mind was a shock. Somehow, through mutual loathing, we became separate enough that I was no longer Pride, but merely Creativity, that he was a separate entity that only affected you subconsciously…. not entirely separate though, as you did correctly deem me to also be your ego.”

Thomas stayed silent for a moment, gaze falling to the black mark over Roman’s heart. He frowned and pulled roman’s leg down, so he could run his fingers over it. Roman flinched and chuckled dryly, without humor. “We all have our dark marks…that…he, is mine.”

Thomas lifted his gaze to Roman’s, gaze narrowed in wariness and curiosity, but not hostility. “Why is it there?” Roman barked a humorless laugh. “Over my heart you mean?” Thomas’s silence was answer enough. Roman sighed and let his eyes fall shut again, pinching the bridge of his nose as his head hung forward. His voice the clearest it had been since this began, but quiet with weariness.

“You call Patton your heart, and you are not entirely wrong. Morality and ethos are matters that deal with the soul and empathy of a person, and the heart is indeed the metaphorical seat of both soul and emotion.” He let his hand fall without care and let his gaze rest on Patton where he stood tucked into Logan’s side, for the moment the prince was nearly emotionless save for sorrow and pain. “but he is not all of your heart, that is merely where he ‘lives’, if you will.” His eyes slipped shut as he sighed heavily. “Pride is against morality, it must be.”

His gaze dropped, and he looked toward Thomas but did not yet meet his gaze, instead staring just past his shoulder. “Pride earned is one thing, but arrogance is quite another. It poisons logic into believing you can do anything you damn well please and that you can rationalize anything. It silences caution and abuses deceit, turning you against yourself until you think you are invincible.” He winced minutely but ignored the twin flinches that came from Virgil and Deceit at the rather literal explanation of what Pride had done to them. His gaze fell back on Patton, voice bitter and sad. “And once it’s done that, it destroys your morality.” Patton shuddered and shrunk back. “You think you are invincible. You lie to yourself without knowing it. You believe you can rationalize anything into being right. You believe you are right, that you know best and that only you know best. You believe that anything you do is perfect and any criticism is beneath you.” He paused and sighed deeply. “And then…then you don’t care anymore.” His gaze slid down to the floor, blurring as his voice became thick with tears again. “You don’t care about the emotions of others, nor their well-being. Your ethics disintegrate, your empathy evaporates, and your morality is gone, replaced with something…something exactly its opposite.”

Roman’s voice had already been sorrowful and oddly resigned, but it took on a bitter tone that made Thomas realize the prince wasn’t just describing what pride could do to him, the host. But what it had been doing to Roman, even from the shadows. He set his gaze back on the mark above Roman’s heart, not liking the dark blood smeared around it. Silently, he set to cleaning it off the unmarked skin. “It only covers half your heart…” Roman hummed but it sounded choked. “Yeah, well, it covers enough of it.”

Thomas looked up at him, a brief glance before returning to his task. “He never stopped affecting you, did he?” He asked it lightly, but Roman still flinched. “N..no…. he didn’t…” Roman sighed. “Is that why you acted the way you did, before…?” Roman winced and hunched forward as far as he could while Thomas was cleaning the blood from his chest, head hung low. “Yes….” He sighed and opened his eyes to set his weary gaze on the floor, the patterning of the carpet swirling hazily in his vision.

“Morality…he could tolerate…begrudgingly…didn’t find much need to worry about him” Roman snorted softly. “Too arrogant to acknowledge how bloody scary Patton can be…Logic…he could live with, not concern himself with...” He pressed his eyes shut tight, voice catching. “but Anxiety and Deceit-“ his voice choked off and pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle the sob. It passed and he rubbed at his eyes. “he could not tolerate them. Their presence, their jobs, their very existence…. they were the two most dangerous to him…to his plans…..” A shudder wracked through Roman but he kept the sob back, voice going tight. “He couldn’t kill them either…. not for lack of trying…” at that a single sob did break free, but he immediately cut it off and took in a strangled breath, then cleared his throat.

He dropped his hand and once again stared blankly at the ground. “After we separated, well, as separated as we could be, he was content enough to be silent…even if he did do his best to put me intentionally at odds with Patton and Logan. But when Virgil –“ his voice broke. “when Virgil showed up…I couldn’t stop his influence anymore…I barely kept him from becoming dominant between us again.” His voice had trailed off into a broken whimper, so he stopped to steady himself. Thomas and the others let him.

Roman raised his head and looked toward Thomas, but did not let his gaze go past the man’s neck to his face, much less his eyes. “It took more strength than I possess, and more help than I would have liked, to treat Virgil even amicably. To my shame, I could do no more, but when Deceit…” he took a deep breath, eyes staring upward, ignoring the clear tears that flowed over their edges. “when Deceit came, I couldn’t…there was nothing I could do to keep him at bay anymore…my own anger at Deceit for his tricks did not help matters…so I hid. I avoided him…” he smiled wryly, a sick twist of his lips as his gaze fell again. “But anger left unfaced festers, and when I did finally see Deceit face to face again, my anger was enough that I wasn’t even conscious of how much P-pride was affecting me.” His gaze dropped in shame to the ground. “Deceit’s charge broke what little control I had left over him….” Roman swallowed thickly and looked away, staring unseeingly at the wall, away from everyone else. “it…it wasn’t their fault…they ne-never did anything… but they were the c-catalyst that let him out…and I couldn’t stop- couldn’t stop it…” the prince’s voice broke, fully this time, and he just barely held back sobs with a hand over his own mouth.

Thomas said nothing, nor did the others, though while they were in various stages of shock, Thomas was turning everything over in his head, considering and calculating everything. Absentmindedly he stroked his thumb over the inside of Roman’s wrist where his hand still rested around the other’s arm. His brows furrowed after a minute had passed.

“Roman, you separated from him, for lack of a better term, you locked him away. Why didn’t you separate completely?” Though there was no malice in the words, the oddly cool and neutral tone made Roman shudder. He shook his head minutely. “I do not even know if we could have, completely. We started as one being…I do not know how separate we are even now. But it was not for lack of trying.” He took a shaky breath, eyes fixed on his lap now. “It was not for lack of trying that we are still connected…. Years I spent trying to tear the anchor of him out of me…but I cannot… pain notwithstanding, I am not strong enough. Regardless, I eventually came to the conclusion how…foolish it would have been if I ever succeeded.”

Thomas’s eyebrow rose, the only change in expression, indeed in demeanor at all. “How’s that?”

Roman laughed, head tilted back, twisted lips pulled back over fractured teeth. It was a broken sound filled with shattered glass that made Patton wince and caused Virgil to shrink back ever so slightly into Deceit. Roman was broken. And as they watched where they stood, though they said nothing, each and every one of the four sides hanging back in caution, came to the same conclusion: they might not be able to fix him.

For the first time Roman’s gaze strayed closer to Thomas’s, but still could not quite meet it. “You’ve seen how much damage he did to me, Thomas, what he’s done as a whisper in your subconscious.” The second laugh sounded more like that of a mad man. “What the hell do you think he’d have done on his own?!” The laughter died and Roman hunched in on himself again, shaking his head as a man resigned to hang at the gallows. “No. Better he stay trapped within me. Better he hurt me, and only me, rather than have a manifested form of his own to hurt you.”

Roman was hunched in on himself, the hand not caught in Thomas’s grip rubbing absently at his ribs, a haunted and faraway look in his eyes. As Virgil watched from the sidelines pieces started to fall into place like a long-forgotten jigsaw puzzle scattered throughout the dusty corners of an attic. He stiffened, eyes going wide, and as Deceit gasped quietly behind him, he knew his old friend had followed the same train of thought to the same conclusion. Logan looked back at them curiously, having missed the signs he wouldn’t know to look for. Virgil swallowed thickly, voice trembling but strong as he called out to his longtime nemesis. “We’re not the only ones he hurt, are we Roman?”

Roman’s flinch and quick movement to curl himself into a tight ball, arms grasping his own chest as if in protection - even at the cost of ripping his hand out of Thomas’s, to the other’s great surprise - were the only answer the anxious trait needed. Deceit whimpered and it trailed off into a hiss of unhappiness and anger. Virgil was inclined to agree with that sentiment, but his normal reactions of growling or hissing wouldn’t achieve anything right now. Eyes even wider than they were before, he swallowed past the sudden feeling of crushed glass in his throat and asked a rather insensitive question in his shock. “H-how?! He…you…you share a body. How…?”

Roman shook almost violently but barked another laugh, even more broken than the previous two, this one filled only with pain, a deep and cutting pain that made one think of the wailing of an injured dog when heard. Thomas winced just as Patton did.

“The imagination can be such a wonderful thing… it’s where I go to battle beasts to find inspiration and create ideas…I can create anything there…escape there…hide there…” his voice became strained. “A place where anything can take shape isn’t always so wonderous….”

Logan’s eyes went wide, lips parting silently in an almost gasp. Patton did gasp, but it turned into a wretched sob as the two realized just what it was Virgil and Deceit had picked up on. Those two, for their part, looked at Roman in a new light. Not as the host to their abuser - though he had certainly been that - but as a victim the same as them. Thomas caught up with the four of them pretty quickly, in truth he had already known, but he hadn’t wanted to put the pieces together into such a gruesome picture. For the first time, his expression and tone showed emotion other than neutrality, softening and straining with grief. “So every time you went into the imagination to create things and come up with ideas…?” He trailed off, and Roman nodded brokenly. “N…not every time…. there are certain areas…and I avoid them unless I have to follow a creature there…. but he doesn’t always stay in their bounds…”

He trailed off helplessly and the other five absorbed this information. That meant that every time Roman did his job - every time Thomas daydreamed, every time he created something, every time they needed a new script, every time he dreamed, every time he fantasized – Roman had walked into hell, and more often than not he had met the devil wearing his own face.

Patton clamped a hand over his mouth harshly to quiet the sobs tearing out of his throat, Logan, uncharacteristically, tried to reach back to steady and comfort him, but he barely kept his balance as this information set itself in his brain, as every possible meaning, every possible variable, and every possible outcome to the dataset played itself out for him to see. He swayed dangerously, nausea suddenly threatening to knock him over, it would have if it weren’t for the presence of Patton leaned against his back.

Deceit had pressed himself to Virgil’s side by this point, and the two of them were holding onto to each other with an arm around the other, old memories, living nightmares from the past playing through their minds, merging with the knowledge that Roman had faced the same…possibly worse, and for much longer than they had.

Thomas took all of this in without thinking about it, after all, anything and everything his sides knew or realized, he knew too, should he actually think about it. He bit back the wish to scream, or sob, or cry, or tear apart the thing that had hurt his Roman so badly, knowing it would do no good. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of and lifted himself onto the couch to sit by the creative trait, and wrapped his arms around him, drawing Roman to his chest and holding him close as the prince finally broke and began to sob.

His cries were a broken and pathetic thing, the wretchedness sounding from them cutting them all to the bone in a manner none of them- not even Logan with his literal dictionary of a mind – could describe in words. Through his sobs, they heard occasional words and sentences, broken up as they were gasped out roughly.

‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I tried.’ ‘I didn’t mean to.’ ‘my fault.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘shouldn’t have let him.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ’I’m sorry.’ ‘I’m sorry.’

Virgil and Deceit both jerked forward instinctively, a desperate wish to comfort Roman as they had once comforted each other cutting through them, but they each halted equally as instinctively, for they neither one had any idea what to do. So they held each other, taking what comfort they could from whom they had thought was the only other person in the mindscape who could understand, until now.

Patton tried to move forward as well, a sob finally breaking out of his throat, but the weight of the shock and grief he was under drove him to the ground. Logan’s stunted but still quick reflexes were the only thing that kept the man from falling completely as his friend caught him. All the same, the end result found Patton on his knees, Logan knelt beside him on one knee, arms wrapped around Patton from having caught him. The logical trait was staring, unblinking and wide-eyed at Roman, a sickness choking his throat and cutting off his usually bountiful speech.

Thomas felt all of this, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He felt it hit him like a punch to the chest, and his breath hitched in response, but he ignored it. There would be time for his own sorrow and shock, and theirs, later, for now, he took a deep breath and focused on holding the man in his arms whose whole world, and indeed being, was finally tearing apart for the first time after 29 years of being precariously stitched together.

Roman’s tears, it seemed, had no end to them. Thomas continued to hold him, a silent and steadying presence of strength and comfort. After a time, Roman’s tears did begin to dry up, even if his sorrow and pain did not, but he had exhausted himself too much to move, and so stayed where he was, curled mostly in a ball and burrowed into Thomas’s chest, head resting very nearly over the other’s heart. As the energy to cry faded he allowed the steady thrumming under his ear to lull him into a calmer state. He opened his eyes now, but rather unseeingly as his gaze did not go past Thomas’s chest and upper arm. Thomas, for his part, just kept his arms wrapped securely around the creative trait, one hand lightly running over Roman’s arm and shoulder. As he felt Roman’s breathing even out and his body start to go lax he chanced splitting his attention away from Roman to check on the others.

As he has already been aware, the other four had moved closer but had not interfered. Logan sat on the arm of the couch, his normally smooth expression roughened by furrowed brows and the slightest of frowns fueled by concern as he watched Roman. His posture too was less rigid than normal, as he was hunched forward a bit to reach out one hand to Patton’s shoulder. Patton had also moved close and had taken the open side of the couch. He had curled himself into a ball, pulling his legs up to his chest hugging himself. Though he was pressing back into Logan’s touch, he was leaned forward and edged as close to Roman as he could be without touching him. That being said, it wasn’t lost on Thomas that the fatherly trait’s arms kept twitching as he stopped himself from reaching out and pulling Roman to him. Thomas tried to ignore the twinge of hurt he felt at seeing the sad frown set in Patton’s expression, instead he looked away from them and toward the floor in front of him.

Virgil and Deceit were there. At first, they had stood before the couch awkwardly, not sure where to fit into the picture, wanting to care for Roman, but both still a little afraid and knowing from harsh experience with each other that sometimes you just had to wait for things to pass before you could approach the broken and try to mend them. They had hovered for a moment before understanding that this was not going to be a quick process, and had settled on the floor. Virgil, particularly, had sat on one of his legs, pulling the other up and hugging it to his chest. He wasn’t completely settled though and was pitched forward the same as Patton, a hair-trigger away from propelling himself up and forward to Roman. Deceit kept the same overly attentive and concerned gaze on Roman that Virgil did, and he was only minorly less tense, but he sat completely, legs hugged to his chest, curled into Virgil’s side.

The lot of them sat in silence for a time longer, but once Roman had calmed completely and was resting in a near-sleep state, they could wait no longer. Patton was the one who reached out, a hand pressed gently to Roman’s shoulder, accompanied by a soft call of the other’s name, “Ro?”

The effect was immediate, and unfortunate, as the side in question immediately tensed and his breath hitched. Virgil was up in an instant, kneeling in front of Roman and ducking to get in his field of vision, though the prince didn’t seem to see him at all.

“Princey.” Virgil was conscious not to touch the other and to keep his tone low and even. “It’s alright. You’re safe.” Roman flinched and Virgil frowned, understanding quite immediately. “And so are we, Princey. Just focus on me, ok? On my voice. Ok?” Roman didn’t move, but his breathing was labored once again. “Easy Roman. Focus on your breathing. In 4 seconds, hold 7, out 8. Alright? Again. In 4, hold 7, out 8.” This process repeated for some time, and the others did not protest letting anxiety calm Roman from the beginnings of a panic attack.

When Roman’s breathing was once again steady, though heavy and wet, Virgil risked slowly raising a hand, well within Roman’s vision, and pressing it to his thigh. Roman twitched slightly but did not panic or shy away, but he kept his gaze fixed unseeingly ahead at Thomas’s arm where it curled around him. Deceit, unsure what to do but remembering plenty of times when all he had been able to do was sit close, moved closer and sat down, leaning against the couch. One of his hands instinctively reached out and fisted in Virgil’s jacket, the anxious trait easily reaching out to settle his free hand on Deceit’s knee. Deceit pressed close to Thomas’s legs and laid his head down on the couch, looking up at Roman who met his gaze.

Roman’s face crumpled, and he whimpered tearfully but did not cry as he had no tears left. “I’m sorry.” His voice broke in a dry sob and he closed his eyes, unable to turn his head away. “I’m so fucking sorry…”

Thomas knew this wasn’t the time for all problems to be resolved, indeed it would be sometime before that point came. But he did know that right now they needed to take care of Roman. He tightened his arms around the distraught trait and ran one hand through his hair, an old trick that had calmed him as a child and had the same effect on the creative side now. “Roman.” It was a whisper, soft and strong. “It’s alright.”

Roman shook his head immediately, almost violently, but could do no more as he found himself held closer still. Left with no other choice he stilled and listened to the calm and steady voice above him. “It will be alright Roman.” The hand carded through his hair again. “We will figure this out, and it will be ok.”

He wanted to disagree, he wanted to apologize, but he knew that there was no use arguing. He took a shaky breath and nodded. His eyes though, they left no doubt that he didn’t believe it. Thomas smiled, a sad curl of his lips at the corner into the smallest grin, colored over with grief and love. “It will be aright Roman, and we will fix this, I promise.”

Roman didn’t respond, but he relaxed again. His eyes felt heavy, but he lifted his gaze to find Deceit and Virgil, a desperate need driving the action. When he found no malice or betrayal nor accusation in their eyes, but only concern and care, he finally allowed himself to stop. It wasn’t solved, not by any means, but he was so tired, had been for years, but was beyond exhaustion now. His eyes slipped shut and he allowed the comforting presence of the others around him, the surety of Thomas’s promise, and the steady beating of a heart left unstained beating under his ear lull him into the first restful sleep he’d had since he had become a separate entity. Maybe, maybe he was wrong.

[desiraypark]

Much Needed Assistance (5)

“The Day Off” Previous (“Scrambled Brain”) Entire Work Content: Okay, guys. I probably should have warned you four posts ago (I didn’t initially plan to make this series), but this “relationship” does not become “nice” or “soft”. Mind games are coming into play now. For the safety of anyone who continues to read this, or who merely scrolls by, this series will become triggering, if not already. I will spoil this series’ plot after the “Keep Reading” break. Angst; Kylo Ren showing more of his true self; Manipulation; self-blame; good day ruined From this point forward: Mental abuse TW | Emotional abuse TW | Intimidation TW | Humiliation TW | Word Count: 1,857

SPOILING THE PLOT (If it isn’t obvious by now): Kylo Ren is trying to turn Reader to the Dark Side--or rather, make her view her work with the Final Order as more than “just a job”, or a way to make money. Kylo Ren wants to produce heirs... ...but Kylo Ren is opting to be disingenuous about all of this.

The mattress dipped. There was no cuddling or spooning at the end of it all—but you felt the warmth disappear when his body did. Kylo was about to start his day with exercise, meaning it would soon be time for you to get up and start your own day. You watched him walk into the main room and grab last night’s abandoned garments. He returned to the room and tossed your clothing on the bed.    “I’ll only want black coffee for breakfast,” he said putting his robe on. You lifted your body, grabbed the nightgown, and pulled it over your cool skin. “Just coffee? No smoothie?” He walked out the bedroom. “Just coffee means just coffee.” You swallowed and placed your feet on the cold floor, letting the nightgown fall to your calves, then you put your underwear on. Whoooosh!—ran the shower water. Kylo said nothing more, even as you walked past the bathroom and looked in his face before he stepped into the shower and drew the curtain.

“Our security on planet Devaron have captured remaining Resistance members and allies,” General Pryde announced. “They’ve held them for questioning, but they aren’t budging. Should we give them the okay?”    Pryde called the morning meeting very early—giving you no time to indulge in a shower to think about the night before. You sat in your usual place, behind Kylo Ren, jotting down notes from the meeting. But your thighs were on fire. Sitting still you focus only on the pain—but moving was a bitch. You shifted in your seat, causing a squeak to echo throughout the room. No one paid attention, however. “No. Tell them to keep a close eye on them. I will pay them a visit myself. We should—” Squeak. The Supreme Leader paused. You grimaced and clutched your pencil. “We should send a message out to all the bases, telling them to keep watch of their planets. Keep an eye on their bases, their ports, their cantinas—any place that holds space for meetings.” “Yes, Supreme Leader,” General Pryde said. You straightened your spine to give your lower back a stretch. “Captain Undilla, we shall make plans to visit Devaron and the rest of the Col—” Squeak, went the chair, as you rested your spine. Kylo slowly turned around at his waist, and you swallowed. “Y/N, do you need medical attention?” All eyes fell on you, and your chest burned.    “No, Supreme Leader,” you answered meekly. “Do you require a sedative?” he pushed. Your eyes narrowed and you drew in a deep breath. “No, Sir,” you responded with a sardonic tone. The mask lingered on your face, as did the curious—and fearful—eyes behind him. You broke the stare and looked down at your notepad. In your peripheral, you saw him face his personnel. “We shall make plans to visit Devaron and the rest of the Colonies, at your earliest convenience, Captain Undilla,” he continued. “I could be available right after the Troopers’ training, Supreme Leader,” she responded. “Very well.” You flipped over to the previous page of your notepad, where you’d written the day’s agenda. Training for new Stormtroopers usually ended at noon, but there was an appointment to meet with droid engineers at 11:45. Ren had been irritable all morning—giving deadpan responses to most of your questions. He’d deemed this appointment one of importance when he scheduled it, but now you needed to gauge its current status. Last week, you wouldn’t have had any problem breaking through the Final Order chatter to remind Ren of the appointment, but now, anxiety shrouded you. Now, he seemed likely to Force slam you onto the floor for opening your mouth. “What is it that you need to say, Y/N?” he cut across General Firestone. The room fell silent. “I didn’t say anything, Sir,” you answered foolishly. You knew good and well he could sense your tension. This time, he didn’t bother turning to face you--he just talked over his shoulder. “You are fretting over something important, Y/N. Will you call me a liar by saying that you’re not?” Eyes fell on you again. Frankly, the officers staring at you humiliated you more than Ren being a dick. You cleared your throat. “You have an appointment with the droid department at 11:45, Sir.” “Common sense says that this meeting with Captain Undilla now takes priority. Do you possess common sense?” Your heart began to pound. Surges of heat shot across your limbs and pooled in your joints. What had you done, other than what he wanted? Had you not pleased him? As an assistant and a lover? Where was this aggression coming from? “I will reschedule with the droid department, Sir.” “That wasn’t what I asked. Do…you possess…common sense?” he asked. “I possess common sense. Supreme Leader.” His jaw lingered over his arm for a few seconds, then he turned back around. Tears welled in your eyes, and the Supreme Leader continued with the conference. When it was over, you gathered your notepad and followed Ren out of the room in silence. Suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned—causing you to pump imaginary brakes on your heels. “Take the rest of the day off,” he demanded. He snatched your notebook from your hands, and before you could question him, he turned around and continued down the hallway.

You retreated to your room and caught up on a couple of hours of sleep. Sleep…what was that? You hadn’t had a good nap or any good sleep since you became that man’s personal assistant. Later, with aching thighs, you traveled the ship without any goal: you watched Stormtroopers train and engineers work on starships. You even got to enjoy a big meal from the mess hall—with dessert! Even as an administrative secretary, you never got to have a hefty lunch. You fiddled around in your room some more before you met up with your old friends in the secretarial pool. “Well, if it isn’t the “esteemed Y/N”—personal assistant to the almighty Supreme Leader!” Mars joked. Everyone got a chuckle out of it. Him and Tima were shutting down their systems, as Violet and Xiyon were booting theirs up. Mars and Violet were the daytime and nighttime archivists, respectively. They filed every important photo, video, and document that the various departments of Final Order base sent their way for safe keeping. Tima and Xiyon were the daytime and nighttime secretaries of correspondence—sending all kinds of messages throughout the galaxy on behalf of the Final Order’s members—both high and low ranking. Then, there was Perra—the nighttime administrative secretary, whom you shared a desk with. “Is there still no administrative secretary for the first shift?” you asked. “Nope,” Tima responded. “Unfortunately, me and Mars have been doing such a good job of holding down the office, they probably won’t bother hiring someone else.” Tima and Mars gathered their things and walked over to cover you in quick hugs. “How’s the throne room?” Perra asked, smacking on her gum. “I’ve never stepped foot in there,” you responded. “And I don’t think he has, either.” “Seriously?” Mars asked. “I thought he’d be hot glued to that thing.” “Ha!” Tima chimed in. The three of you walked out of the office. “Have a good night, girls!” you waved at the remaining workers. They waved and blew you kisses goodbye, and you marched down the hallway with your friends. “I can’t believe he let you off your leash. What are you doing with us regular people?” Tima asked. You rolled your eyes at her comment. “Believe it or not, he gave me the day off,” you said. As your pace increased with excitement, pain seared across your thighs. You winced at the sensation. “I actually don’t believe it. Be honest with us. Did you kill him?” Mars asked. You let out a hearty laugh. “Shh!” Tima said. “You know that man listens…” Mars covered his mouth. “Oh, yeah. Tima told me he nearly yanked you away from your sour ropes and honey buns.” You all marched through the hallways and out the doors to the residential area of campus. Tima and Mars washed up, changed into “leisure” uniforms, and you sat with them in the courtyard to catch up on work, work, work. You didn’t dare let them see that your lower body was screaming for a bath, because then, you had to tell them why you were in pain. And you were a terrible liar. They asked you about everything from the Supreme Leader’s helmet to his robes, and even asked what kind of hair products he used. You mostly laughed off their silly questions but fed them a few crumbs to keep them from probing into his…night activities. Just before the sun set, the three of you dashed back to the mess hall for dinner, then you took them to your quarters. You missed your old lodging arrangement. Sure, you were at the heart of the operation—but you’d gone from sharing an apartment with Tima, to living in a windowless room with a bathroom you could barely turn around in. Most of the low-level Final Order workers shared apartments with two, three, sometimes even four people. No children lived on the base, so there was no use for houses. High-level workers—the doctors and nurses; engineers; the captains, generals, and lieutenants who met with Kylo Ren three times a day—they were the only ones who typically had apartments to their selves. But you’d made a little home out of your room—cute little plants sat on just about every surface. Crystals and stones dotted various areas of the room. Your favorite decorations, however, were the mementos from back home—the plate from your first (and only) speeder bike; the gold necklace your father gave you. The evening had gone splendidly—you laughing and conversing with your friends. Just as they got up to leave, you heard the quiet beeps at your door. You froze, when the helmeted figure walked into your room. “Where have you been?” Tima and Mars jumped up—Tima from your bed and Mars from your floor. They stood straight, and frozen. But you just stared where his eyes might have been, confused. “I’ve been all over the base, Sir. Were you looking for me?” “Of course, I was looking for you. Did you forget that you have a job?” “Sir, you—” “Leave us…” he growled to Tima and Mars. They jumped and glanced at you. You frowned and nodded. “Get out!” Ren repeated. They jumped again and skipped out of the room. He stood yards away from you. Still. Silent. You couldn’t even hear him breathing. Your blast door closed behind him. You swallowed your shaking fear. “Sir, you gave me the day off,” you reminded him. “I gave you the day off,” he said. Your stomach started to do backflips. Just what had you gotten yourself into? “I apologize, Sir.” More silence. His squeezing fists caught your attention, and your heart began to pound. Then, thump…thump…thump…he ascended on you in painfully slow motion, and he did not stop. His intimidating figure towered over you. That horrific helmet—that mask—brought tears to your eyes.

[luckyfirerabbit]

Jaune Doe Pt 3

(It’s a little janky, but meh)

It will be a few days before Blake gets back to her with anything in regards to the photo, and in the mean time Pyrrha will keep up with Jaune Doe’s slow but steady recovery. Sahv brings her somewhat regular reports - “I think he’s a musician, his fingers move to my music when he’s sleeping”-, and though Billy lets her know that he’s been conscious and responsive the last day or so, she has yet to visit his room again. She doesn’t feel like it’s her place just yet, never mind that she’s in charge of patient advocacy; surely the poor man wants time to himself to process his situation without a stranger bothering him. He’s likely had enough of that just with doctors and nurses and security guards.

Ren and Nora haven’t been able to get an official statement from him either, not until he’s deemed healthy enough for it.

So Pyrrha makes ample time to study his file at length and run it across Blake -when she’s available- as to what it all could mean. Being a psychologist, Blake had incredible insight, and her experience with trauma survivors is just icing on the cake. At least, it certainly would be if Blake hadn’t looked so dour when the she and Pyrrha met in Pyrrha’s office.

“Everything okay?” Pyrrha asks gently, standing up on some unnamed reflex.

“Sit, this probably won’t be long.” Blake gestures with her hand, putting the other woman back in her chair while she closes the door behind her. She’ll cross the floor with no real hurry to prop on the edge of Pyrrha’s desk, appearing comfortably perched. “I checked with the folks at the parlor, they didn’t have anything. Turns out, this particular brand of body modification is illegal in Argus, so none of my guys knew a guy who knew a guy.” she chuckles lightly.

“Oh. Okay…but,” Pyrrha hesitates, “what’s the matter?”

Blake’s ears flip back. “…Yang might know Jaune Doe.”

Pyrrha’s brows rise and her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah, but don’t get too excited, she kind of hit a depressive spiral after seeing the photos. It’s going to be a while before she’ll be okay to talk to him.” It’ll be a while before he can talk at all, so it’s fine. “I’m sorry, Blake, is there anything I can do?”

“She wanted to help, don’t beat yourself up about it. But,” she tips her chin and her ears slant forward, “this brings to mind what I said before, that thing about you maybe not liking what you find.”

Pyrrha’s brow knits in the middle. “I’d be worried if I did like it. Gods have mercy,”

“Sorry I couldn’t find more for you, though.”

“But it’s still a lot, Blake, thank you so much. And tell Yang I owe her big time. If you two need anything,”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Blake smiles softly, her ears up and neutral. “Anything else I can do?”

“Just take care of Yang, I know she needs it.”

Blake nods, sliding to her feet. “So have you talked to your guy yet?”

“Not yet, soon maybe. I mean, he’ll be here a while.” Pyrrha tries not to laugh, but a little giggle slinks through. “And what’s this my guy talk?”

“I mean, he’s a patient, you’re his advocate, and he’s your only case right now. He’s your guy.”

“But the way you say it,” she giggles again, a little louder, “so suggestive.”

“Now, Pyrrha, I’m a professional,” Blake bats her eyes and throws the most innocent look she can at the lawyer, “and I know nothing can come between you and your cat.”

“Pfft, I’m a divorcee, not an old woman.” Pyrrha rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Later, wonder woman. I’ll keep in touch.”

–

Everything hurts, at least, that’s how his addled brain translates the buzzing in his nerves. Sure enough it is pain, but it’s being filtered through a screen of morphine. He still feels the sharp prodding of his broken ribs when he takes a breath too deep, or when he shifts just right to aggravate the lump near the base of his skull, but the drugs keep them mostly quiet, enough for him to sleep when the doctors let him. He hates that they still wake him up in accordance to some kind of schedule, but he’s too scared to say anything about it. He’s too scared about a lot of things, been too scared for too long to believe he’s safe here. That he could be safe anywhere. It’s why his pulse shoots up whenever anyone enters his room, doesn’t matter who it is. Even the custodian, the littlest old lady he’s sure he’s ever seen, made him jump.

Every time someone wakes him they have questions -How are you feeling? Do you know what day it is? What year is it? What’s your name?- and he answers them as best he can. They keep asking, he keeps answering, and he would probably be annoyed by it by now if he could keep track of the ones he had answered and which ones he had forgotten. Even without the blow to the head he feels more than remembers, he knows he wouldn’t have most of the answers. His life had felt like a hectic blur for a while now, and while he remembers most of that fever dream, he’s forgotten so much of himself.

His dreams are full of music and faces and places that don’t make his heart race, but he has no explanation as to why they’re there -what they mean to him. So he focuses on the music to help him sleep, it quiets his mind enough to let the exhaustion through to drag him under and keep him there. He has yet to meet the person who owns the scroll emitting the sounds, but he thinks he should thank them. He will, so long as their mere presence doesn’t scare him silent; like it had with those cops this morning.

The next time he remembers waking up, the music has stopped, the abrupt stillness in the air making him blink into awareness.

“Evening, sir, sorry if I woke you.”

Only his eyes move, sliding to one side to follow the sound and focus on the incredible form occupying the once empty space beside his bed. Already panic is knotting in his chest and he feels trapped in his bed. His hands that were once resting flat against his stomach have curled into fists.

“I’m Sahv Starborough,” she hasn’t missed the change in him, turning on the softest voice she can, “I just came by for my scroll, I kind of need it now. But I got you a little something.”

He just watches her, his gaze jumping quickly from her huge hands to her tusks and back again. She’s unplugging the scroll and replacing the device with a smaller one.

“This just plays music, but it has all the Caravaan tunes just like my scroll. You can even take it with you when you’re discharged if you want.”

“…Th-thank you.” it’s raspy and broken, but comprehensible.

Sahv lights up a little, smiling at him, but not too much. “You’re very welcome.” She finishes setting up the device, lingering just long enough to set the volume to where it had been on her scroll. “I’m here all night if you need anything else.”

He just nods and watches her leave, finally letting himself relax again once her shadow slips out through the door after her. He tries to focus on the music again, doing so with such ease that he doesn’t notice when he falls asleep.

When he wakes this time it’s morning, at least he assumes by the pale light coming through the space between the curtains. There’s someone else in the room again, but just as the knot in his chest starts to wind up, it releases. Somehow he recognizes those eyes, soft green ones that he would have sworn he dreamed up.

Pyrrha smiles reflexively when she realizes he’s awake and looking at her, pausing just inside the room. “Hello again.”

His brow furrows, puzzled. Again? Maybe it really hadn’t been a dream.

That smile falters when he doesn’t answer. “I’m sorry, do you want me to go?”

He swallows, shutting his eyes for a second. “Do you know me?” he croaks.

“Hm?”

“You said my name before.”

“Oh, well, no, I’m sorry. I’ve only read your file.”

“Oh.” The idea of being on file is discomforting, but he ignores it for now. “Do you have questions for me too?”

“Not really, not at the moment. I just thought I would come and introduce myself, maybe talk a little if you were feeling up to it.”

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever, I suppose.” Pyrrha is mentally berating herself for her apparent lack of professional air. For all intents and purposes, this was her client, you don’t just talk about “whatever” with clients.

“So who are you? You work here?”

“I do.” She chances to take a few steps closer. “I’m Pyrrha Nikos and I’m the legal adviser for the hospital. I’m also head of the patient advocacy department and in charge of your case.”

He swallows again, the corner of his mouth kinking upward just a little. Almost missable. “Didn’t think a druggie warranted that much.”

“Well, seeing as you really don’t…have any one else to represent you at the moment, at least until your memory recovers, I’ll be acting in that capacity between you and the hospital. I’ll handle all the legal matters of your case -working with the police and whatnot- as well as seeing to it your best interests and personal rights are upheld while you’re being treated.”

“…I hope you don’t expect me to pay you.” Because he just remembered all he owned was a pair of pants.

“Don’t worry about that.” Pyrrha laughs. “I’m just here to help.”

What a nice sound. What a nice smile. “Gods know I need all I can get.”

She didn’t want to agree with him too readily, no matter how right he was, so she just nods with inching shoulders. “Do you have any other questions for me? Otherwise I’ll stop bothering you and let you rest.”

He tries to think for a moment, his thoughts breaking up like he’s trying to grab at threads of smoke. “Not now, thank you.”

“Of course. If you should change your mind, you can have someone page me. My office is just downstairs.”

“Okay.” he tries a nod of his own, a stiff dip of his chin. “Nice meeting you, Mrs. Nikos.”

“Oh no, miss, and it’s just Pyrrha, if that’s okay with you.”

“Okay, just Pyrrha.” he likes hearing her laugh again.

“And is it all right if I call you Jaune?”

“It’s the only name I have right now, so yeah.”

Her cheeks redden a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t… It was nice meeting you too. Could I come by later, or maybe tomorrow would be better?”

“Tomorrow. Yeah, probably.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow.”

Billy is at the nurse’s station down the hall from Jaune Doe’s room, can see down either end of the corridor from there. But they also have leave to watch the monitor feeds for each of the rooms, see the cardiotach for all of the patients. They had noticed the pattern of spikes in Jaune’s heart rate whenever someone went into his room and he happened to be awake, and as observant as they are, there was no way even Pyrrha could slip in or out of there without them knowing.

“Hey, Velv, check this out.”

Rabbit ears flit upright from over the counter, Velvet having just straightened from picking up a dropped file form the floor. She quickly rounds the desk and props up on her fellow Faunus’ stout shoulder, taking a look at the numbers on the screen in front of them.

“What is it?”

“Look at Doe’s read-out.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“It hasn’t changed in the last five minutes or so.”

“So?”

“Pyrrha was in there just now.”

“So?”

“And he was awake, camera showed the two of them talking.”

“…Oh. Well isn’t that something?” Velvet straightens and stretches with a little chuckle. “But it’s Pyrrha; she’s so sweet she could fill our diabetic ward to capacity overnight.”

Billy laughs.

“Makes you wonder how she ended up with that shitty ex of hers.”

“At least he’s an ex now, though, right?”

“Right.” Velvet nods once, decisive. “I’m hopping across the street for coffee, want some?”

“Says the Rabbit.”

“Oh eat me.” Velvet’s ears snap back, but she’s smiling.

“But I would love some, just make sure it’s decaff, please, this ticker can’t do high octane anymore.”

“You got it.”

Billy goes back to the monitors after passing Velvet a few Lien for her trouble. They watch Doe’s numbers a little longer, thinking and smirking to themselves. It’s good, they think; if that poor kid was going to be easy around anyone, it might as well be Pyrrha.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

His Shooting Star - Chapter Three

Next chapter is here! Honestly, I am experiencing a lack of sleepiness, so I might just be updating a lot of stuff tonight. Let’s see what happens!!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Warnings: Uh...nothing? XD Just that this is a slow burn type fic.

Summary: Captain Bucky Barnes loves being a pirate. He’s good at what he does. He feels as if he’s found his purpose. And yet…still there’s something missing. Until you. You in your wonder and shine, appearing as if out of nowhere. Will Bucky and his crew be able to help you find your way back home? Or will the captain decide he can’t let his newest treasure go?

Chapter Three

No one knew what to make of Y/N. She acted as if she had never seen a boat. Every little thing fascinated her and she fascinated everyone. It had gotten to the point where she had become a distraction for the men. After all, it wasn’t every day that a female came on board.

And a single one at that.

Shuri watched with a high level of amusement as Y/N searched through Bucky’s office. He wasn’t exactly aware that the pair were in there, but the woman had started asking more questions than Shuri could keep up with. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” Shuri asked, smirking when Y/N finally pulled down a large, leather book. She dropped it on the desk with a loud thud. A cloud of dust appeared when she opened the brittle pages. 

“Perhaps?” She tugged at the sleeve of her new jacket. Since Bucky deemed her last clothes “inappropriate,” they went around and asked the other crew to donate pieces that would fit her. Gone was the silky dress. It was replaced by a pair of Natasha’s leather pants, one of Hope’s  white shirts, and MJ’s blue jacket that was too big for her. Everyone on board seemed to agree that blue was her color. Add a pair of Shuri’s thigh high boots and the girl looked like any other pirate. She almost had them believing she was one of them. 

It was just the fidgety part that gave her away.

“Are you excited to see Wakanda?”

Y/N looked up, her teeth releasing the bottom lip she’d been gnawing at. She was definitely fidgety. “I think so.” Looking at the book, she flipped the pages. “So…old, fragile,” she murmured, her touch delicate. It seemed she was worried about breaking the pages.

“It won’t break, you know. The pages?” Y/N nodded, finally stopping on a page that seemed to have some information that suited her. When Shuri caught a glimpse of it, she realized it was a map. “I could’ve helped with that.”

“It’s not the land that I’m curious about. It’s the stars.”

Shuri raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as she studied the woman in front of her. She was…something else. “The stars? Captain Barnes keeps the astrological maps under lock and key. He made them himself.”

“He likes the stars?”

“I think he’d rather be a part of them if he had the opportunity. The captain has never quite fit in with the regular crowd.”

“I noticed.” Y/N tucked her hair behind her ear before closing the book. If it was true that he kept those under lock and key, she’d have to talk to him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Not at the moment. While their first interaction was calm enough, there was something about him that she found unsettling. Her heart raced, pulse quickened, and she had a hard time focusing. 

Why? He was a man, just like any other. Wasn’t he?

The door opened with a creak, earning Shuri’s and Y/N’s attention. Bucky walked inside, not noticing them until he looked up. Standing in the doorway, his gaze shifted from Shuri to Y/N and back again. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “I could have sworn this was my office.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Shuri said, that familiar glint in her eyes. “Y/N had questions and I didn’t have answers.”

“I don’t know that I believe that,” he muttered, closing the door. Bucky’s gaze shifted to Y/N and he took in her new outfit. How was it this woman managed to make everything look… Bucky shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He didn’t need to think like that. This woman was becoming more of a distraction with every new opportunity he ran into her. “We’re docking, Shuri. Do you want to show our guest what Wakanda looks like from its shores?”

Shuri jumped up from Bucky’s chair, grabbing Y/N’s arm. “Come on!”

“Uh — I —“ Y/N’s heels dug into the floor and Shuri immediately jerked to a halt. She squeaked in surprise. Y/N certainly didn’t look that strong. 

“What is it?”

“I need to speak with Captain Barnes. Privately.”

Shuri watched her for a moment before glancing at Bucky. He was tense, eyeing them carefully. Bucky definitely didn’t want to be left alone with Y/N. She made it difficult for him to think and her lack of memories made her useless to him. He didn’t want to be nice to her and yet he felt obligated when he’d see her bat those lashes. A part of him even wondered if she was aware of the effect she had on him. Of course she did.

They always did…

Bucky looked away when he noticed the look Shuri gave him. Nope, he refused to let her get that smug little grin. She had no business looking at him like that. He could be professional. “Leave us, Shuri.”

The door opened and closed rather quickly, leaving the two alone. The tension in the air was thick and neither knew how to break it. Bucky, a captain who was well respected and a grown man, felt like he was a child all over again. If Steve saw him now? Shaking his head, he turned to the enigma still in his office. He cleared his throat as he sat on the edge of his desk. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Y/N had been so fixated on the door and her only friend leaving that she had almost missed Bucky’s question. Almost. Turning to face him, she hesitated. How could she ask to see private property? The way Shuri made it sound, no one looked at those maps. Shifting her weight, she turned back to the book and placed it on the shelf. Busying her body did nothing for her mind, but it was worth a try. Wasn’t that what people did? What was the word for it…Procrastination?

“What is it with the women on this ship thinking that I can read their thoughts?” Her cheeks flushed as she looked at him, noting the cheeky grin curving his lips. It was a joke merely meant to ease the clear awkwardness that Y/N was feeling.

“Perhaps it’s because of the look you give,” she quipped. “Piercing eyes and devilish smile, it must make any normal woman weak at the knees.”

Bucky’s ears turned a bright pink before it fully registered what she said. “Normal?”

Y/N hesitated, gnawing at her lip for a mere moment. She had to choose her words carefully.“If you haven’t noticed, none of the women on this ship are what would be deemed ‘normal’.”

“Fair enough,” Bucky agreed, leaning back on his hands. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t understand it. But this woman was interesting to him. Could it simply be because of how they found her? “Did you have a question or were you wanting to stay here and remind me of facts I already knew?”

“…Shuri brought me here because I was asking questions. Because I don’t remember. However, that being said, I was looking for maps.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of those.” Bucky pushed himself off his desk and joined her side. Immediately he started pulling scrolls down. “What did you wish to see? Wakanda? Stark or Asgard? There’s —“ Bucky’s words caught in his throat when her hand rest on his wrist, stopping him from grabbing anything. He looked at her, studying her features as she struggled to find the right words.

“Not of a place. I was looking for maps of the sky.”

“Oh…” He pulled away from her, a chill replacing where her hand had once been. Bucky hadn’t noticed it before, but she practically radiated heat. He tried to ignore the need to stay close to her and rubbed away the chilly feel that had set in. He was so used to that constant icy feeling that it seemed he forgot what it was like to feel so naturally warm. Shaking his head, Bucky glanced at the cabinet on the far side of the room. It was locked. He wanted to keep it that way. Those maps and everything else inside were his and not the crews. For someone who had to share most things with them constantly, it was important that he keep those for himself. “Why would you need them? The maps?”

Y/N noticed the way he looked at the cabinet. For someone so beloved by his crew, it seemed Bucky had intense trust issues. He would never let her see something if he deemed it important enough. “Never mind,” she murmured, knowing her lack of a reason would not be enough. “It’s probably nothing important.”

“Are you remembering something?”

“No. I guess I was simply hoping I would.” She offered a small smile, already making her way to the door. “I should go join Shuri. She’s excited about returning home.”

Bucky nodded, unable to bring himself to watch her leave. Instead, he stared intently the lined bottles of liquor and wondered if he should divulge in a drink before he was brought before King T’Challa and his welcome committee. Taking a slow breath, he listened to the click of the door and looked over his shoulder. He didn’t understand this woman. She was hiding something. He could feel it. 

But did she even know it?

————

Wakanda was a beautiful kingdom. Everyone knew it. It was the favorite for Bucky and his crew to visit because of their fascination with science, the always warm welcome, and the fact that women outnumbered men three-to-one. While the last of the list had mixed reasons as to why it was actually on the list, they could all agree — Wakanda was well loved.

Clint and Natasha had run off to explore and meet up with old friends. MJ decided to drag Peter to her favorite place to eat since he insisted on taking her to The Great Hall of Relics. MJ loved history, but it seemed visiting the hall for the tenth time was a little too much for her. Meanwhile, Hope was visiting Wakanda’s shops with an enthusiastic Scott. Sam, Ned, Stephen, Sharon, was busy focusing on running errands and picking up a few souvenirs.

That left Carol and Darcy on board the ship. They were more than happy to take a break from the chaos that was their crew members and, though they loved Wakanda, they loved the night life far more. They could wait.

But Shuri? Shuri was the most eager to be home. She loved her life as the ship’s surgeon and genius, but that didn’t mean she never missed home. And now she had someone entirely new to show around. “I still cannot believe that you’ve never heard of Wakanda, Y/N! It is beautiful and amazing and —“

“You’re bragging about your home. You know this, right?” Y/N smiled as Shuri shrugged it off, leading her to one of the shops. The smell of incense and food was enough to calm Y/N and make her stomach growl at the same time. She jumped at the noise, pressing a hand to her stomach. What was that?

Shuri raised an eyebrow, snickering when she saw Y/N’s bewildered gaze. “Hungry?”

“Princess Shuri,” one of the tenders spoke, grabbing her attention. “Please, take this.”

“How much?”

He shook his head, wrapping the food up and placing it in a bag. “It’s a gift for your return and for your friend.”

Shuri smiled, nodding her thanks before turning to Y/N. “Can your stomach wait for a bit or would you rather eat now?”

“Show me more.” Y/N was hungry, sure, but Wakanda was unlike the ship. As far as she could remember, she had never seen anything like it before. “Food can wait. I want to experience this.”

“That we can do.” 

The next few hours, Shuri spent arm in arm with Y/N. Every single historical sight was shown along with the fantastical ones as well. Shuri was far more interesting to listen to than any normal guide. She spoke with such interest and it was easy to tell that her heart was here. Y/N wondered why she chose to stay with the ship. 

“Why not be princess?” The confused look on Shuri’s face revealed that Y/N had actually voiced her thoughts. “I — I mean —“

“I understand what you mean. And in truth? Wakanda is amazing and it is the kingdom that treats its females the best. However, they still have much to learn. As do I. And I cannot learn the world’s secrets and people’s truth from inside a kingdom’s walls.”

“A ship gives you those opportunities?”

“Captain Barnes gives me those opportunities,” Shuri corrected. Y/N nodded, still not entirely sure she saw what it was about the man that everyone adored so much. She felt the princess squeeze her arm and looked her way. “He’s a good man. He left behind a life created for him to make one for himself. He’s a good captain, I promise. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Y/N knew she should believe Shuri. After all, she had a history with Bucky that Y/N didn’t. “He’s so distant.”

“Wouldn’t you be? He has a lot of weight on his shoulders and his past holds a lot of pain.”

Y/N frowned at that, wondering what parts of Bucky’s past kept him so withdrawn. What made him feel like he had to keep the world at arm’s length while what made him tick was locked away in the cabinet? 

And who knew about the real Bucky?

[snapdragonquest]

Library Date

Cygnus and Sagitta hold hands while studying. Because I am weak and crave that sweet content.

@thankourluckystars

The grand library was almost always empty, silent and devoid of sound, other than the odd rustle of turning pages, and the distant padding of footprints. The deep, musky smell of old books wafted through the air like a heavy cloud. Coffee and parchment, the smell of fresh ink. From a few open windows, a light spring breeze drifted in, bringing with it the fresh scent of honeysuckle and pollen. Warm morning sunlight danced across the room with a soft golden hue, and flecks of dust sparkled in the beams. It lit up the wooden flooring, between the dark shadows of the towering bookcases.

Sagitta had always been deeply fond of the atmosphere here. Quiet, cosy, and rich with history. Ancient and undisturbed. Wide open spaces and yet still so snug. The ornate stone pillars and the carved wooden shelves sang of the stories they held, promises of infinite knowledge, to those with the patience to read them.

As the clouds passed by, her head remained ducked in a large, brown stained book, fingers tracing the rugged edges of the paper as she neared the end of her page. Even with the window by her right, table pressed up to the glass, the vast expanse of sky rolling forever beneath her, she did not spare it a glance. Simply content to feel the cool air as it brushed across her cheek.

Untouched scrolls had been splayed out in front of her, along with other selections of books that she planned to skim over later. She wasn’t close to finishing her first chapter yet, but it was nice to have them there anyway. If anything, it would appear to others like she had finished them all before noon, and she liked the smell of the parchment anyway.

So engrossed in the contents of her history book, she didn’t even notice Cygnus’s approach until she had pulled out the adjacent chair out and sat down, sinking into her seat rather heavily. Sagitta turned her head, mouth open to offer their regular greeting, reaching into her bag to pass over the breakfast she knew her friend had neglected to eat that morning. But as she did, Sagitta found herself rather taken aback. Cygnus’s expression was all dishevelled, her eyes were wide with nerves, wings ruffled up, and her face was lit up with a ruddy colour.

“What could have happened so early in the morning to have you like this? You can’t have been awake more than an hour.” She asked, nudging a few slices of cinnamon nut cake towards her, and drumming her fingers on the open page. It wasn’t uncommon to find her like this, all flustered and agitated, her worried thoughts tangling together into a bird’s nest of scenarios before anything bad had even remotely happened. Be it stressing about her work, or tardiness, or being unprepared for something she hadn’t been assigned yet, or even just her appearance, she was superbly skilled at worrying about it. Sagitta really couldn’t understand how her mind worked. Cygnus was one of the most hardworking Celestrians she had ever met, and if anything, she was overprepared in everything she did.

“I’ve done something terrible.” Cygnus whispered back, voice wavering with urgency, and brows furrowed tight. Hands trembling, she reached into her bag, placing her own books across the table. The way she acted seemed significantly more unorganised than her usual manor, and Sagitta tucked the red bookmark string over her current page before flipping it closed.

As Cygnus stumbled over her notebooks and folders, laying them haphazardly and arranging them in careless piles, Sagitta gave her an inquisitive look. “I highly doubt that.”

“I lied to my teacher.”

Her voice was so hushed, it took Sagitta a few moments to process the words. But when she finally did, the realsiation hit her so unexpectedly that she was nearly alarmed.

“Oh.” She replied in a flat sort of tone, too surprised to give offer any sort of proper answer. No wonder Cygnus looked so fearful; Aquila was not the sort of teacher to be messed with. She could easily admit, he even made her a little nervous. “What did you say to him?”

She chewed her lip, brushing a loose strand of hair behind one ear and looking down at the table. “I told him we were studying together.”

“That’s…” Sagitta paused, the worry immediately vanishing from her and quickly turning into perplexity. She gave Cygnus a look, mouth turned up. “That’s not a lie. We are studying together.”

“Yes but it’s not the whole truth either!” She whispered back in a frantic tone, reorganising her books again to stack the smaller ones upon the largest, and shuffling her loose paper notes. “We’re… you know. He asked what we were doing together. I got so nervous I couldn’t get the right words out. And it feels like lying all the same, even if I didn’t say anything wrong. I’m just so stressed about it. He’ll be so, so angry when he finds out.” She ran her fingers through her hair, mussing it up, and then spent the next few moments trying to neaten it up again.

Sagitta shook her head, exasperated. The library was supposed to be her calm, safe space, where she could spend her time studying in peace. And while Cygnus was usually such a good reading partner, the two of them working together through difficult paragraphs and keeping each other company when the boredom began to sink in, she had quite the ability to get in a tizzy.

“He won’t.” She said firmly, voice low and impassive. And while she reopened her book, out of the corner of her eye, she watched the other apprentice reorganise hers again.

“I just can’t stop thinking about whats he’s going to say. I’ve never kept anything from him before.” Suddenly she jolted upright in alarm and tucked her hands into her lap, fidgeting with the tassels of her skirt. “I bet he already knows.” Her voice was quiet, and yet somehow laced with enough panic to feel it buzz off of her in waves. “He probably knew I was lying and he’s going to drop me as his student. Or he’s going to tell Apus Major. I think I might have to run away and spend my life as a sheep herder on the nomadic plains–”

“Cygnus, hush.” She slammed her book together with enough force to make the other girl jump, but gentle enough to keep the sound dimmed. This was still a library after all. Startled into silence, Cygnus ducked her shoulders, and glanced back at her sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

“You worry too much.” Sagitta said, and picked up a dry quill off the desk to flick her on the head with. She handed it back to Cygnus, who placed it in an orderly line with her others. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong, stop panicking. Besides, have we actually done anything other than work when we’re together?”

“Well… I suppose not.” She admitted, the tension visibly ebbing away.

“There you go. You didn’t lie.”

“But–” She started, and Sagitta picked up the quill again in warning, giving her another look. Cygnus huffed, but smiled a little anyway, finally leaving the arrangement as it was and picking a single book to read. A study of weapon forging; relatively new, if the bright cover was any indication. “I’m not just here because I like studying. Though I do, I do like studying.” She nodded earnestly, and Sagitta found herself holding back a snigger. “But, I also like spending time with you.”

Her face immediately lit up with a slight dusting of pink, and her mottled grey and white wings shifted a little, becoming more comfortable over the back of the chair. She must have been blessed with her namesakes’ feathers, Sagitta thought. While pristinely groomed, the dark, fluffy fledgling colours still clung across them like a young swan, making her look like a mosaic.

Sagitta couldn’t help but tsk at her reaction, and despite herself, she felt a faint smile tug at the corners of her lips, heat rising up to her cheeks as well. She scooted her chair in a little more to the table, fingertips subconsciously brushing against the beauty spot by her mouth.

Opening back up to a previous page, using the decorated bookmark to keep tabs on which line she was reading, Cygnus mumbled, “I know we haven’t done anything different than usual, but I still feel so... scandalous.”

“Scandalous!” Sagitta barked out a laugh, before hastily glancing away, aware of how loud that had been. But still, as she looked back at Cygnus’s expression; rose hued and suddenly abashed, a wide grin spread across her face. “You haven’t even held my hand yet.”

Cygnus opened up her mouth to reply, almost mortified, spluttering on words and growing redder by the second. A few moments passed before she finally found her voice, but only managed to stumble out a few syllables before hiding away in her book, avoiding Sagitta’s eye. Her wings fluffed up as she hunched over the table, and Sagitta watched with a sense of amusement, waiting patiently. On cue, her posture slowly, habitually straightened up, and her face loosened up from its scrunched-up expression. Surely that position was uncomfortable, always rigid backed and held up tall, but truthfully, a lot of things Cygnus did eluded her.

That was what made her so charming.

As the other girl began furiously writing in her notebooks, her quill working against the paper in a familiar, scratching rhythm, Sagitta let herself return to her own book, reading over the long, droning paragraphs until she found herself caught in its flow. The sound of Cygnus’s writing and the crinkle of pages was enough of a comforting sound to let her really study. Before long, she found that she was on the last page, and with a blooming of pride in her chest, went to pick out another book.

Cygnus, as always, hadn’t really understood the idea of taking notes, and appeared to have written down more information than was even expressed in the text. Pages upon pages of tidy, elegant letters lay before her, underlined and titled, and Sagitta didn’t know how she was possibly supposed to remember it all. Was she even supposed to remember it all? She doubted it. When could she ever require this information in her guardianship?

The sun passed by, the rays of light drifting their way across the room, and Sagitta poked the nut cake with her elbow to remind Cygnus to actually eat it. Incredibly, she actually stopped writing, pausing to look down at the food. Sagitta could practically hear the gears turning in her head, and watched as she began to gnaw on her lip again.

She took a deep breath, placing down her quill.

“Would you like to?”

It was more of a squeak than a whisper, and when Sagitta looked over at her, her face exploded in red, right up to the tips of her ears.

“Hm?” She asked, raising one brow.

Cygnus cleared her throat, and it almost seemed like her halo glowed brighter, heat radiating off of her as she brushed her fringe out of her eyes. “Would you like to hold hands?” She whispered.

Sagitta blinked, and her thoughts stuttered to a stop, clouding over with a mixture of sudden adoration and blind panic until the only sounds that came out of her mouth were, “It will be a struggle to write notes with my left hand.”

Cygnus nodded stiffly, hair tumbling across her face in long waves of colour, and her expression tightened. Mouth pulling into a thin line. “Right, right, of course. Sorry.”

That wasn’t what she meant to say. That wasn’t what she meant to say at all. What did she mean to say? She didn’t quite know, her stomach twisting suddenly with butterflies as her heart started to pound a little harder. Cygnus looked genuinely crushed, hiding her face in her books as she ducked back over, not even remembering to pick up her quill.

As she tried to fix her muddled brain back into working order, Sagitta decided it would be best to shut her mouth for now. Instead, with one hand, she reached out and took Cygnus’s in hers.

To her credit, the other Celestrian didn’t jump too abruptly, only a little bit, freezing solid for a good few seconds before eventually melting into her hold. Her fingers gingerly moved to interlace with her own, and Sagitta couldn’t help but marvel at how warm she was, how rough her skin was already from handling her sword.

Aquila trained her hard, and it showed in the calloused edges. She should feel envious about that, Rigel was so relaxed with his methods, some days she wanted to scream with boredom. Her training never pushed her too far, never left her tired or worn out in the evening. Cygnus would work herself down to the bone, until she was nodding off during their evening study sessions. Already the improvements were visible.

She felt a light squeeze to her hand.

She did not feel envious.

Cygnus peeked out from behind the ribbons of her hair, her eyes wide and glimmering with light. She quickly looked around, checking if anyone had seen them. Of course, hidden away as they were between the bookshelves, not a soul remained there to bother them, and her face lit up in an expression Sagitta could only describe as giddy. Her eyes crinkling up with the size of her grin.

As their hands began to rest underneath the table, swinging loosely between the two of them, Sagitta wondered if her face looked equally as flustered. It certainly felt a lot hotter, though that could have been the afternoon sun. It gleamed off Cygnus’s hair like solid gold, her own personal sunbeam, and yet she was looking back up at Sagitta like she was the moon and the stars.

She squeezed Cygnus’s hand back, reminding her to get back to work, and it took another, tighter one to pull her out of her daze. Her shoulders flinched, grinning sheepishly as she finally drew her gaze away, and went to pick up her quill.

Just as she reached it, she paused, fingers twitching, before reaching for her breakfast and taking a bite.

Sagitta beamed. Clearly she liked it, if the way her face lit up was any indication, and she gave Sagitta’s hand another squeeze in appreciation. A loose crumb stuck to her face, clinging to the side of her cheek, and she wrinkled up her nose trying to lick it off. But with one hand keeping her page open, and the other one occupied, she couldn’t reach it.

The dilemma obviously troubled her. She looked back at each hand, and scrunched up her lip, deciding whether it was worth leaving it alone, poking her tongue out one side. With her free hand, Sagitta reached over and brushed it off her face with one thumb. While Cygnus was still reeling, somehow turning even redder, eyes growing wider, she tapped the paper in front of her.

“Keep working. Or Aquila really will start to get suspicious.”

It was a complete lie. Cygnus had already done enough work to last the entire day, but if Sagitta was being honest, if she looked up at her like that for any longer, she was going to melt completely. It was only fair that she fluster a bit too. Besides, the quiet Eep that escaped her partner as she jumped and buried herself back in her books was more than worth it.

Sagitta sighed quietly, turning back to her own work. The words were tiny, and the paragraphs drowned out each page in solid blocks of text, but it didn’t really seam to matter. She did always study better when Cygnus was scrawling away next to her, and the feeling of her fingers tangled with hers kept her mind focused.

She squeezed her hand again, and smiled as she turned a page.

The sun meandered its way across the sky, leaving prickles of warmth across her face, and Sagitta’s little sunbeam squeezed her hand back.

[1-1snailxd-art]

Libraries are for Meetings

Master List —– Chapter 9

Chapter 10 - A tale of the Lost

Warnings: negative thoughts, homophobia, death mentioned

Summary: Logan and Virgil share a pleasant meal before their pasts bring it to a tear-filled end.

Word count: 4419

Note: reading on mobile can remove the paragraphing sometimes. Use desktop site or visit my Ao3 page if it bothers you as much as it bothers me.

This chapter includes art by @the-pastel-peach​. Respect the artist and myself and please do not repost. Share this post or the artists original links only.

 ____________________

  Logan held the door open and gestured for Virgil to enter; pizza boxes securely in his hands. The apartment was rather deceiving; though it had appeared narrow from the outside, the inner layout made it feel spacious and welcoming. Stepping past the kitchen to the small dining table, Virgil set the boxes down and eagerly flipped them open to reveal the greasy pizza, garlic knots and chocolate brownie. It was a meal fit for a king in his mind and he eagerly grabbed a slice to start eating before Logan appeared with napkins; humming as the treat warmed his very soul.

   “I take it you don’t get pizza very often?” Logan inquired, raising an eyebrow at the others euphoric face.

Instinctively shaking his head, Virgil swallowed and sheepishly took a napkin to wipe his face.

“Sorry. I was in such a hurry this morning I skipped breakfast.”

“That isn’t a frequent habit of yours, is it?” Virgil shrugged and chewed on the pizza crust; causing Logan to sigh and reach for his own slice. “Though some research suggests skipping meals, such as breakfast, is good for weight loss, the more prominent effect is reduced energy levels. If you want to be able to function at your best, you should have regular healthy meals.”

“Thanks, Google.” Virgil grinned, licking the oil from his fingers. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future. How’s this pizza look in terms of health factor?”

“Well, it does cover most of the major food groups; so, I think you will be okay.”

 The pair laughed and continued eating; Virgil once again impressed that Logan could be both serious and easy going. It was a comforting balance and with each exchange, he felt himself relaxing more and more in their presence. They bantered back and forth overeating habits and better food options until Logan excused himself to collect the hard drive he needed looked at.

Virgil moved the remains of their lunch to the kitchen and took a cloth to wipe the table clean of any oily residue. Satisfied, he set up his laptop before pulling his phone out, almost thankful to see Ben hadn’t replied; though he did wonder what it meant in the long run. Anxiety melted away when Logan returned, and he eagerly took the drive from his hands to dive into work. Pulling up screens with strings of file names and codes, Virgil clicked and scrolled through windows with the confidence of a child turning the pages of a book. Logan was lost watching him; same as the last time he watched him work.

   “Your intelligence certainly exceeds my own, Virgil.”

“What are you talking about?” He scoffed in reply, not looking away from the screen. “Who’s the science major with, I’m guessing, a full academic scholarship in this room?”

“I actually had offers for my academic and athletic abilities from various higher education institutes; but that’s beside the point.”

“Humbling remark there, Lo.”

“Yes; but, you certainly best me when it comes to computers. I honestly have no idea what it is you are doing right now. It just looks like keyboard smashing to me.”

The laugh that shook Virgil’s thin body was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was weightless, uplifting and pure; and he could feel that it brought fresh colour to his cheeks.

“Just know,” he gasped through stifled giggles, “I will only see this as a keyboard smash from now on, and I love the fact that you compared it to that.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you please explain what you are doing?”

“Oh, I’m cleaning the files. You haven’t been ejecting the disc properly and there was a lot of rough data. You gotta take care of your files man, it’s a delicate system.”

“Right,” Logan nodded but looked even more confused. “Would you show me how to - um - eject this… disc properly, at a later date?”

“Sure, Logan.” Virgil beamed, shaking his head slightly at the man’s uncertain tone.

   Clicking a file, an image loaded on the screen and Virgil grinned at Logan in triumph. A small smile sat on his face as he inspected the picture from his and Patton’s high school graduation.

“Looking good there, Lo.” He mused, pointing at the obviously fake smile plastered on their face. “That is a brilliant smile if I do say so myself.”

“I didn’t particularly enjoy the public display, nor the outfit. Have you saved all the images?” As Virgil nodded, Logan shuffled closer and reached towards the arrow keys. “Would you mind if I have a quick look?”

“The laptop is metaphorically yours.” He replied, angling the device closer for Logan to reach.

   Shuffling through the images, Virgil watched Logan’s face light up as each image loaded on the screen. Familiar faces of Roman and Katie flashed up, as well as many selfies with Patton. It wasn’t until Logan must have shuffled into another folder that the tone of the moment shifted; nostalgic joys replaced with sadness as Jason’s face began appearing in each photo. Selfies, photos taken from a bystander of the two close together, and shots from track races slid across the screen. 

*art by @the-pastel-peach​*

A new emotion snaked into Virgil’s gut that he hadn’t felt in a while. Jealousy. The happiness that emanated from every photo of Jason and Logan made Virgil’s stomach churn. It was different to the smile he saw in the photos with Patton; a clear indication of how different Logan’s relationships with both were.

Logan paused on an image of Roman holding Patton bridal style with Jason hugging Logan to their left; the biggest smile Virgil had ever seen spread across Logan’s face.

“You look really happy there.” He noted, half smiling at the sad man beside him.

“We were… but it wasn’t enough for Jason.”

“What do you mean?” Leaning back in his chair, Virgil knitted his brow in confusion. “Everything I’ve seen, and from what you’ve told me, it seemed you were both very happy. He loved you.”

A breathy laugh left Logan’s lips and he pressed the arrow key again, causing a video to begin playing. “Not enough.”

   Virgil watched the recording in silence; Logan leaning back and staring at the screen sadly. Jason held the camera on himself in dim flickering light, the muffled thump of music in the background as he spoke.

   “Hey, Lo, you left your phone behind, so I thought I’d leave a little message for you. I don’t know when you’re going to watch this or if I’m going to be with you, but whatever.”

He took a breath to steady himself and looked straight into the camera with soft determined features.

“Logan, we met in the best way possible; beating up a homophobic asshole and getting locked in a cell together. You were the first person from school I came out too and, by default, I was the first person you came out to. We went from strangers on the track, to friendly competitors, and I relished every opportunity to take you on. I held your hand when you came out to your parents. You were there when my Dad passed away. You supported my move to help Katie and Roman. I watched you beat my school track record and handed over that title with pride and an embrace they’re still talking about.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled to himself.

“And shit, you’re a good hugger, Logan. I mean, 10 out of 10 better than Patton.”

      Logan let out a small laugh and swiped a tear that escaped his eye; ignoring the voice screaming for him to stop the video before it ended.

      “Anyway, what I’m trying to get at is, we’ve been through a lot together… and, I want to go through more. So, Logan Mars…will you marry me?”

Jason broke into a laugh and swiped his eyes, before steadying the camera again.

“Let me know at your earliest convenience. And if not convenient, let me know all the same. I love you, Logan. But I know that’s no mystery to you.”

       The video ended on Jason’s half smiling face and Virgil sniffed, not even registering that he had even started crying. He had no reason to cry, really. He didn’t even know Jason, and yet he was crying. Jason had proposed. Logan had been engaged to marry the man he’d lost. It made it even more jarring when Logan spoke next.

   “He didn’t love me though.”

“Are you insane?” Virgil gasped, gesturing to the screen. “He proposed. Isn’t that the very definition of love, Logan? I didn’t know him, but Jason clearly loved you a lot.”

“That’s just it, Virgil.” The man turned and met his eye, “it looked that way to everyone, but I wasn’t enough.”

“Wha- How?”

“Do you know what happened after he recorded that message?” Logan paused but he wasn’t expecting an answer; merely allowing himself the chance to take a breath. “E’s sister had thrown a party at her house for the science majors. I’d just left because Patton wasn’t feeling well and accidentally left my phone behind in my rush. After recording that message, a fire broke out in the house and Jason went in to help get everyone out.”

Silent tears slipped from Logan’s eyes as he spoke, but his voice didn’t waver as he continued; Virgil remaining transfixed by every word.

“He pulled E out of the flames because she passed out in the lounge room; dropping my phone as he left to go back inside. He went back into a burning building, Virgil. The man who just proposed and was safely outside, went back in because he couldn’t leave it alone. His need to save everyone outweighed his love for me.”

Now Logan’s voice broke; no longer holding back his emotions.

“I wasn’t enough. My love wasn’t enough. Why wasn’t I enough for him, Virgil? Why didn’t he love me enough?”

   The room froze and Virgil’s lungs stopped working as he was hit with déjà vu. His own voice asking similar questions.

Why wasn’t I good enough for him?

Why doesn’t she love me?

Am I not good enough anymore?

   “You are enough.” Virgil demanded, initiating a hug he never thought he would ever willingly engage in. “We both are. Regardless of what others say.”

The words weren’t his own; parroted from a voice of his past that Virgil struggled to believe most days, but today he needed to believe it for Logan’s sake. They both needed to believe it.

Hands gently rubbed each other’s backs, a soothing support for each as their breaths calmed. Silence filled the air the longer they remained pulled close; neither wanting to move while they were raw with emotion.

“You are the first person I’ve shown that video,” Logan whispered; breaking the silence. “I kept his proposal to myself this whole time.”

“Why me now?” Virgil said in confusion, shifting slightly as his muscles ached from being still so long.

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you regret showing me?”

Logan shook his head against Virgil’s shoulder and breathed deeply. Despite his response, part of him posed the same sort of questions - why did he show Virgil? Why was he so eager to share everything with someone who was still an acquaintance? As his mind wondered, the silence stretched on again until a sigh cut through the still air.

“I’m no stranger to loss, Logan.” Virgil whispered; all fear washed away with his tears from earlier. “My only family is an aunt that I’m paying back for bailing me out, so I know what it’s like to feel alone…but you are far from alone.”

As each word was comprehended, Logan found his mind clearing; accepting the words of the man that felt far from a stranger to him.

“You have Patton, and Roman, and Katie, and E and…”

“You?”

Virgil chuckled and gave him a squeeze, “Yeah. I guess you can have me too.”

   They stayed together for a moment longer before slowly separating so Logan could grab something softer than the napkins they had on hand to clean up. Virgil picked up his phone and saw his dishevelled face in the reflection, before setting it down on the table and requesting directions to the bathroom.

“Upstairs. It’s pretty easy to spot.”

“Thanks. I’ll, um, be right back.”

   Logan sat back down at the computer and continued clicking through photos. He still didn’t understand why he allowed himself to get caught up in the images and reveal so much to Virgil. He was suddenly very aware of how impolite it was to meet someone and show them videos of your deceased partner so you could cry on their shoulder. Confusion aside, he felt a lot better in doing so and Virgil had even opened up slightly. The younger man had obviously lost his family in a way Logan could only assume was outside of the norm, and he was thankful they opened up slightly.

Watching the images flick by, he jumped as Virgil’s phone vibrated on the table. On impulse alone, Logan tilted the phone up to look at the illuminated screen before realising it wasn’t his own. Quickly setting it back down he moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge just as Virgil made his way down the stairs. He hadn’t meant to read the message, but he couldn’t take it back now and Logan knew he couldn’t broach the subject with Virgil. It left him silently shuffling through the kitchen in silence as he mulled over the message’s meaning while Virgil tapped away at the laptop keys.

   “Um, I’ve cleaned the drive and it should work fine for you now.” Virgil proclaimed, packing up the materials on the table.

“Thanks…for everything.” Cheeks heating with embarrassment, Logan took the drive from Virgil’s outstretched hand. “I got a little caught up in the moment and wen-”

“It’s fine, Lo.” As Virgil looked up from his bag, a genuine smile spread across his face. “Really. It was…nice and - um - I-I have a question.”

“Oh, sure. What is it?”

Pulling his bag up and over his shoulder, Virgil fiddled with his bag strap nervously and forced his mouth to cooperate.

“I know you’ve got a busy few days ahead, but…would you like to hang out again? At some point.”

“I’d like that.”

   Looking at Logan had Virgil’s heart racing and suddenly the voices were back. The woman’s voice disgusted at the idea of a man loving a man. The young men joking and teasing. The woman’s screams of anger. But then there was another.

I will still love him regardless of who he loves. He’s my son. Nothing will change that.

   "Logan?" Virgil's voice was suddenly small and quiet, and Logan peered over his glasses in confusion by his sudden change in demeanour. "Can I... Can I hug you? Again."

Though initially taken aback, Logan nodded and closed the gap between them; Virgil dropping his bag strap as he wrapped his arms around Logan’s torso. Their heights weren’t close, so Logan lowered himself slightly to allow Virgil’s head to rest comfortably on his shoulder. The hug was different from what Logan had previously experienced. Not awkward and full of sadness like before. Not dainty like his past girlfriends. It was hardly snuggly like with Patton and nothing like Jason. Jason had been a rock. Firm and supportive. Virgil was... Sturdy and soft. Like he would hold him up but could also crumble at any moment.

   The instant Logan’s arms embraced Virgil, he felt safer. The negative voices were silenced and all he heard was the voice of his grandparents. Supportive, accepting and kind. It felt right and for that time, he felt truly safe.

The sound of Logan's phone broke the peace of the moment and Virgil quickly drew back; not wanting to keep the man from checking it. With a sigh, Logan looked at the message on his phone and then back to Virgil.

"I need to go into work for a bit; Maggie isn’t well. I'm sorry, Virgil. This was meant to just be a nice lunch and I-"

"Thank you, Logan."

"What?"

"I think. I think I really needed today."

"Oh. Well, you’re welcome, Virgil."

Lifting his bag back over his shoulder, Virgil smiled up at Logan. "I should get back to the library and do some work befo-"

He was cut off by his phone ringing; Logan noticed Ben's name lighting the screen and the way Virgil’s hands immediately began to tremble. "I've got to go."

"I just have to grab my uniform and I'll drive-"

"It's fine, Lo. I'll walk, I really need to go."

There was a significant shift in Virgil’s tone and demeanour that had Logan very concerned about the message he’d seen earlier.

"Virgil? What’s wrong?"

“Nothing. I’ll catch you later, Lo.”

The door accidentally slammed shut as Virgil rushed out, swiping the screen to answer Ben’s incoming call; leaving Logan alone with seeds of worry taking root in his stomach.

   *************************

    "Bless you." Patton maintained a smile as he offered the tissue box to the student that had just covered their worksheet in a spray of saliva. "Cover your mouth next time, please."

"Yes, Mr Smiles."

Ignoring spit and snot was all part of the job in Patton's eyes as he continued to read the questions on the slightly soggy sheet. Working with children was something Patton had known he wanted to do since he was in middle school. It was one part wanting to encourage creativity and another part wanting to be better than some of the teachers he had had. The volunteering he did at the moment did nothing for his bank account, but Patton found he was learning a lot more in those few hours he could manage in a classroom compared to the hours spent on campus.

   As the final bell rang, the small group farewelled Patton with hugs before racing out the door and, after bidding the supervising teacher farewell, he soon followed behind. Despite being eager to leave, Patton did make the effort to stop by the staff bathroom and smother his hands in disinfectant; knowing how crippling a cold was for Roman in more ways than one. Leaving the bathroom, the school echoed with the students' yelling and laughter as they flooded the sidewalks to begin their journey home. When Patton finally exited the building, he found himself quickly dodging the kids to reach the man leaning against a tree to the side. Pocketing his phone, Roman looked up just as Patton wrapped their arms around his neck; teasing him with a kiss.

"I come to pick you up and all I get is a lousy kiss on the cheek." Roman pouted.

"There are children present, Ro, and I don't see your valiant steed anywhere to take me away." There was a wicked gleam in Roman's eyes at Patton's words that made him giggle in anticipation. "Unless you've got your car hidden nearby?"

"My car wasn't coming anywhere near these little door bangers." The comment got an eye roll in response, but Roman stepped back and grinned regardless. "However, I will still be picking you up." "Oh no, no, no." Red bloomed on Patton's cheeks as he realised his partners plans. "I can't do that here, Ro." "Why not? It's just a piggyback, Pat. No one will even notice if you don't screech like a banshee. Now hop on."

Patton glanced around nervously as Roman turned and braced himself for him to jump on. Part of him knew it wasn’t professional to behave in such a manner; however, his inner child could not be denied for long and Patton was soon on Roman’s back. Ignoring the few looks of distaste, Roman strode down the path as Patton recalled his day happily in his ear.

  It wasn’t long before Patton noticed the change in Roman’s pace; tiring from early morning rehearsals and a shift at work. Knowing he would never admit to his aching muscles, Patton turned his head to whisper towards Roman’s ear.

“Time to put me down, dear prince.”

“What are you talking about?” Roman huffed, shifting his arms to rebalance the weight on his back. “I could do this all the way home.”

“I know you think you can, but you shouldn’t.” Patton said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Now, put me down, please.”

It took a bit of wriggling on Patton’s part, but eventually Roman admitted defeat and let the man down. Standing beneath a tree, Patton shook his head as he watched his partner run through a series of stretches.

“Maybe it isn’t a good idea to do stuff like that anymore, Ro. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Are you implying that I am too old to give piggyback rides?”

“No,” Patton fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he spoke; feeling guilty as Roman continued to stretch. “But I am. And I know I haven’t kept as fit as Logan sinc-“

“Don’t you dare go there, Patton.”

  The use of his name in such a serious tone, had Patton gluing his gaze to the ground. Roman was no stranger to his partners train of thought, and they were about to jump onto a negative track he didn’t want them travelling down.

“Age is but a number and you know how I feel about body image.” Straightening, Roman reached out to lift Patton’s chin and make them meet his soft brown eyes. “I want to carry you around until we’re old and grey.”

“And even then, you will probably still try.”

“You bet I will, because I just love the way it makes you smile.”

Dropping his eyes, Patton smiled as he pictured an elderly Roman trying to lift him from a wheelchair. His thoughts were pulled back as warm lips connected with his own. Lifting his arms to wrap them around Roman’s neck, Patton lent into the kiss and allowed himself to get lost as they automatically responded to each other’s movements.

  The serenity of chirping birds was broken by rolling wheels clacking on concrete and children’s laughter was carried through the air. As the noise came closer, a smile pulled Patton’s lips away and he pressed his forehead on Roman’s; breathing deeply as he watched his partners eyes shift behind closed lids.

“I can feel you staring.” A wicked smile spread across Roman’s face and one eye slid open slightly. “You like what you see?”

“Not really,” eyes snapped open as Patton lent back with his own mischievous look, “I’d prefer to see it with a hint of powdered sugar.”

With a wink, Roman knew exactly what Patton was insinuating; they had baking to do.

“What are we waiting for? We have some sugar to acquire!”

Grabbing his partners hand, Roman practically dragged him down the path in excitement; quickly overtaking the group of children that had just past them.

    ****************

    As the afternoon began its shift into evening, the meeting members each prepared themselves for the emotional catch up ahead. Ethan finished boxing up mixed sliders for the group just as Roman messaged that he was parked around the side of the diner. The couple had changed clothes following a messy baking session at Roman’s house; kitchen quickly wiped clean to hide their shenanigans from Katie. The sugar scent from the cookies filled Roman’s car and was soon mixed with the diner’s aroma as Ethan climbed inside. Keeping their greetings brief, the music was turned up as the group made their way to the library.

    Collecting a cooler bag from the passenger seat, Logan locked his car and headed into the library through the back door. He was surprised to find Katie alone and setting up a picnic rug in the middle of the reading area.

“Hey Katie. Where’s Virgil? I thought he was helping you set up?”

“I was going to ask you about that.” Katie said as she straightened and followed Logan towards the kitchen area. “He called and said he had a friend to visit and he’d do the clean in the morning instead. But, I’m not sure about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something was off.”

Logan placed bottles of drink in the fridge and looked over to Katie’s thoughtfully knotted brow.

“How so?”

“Something in the way he spoke. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something definitely wasn’t right. Did everything go okay with you two today?”

“Well… it didn’t go bad.” Sliding the leftovers he had forgotten to give Virgil into the freezer, Logan turned and shrugged at the woman behind him. “There were some… low points. But, otherwise, it was a rewarding experience.”

It didn’t feel right to disclose all that had occurred, and he didn’t see any reason to share the private message he’d seen. Katie didn’t seem convinced and Logan sighed as he took out his phone.

“If you give me his number, I can send him a message and check in.”

“Thought you would have exchanged numbers by now.” She commented, setting her phone to send Logan the contact information he needed.

“I’m not going to feed your little fantasy and respond to that comment.” Logan smiled and sat on a nearby chair to type out a message. “Why don’t you go finish shutting up the front of the library and I’ll set up back here.”

“Sure, Lo. I’ll give you and your phone some privacy then, shall I?” With a wink, Katie headed towards the libraries front to lock up and shut the main computer down for the evening.

Alone at the back, Logan typed out a brief message and waited patiently for a reply.

  Logan: Hi Virgil, this is Logan. Thank you again for your assistance today. It was very much appreciated. In our rush this afternoon, I forgot to pass on some additional payment for you. Could we possibly meet at the library tomorrow for me to exchange it?

Virgil: let it go Logan. I don’t need anything else from you.

  Logan was unsure of how to interpret the tone of Virgil’s message. There were multiple ways he was able to hear it in his mind. Left to dwell he would have fixated on the negative connotations, but Patton, Roman and Ethan’s entrance pulled him away. Sliding the phone into his pocket, Logan shifted his focus to the friends he had in his company. An overdue meeting was ready to occur.

____________________

End Note

Wow, it has been over a month since I updated. Jeepers that’s a bit of a wait. Sorry about that. It may be a similar thing for the next chapter because my idea of updating fortnightly just hasn’t worked out in the long run. Too much untamed creativity and not enough time.

 I have mixed feelings about this chapter. I love my analogical, but the royality just isn’t flowing for me at the moment. Not quite sure why.

 Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter and the art by @the-pastel-peach. Now you can get a bit of an idea of how I see Jason. The red streaks were my way of connecting him to Roman (red, Roman, fire – it all relates). I think that might do for commissions for this for now though. I haven’t really got any scenes that stick in my brain (even though I would love to see E and Katie). Don’t forget to like and share Peach’s post if you enjoyed their artwork. Please don’t repost the art yourself, only share posts by Peach or myself.

 Thanks again for reading. Happy timezone, friend 💜🐌

Tag List (let me know if you want to be removed)

@notalwaysthebadguy​      @thequeensphinx​    @ollyollyoxinfree​   @celeste-tyrrell​     @pumpkinminette​    

_____________________________

Chapter 11   — MasterList

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Writing Master Post

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles​

[today-only-happens-once]

With Great Power - Chapter 7

Catch up or read on AO3 here!

Fic Summary:  Thomas Sanders is just a regular social media personality. But when he gets bit by a spider during filming one of his YouTube videos, his whole life is about to turn upside down—whether he (or the aspects of his personality) want it to or not. Platonic LAMP/CALM + Character!Thomas. Spider-Man AU.

Chapter Word Count: 3646

Chapter warnings: cursing, threats, alcohol consumption (casual and not heavy), robbery mention, please let me know if I missed anything. 

A/N: Longer chapter with a hecking lot jammed into it, but I hope it’s an okay read. Was excited about this chapter, so I hope you enjoy the ride! Finished the edits around midnight last night and decided to wait until morning to post. Edited by yours truly. All mistakes are mine. Please let me know what ya think! 

Tags: @captain-loki-xavier, @human-dictionary, @the-peculiar-bi-tch, @mining-pup, @band-be-boss-blog, @asexual-trashbag, @samathekittycat, @why-should-i-tell-youu2, @theobsessor1, @always3charcoaltea, @changeling-ash, @logical-princey, @princelogical, @crimsonshadow323, @flickering-raven, @smokeyrutilequartz, @dontbugmeimantisocial, @liz-a-bell, @black-king-white-knight, @soijusthavetoask, @analogical-mess, @marvelfangeek09, @dolphidragon, @thelowlysatsuma, @approximately12lbs-of-ducks, @vigilantvirgil

The internet personality sits on the couch in the living room of his apartment with his laptop balanced carefully on his thighs. It’s the middle of the afternoon the following day. He’d slept until almost noon, then scrolled through twitter and the news feed that was buzzing with the blurry, confusing security footage from the bank last night.

The spider logo had been visible from the way Thomas had wrapped the sweatshirt around his face, and that’s really all the public seemed to need to stir up excitement again. SPIDER-MAN MAKES A RETURN? had been the basis for nearly every headline Thomas had seen on the subject. News anchors puzzled over the bizarre footage of someone crawling on the ceiling. He’d watched a few interviews with some of the people that had gotten out safely—none of them claimed to know anything about who this “Spider-Man” might be.

Some threads on Twitter called him a “cryptid”. Others called him a “freak”. Law enforcement officials posted about how he should have left the job to professionals rather than go “vigilante”. Most called him a “hero”.

It left a weird, but not necessarily unpleasant, feeling in his stomach.

A few reports talked about the man Thomas had fought: Al Trevors, according to several news articles. He’d been a bus driver, apparently, with a wife and twin boys who were four years old. His wife is a lawyer, who had apparently advised him to not speak to the press. There had been no official statement from Trevors.

Eventually, Thomas stopped looking into the reaction to last night and instead turned his attention to the black cardstock rectangle he’d picked up. It sits beside him on the couch. On Thomas’s laptop, the cursor blinks lazily in the Google search bar.

“Thomas, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Virgil is standing in his usual space at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze narrowed at the host.

Thomas glances up at him, then back at the card. “No,” he says honestly.

Logan appears beside the staircase before Virgil can so much as open his mouth. He smooths his tie. “Virgil, you know as well as I do that Thomas buying into willful ignorance is likely only to be detrimental.”

Virgil shoots Logan a look. “Yeah, I know, Pocket Protector. I just…” he waves a hand at Thomas’s laptop. “I have a bad feeling about it. That’s all.”

Logan inclines his head. “Understandable, given the limited information we have available to us and your inclination to protect us.”

Thomas watches as Virgil glances quickly at the Logical Side. “Right…”

“However,” Logan continues, a little bit softer, “we have a responsibility. Knowing is always better than not knowing. And you know as well as I do, Virgil, that you would feel an equal level of distress—if not a more prolonged one as well—staying kept in the dark. Especially when there is a potential threat involved.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, but Thomas can see the hesitation of thought in the Anxious Side. He’s listening to Logan. “Knwoledge is our greatest weapon, huh?” he says dryly.

Logan nods once, his certainty undeterred by Virgil’s snark. “And our greatest defense.”

Virgil pauses. Then he groans, scrubbing a sweatshirt-covered hand across his eyes. “Fine, Thomas. Look it up.”

Thomas takes a breath as Logan crosses over towards the couch and sits beside him. Virgil sits on the other side. Thomas types “ekko” into the search bar and presses enter.

The first thing that pops up is a link to the YouTube video that Joan had been talking about. It’s titled “The First Warning”. The internet personality hovers his cursor over the link. The thumbnail is a blank, black screen.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, but Thomas doesn’t miss him flipping his hood up over his hair. It’s accompanying a tightening in Thomas’s stomach that makes him scroll further down the page instead of clicking on the link. He senses more than sees Logan glance disapprovingly at him, but the Logical Side doesn’t say anything.

The links below the video are a smattering of people talking about it: Twitter threads, pop culture websites that wrote articles about it, a talk show segment where they chat about it. Thomas wonders if maybe reading about it second hand would be enough.

“Thomas,” Logan says reproachfully. “While it would be better than nothing, a video is not capable of hurting you.”

“Beg to differ,” Virgil snaps.

“You’re stalling,” Logan replies flatly. “You cannot delay this forever.”

“Uh, he absolutely can.”

“Granted. But he shouldn’t.”

Thomas scrolls up quickly to the top of the page and clicks on the link before he can lose his nerve. Virgil growls and covers his face with his hands, peeking at the computer screen between his fingers. Thomas’s hands curl into loose fists against his legs. His foot taps quickly against the carpet.

The screen starts with static and a high-pitched whine. Flashes of news footage from riots, bombings, warzones. Static glitches.

It cuts out.

Thomas can just barely make out a silhouetted figure in the dark screen before a feminine voice starts speaking. “Pity, isn’t it?”

More footage, flashing so quickly that Thomas can’t decipher it all except that it’s all violent. It’s all bloody.

“It’s been long enough. It’s time for a new age to rise.”

The dark screen returns, but the figure steps forward into the minimal light. They’re in a body suit of some kind. Entirely white. It’s a sudden contrast to the dark background. The figure leans in closer to the camera.

“Some of you will see me as your hero. Others will fear me. If you’re the latter… I’m coming for you.”

It sounds like more than an empty threat. It sounds like a promise.

The video cuts out.

Thomas takes a breath and rakes a hand back through his hair. The video is playing back through his mind, trying to piece together the footage as if it might help make more sense. The words play back through Thomas’s mind. It’s time of a new age to rise. A new age of what? What did it mean that she’d be “coming for” the people who feared her?

“Virgil, are you all right?” Logan asks and Thomas almost jumps. He’d forgotten two of his Sides were sitting there beside him.

“Peachy,” Virgil growls back with the double vocalization.

“Thomas,” Logan says, “Please take a deep breath.”

The host closes his laptop and sets it on the coffee table in front of him as he sucks in some air and releases it slowly. He closes his eyes. Breathe with me, Virge, he wills. He takes in another breath and hears Virgil do the same.

Thomas opens his eyes and though Virgil still has his hood pulled up over his hair, the Anxious Side manages a faint twitch of his lips. A reassurance. Thomas nods once to him.

“What particularly was so alarming about that video?” Logan asks after a moment. “Though clearly intended to be threatening, it seems you have seen videos and movies that would warrant a stronger sense of fear than something such as that.”

Thomas swallows and clears his throat. “Virge?” He glances at Virgil on the other side of him.

“I don’t know.” The Anxious Side huffs a little, tugging on the strings of his hoodie. “Something about it just seemed… more real than a horror movie. Like she meant what she was saying, I guess.”

Logan quirks an eyebrow. “Hm. I see.” He eyes Thomas’s closed laptop before speaking again. “Under usual circumstances, I would remark how it seemed a bit over the top in terms of its dramatics. The effects and spliced footage are clearly meant to be a fear tactic with seeming little meaningful substance upon which to base that fear.”

“Aren’t you kind of commenting on that now—”

“However,” Logan continues, interrupting Thomas, “it’s connection to recent events makes me less inclined to dismiss it so easily. A fear tactic? Absolutely. But one so easily dismissed? Perhaps not.”

Thomas rubs the back of his neck, glancing between Logan and Virgil. “So what now?”

There wasn’t anything in the video that suggested a location—either for where Ekko is, or where she’d be next. Thomas didn’t really have another plan of action, and it makes his fingers twitch with a surprising restlessness. It doesn’t help that Ekko’s line about being seen as a hero keeps replaying in his mind in a way that tightens his chest a little with discomfort.

“Well,” Logan says as he adjusts the frame of his glasses, “there are several questions left unanswered, it seems. The first being what connection, if any, does Ekko have to the attempted robbery last night? The video suggests some kind of wide-scale plan, perhaps even global given the use of news footage from around the world. So what business would someone like Ekko have in Gainesville, Florida?”

That did seem unusual, Thomas has to admit. He picks up the cardstock rectangle beside his leg on the couch, rubbing his thumb over the neat white print. E K K O.

“Speaking of wide-scale plan,” Virgil adds, sounding a bit more calm but no less worried than a moment ago, “the next question is… assuming that video isn’t just some fear-inducing media stunt, what is Ekko planning?”

Thomas sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Maybe that’s all it really is,” he says. “Maybe she’s just trying to get attention.” He doesn’t quite believe himself, and he sees Logan and Virgil exchange a silent glance. Neither of them says anything, but the quiet that lingers in the apartment is quickly interrupted by Thomas’s ringtone.

It’s Valerie.

“Hey, Valerie,” Thomas says, hoping his voice sounds brighter than he thinks it does. In his peripheral, Thomas sees both Logan and Virgil sink out.

“Hey, Thomas!” The familiar sound of his friend’s voice helps alleviate some of the tension in his shoulders. “I was talking to Joan, Lee, and Terrence and we were thinking of having a game night since everybody’s gonna be in town. Do you wanna join?”

Thomas smiles with a sudden relief. “Sounds awesome.”

…

“Did you just throw a blue shell, Talyn?! Shit. No, no, no—”

Thomas laughs as he watches his friends play Mario Kart. Joan’s corner of the screen fills with a bright blue light. A cart slams into them as it passes, sending Joan’s cart careening off the edge of the map. Thomas laughs even harder as Terrence’s square announces his victory. Joan curses again, managing to squeak past the finish line in 6th place.

“Hey, thanks, Talyn,” Terrence comments with an amused, smug smile. Talyn gives him a small salute, snorting with laughter a moment later at the look Joan throws their way.

Thomas smiles and leans back into the couch, picking up his glass of wine and taking a small sip. Turns out, a lot of Thomas’s friends had been free tonight. Lee and Mary Lee came, as did Valerie, Joan, Talyn, Camden, Terrence, and Kenny. It felt like it had been forever since he’d last hung out with his friends without it being with the intention of working on a video. Amicable chatter and friendly argument about the best character to main on Mario Kart fills the room with a warmth and comfort that is interrupted briefly by the arrival of pizza.

Mary Lee announces a food break, causing everyone who was getting ready for another round to set their controllers down as they all break into the various kinds of pizza. It was a reprieve that the internet personality had welcomed with open arms. In fact, Thomas has almost forgotten about the events of the past 24 hours when Kenny speaks up.

“So did you guys hear about that bank last night?”

Thomas shovels a bite of pizza into his mouth to avoid having to answer. Don’t say anything, Thomas, Virgil growls in his mind. Valerie points at Kenny. “Yes! Did you see the security footage?”’

“It’s a little hard to believe it wasn’t doctored somehow,” Lee chimes in as he reaches for another piece. “They swear it isn’t, though. And some of the eyewitness accounts verified that the guy was freaking climbing on the ceiling.”

“I saw this thread on Reddit,” Camden chimes in casually, reaching for a napkin, “arguing about whether or not he should count as a ‘hero’.”

Thomas glances at him. “What’d they decide?”

Camden’s mouth quirks. “It’s Reddit. You really think they arrived at any organized consensus?”

“I think it’s a little weird that he keeps covering his face,” Mary Lee cuts in, then grimaces. “If they are a he. It’s the pronoun that little kid and the hostages were using, but I probably shouldn’t assume that.” She opens a can of Coke and takes a long swallow.

“I don’t totally get why they’re hiding their identity,” Valerie adds. “I mean, both times we’ve seen them, they’ve had half their face covered. Unless they’re doing something wrong—which I don’t think they are—why hide?”

Thomas opens his mouth, but Talyn jumps in before he has a chance to reply. Part of him is grateful.

“I mean, not everybody thinks they’re doing the right thing.” Talyn sets their slice down on the paper plate in their lap. “Besides, if they can climb on the ceiling like that, there’s totally people that would try to capture them and run experiments or some shit.”

Thomas swallows. He reaches for another slice of pizza to avoid looking at any of them, even though the sudden churning in his stomach keeps him from actually taking a bite out of it.

“Talyn’s right,” Kenny says. “Plus, if they’re trying to stop criminals, maybe they’re trying to protect their family too. So bad guys can’t use their loves ones against them.”

“Bad guys?” Lee asks, more curious that argumentative. “So you think they’re a hero?”

Kenny lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, I think so. You guys don’t?”

Thomas doesn’t hear their answers, his thoughts racing ahead of him. Kenny had been right, of course. So had Talyn. Thomas hiding his face had been a mixture of both reasons, but sitting here in a room full of his friends reminds him all over again just how much had changed. How much risk is involved in what he did last night. He hadn’t just been risking his safety, he’d been risking all of theirs, too. After all, the man had reached for the sweatshirt he’d tied haphazardly around his face, and if Thomas had been just a little bit slower on his reflex…

His family would be at risk. Everybody in this room would be at risk. Everybody Thomas ever cared about.

And if he was really going to try to figure out what the whole Ekko business was about… well, that really only put them in more danger.

“Thomas? Joan?” Valerie asks, yanking Thomas abruptly from his thoughts. “What do you think?”

Thomas takes another sip of wine and shrugs, despite his racing heartbeat. He quirks an eyebrow at Joan, willing them to answer first.

Joan adjusts the beanie on their head. “I think it’s probably too early to tell. I mean, so far it seems like he’s tried to help people in need at risk to himself. Most people would probably classify that as a hero, but it depends on what you mean by the word in the first place.”

“Classic Ravenclaw answer,” Lee chimes in lightly, causing everyone to smile.

Joan laughs a little, then grabs the nearest controller. “All right,” they say. “So who am I gonna beat at Rainbow Road?”

“Oh, you’re on, Joan,” Camden announces, grabbing his back from the floor. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on, I’m still eating pizza!”

“Eat fast, Terrence. Rainbow Road waits for nobody.”

Thomas smiles and shakes his head, gathering up the discarded paper plates and napkins. He’s silently grateful none of them remembered that Thomas never answered the question.

…

It’s nearly two in the morning when all four of his main Sides show up at the same time, startling Thomas out of his almost-asleep state. The host groans.

“Really, guys?” he grumbles, but reaches over to the nightstand and flips on the lamp light.

“Apologies, Thomas,” Logan says from his position at the foot of Thomas’s bed. “I thought it would be best to let you rest and come to you with this idea in the morning, but Roman was rather insistent.”

Thomas rubs at his eyes and sits up. “What idea?”

“Roman and I were discussing potential strategies for dealing with some of Virgil’s concerns, and the… four of us—” Thomas frowns at the odd hesitation—“came up with a solution.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, his brow pulling together. “Um… cool. What’s the idea?”

Roman is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “A suit!”

Thomas’s confusion only deepens. “A suit?”

Virgil rolls his eyes, but it’s Logan that speaks up. “Of a sort. Not the type of suit you’re thinking, Thomas, but rather a suit designed with your specific superhuman abilities in mind that will maximize your potential while maintaining a certain level of identity protection.”

Thomas blinks a few times, then looks quizzically at Virgil. “Why?”

Virgil ducks his head a little and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess…. Your friends talking earlier got me—us—thinking about how close you’d been last night for your identity getting found out. Logan agreed that we needed something better than a sweatshirt.”

“So I then consulted with Roman,” Logan chimes in, “to see what might work best.”

Roman smiles. “And we came up with a little design idea.” Roman flicks his hand towards Thomas, who gets a sudden, clear picture in his head. A full body suit. Red and blue fabric, dark-purple-nearly-black stitching. A spider silhouette stretching along his torso.

“The spider was my idea,” Patton chimes in.

Thomas looks at Patton, disbelieving. “You wanted to add a spider? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Patton. I love it. But… I would’ve thought you’d be the last person to want a spider added onto the suit.”

Patton’s mouth tugs into a small, fond smile. “Spiders do freak me out, kiddo. But… I thought it’d be a nice tribute to the first time you helped someone with your new abilities. A reminder of the good you can do.” Mikey babbling about the Ninja Turtles flickers through Thomas’s mind, doubtlessly Patton’s doing. It makes the host’s chest swell.

“It’s perfect,” Thomas says honestly.

“After consulting with Virgil,” Logan adds, “I believe I have a fabric in mind that should be able to be a useful level of durable without being too restrictive in weight or flexibility.”

Thomas’s mind is reeling with the onslaught of ideas. “Wow. You guys all worked together on this?”

Roman is rotating the image around in his mind, giving Thomas a sharpening view of each angle on the suit. He can feel Roman’s excitement thrumming with a sudden burst of creative energy. Virgil seems quieter than he’d been previously, and when Thomas looks at him, he can see the calmer look in his eyes. Patton still has that small, happy smile.

And Logan… well, Logan has something bright and electric simmering just beneath his stoic exterior. He looks invigorated, and Thomas gets the feeling there’s something else that Logan hasn’t told him about yet.

“Indeed,” Roman says in reply to Thomas’s question. “The general aesthetic was my doing, but we each had a hand in its overall design.”

Thomas sees Virgil glance over to Logan. “There’s… one more thing about the suit,” he prompts gently.

Logan flicks his hand towards Thomas and the image in his mind zooms to focus in on the wrist of the suit, breaking it open almost like a blueprint. The host closes his eyes to focus on the schematic that Logan has sketched out in his brain. Logan’s voice floats through his thoughts, providing an explanation.

“I was considering methods for which to solve Virgil’s proposed predicament from last night regarding if you had been seen prior to reaching an acceptable proximity to Al Trevors. I eventually arrived at this concept.”

“I call them Web Shooters,” Patton chimes in brightly. “Y’know, like a spider web?”

“Indeed,” Logan says. “Although spider webs are generally lightweight and easy to dismantle, so such a term may be a bit misleading. Regardless of what you call them, I think we could construct a device that would allow you to essentially project a strong adhesive substance from your wrist or hand when activated. It could be used as a rope to retrieve things, or perhaps even to use to your advantage in terms of travel.”

Roman’s voice jumps in. “You could be like freaking Tarzan.”

Logan’s voice hums, unamused. “The point is, I see several uses for this kind of device, and I think it’s worth developing.” Thomas’s mind is suddenly overtaken with a string of chemical equations running through his mind. “I’ve already begun developing a formula, although I could use a refresher given how long it has been since your experience as a chemical engineer.”

“Oh!” Patton’s voice again. Thomas opens his eyes, his bedroom and Sides coming back into focus even as Logan continues to scroll the chemical equations through his mind. “Why don’t you see if Dr. Washington could help? Remember her, Thomas?”

Thomas does. She’d been one of Thomas’s favorite professors. “It’s been a while, but I can email her.”

Patton’s grinning as Thomas reaches for his computer. “Perfect! We’ll leave ya to it, kiddo.”

When Thomas looks up again from his computer screen, all of them have sunk out. They’re excited energy radiates through his mind. He has a feeling he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

[frauleinsmaria]

The Facebook Flub (1/3)

Summary: When Emma accidentally sends a friend request to the wrong person, she doesn't expect much to come of it. But maybe this accident is the best decision she's ever made.

Rated: T for now, potentially high T/low M in the future

Also on AO3

A/N: Inspired by a comment I came across on Instagram asking people to share how their long distance relationships began: "I added the wrong guy on Facebook that I met at the bar...the guy I added lived in Germany and I was in Canada. That accident...is now my husband."

A few changes to make it fit Captain Swan, plus a whole lot of support and cheerleading from @wellhellotragic , @profdanglaisstuff , and @thejollyroger-writer later, here we are! Thanks a million, ladies, you’re the best.

Going out was the last thing Emma wanted to do tonight. She had a long week dealing with a tough case at work, the weather reports were calling for snow, and she had a headache- not to mention the fact that she didn’t feel like being hit on by some drunk low life.

“Those are all reasons for you to go out then,” Ruby insisted when Emma relayed all of this to her over the phone. “It’s Friday night. You need to come let loose with your friends and forget about whatever else is on your mind. And you know I’ll gladly fight off anyone who bothers you.” It took similar texts from Elsa, Graham, David, and Mary Margaret for her to finally give in and join them. Which is how she found herself sitting at the bar at one of their favorite burger and beer places downtown.

She was drinking one of her favorite beers, with Graham on her left side flirting with the guy behind the bar, and a stranger on her right who had been talking her ear off about some upcoming movie since he sat down an hour ago. Emma wasn’t all that interested- in both him or whatever this movie is- but she listened anyway. She didn’t have the energy to join the rest of her friends at the dart boards, and at least this guy wasn’t trying to flirt. So when he suggested she add him on Facebook before he left, she’d had enough to drink that she saw little reason to object.

It wasn’t until he was gone when she opened the Facebook app on her phone and realized she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of his name. He’d introduced himself when he first took the seat beside her, but that had been several beers ago, not to mention the loud music in the bar making some of his words hard to hear.

It had been something different that she’d never heard before. Killiam James, maybe? she thought as she typed it into the search bar.

“I should’ve known.” Ruby appeared behind her, holding a glass of whatever she’d picked for her poison tonight. “Don’t tell me you came out just to sit on your phone by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself. Graham’s he-” She turned and saw that the man in question had apparently slipped off with the bartender without her noticing.”Huh. Or maybe not.”

Ruby sighed. “Come on, Emma. You know you wanna watch Mary Margaret kick David’s ass at darts.”

That was a statement she couldn’t argue with. “Hang on. Let me do this first.” But Ruby instead grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the dart boards, causing Emma to hit “add friend” for the first option in her search results without paying much attention to the name or profile picture.

The guy from the bar and the friend request had been forgotten about by the next morning when she woke up with a pounding headache and wondered exactly when she’d started getting old.

The events of that Friday night didn’t cross her mind again until the next weekend. She’d gone to see Captain Marvel with David and Mary Margaret, who were always willing to join her to watch any superhero movie despite both of them losing track of the plot at least half an hour in. It wasn’t the same as getting to experience it with someone as invested as she was, but years of going to the movies by herself when she was younger made Emma grateful for their company regardless.

They arrived at the theater early, battling the lines at the ticket booth and again at the concessions stand for overpriced popcorn and candy. The theater was already filling up after they’d gotten snacks. Emma stepped on quite a few feet to get to the only empty three seats together. Once they were settled, she pulled out her phone and opened the front camera. “Smile, guys!” Mary Margaret got the memo, but David looked like a deer in headlights in their selfie. This was definitely getting posted.

She made a few adjustments to the lighting before posting the photo on Facebook and Instagram. It’s Captain Marvel time!

The lights in the theater dimmed as the first movie trailer began to play on the screen. Emma silenced her phone and dropped it into her purse before grabbing a fistful of popcorn and settling into her seat.

It was over two hours later when the movie had ended and the three of them had arrived back at David and Mary Margaret’s house before she thought to check her phone again. There was a new text from Elsa about the shirt she’d borrowed last week and a handful of social media notifications. She opened Facebook first to see the response to her pre-movie selfie. It was when she started scrolling through the list of various reactions that an unfamiliar name caught her eye. Of course since she’d tagged David and Mary Margaret in the photo, several people who’d liked it weren’t Facebook friends of hers or people she knew. But this one stood out- it belonged to a person she’d never heard of before, and one who was apparently on her friends list.

Killian Jones. She frowned and clicked the link to open his profile page. They had no mutual friends, but sure enough, they were friends with each other. The brief amount of information listed under his personal details told her he lived in London and worked for a company named Ship Shape.

Emma quickly began to question just how she knew this Killian Jones. They hadn’t gone to college together; his profile listed him as an alum of a university in London she’d never heard of. He wasn’t in her line of work, so that wasn’t a possibility.

What if he had been a previous one night stand? No, that definitely wasn’t the case. She rarely got men’s names when those happened, let alone befriended them on social media.

And there was no way she would have forgotten a face like his. His current profile picture was taken from a distance on a beach somewhere, which made his features a bit harder to notice. The handful of previous ones were closer shots though. There were a few that looked like they were taken at some kind of professional event and a selfie with a dog she presumed was his. He was gorgeous, she realized as she quickly flipped through them. Piercing blue eyes, a head of dark hair that successfully toed the line between messy and polished with a five o’clock shadow to match. Yeah, she definitely would have remembered him.

Emma scrolled through a few more photos before she started to feel like she was crossing some sort of line. She had zero ideas on who this Killian Jones even was, and yet there she sat combing through the details of his Facebook profile as if they were close friends.

Contacting him seemed like the most logical thing to do. She opened Messenger, still annoyed that the feature wasn’t included with the regular Facebook app anymore, and typed out a brief message. Hey. Sorry if this seems weird, but I was wondering how you and I knew each other?

Her phone chimed with a response only a few minutes later. Not weird, love. Although I was wondering the same thing considering you’re the one who added me.

She stared at her phone screen and read the message again. There had to be some kind of mix up. Her friends list was on the small side, mostly former classmates and coworkers, and the people she regularly interacted with now. What reason would she have for sending a friend request to Killian Jones all the way in London-

And then it hit her. “Killiam James,” she groaned, remembering the guy from the bar the weekend before. If that was even his name. Emma blamed the combination of beer and loud music for the mix up, which explained why she’d added this guy with such a similar name.

What was she even supposed to say to Killian Jones now? The truth was ridiculous, and she couldn’t think of a lie that sounded even moderately believable.

Honesty won out in the end. “What does it matter? He’s never gonna meet me anyway,” she muttered as she started to reply. So, funny story. I thought I was sending a friend request to a guy with a name that’s really similar to yours and I just now realized my mistake. I’m sorry again because I know how weird this all probably sounds to you.

She hadn’t expected another reply. He’d probably delete her from his friends list after learning the reason behind the mishap and forget all about their brief interaction. What she got instead was a huge surprise. That’s quite alright. I suppose it could have happened to anyone. But, while we’re here, can I ask how the movie was?

Movie? Oh, right. She’d gone to see Captain Marvel tonight. His liking her photo was what started all of this. I liked it a lot. Keep in mind I haven’t read the comics, so I don’t know how accurate anything was. But it’s a great addition to the MCU if you ask me. And the cat was awesome.

I’m glad to hear that. I don’t know much about the comics myself, I just like the films as well. I’ll have to keep my eye out for the cat you speak of when I see it for myself.

This conversation was already a positive changed compared to the ones she usually had about Marvel movies. Most people, men especially, would make fun of her or call her a “fake fan” when she admitted she wasn’t familiar with the comics and didn’t really have plans to change that. Not only was Killian Jones not making fun of her preferences, he actually seemed to share them.

Emma soon found herself discussing everything from Endgame theories to the newest Spider-Man: Far From Home trailer with him. It wasn’t until her eyes grew heavy and she started yawning that she realized it was after midnight. Had this guy really stayed up until five in the morning to talk superheroes with her? Crap. I just realized what time it is. I’m really sorry if I kept you up. You’re probably exhausted.

No worries, Swan- can I call you that? As coincidence would have it, I’m a bit of an insomniac. I likely would still be awake now regardless. Plus, I work for my brother, so he can’t fire me for sleeping on the job unless he wants to lose his kids’ favorite babysitter.

Swan is fine- after all, it is my name. Although I still feel like you may need to apologize to your brother on my behalf.

Truthfully, she didn’t expect to hear from Killian again. Sure, they’d had a long conversation about a shared interest of theirs, but that didn’t mean he had any desire to continue talking to a stranger in the middle of the night. Or at any other time, for that matter.

Which is why Emma was caught off guard when she received another Facebook message from him a few days later. Hello, Swan. I know it’s the middle of the day where you are so you’re probably working, but I just saw Captain Marvel with a friend of mine and I needed someone to discuss the end credits scene with since he’s not nearly invested in this.

Their conversation soon left movies entirely and shifted to their everyday lives. Within the next hour, she learned that he was thirty-one, worked as a marketing executive for the shipping company owned by his brother, was the proud uncle of a nephew and two nieces, and spent most of his free time hiking or reading whatever fantasy novel was next on his to read list. Emma was more hesitant when it came to sharing specifics about herself for several reasons: talking about herself wasn’t exactly something she enjoyed, she barely knew this guy, plus, what if he really wasn’t the person he claimed to be?

If there’s one of us that ought to be suspicious, it’s him, she thought. You added him first; you could be the one Catfishing for all he knows.

Their once sporadic conversations soon became a nightly occurrence, switching from Facebook Messenger to texts once they felt comfortable with sharing numbers. (The short amount of time this took didn’t go unnoticed to Emma. She refused to let herself think too much about it.) Over time, it soon became easier to open up to him about a number of different things. Some days it was her favorite color or flavor of ice cream, others it was conspiracy theories she believed that dealt with people like Marilyn Monroe and Kurt Cobain. Emma rarely brought up her upbringing or personal life, and he never asked.

On nights when Killian’s insomnia was particularly brutal, they watched Netflix together, one of the few pastimes they could share considering the distance between them. They usually chose comedies, preferring shows like The Good Place and Parks and Rec so they wouldn’t miss much of the story if they got caught up in whatever conversation they were having at the same time.

The first phone call happened by accident when they’d been talking about three months. Emma had just got in from work and was debating between Chinese and pizza for dinner when her phone began to vibrate. She froze at seeing Killian’s name on the screen. Why was he calling her? They had never talked outside of Facebook and texts. Phone calls had never even come up once in their conversations.

“H-hello?” she answered after a moment. “Killian?”

“Oi, Jones, is this your girlfriend?” Not Killian then, although another man with an accent who sounded far from sober. She heard some sort of commotion in the background, followed by, “Give me back my bloody phone!”

“Um, hello, Swan.” His voice sounded exactly as she’d imagined. (Not that she’d spent that much time thinking on the subject. Not at all.) The accent was there, of course, but his voice was softer and he sounded considerably more under control than whoever had greeted her. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine. Killian, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you calling me? Where are you?”

“Well, you see, a few of us brought Liam to the pub tonight for his birthday, but I realized I’d forgotten to tell you about it earlier. I know you wanted to start Brooklyn 99 tonight since we finished New Girl. Anyway, I was in the middle of typing out a message to you explaining all of this when Will took my phone and called before I could stop him.” He sighed. Emma had a feeling Will would get an earful as soon as this conversation was over; she heard a lot about him from Killian, mostly complaints. “I’m terribly sorry, love. I’m sure this must be awkward for you.”

“It’s fine, Killian. I appreciate you for telling me, but I know you probably have better things to do on a Friday night than watch Netflix with a stranger in Boston.” Although that was the gist of their relationship from an outside perspective, Emma’s heart sank at her own words. She thought more for this virtual stranger than she did most of the people she saw in person on a regular basis.

“Don’t talk like that, Swan. Besides, it would’ve been bad form to leave you hanging without an explanation.”

She should have known he would be a stickler for manners, even for something as trivial as a regular Netflix binge. “Thanks, Killian. Seriously though, go enjoy your night out. Sing ‘happy birthday’ obnoxiously loud to your brother and maybe don’t let anyone else take your phone. We’ll catch up on Netflix later, alright?”

“Alright, love. Goodnight.”

The next time Killian called, it was intentional. Neither of them thought much of it.

The calls (via WhatsApp to keep from spending a fortune) soon became a semi-regular part of their “routine.” They didn’t happen as often as the texts, however, since it was harder to both talk and vaguely pay attention to whatever show they were watching at any given moment. Talking on the phone often made it easy to forget the difference in time zone and the ocean between them, even when Killian said something particularly British, like “tosser” or “knackered.”

She and Killian had their first shared experience with FaceTime the night before the surprise party she and Mary Margaret have planned for David. Emma had been asked to make cupcakes, something she now regretted agreeing to as she stood in her kitchen dumbfounded by the assortment of ingredients strewn out across the counter.

As if on cue, her phone vibrated.

Killian: How are the cupcakes coming along?

Emma: They’re not.

Do I really have to mix the wet and dry ingredients separately? They all go in the same bowl in the end. And how much batter do I put in the cupcake liners without them blowing up like mushroom tops? I don’t get why I had to pick a recipe that calls for baking soda AND powder too.

Basically, I need to be able to snap my fingers and have a professional chef in my kitchen to take care of this.

Killian: I’m no professional, but if you want to FaceTime, I could possibly help walk you through it.

Of course he could. She’d quickly learned that Killian Jones was one of those people who was unfairly good at most if not all things.

Emma opened the camera app on her phone to get a look at her current appearance. An old Rolling Stones t-shirt that probably should have been thrown out years ago, her-square rimmed glasses, hair thrown up on the top of her head in a messy knot, and no makeup, not to mention the zit on her chin that she hadn’t gotten the chance to get rid of yet. It would have to do. They were friends, and he already knew what she looked like thanks to social media. And she didn’t have time or energy to freshen up before she got the stupid cupcakes taken care of.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered.

Her phone screen was taken up by Killian’s smiling face seconds later. “Hello, Swan.”

“Uh, hi.” Somehow he was even better looking in real time. It wasn’t fair. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“Come now, love. How hard can it be?”

“Consider who you’re dealing with, Killian. I almost cooked an oven mitt last week.” She didn’t add that it had happened due to their intense conversation on nineties one hit wonders and she’d been so distracted she hadn’t paid attention to where she’d placed the mitt after taking pizza out of her oven.

He barked out a laugh. “Something tells me chocolate cupcakes will smell much better. Do you have the recipe up?”

“Yeah. I’m sending it to you.”

Killian, being the good sport that he was, spent the better part of the next two hours going through the recipe step by step with her. Which was much easier said than done.

“You mean to tell me that not only do I have to mix the wet and dry ingredients separately, but I can only mix half of each together at a time?”

“Aye, that’s what the woman recommends.”

Emma had long since forgotten the name of the woman who’d posted the recipe online, but she had quickly become her worst enemy. “I should’ve just told Mary Margaret to make the damn cupcakes herself.”

“I highly doubt she could’ve gotten away with making cupcakes for her husband’s surprise party in their own house,” Killian noted.

How was it that he seemed to know her own family better than she did. “Yeah, well, then I should have bought cupcakes from the store and brought them to the party on one of my plates.” It would have at least saved the trouble of having a kitchen covered in flour, butter, and the other dozen or so ingredients she’d added to the mix.

She had just began pouring batter into one of the slots in her cupcake tin when Killian spoke up. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Swan.”

“Killian, I may have the cooking skills of a dustpan, but I do know that cupcakes have to be baked.”

“Right you are, but what about liners?”

“Come again?”

“You know, the paper things? You’re going to have an awfully difficult time without them.”

Of course. “Shit!” Hurling the mixing bowl at the wall now seemed like a great idea. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.”

“Hmm.” She heard the sound of computer keys typing as Killian looked something up. “Do you have parchment paper? Several sites list it as a possible substitute.”

“Wouldn’t that look kind of tacky though?”

“You don’t exactly have a lot of options, love, unless you’re willing to make a trip to the store.”

Emma glanced at the clock above her oven. It was past ten. A handful of stores would be open, but she didn’t have the energy or motivation to change into decent clothes to leave the apartment. “Parchment paper’s fine, I guess. What does it say I’m supposed to do?”

He quickly walked her through the process, which was much simpler than she presumed. After cutting the parchment paper into squares and folding them around a glass that was the same size as the slots in the cupcake pan, the problem was solved. They rewatched one of their favorite episodes of The Good Place while the cupcakes baked. She was so caught up in the show that she wouldn’t have remembered to turn off the oven if Killian hadn’t reminded her.

“So far, so good,” she told him once the pans had been taken out of the oven and placed on her counter. “They smell incredible.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Killian groaned. “The only form of chocolate I have in my flat is unsweetened cocoa powder.”

“Well, that’s just depressing.”

The icing process, while tedious, went over much more smoothly than the baking had.

“Swan, you’ve got chocolate icing all over your cheek now.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve got two dozen nice looking cupcakes. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“I suppose,” he agreed. “Although you’re just giving me something else to make fun of you for.”

He laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him.

She’d gone this far without sampling anything, too concentrated on not botching the cupcakes. But the sound of her stomach growling reminded Emma she’d never eaten dinner. “You think I can justify having a cupcake now if I don��t eat one at the party tomorrow?”

“After all the work you’ve put in, I believe you could justify two.”

“You, Jones, are a bad influence,” she said, taking the nearest cupcake and pulling off the parchment sheet liner.

“A bad influence who reminded you of the importance of cupcake liners.”

“Ugh. I hate it when you’re right.” Emma took a hearty bite of the cupcake and couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her lips. “Ohmgod.”

Killian was quiet for a moment. Then, “I presume it’s good?”

“It’s not good, it’s fantastic. I never thought I’d say that about something I made.” Another bite elicited the same reaction, her eyes closing as she savored the rich chocolate taste. This caused her to miss Killian blush as his eyes shifted away from the screen.

“Erm, well, I’m very glad to hear that.”

The cupcakes, thankfully, are a hit. Several people at David’s party ask Emma for the recipe, a few eve complimenting the unique choice of liners. Her own brother was skeptical that she’d made them herself.

“I did!” she insisted. “I mean, Killian provided moral support via FaceTime, but all the manual labor was my accomplishment.” Her family and friends have known about her unconventional friendship with Killian for awhile now. Most of them went along with the idea, although a few were skeptical that her virtual friend was really the person he claimed to be.

“You and this guy have gotten pretty close, haven’t you?” David was one of those skeptical people.

She shrugged. “Kind of. I guess we’re as close as friends can get when they’re on opposite sides of the pond and have never met in person.”

“And you’re sure he’s not, what’s the word, fishing with you?”

“The term is catfishing, David. And the answer is no, considering we FaceTimed during the cupcake ordeal and his face matches the one in all of his pictures.”

“If you say so. I just don’t want you to risk getting hurt.” He almost always went into Protective Big Brother mode whenever Emma referenced a guy in any capacity, and this was no exception.

“I appreciate that you care about me, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about considering the circumstances. The chances of the two of us meeting are basically nonexistent.”

A few days later, they were on their third episode of Schitt’s Creek of the night and discussing each other’s uneventful work days when he brought it up. “So, uh, Liam has been talking about sending me away for work sometime soon.”

“That’s cool. Does he want you to go back to the Dublin office again?” Emma remembered that he’d taken a short trip to Ireland for business not long after they’d became friends.

“Actually, no.” He paused. “He’s made a few comments about Boston this time.”

Any interest she had in the episode they’d been watching was long gone. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. Sometime next month, if nothing changes.”

Her next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I know a semi decent tour guide who lives in that neck of the woods if you have some free time while you’re here. And, y’know, if you’d be up for that.”

“I think that could be arranged.” She couldn’t see Killian, but somehow she knew he was smiling.

Emma didn’t start freaking out until the day before his flight. She was at Elsa’s apartment with Mary Margaret and Ruby, drinking wine and eating Elsa and Anna’s homemade cookies at the kitchen table. She was on her third- okay, maybe it was her fourth- snickerdoodle, only half participating in the conversation when she glanced up and saw the three of them staring at her.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Mary Margaret gave her a knowing look. “Have you been listening to anything we’ve said?”

“Yeah, of course I have.”

“Emma, I just said that Granny was having surgery next month, and your response was, ‘that’s cool,’” Ruby deadpanned.

Her face flushed red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Just have a lot on my mind I guess.”

“Is something goin- oh!” Elsa exclaimed. “Aren’t you finally meeting that friend of yours from London tomorrow?”

“Yeah. His plane is supposed to come in at two, then I’m meeting him for dinner and a little sightseeing before his meetings start the next day.”

“That’s really all you’ve got planned for him?” Ruby waggled her eyebrows over the rim of her wine glass.

Emma rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Ruby. He’s just my friend.”

“Your very attractive male friend, who you talk either to or about nonstop,” Mary Margaret added.

She shot her an annoyed glance. “I thought family was supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side! I want you to be happy, and I’m just saying maybe you should be open to the possibility that Killian could have something to do with that.”

Leave it to her sister-in-law to bring Emma’s love life (or lack thereof) into the conversation. ““Don’t get any ideas, Mary Margaret. I love that you’re an eternal optimist, but everything else aside, he lives over three thousand miles away. I never thought we would actually meet.”

“People do long distance all the time,” Elsa chimed in. “Anna and Kristoff did for several months when he was away doing research about climate change in the North Pole. It wasn’t easy, but they got through it and are happier than ever now.”

She wanted to remind Elsa that her sister and her fiance had been together for over two years before this, but disregarded the thought. “I know you all mean well- even though it seems like Ruby just wants me to get laid- but can we change the subject? Killian is my friend. That’s all there is to it.”

Even as she said the words, Emma wondered for the first time whether that was actually true.

Her intention had been to sleep in the next morning since she’d gone ahead and taken the day off. But, much to her dismay, she was wide awake at seven. By ten she’d gone for a run, showered, eaten breakfast, and cleaned most of her apartment. It was tempting to blame the random burst of energy on wanting to be productive while she had the time to spend at home, but that wasn’t it.

She was excited to see Killian. And the closer that came to happening, it terrified her too.

For starters, what if they didn’t mesh as well in person as they did online or over the phone? It sounded silly just to think about, but maybe actually being in each other’s space for the first time would somehow change how their friendship worked.

The conversation she’d had with her friends the day before wasn’t helping matters either. What they’d said shouldn’t have been getting to her like it was. Every argument she’d made against their insinuations about her and Killian had been true.

Then why have you barely paid attention to other guys since the two of you started getting close? The thought came to her once she’d started walking laps around the apartment just to keep her busy. Dating for her had been a rare occurrence since Neal almost ten years earlier. Walsh was the one exception, and things with him hadn’t gone much better. One nighters happened now and then when she wanted to scratch an itch without having strings attached. But even one of those hadn’t happened in months.

She didn’t even know whether or not Killian had been seeing anyone. Her first assumption was no. He’d never once mentioned dating, and, regardless, he’d spent the majority of his nights over the past handful of months talking to her. His unconventional friendship with her on top of his job and his family didn’t give her the impression he had a lot of time for dating.

Emma glanced at the clock on her phone. It was just after twelve. “Dammit.” Even with traffic, it would be at least another hour and forty-five minutes before she needed to leave unless she just wanted to drive in circles around the airport.

“Screw it,” she said at one-thirty after she’d won her fourth game of solitaire. TSA might give her hell about parking if she had to wait a bit for Killian, but she couldn’t sit around her apartment much longer without losing her mind.

There was a knock on her door just as she was pulling on her jacket and boots. She went to the door and found her brother standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “Hey, David.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping I’d catch you in time.”

“In time for what?” she asked. “I’m about to leave for the airport.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m coming with you.”

He’d known she was going to meet Killian today for over a week and had yet to mention this to her. “What? Why?”

“I don’t want you going alone, Emma. It’s not safe; you’ve never met this guy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I could understand if I’d met a guy on a dating site or something, but I’ve known Killian for months now, David. I’m pretty confident that I’m not picking up a serial killer.”

The frown on his face hadn’t budged. “Either way, I’d still like to meet him before I leave you alone with him. Gotta let him know what he’s dealing with if he hurts you.”

Emma checked the time on her phone again. “Ugh. Let’s go,” she groaned. “You’re not gonna let this go, and I don’t have time to argue with you about it.”

Any nerves she’d felt before had briefly been alleviated by the desire to strangle David. The drive to the airport was spent with her hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel so she wouldn’t wrap them around his neck instead.

“Are you gonna insist on spending the day with us too?” she asked as she pulled into the airport’s parking lot and looked for the garage for short term parking.

He shrugged. “Not sure yet. Ask me again once I’ve met him and had a chance to evaluate.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’m your older brother. That’s my job,” he insisted.

Emma parked in the short term garage connected to the airport. There was no point in trying to wait at the curb since she knew they’d be asked to move. She and Killian had decided to meet at the landside area, so she sat and waited for a text that he’d arrived and tried to ignore David tapping his fingers against the passenger door.

Her phone vibrated a few minutes later. Hello, Swan. Just wanted to let you know I’m waiting for my luggage and then I should be good to go.

Emma swallowed hard as she got out of the car on shaking legs. This was it.

She was too anxious to object when David followed her out of the garage and into the airport; she’d known better than to expect him to wait in the car for them.

When they’d entered the waiting area, Emma quickly scanned the room for a familiar face, coming up short. This was the place where they’d agreed to meet, wasn’t it? He’d sent her the text just minutes ago confirming their plans. What were the chances the nerves had gone to her head and made her mix something up?

She was so lost in thought she failed to hear the footsteps coming up behind her. “Someone in particular you’re looking for, love?”

They’d FaceTimed on several occasions and shared more ridiculous Snapchats than necessary. Emma knew what to expect. And yet, somehow, she’d been all wrong. His eyes were so much brighter and vibrant in person, there was no way to accurately capture that on camera. There was a tinge of red to his hair and scruff she’d never noticed. She liked it. A lot.

“Hello, Swan.” Shit. His already perfect smile was somehow better in person too. It wasn’t fair.

“Killian. Hi.” How could she have talked to him for hours on end over the past few months and be at a loss for words now?

They stood in silence for a moment, each trying to take the other in. Emma wasn’t sure how she was supposed to greet him. Was their friendship advanced enough to permit a casual hug? Or should she stick to a handshake?

David solved that problem for her, stepping between the two of them and extending his hand to Killian. Emma had all but forgotten that he’d come with her.

“So,” he said, using what could only be called his Protective Big Brother voice, “you’re the British guy.”

“Seriously?!” Emma hissed loud enough for only him to hear as Killian accepted the handshake.

“Aye. And you must be David.”

Her brother looked taken aback. He must have been under the impression Killian had no idea he existed. “Uh, yeah. Emma’s mentioned me then?”

“Oh, yes, several times. She tells me you’re quite the Orioles fan.”

Uh oh. This had the potential to be a recipe for disaster. David did not take comments about his notoriously terrible favorite team lightly. If Killian made any patronizing remarks about the Orioles, any chance at getting on her brother’s good side was doomed.

“I’ve caught highlights from a few games online before,” Killian continued. “Always admired Ripken.”

Emma let out an audible sigh of relief. Killian may very well have been lying through his teeth to appease David, but at least he’d avoided making a bad first impression. “Yes, well,” she butted in, “David’s just here for the ride. We’re dropping him off back at his apartment on our way.” She shot her brother a look that told him not to argue.

The first few minutes in the car were filled with awkward silence as Killian fidgeted in his seat, clearly used to a steering wheel in front of him on the right side, while she tried to ignore David’s presence in the back.

“How was your flight?” she asked after a moment as they headed in the direction of David and Mary Margaret’s building.

“All right. Bit of turbulence, but nothing terrible. The airplane food, on the other hand.” Emma saw him cringe out of the corner of her eye and tried not to laugh. “I’ll be more than happy to see what restaurants you have to recommend in the city.”

“Anything particular you’re up for? Most places aren’t gonna be busy at this time of day. And no, he’s not coming,” she added, glaring at David in the rearview mirror before he had a chance to chime in.

Killian pursed his lips. “Eh, would you judge me if I said I just wanted a good, American cheeseburger?”

She laughed. “That was the last thing I expected. But no judgment here, Tony Stark.”

“I’m perfectly fine with that comparison.” He grinned. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…”

“I’m sorry, playboy?” David questioned. Someone didn’t know his movie references.

They arrived in front of David’s building minutes later. “Okay, here we are, you’re welcome for the ride home, talk to you later, bye.” Emma must have gotten her point across since he got out of the car with no objection other than a shake of his head.

“I’m really sorry about that.” She glanced at Killian apologetically as she pulled back out into traffic. “I didn’t know he was going to show up and insist on coming with me, or I would have warned you.”

“It’s quite alright, Swan. He was just looking out for you. If I’m being truthful, not wanting you to be alone when you met someone you’d come across online isn’t an unreasonable request.”

“I totally get that to a certain extent, but I know you well enough to trust that you’re not, like, a serial killer. Unless you have something you wanna tell me.”

He barked out a laugh. “Rest assured, love, I have no blood on my hands. At least, none but my brother’s when we were lads.”

“Let me guess, it was always Liam who started it?”

“Sure. We’ll go with that.”

Traffic was light at that point in the afternoon, the two of them arriving at Emma’s chosen destination sooner than she was expecting. “This place might not look like much,” she told him as she pulled into a parking spot in front of Granny’s, “but she’s got the best burgers and fries, excuse me, chips, in town as far as I’m concerned.”

“And grilled cheese and onion rings as well, I presume?”

“You’re a smart man, Killian.”

The diner was fairly empty as well, just an older couple drinking milkshakes at the bar and a group of college students crowded around a table with a stack of textbooks.

“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to sit?” she asked Killian.

“No. It’s your pick.”

They took a booth near the back of the diner. Emma handed him one of the plastic menus and flipped through one herself, even though her order had been virtually the same over the years. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt her to branch out a little more with her choices, even if it was just getting a burger or chicken club instead of a grilled cheese for once.

A waitress came to take their orders after a few minutes. Killian requested the cheeseburger he’d wanted with fries, the American term sounding foreign on his lips. She ordered the same.

“No grilled cheese and onion rings? Are we sure this is the real Emma Swan?” Killian asked, feigning concern.

She shrugged. “I’m trying to live a little. And for someone like me, that’s apparently as simple as ordering a burger. Or maybe you’re just a bad influence,” she teased.

“Oi! I wasn’t a bad influence when I helped you make cupcakes in your time of need.”

“Yeah, yeah, technicalities.”

There was a long pause as Emma tried to figure out what to say next. She wondered if Killian was having similar thoughts. This was an easier problem to remedy when they were texting or talking on the phone and she could turn the conversation to whatever show they were on at the time. Even still, there wasn’t the added component of having him across from her to sense any awkward tension between them.

Killian broke the ice. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Swan, have you ever seen One Day At a Time? Been seeing a lot about it online lately.”

“I haven’t actually.” She should have remembered most of their best conversations began with shows. “You know how I feel about good sitcoms though.”

“Aye. Perhaps we’ll add it to our unofficial to watch list?”

“I like the way you think, Jones.”

They talked for awhile about the season of Schitt’s Creek they were working on until the waitress brought their food a few minutes later. The conversation had somehow turned to which of Moira’s wigs would look best on him. It was hard not to laugh as Killian nearly swallowed his beloved cheeseburger whole.

“Don’t judge me,” he said through a mouthful of fries when he noticed Emma snickering. “I was bloody starving.”

“Clearly.” She dipped one of her own fries in the generous pile of ranch dressing on the side of her plate. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have so easily done away with all that English charm us Americans aren’t civilized enough to have.”

“What do you mean ‘done away with’? I’ll have you know I’m always charming, love.”

“Says the man who has ketchup on his chin.”

Killian’s face reddened as he grabbed a napkin and wiped off said ketchup. It was barely enough to be noticeable, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to tease him a bit.

As they ate, the conversation shifted from shows to Killian’s work and what he’d be doing in Boston over the next few days. She didn’t know much about his job, other than that he worked for Liam and their company provided parts and equipment for ships. While the company’s primary clientele was located in the London area near their home office, they were looking to expand to other areas as well, hence the meetings Killian had flown over to attend.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why were you the one to make the trip instead of Liam?” she asked. “I don’t really know how a lot of business procedures work, but it seems like he would be the one to handle stuff like that considering he’s over everyone else.”

“Aye, you would think so. But the truth of the matter is, Liam’s tied up with so much within our office. Not to mention he doesn’t like making trips now since he’s got Belle and the kids. From both of those angles, it makes more sense for me to handle as much of the international business as I’m qualified for since I truly have nothing tying me down in London nowadays.”

Emma hated the way her heart skipped a beat at his words. If he had nothing tying him down at home, did that also mean there was no girlfriend there too?

(Could she ask him something like that without him seeing right through her?)

“That’s, uh, great,” she told him, trying to get back to the point of the conversation. “That you’re able to travel for him. I’m sure you get a lot of cool opportunities and stuff.”

“Opportunities like getting to eat an American cheeseburger while I have a face to face conversation about sitcoms?”

“Exactly.”

Killian asked a handful of questions about her job, how she liked her boss and coworkers, if she’d dealt with any major cases lately.

“Not really. It’s mostly the usuals, cheating husbands and deadbeat parents.”

He frowned. “Pity situations like those occur enough to be ‘usuals.’”

“It’s enough to make me want to throw in the towel sometimes if I’m being honest. These people are lucky enough to have a family in the first place, and they just throw it to the side like it means nothing to them.”

Emma didn’t realized what she’d said until it was too late. While she’d become comfortable enough with Killian to share certain details about her personal life over the past few months, her upbringing in foster care was the one subject she’d avoided. She’d heard stories of his and Liam’s upbringing by their single mother, who died when Killian was in college. The only family she’d ever mentioned to him was David, and he didn’t even know they weren’t actually siblings.

But that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have at Granny’s in the middle of the afternoon. She wasn’t sure how much time he had free to spend with her, or when she would see him again. If you even will, she thought.

Sensing her discomfort, Killian reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. “Is everything alright, love?”

The feeling of his hand in her own stopped Emma’s train of thought. She almost hated how comforting it was. “Yeah, it’s nothing.” She gave what she hoped looked like a genuine smile. There was no need to waste her time with him focusing on bad memories. “What do you say we pay the bill and go do some sight seeing? Boston isn’t New York or LA, but it can be fun. I think so anyway.”

“Sounds like a plan, love.”

They bickered at the cash register over who was going to pay. Killian wanted to be a gentleman, Emma wanted him to feel like her guest in some way. She somehow won. “You can buy me a bear claw at my favorite bakery later if you really want to,” she told him as she swiped her debit card through the reader and he stood to the side pouting.

She and Killian were heading for the door when a familiar face entered the diner. The sight of Ruby made Emma consider grabbing Killian and hiding him.

“Emma!” Her friends’ eyes lit up when she spotted them, red lips breaking out into a grin.

“Hey, Rubes. I didn’t think you were working today.” She would have taken Killian to eat somewhere else otherwise. Emma loved her friend, but something told her Ruby would have less of a filter than usual around him.

“I wasn’t, but Ashley had a doctors’ appointment and asked me to cover her shift.” She glanced around Emma to get a look at Killian. “Oh, is this the English guy? You didn’t tell me he was hot.”

The urge to crawl under the nearest table was tempting. “Uh, yeah,” she said, her face reddening, even more so when she realized it sounded like she was agreeing with Ruby’s comment. She turned to Killian. “This is my friend, Ruby. Granny’s is, well, her grandmother’s.”

Ruby held her hand out to him. “It’s so nice to  put a face with the name. Emma talks about you all the time.”

Emma shot her a death stare as Killian accepted the handshake and brought her hand to his lips. “It’s a pleasure, love. I’ve heard quite a bit about you as well.”

“Such a charmer.” Ruby’s grin widened. “I love it.”

“Yeah, well, we were just leaving, and I know you have to get to work.” She grabbed Killian’s hand and pulled him out the door before Ruby had another chance to embarrass her. “Bye!”

Emma groaned as soon as the door to Granny’s had shut behind her. “I’m sorry about that. She means well, but she tends to come off a bit strong.”

“No worries, Swan. I can’t say I have many objections with a woman who so freely acknowledges my good looks.” He smirked, and she couldn’t help but think how much she wanted to kiss the smile off of his face.

Which she wasn’t going to do. Because that would be ridiculous. “Yeah, I’m never gonna let her live that down.”

She moved her car to a free public lot and spent the next hour with Killian, walking around downtown Boston to show him some of her favorite spots in the area. She pointed out the precinct where she often dropped off bail jumpers, the library, her favorite coffee shop, and the bakery that made the best bear claws in town.

“You can definitely return the favor from lunch now,” Emma told him when they entered the shop and she caught a whiff of something that smelled like butter and cinnamon.

“Whatever the lady wishes.”

“The lady definitely wishes for a bear claw. Or five.”

In the end she requested one, although Killian told the attendant to add another to her bag. “In case you’d like one for the weekend and don’t feel like making the trip.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll let it go uneaten for that long.”

They sat at a bench outside the bakery since the weather was nice. Mid September in Boston was often ideal since it was still warm without being unbearably hot. Emma took one of her bear claws out of the paper bag and bit into it, letting the warm dough melt in her mouth. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” she told Killian, who had started eating his blueberry scone.

“I’ll take your word for it, Swan. You know I’m not fond of raisins.”

“Whatever.” She feigned disappointment. “More for me.”

It occurred to Emma that she had yet to ask another important question. She had no idea how long he would be in Boston, and if she would get to see him again after today. Killian had mentioned in previous conversations that he had a handful of meetings over the following two days, but nothing about what his schedule looked like or when he would be flying back.

Killian picked up on her unspoken apprehension. “What’s going on in that head of yours, love?”

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Hadn’t she decided she wasn’t going to waste time worrying while he was there? “It’s nothing,” she insisted again. Killian’s expression suggested he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t press the issue.

“Did I tell you my nephew is into Peppa Pig now?” she asked, knowing he might like this change of subject. “He’s, like, fascinated with the British accents and tries to talk like the characters all the time now. It’s hilarious.”

His eyes lit up. “Is that so? I like this lad already. Although I do prefer Percy Pigs myself. It’s a type of candy,” he explained when her eyebrows shot up. A quick Google search provided a photo of what he was referring to, which was, as suggested, a gummy in the shape of a pig’s head.

It was weird, if she was being frankly honest, but Leo would love them. “Kid’s definitely getting an order of these for his next birthday.”

Emma finished her bear claw and wiped her mouth with a napkin from the bakery. But she must have not done an adequate job. Killian leaned over. “You missed a spot, love,” he said, brushing his thumb at the corner of her mouth. Any reply she had was forgotten with the gesture as she became hyper focused on the brief but startling feeling of his touch.

“Uh, thanks.” The words came out raspy and uneven.

Her reaction seemed to make Killian realize what he’d done. “Apologies, Swan. I wasn’t thinking.”

She couldn’t stop herself from blurting out the question that followed. “What are we doing here, Killian?”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Seven: A Portrait ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

It’s been three weeks, and he hasn’t seen hide or hair of her. And he’s not going to text her, if only because he refuses to fall to his brother’s meddling.

Three weeks since he and Itachi wandered into that art exhibition. Three weeks since Sasuke saw the street portrait of himself she’d drawn while he’d been at his usual coffee shop haunt. Three weeks since Itachi bought it and not so subtly encouraged them to exchange numbers.

And now he can’t help but be disappointed that she’s not here. And it’s all Itachi’s fault! Sure, he’d been curious before, but actually meeting her and seeing that stupid portrait (it wasn’t stupid, he’s just peeved) made it almost unbearable.

She’s yet to come back...at least, not while he’s there. Every weekend he’s popped by for a few hours, hoping for some reason to run into her while he’s there. But every weekend, he’s ended up disappointed.

Then he starts wondering if she’s avoiding it because the whole thing embarrassed her. Not that he’d blame her: Itachi made a whole spectacle out of it! Leave it to Itachi to turn something so mundane into a scene.

Thumb scrolling back and forth over his contacts screen, he watches her name go up and down, up and down. He doesn’t want to text her. He doesn’t want Itachi to win. It just seems so...ridiculous. The circumstance aren’t foretelling. They’re not some romance movie cliche. The only reason he’s considering it is due to his brother’s interference.

And it’s driving him nuts!

Powering off his phone, he scowls and takes up his laptop. She’s still not here. He’s wasted enough time as it is - time to actually be productive this weekend.

He goes home and busies himself with random take-home work from the office. Nothing exciting, but it needs to be done. And the mindless task keeps his brain on one track.

At least...until he’s done.

Lounging atop his couch that evening, he slings an arm up over his eyes with a sigh. He doesn’t know this girl. Know anything about her. The only thing connecting them in any way is the drawing she did. Nothing else.

So why can’t he stop letting his mind wander to her?

She’s cute. He’ll admit that much. Short, with a rounded face and fuller build than most girls he’s even been thrown in with. And her occupation is unique. He’s never actually really known any artists, unless you count his brother...but he’s into music, not drawing.

The next day after work, he goes to the building that had held the art open house. To his disappointment, it’s closed...and the previous galleries cleared out. Of course it wouldn’t last this long, but...he just thought...maybe…

She’s a street artist, he reminds himself. She wanders and finds whatever looks viable to draw. He can’t begin to know what draws her eyes - and he won’t pretend to. So, Sasuke really has no idea where to even begin to look.

So, he just...starts wandering.

The Spring day is drawing to a close - his work day runs until five, and he spent far too long trying to gather clues from the gallery host.  He’s got maybe half an hour of daylight left. The odds of finding her are low.

It’s well after dark by the time he gives up.

Heading into a fast food joint (it’s the only thing left open after eight), he gets something basic to shove down his throat. Not the best dinner, but it’s too late to cook, and his mood’s been soured anyway.

Digging out his phone, he idles over what to do with it. Send Itachi a grumpy text, send Naruto a grumpy text...send Hinata a casual hello…

No!

But...why no? He can’t really kid himself at this point. He’s too curious. Too invested.  This has got to stop somehow. Opening the message window, thumbs fidget over the keys hesitantly as he chews on his straw.

“...Sasuke?”

Eyes go wide, taking a sip of soda by accident in an attempt to gasp...and quickly choking.

Are you kidding?!

Flinching as she holds her to-go bag, Hinata tries not to stare as Sasuke attempts to regain his composure. “Are...are you okay?”

“Fine...I’m fine. Just…” He can’t explain. Probably doesn’t have to. “What, uh...what are you doing here?”

“Picking up something fast and c-cheap. I was out all day sketching in the park, so...no time to make dinner.”

“Oh, uh...same. About the dinner thing. Was, uh...busy.”

She perks a brow at him. “...I see.”

Awkward silence.

“So, uh...get anything good?” he dares to ask, still clearing his throat a bit from the sting of soda in his windpipe.

“I did!” Glancing to her bag, she pauses a moment before asking, “You...want to see?”

“Sure.”

Sliding into the booth opposite him, she sets aside her food and digs out a sketchbook. “Most of this was just landscape scribbles...I’ve been n-needing to practice them. But I got a pretty good portrait, too…”

Delicate fingers flip through the pages, briefly displaying the more messy sketches before opening up to the page she’s seeking.

It’s an old woman in the strangest looking coat he’s ever seen: a myriad of pockets and buttons and a frill of what looks like feathers around the collar…? She’s sitting on a park bench, feeding a rather large flock of pigeons.

“What do you think?”

Studying it a bit longer, Sasuke opens his mouth, pauses...and then says, “She...kinda looks like a pigeon herself.”

“That’s what I thought!”

The blurted reply draws eyes, and they both go pink. Sheepish, Hinata ducks her head. “I just, y’know...the feathers, and -”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. She really -”

“Looks like one of them, doesn’t she?” Hinata giggles. “It was just too perfect! I had to get a sketch in. No idea if I’ll be able to finish it...I’ll have to see if she comes back. And hopefully wearing that coat.”

Staring at it again, Sasuke can’t help a soft snort. “You find the most interesting people to draw, don’t you?”

“I do.” There’s a small, cheeky smile. “Guess your b-brother thinks so too, huh?”

At that, he goes pink. “...I’m sorry about all that, by the way -”

“Oh, it wasn’t anything bad! Just...a little embarrassing. I’ve never actually sold anything before, so...his interest and his generosity made it quite the first experience.”

“You haven’t…? But your art’s amazing!”

She gives a modest duck of her chin. “...thank you.”

“I mean, I dunno anything about art, but...I really liked what I saw. And I guess Itachi did, too. He’s got an eye for talent. If he liked your stuff, that’s a good sign, believe me.”

That seems to perk her up.

“Anyway, uh…” Sasuke rubs a hand at his neck. “...I haven’t seen you around the coffee shop.”

“Oh...yeah, I’ve been trying to find new locations to draw. I go there a lot, actually.”

“You do?”

“Mhm! Guess we just...never crossed paths until I drew you.”

“That’s weird...cuz I’m a regular. I practically live there on the weekends.”

“Guess we just had to find the right time!”

“...yeah, guess so.”

“...a-anyway, I...better get home.”

“Yeah, me too. Thanks for showing me your drawings.”

“Sure! And, um…” She goes pink. “If...if you ever want me to draw you again, just ask! It...was a lot of fun. And you make a great model.”

“...I do?”

“Y...yeah! You have a very interesting profile. And expressions. But...maybe that was because you didn’t know I was drawing you.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, probably. Uh...sure, if you want me to.”

“Okay! I’ll text you when I’ve got a free weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

Not wanting to walk with her after saying goodbye, Sasuke lingers as she takes her leave. Well, looks like he’ll be her subject again...but he wonders if he’ll be as appealing if he knows she’s doing it. Only one way to know, he supposes.

Glancing to his phone, he considers telling his brother, but...decides against it. He’ll probably want to buy that one, too. Once was enough...though Hinata could probably use the money.

...maybe later, then.

     Exhausted, long day, this'll be brief OTL      Sequel-ish to day eighty-five. Not...that great cuz I couldn't write until VERY late, and my eyes are killing me @~@ I'm getting old. Sorry if this is a little lackluster. Tomorrow, I hope, won't be as busy, and I can write something better~      But, either way, thanks for reading!