#it's not without stain politically but it's not the horror show that the movie first contact is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charliedawn · 3 years

Note

good morning you can imagine where the slashers are watching tv and find out that the reader made a horror movie (english is not my first language so if there is any mistake, sorry)

Pennywise :

He wasn't really paying attention to the movie at first, but it quickly got more interesting when you showed up and visibly tensed up.

It made him look up and notice why you had so suddenly frozen. He saw you on TV, covered in blood and a twisted smile on your face.

A smile matching your own graced his face as he turned around to look at you and asked in an amused voice :

"Wanna explain, sugar ?"

You sighed loudly, knowing you couldn’t get out of this one..

"I was a collaborator to the realisation of a horror movie when I was young and played in it. There’s nothing to explain."

His smirk and interest only grew as he straightened up in his chair to have a better look at the screen. He then patted the place next to him, telling you to seat.

You knew he wouldn’t accept no for an answer so you did and Pennywise started making you nervous by looking far too serious for someone watching a movie.

At the end, he turned back towards you with a wide grin.

"I must say..You would have done one Hell of a slasher. You gave me goosebumps."

You forced yourself not to interject that he couldn’t get goosebumps and only offered him a polite smile.

"I’m glad you liked my performance. But, as I said, it was a long time ago and I didn’t know they had the movie here.."

Pennywise shrugged.

"Still. Blood looks good on you."

You gave him a disapproving look, but he only grinned boyishly before getting up and giving you the dvd back.

"Hide it. Better me than any of the others. Besides, I like to think of myself as privileged of having this little secret between us, Y/N."

It’s the first time Pennywise called you without your title in front. It was usually Nurse Y/N, mama bear or nice nurse..Somehow, it made you flustered and Pennywise picked up on the slight change in your heartbeat. He smiled.

"Be careful..You almost lost control for a second there. I wonder why ?"

The knowing twinkle in his eyes made you think that he knew more than he let on, but he only walked past you and disappeared.

Dennis was watching it when you entered the room and it was only when you sat down next to him that he seemed to notice your presence.

"This..actress..looks a lot like you."

He said, unsure as to how you would react ?You looked up and smiled at what he was watching before nodding.

"It's because she is."

Dennis didn't really react like he was surprised, more like acknowledged it with a brief nod and you both continued watching in silence.

It was only at the very end that Dennis allowed himself to talk again.

"You're performance was pretty good..But, I must admit that I don't really like the movie."

You nodded. You understood that for a slasher, it wouldn't be as exciting..However, what he said next truly surprised you.

"There's too much blood..I wouldn't want to clean it up afterwards. It's hard to get blood out of your clothes afterwards."

You could relate to the extend that it had taken you hours to getting the fake blood stains off your clothes after the final scene.

"Yeah..I kinda understand. But, at least, you won't have to do this anymore, right ?"

You tried to cheer him up, but it only seemed to worsen his mood as he replied.

"Don't put so much faith on us..I know that someday, I'll have to clean up the mess again. Just, be grateful it isn't your blood next time.."

It wasn't a treat, but a warning.

You knew that the beast was always a big concern for the Horde and that they were battling everyday for the monster to stay trapped, but you would never be afraid of them. Never them.

Watching the movie must have made them remember bad memories of the time where the beast was in control. You felt bad now and decided to give Dennis a hug.

"I'm sorry..It must be so hard."

He tensed up under your touch, but relaxed after a while and even gave you a light squeeze of your shoulder in return.

"Don't be..As I said, you performed well."

He gave you a reassuring smile, but you knew the sadness hiding behind.

He stood up and told you goodnight before walking back to his room. You felt bad, but what could you do ?

Even though the movie showed you as a slasher, you weren't one and couldn't even imagine the suffering the Horde must have gone through from the moment they trapped the beast..

You sighed and finally switched off the TV.

Brahms was actually excited when he saw you and immediately told you to come.

The moment you arrived, he insisted you both watched the movie together and shared snacks with you, enjoying seeing you in such a different way.

However, he couldn't help but scream at each jump scare. It wasn't a particularly scary movie, but Brahms was always a very sensitive boy.

He pretended to like it (even though it was obvious he wasn't exactly thrilled by the very scary music and the amount of blood shown)

Brahms may be a slasher, but he never really liked the sight of blood and preferred strangulation or a less messy way of killing than some of the other slashers.

Blood makes him panic.

At some point, he got so scared he tried to hide behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist impulsively, almost crushing your ribs in the process.

However, he quickly noticed and backed away and apologized.

"I'm sorry ! I didn't mean to..!"

He was on the verge of tears, but you only smiled gently at him and shuffled his hair affectionately.

"Don't worry..It's okay, Brahms. I'm not mad at you."

He quickly gained back his happy smile and nodded vividly before looking back at the you on screen and couldn't help but wince as he saw you decapitate someone.

"I..I think I prefer you in real life."

You almost laughed at his worried tone, but succeeded in restraining yourself and hid your amused smile.

"Thank you, Brahms. I think I prefer the actual version too."

He smiled brightly at you and you then both agreed on starting to watch another movie.

A horror movie was good when you were in it, but one where Brahms smiled was far better.

Jason switched through the channels until he fell on a movie where one of the actresses strangely reminded him of you.

You noticed what he was watching and asked if he wanted to change channels ? But, he shook his head negatively, even when you told him that this was you and that the movie wasn't that good.

He insisted on watching until the end, even though he was obviously trying not to fall asleep.

Jason is not someone easily scared and he's seen more than his fair share of blood.

However, he was interested in your performance.

You seemed to genuinely enjoy playing the bad guy and he was too. He liked how your moved around, tracking your preys and taking them out one by one..

However, he groaned in frustration when one of the survivors suddenly appeared behind you and stabbed you from behind and his dog attacked you, tearing your throat to shreds.

"I hate it when good guys win.."

He finally admitted with a discontent expression at the end of the movie and you chuckled as you understood that he had actually been rooting for you in the movie.

"Don't say that. Good guys may be boring sometimes, but they always make it more interesting for the villain."

He was about to deny it, but restrained as he thought that—in some way—you were the "good guy" in his life.

He shook his head and smiled.

"Yeah..I guess not all good guys are a pain.."

You beamed at him and playfully nudged his shoulder.

"See ? I knew you would change your mind."

He wordlessly nodded and you didn't insist, even though you wanted to know who or what had changed his mind ?

Five saw you on the screen and it didn't take him long to put two and two together. He quickly time jumped to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of popcorn before returning to the living room to finish the movie, waiting for you.

You arrived and immediately saw his smug smile. You sighed.

"What now, Five ?"

He eyed the TV screen significantly and you turned around to see the movie you had made a long time ago..A movie that nobody was supposed to see.

"Where did you get it ?"

He didn't answer, but you guessed that he must have used some of his connection and put his hands on one of the only copies remaining.

Five could be scary in his way of finding the most profound and hidden secrets you have.

He smiled enigmatically at you before putting it on, making sure the slashers would hear it or enter the living room just at that moment and enjoy the view of the nice nurse covered in blood and killing people on screen.

You then had a bunch of slashers looking at your movie as if it was a school movie and even caught Freddy taking notes..

You glared at Five who only shrugged before saying cheekily.

"It’s not my fault you never deleted your hard drive’s memory now, is it ?"

The little…

For the next month, you had to suffer Penny and Pennywise imitating wounded victims and screaming bloody murder to the rest of the staff, saying that you had lost your mind and tried to kill innocent civilians.

Fortunately, most of the members of staff had been warned of the Penny Brothers’ pranks and shapeshifting abilities, but it didn’t help when most of the slashers played along, under Five’s leadership no doubt.

One day when someone was supposed to come to pass an interview to get a job at the hospital, he came in covered in blood and pretended to be a victim (one of the only times he didn’t mind being mistaken for a normal kid).

Five : "P..Please..Help me. She stabbed me !"

He then pointed his finger towards you and pretended to faint. It took a lot of convincing to maie the interviewee not call the police.

Let’s say the potential recruit took a few months to warm up to you afterwards.

As he involved himself in your job, revenge was sweet.

Five : "WHERE IS THE COFFEE MACHINE ?!"

Nurse Y/N *sipping a cup of coffee with a small satisfied smile* : "What’s the matter Five ? Lost something ?"

Let’s say..He didn’t talk to you for a week after that, but was still the first one to apologise.

Five : "I’m sorry..I’ll give your dvd back."

Nurse Y/N : "I’m sorry too. The coffee machine should be back tomorrow morning."

Five may go a bit too far sometimes, but he knows how to make compromises. He also likes you because he knows that you’ll handle everything and, even if he tries and pushes all of your buttons, you’ll still be there for him.

It may be a bit selfish of him, but knowing that makes him want to push your buttons even more.

"It’s…nice ?"

Michael wasn’t exactly comfortable, but still watched politely until the end.

However, you could see a slight shift in his face during the scene where the killer used knives.

His eyes widened and a dark shadow seemed to veil his emotions for a minute; he looked emotionless and you decided to shut the TV off, which seemed to snap him out of it.

He blinked several times and then turned his head towards you with a small smile he wanted reassuring.

"I’m gonna..go."

He didn’t wait for an answer and stormed out of the room, clearly upset.

You found him cooking in the kitchen and started helping him.

Michael is not much of a talker, so making him feel comfortable is the best way to make him loosen up.

However, that time, he was too tense and you kept cooking wordlessly until he finally broke the silence by hissing after cutting his finger.

You quickly took a nearby towel to apply pressure on the wound and looked around for something to put on it, but Michael shook his head and showed your his finger..the bleeding had already stopped.

Nurse Y/N : "Are you going to tell me what’s going on ?"

Michael seemed conflicted, but finally confessed.

"It’s just…seeing you as a slasher and using knives in the movie made me lose my concentration for a bit and..lose control over the other one. I felt this urge to have a knife in my hand again.."

It was alarming, yes. But, you knew that Michael would never let Myers win.

The best way to help him ? It was to make him feel confident again. To reassure him.

You put your hand on top of his and addressed him the best reassuring smile you could muster.

"It’s okay, Michael. You’re safe here.."

He almost laughed at that and shook his head before looking around and giving you a bitter smile.

"You don’t understand, sunshine. I’m not the one who isn’t safe here. The horrors in that movie ? I did almost all of them. How much time until I do the same to you and everyone else ?"

You wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t happen, that you would stop him, that everything would be alright. But, truth be told ? You had no clue.

Yes. Michael Myers could return at any moment.

Yes. Everyone here would be in danger if it happened.

Yes. Even the other slashers could be killed. As one slasher could kill another.

But, when you looked into Michael’s eyes and saw the fear and worry in there ?

You knew you couldn’t let that happened. You wouldn’t. For him. You couldn’t let him suffer through all that pain again.

You hugged him and Michael closed his eyes before hugging you back.

He knew that you didn’t know the answers to his worries, but just holding him was good enough for now.

Michael chuckled and you raised your eyes quizzically and he answered your question with an amused smile.

"I just remembered that one of the girls in the movie died by twisting her ankle.."

You deadpanned for a few seconds before remembering that moment in the movie and couldn’t help but laugh as well.

"Yes ! Her foot got caught in some bear trap and she spent the whole movie just bleeding out.."

Michael nodded and his usual smile was back.

Michael : "Yeah. She could have bandaged it at least. I was so frustrated when she just kept walking until she died..like, what was her purpose in the movie ? Very unrealistic."

Nurse : "Right ?!"

You kept talking about the many inconsistencies and inaccuracies in the movie, laughing it off as if nothing happened.

There would be a time when you would have to talk about it again, but for now, Michael would enjoy every moment he got just being himself.

"YOU LOOKED HOT !"

Freddy appreciated the movie and especially your leather black ripped costume.

Freddy was the only one who watched it more than three times to memorise all of your lines and tease you afterwards.

He’s dedicated when it comes to annoying people.

He even bought your original costume, thanks to Five and made you wear it.

It spooked a few members of the staff, but it only added to his fun.

Eva : "Wha…?! Why are you dressed like that ?!"

Nurse Y/N : "Freddy took my uniform and forced me to put that on instead.."

Freddy : "Worth it !"

Freddy also bought all of the movie’s available fan merchandise and walked with a t-shirt with your head on it and the name of the movie on the back.

Freddy *kicking the door open and reciting one of your lines* : "Today is the day you die, scum ! Your blood will cover the walls of this house and your screams will resonate through the walls until the end of time !"

You rolled your eyes before clapping unenthusiastically, but Freddy decided to ignore your obvious sarcasm and bowed with a wide grin.

"Thank you ! Thank you !"

He also showed the movie to everyone and made giant posters of your horror self (selling them to some members of the staff and the slashers)

When you heard, you decided to confront him about them and barged in his room with one of the posters in hand.

"Really ?! Even in the corridors now ?!"

He replied with a cheeky grin.

"What ? Don’t you like them ?"

You rolled your eyes again, a constant habit when knowing Freddy.

"Why do you even like this movie so much ?!"

You asked, more out of frustration than genuine curiosity, but his answer left you baffled.

"A) Because you were hella hot in that one. B) Because it’s nice to see you lose your cool. You’re always so sweet and nice and it’s funny to see you have a dark side too. I mean..I don’t know if it was all play ? But, seeing you so wild is funny. I could almost imagine you as one of us."

You opened your mouth to reply, but only huffed before turning around and leaving the room.

Freddy could be very annoying sometimes, but what he said still lingered on your mind afterwards. One of them ?

You shook your head.

A slasher ? You ? No..It was only acting, nothing more.

It’s true that you did wonder a few times how it would feel ? The slashers were free. Free to do whatever they wanted..But, the price they had to pay was too great.

This constant loneliness and suffering ? It was the reason you had decided to leave your acting career to become a nurse. To help them, not become one of them.

However, it didn’t stop you from thinking about it.

How life would be if you were a slasher ?

"I love that last line from the survivor: you got what you deserved and then bam ! Bullet to the head. Very nice end."

Arthur actually liked the movie.

He wasn't particularly interested at the beginning, but he quickly got hooked when he saw you and the main character fighting at the end.

It made him think of him and Batman.

The justice bringer all mighty and the loony sewer rat who dared stood up to the true injustice.

He wasn't keen on Batman, but he had to respect him as they aligned with the same purpose : fighting injustice.

He didn't like how most of his "successors" made him look as if he was obsessed with him..He wasn't.

The Batman may be his nemesis, but Arthur never saw him as an equal, because under all that suit hid a simple man who had never suffered as he much as he had.

Bruce Wayne would always remain a little boy who ended up with a fortune the size of a mountain..while he was left with nothing.

Arthur clenched his fists and even though the credits where rolling down, he couldn't help but glare as he thought about how he would have preferred the villain to win for once..Just once.

You noticed that Arthur seemed a little too deep into his thoughts, his nails digging in the soft material of the armchair and you gently stroked his back.

"Hey, Arthur..Are you okay ?"

He seemed to suddenly come back to reality and took several deep breaths before addressing you a weak smile.

"I'm..fine. I'll go to bed now, if it's alright with you ?"

You frowned worriedly, wondering if you should accompany him ? But, he stood up and stormed out before you could follow him.

He felt sick..

However, he didn't think you would actually follow him to his room a few seconds later.

You knocked on his door and he heard the concern in your voice as he splashed his face with cold water.

He didn't answer right away, looked up at his reflection in the mirror and couldn't help but grimace in pain as he saw the old Arthur coming back..He wanted to tear up and fall down in despair.

But, before he could, he felt two arms wrap around his middle and another face appear in the mirror. Yours.

"I'm sorry about the movie..I thought it would be a good idea. But, don't run away when you feel bad, Arthur. I'm here."

The man couldn't help but break into tears and asked in a broken voice.

"But, are you really ?!"

It wasn't the first time he would have hallucinations and he couldn't tell reality from the fake sometimes..Was anything real anyway ?

However, he felt your hold tighten around him and relaxed against you.

"I'm here. I'm not an hallucination. He can't get to you anymore...I won't let him."

You promised and Arthur closed his eyes. He knew you said that to try to make him feel better, but it truly did. Not because he thought you could stop the Batman, but because he knew you would still be there when he left..

He turned around and kissed your knuckles with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, my dear."

Penny noticed immediately and was excited to tell everyone about it and even asked to see your old props and costumes.

This was when he fell on one of your old plastic necks filled with fake blood and decided to play a little prank on the others as he entered the room where they were still watching the movie, covered in blood and you in his arms, wearing the fake neck.

Pennywise was the only one who didn’t panic as he couldn’t smell the blood, but the others lost it and almost killed Penny before you both bursted out laughing.

Pennywise laughed as well, but Michael who saw how everyone else had worried, gave you both a time-out.

Penny could get away from it, but he felt bad leaving you alone and didn’t particularly want to face Michael's wrath if he moved an inch.

You stayed like this for at least 1 hour before Michael took pity on you and decided to end your punishment.

You both apologized to the slashers before he took your hand and teleported back into his room.

"Did you see their faces ?! Ahahah ! They were so funny !"

He started shifting his face to the different slashers with horrified expressions and laughed some more, but quickly noticed that you weren't laughing along.

He then saw your sour expression and froze.

"What is going on ?"

He asked worriedly and you shook your head.

"I'm sorry..It's just..I was just wondering what would happen if I really died ? What would they do ?"

He seemed to think about it before shrugging.

"I can't talk for them, but I know what I'd do !"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Really ? What ?"

Suddenly, Penny's eyes changed from an innocent blue to a dark orange as he answered :

"I would eat your soul.."

You thought he was joking at first, but the lack of laughter from Penny quickly made yours die down. It quickly got a lot colder in Penny's room and you asked, more curious than really worried.

"Why ?"

He giggled, as if the answer was obvious.

"~Silly human..To keep you with me forever of course ! All the souls I've devoured stay with me..All the children are inside me and they kept me company when I was lonely.."

He patted his stomach lovingly, like a mother and, even though you had never been scared of Penny before, his answer almost broke your self-control.

His eyes raised up to meet yours and he took a long breath, as if trying to find your fear somewhere..

He smirked darkly and chuckled.

"You almost gave in to the fear, nurse..Maybe you're not as fearless as they all say you are.."

Penny giggled maniacally and it caused you to take a few steps back. However, he didn't let you escape and jumped on you, his mouth wide open and it took all of your strength not to let fear overtake you.

At the last minute, he only closed his mouth and smiled innocently at you before kissing the tip of your nose.

"Don't worry your pretty little head..I won't let anything happen to you before that."

He then opened the door and you didn't need to be asked twice as you ran out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to calm down and immediately went to the kitchen to see Amita.

What was that about ?!

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #five hargreeves x reader #the horde x reader #kevin wendell crumb x reader #arthur fleck x reader #slashers au #slashers

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daltonacademia · 4 years

Text

There’s A Time For Daring - 1

charlie dalton x fem!reader [post events of the movie]

word count: 1.7k

warning: allusions to sex / slight sexual harrassment? drinking, mentions of neil’s suicide, horrible parents

Charlie couldn’t help but emit a low growl as his vomit-inducing, picture-perfect, high-society mother and father, whom he despised, prodded him towards the expansive front entrance of Nealson Preparatory School located in southern Vermont. His fuschia-lipped, cakey-faced mother, Cynthia Dalton, was a well-dressed, dignified housewife by day and charming socialite by night; she was particularly harsh as she trampled his pen-stained oxfords with her spearish kitten heels. His eyes shot daggers at the snow-strewn path below, a familiar fire burning in his core.

There were many things Charlie was tempted to furiously spit out at his parents, but instead, he managed to keep his jaw clamped shut, his pearly whites digging into the light pink of his lips hard enough to draw blood. No matter what he shouted, cried, pleaded, they wouldn’t budge. They never would. And it was infuriating.

“Charles! Being expelled from such a prestigious school is no laughing matter, young man. That school cost us quite the pretty penny! How dare you defy the rules to the extent of expulsion. It’s disgraceful, and I will tolerate it no longer!” Charlie’s mother shrieked, furious tears smudging the thick mascara that coated her eyelashes.

“You’ll be shipped off to Nealson Preparatory School in February, and if I hear so much as a single mention of your name not followed with overwhelming compliments, you can expect nasty, nasty consequences! Go pack your things, you’ll be staying with Aunt Barbara until the first of February finally arrives!” The rims of Charlie’s brown eyes stung with anger, frustration, and furthest down, sadness. He was diminished to nothing but an image-ruiner to his mother. The person who was supposed to love him, protect him, save him from the horrors of this hell called Earth.

Mr. Dalton silently observed the boisterous outburst from his expensive leather armchair across the den, a glass of strong, half-drunk whiskey in his palm. Charlie couldn’t bear to see their despicable faces any longer, and as his body felt no longer under his control, stomped up the stairs in a huff, rapidly swiping away the glassy tears spilling from his eyes. Thoughts of running away, escaping it all, flooded his unstable mind. ‘I get why you did it, Neil. I really do. But did you have to go so soon?’

But instead of lingering on the image of Neil any longer, he hastily threw his bare necessities into his suitcase, which was still covered in an array of Welton Academy stickers.

The grounds of Nealson were unsurprisingly well-maintained; it reminded him a lot of Welton. The impeccably manicured lawns, gleaming, icy blue lake, the gothic stone arches and pillars. It was eerily similar to Hellton, even down to the ice-cold blanket of snow coating the distant rolling hills. It’s beautiful, Charlie thought, surveying the slow sprinkling of snow, No, it’s hideous.

Before he could fully vomit at the vile grounds of his new school, his parents fiercely shoved him inside the Headmaster’s dingy office, politely taking the vacant mahogany seats beside him. Charlie couldn’t be bothered to listen to a word his parents said with pearly white smiles, which were no doubt tooth-rotting, sugar-coated lies about the real reason he was expelled over a month prior.

He knew that they couldn’t just be transparent and tell the Headmaster that he had socked the utterly vile Richard Cameron’s face in (rightfully so, in his opinion), or that he was a star member of the infamous Dead Poets Society, or that he had gone to the extreme lengths to stage a phone call from none other than God himself. It didn’t work like that.

His mother’s cheeky, artificial voice sounded precisely the same as it always had: carefully rehearsed and slathered with naivety. Seemingly without hesitation, the catty woman could deflect any less-than-pleasant questions or insinuations about her “golden role-model” son, who’s admittedly “a little misguided at times”.

The new headmaster seated across from him appeared to be around the same age as Mr. Nolan, which, as far as Charlie was concerned, was older than the Cretaceous period at least. His pale-as-a-ghost skin was wrinkled and paper-thin; his patchy, gelled side-swept hair was (very obviously) dyed a deep, midnight black, reminiscent of an off-brand Elvis.

Charlie’s ears continued to mute the awkward conversation happening amongst him, his focus instead shifting around to the various awards and certificates lining the ivory walls. They all seemed so phony; ‘Best Headmaster- 1947-1959’, ‘Nealson Academy: Exceeds Expectations’. The Headmaster had even framed his high school superlative: ‘Voted Most Likely to Succeed’. What a pathetic-

In a swift blur, his parents rose from their seats, his mother clutching her magenta purse with matching pursed lips. Charlie was handed a hefty, stapled packet packed full of school rules and guidelines with a denture-toothed smile from Headmaster ‘Campbell’. This’d make some decent kindling, he thought as he yanked the packet from his clammy clutches, leafing through its pages with a smirk, this garbage’s almost laughable.

A syncopated rhythm of raps on the door, followed by a gravelly, ‘come in', presented his new dorm escort. His chauffeur just so happened to be you, the accomplished and universally admired student body president in the same grade as the newcomer. You were dutifully donning Nealson’s horrendous uniform: a crisp, white button-up accented with a blue and silver tie was topped with a depressing grey sweater vest. An equally loathsome pleated skirt concealed your thighs, and your ankles were shielded from the chilly February air with black crew socks.

You extended your perfectly manicured, soft hand out to your brand-new peer with a yearbook-worthy smile, introducing, “Hi. Welcome to Nealson, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You swore you heard the brunette mutter something disrespectful under his breath, but nonetheless, he, rather unprofessionally, shook your hand with an eye roll. Things between the two of you were not starting off the way you hoped, but you were determined to make a good impression. The best impression possible.

“Charlie Dalton,” he replied with a mischievous smirk. The brunette standing in front of you reeked of cigarettes, and there was the slightest smell of cheap beer clinging to his clothes. His brown hair was messy, springing out in every direction, despite the water furiously combed through it. His eyes glinted with rebellion, a look so alluring yet dangerous.

“I’ll be showing you to your dorm, which you’ll sleep in for the remainder of the year.” Since Dalton was starting in February, he only had five months of studying before long-awaited senior year. Mr. Campbell waved the two of you off, and with that, you trekked towards the Boys’ wing, Dalton sauntering at your side.

The walk through the main corridor was silent and awkward. You had tried to enchant him with fun facts about Nealson and its (extensively selective) history, much to his obvious boredom and dismay. His umber eyes glazed the walls, uninterested in the decor. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, but for all you knew, it could be on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

After a while of treading through the high-ceilinged corridors illuminated with fleeting pale rays of sunlight, the boy next to you made no attempt to hide him drawing designs up and down your body.

“I’ve never been to a school with both boys and girls,” he drawled with a smirk. “Do things ever get exciting around here?”

You shook your head no while indiscreetly tugging down the hem of your skirt uncomfortably, and he said, “Do you think you’d maybe wanna spend the night with me in my dorm? Make sure I’m all settled in?”

Your whole body, from head to toe, froze. The audacity of this… creep! Your tongue poked, nearly stabbed, the back of your teeth, wanting to unleash a select few words to the disgusting Dalton beside you. But alas, if he were to tell anyone of your fiery wrath, you’d be demoted from class president faster than you could explain what really happened. It’s a corrupt system, sure, but even with the power that comes with such a title, there was no way to mend it.

Eventually, while you were wrapped up in the furies of your mind, Dalton revealed a small, autographed golf ball from his trousers pocket and began throwing it up and down above his head casually with every step.

“Can you not?” you snapped at the chestnut-haired boy after he tossed the sphere up and down again in an arch. “Don’t wanna get in trouble on your first day, do you?”

“You think this’ll get me in trouble? Have a little fun, it won’t kill you. I promise.” Dalton turned his gaze towards you, an annoyed but smug grin painted on his lips. He slowly tossed the golf ball to your hands, intending for you to catch it. However, the small ball evaded your grasp, instead bouncing around the hardwood floors below you, creating a series of loud, reverberating thunks.

“You were supposed to catch it, you know,” Dalton teased, nonchalantly watching you chase after the rogue orb. After it was finally safe in your clutches, you stomped over to the no-good newbie, irritated.

“Nealson’s strict. They don’t let stuff like creating an awful lot of racket go unreprimanded.” You were seething; red-hot blood pumped through your veins. Dalton didn’t look anything but utterly amused.

“Wow, you’re just about one of the biggest suck-ups I’ve seen in a while.”

“A what?” you growled.

“A suck-up. A rule-following poster child of excellence? A bratty, know-it-all? Anything along those lines?” He sputtered insults so nonchalantly, it made your blood boil and eyes sting.

“You better watch it, Dalton. I don’t know who you think you are-”

“I’m the best thing that’s happened to this school, by the looks of it.”

You had nothing left to say to this conceited shuck of a boy who really thought that he was all that and a side of fries. Well he wasn’t! Not in the slightest! And if his first day of classes wouldn’t drill it into him, you would.

The rest of the walk was pin-drop silent and tense. No more fun facts about Nealson escaped your downturned lips, just the light patting of his beat-up oxfords and your pristine mary-janes on the polished wood floor. The hallways seemed more depressing than usual, their framed portraits and condensated windows didn’t fill you with the motivation that you came to expect.

After finally arriving at the boys’ dormitories, you grumbled, “well, this is it. Have a swell life, Dalton.”

“Right back at ya, Y/L/N. Let’s hope this isn’t the last time we meet.” He gave you a cheeky wink before slamming the door in your face.

#dead poets society #Dead Poets Society (1989)#dead poetry #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society quotes #DPS #dps fanfiction #charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton x y/n #charlie dalton

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bardsingingasong · 4 years

Text

5+1 Chances to scare you

TITLE: 5+1 chances to scare you | Read on AO3

AUTHOR: Bardsingingasong | MarysseLalonde

RELATIONSHIPS: Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd

SUMMARY: Jason never scares, or that's what he says. Kyle is determined to prove the opposite.

There're 5 times tat Kyle tries to scare his boyfriend and 1 when he gets it, more or less.

WORD COUNT: 3,677

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Batman-All Media Types, Green Lantern- All Media Types

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning.

RATING: G

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Happy Halloween!

Yeah, I know Halloween is already past, but never is too late to celebrate it!

I'm very glad to contribute to this fandom and this precious ship. I hope you enjoy these idiots in love.

As usual, I want to thank my beta, TanisVs, for her work. You're the best girl, and I love you so much!!

Friendly reminder: English isn't my first language. I'm trying to improve my English, but I have a lot of work to do. Please if you wish to comment, first of all, thank you, and least be polite, I'm doing my best.

Enjoy!

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"As if you could scare me.”

Kyle frowned, and raised his head from Jason's shoulder to look at him. It was late at night. The patrol was over, and Kyle was back on Earth for the next month. They had decided to watch a movie, specifically a horror movie.

Growing up in Gotham and being trained by Batman had made Jason think that he was immune to fear. He liked to pretend he couldn't feel that emotion in particular, but Kyle knew it best. After all, the White Lantern was linked to the emotional spectrum.

"As if you were never afraid,” Kyle bit back. "Everyone feels fear sooner or later.”

"Yes, but it didn't mean you can scare me."

Kyle moved away from Jason, leaning on the sofa to look at him. Jason had that smile of his, which means he was fooling around with Kyle.

"I will," His voice tone was firm. "I know you, I could scare you in one way or another."

Jason stared at him, his smile growing bigger while his fingers held Kyle's chin.

"Sounds like a dare." He sounded playful and sensual. He was using the tone that he knew it drove Kyle mad. He was trying to distract him. Jason probably was bored with the movie, and he was in the mood to play.

And Kyle hated taking the bait so quickly.

"Maybe it is." Kyle was digging his own grave, but he never refused a challenge no matter how absurd it was.

"I would like to see you try."

In a second, Kyle was astride Jason's lap, devouring his mouth.

"It's a dare?" Jason asked between kisses.

"Will you take it?" Jason pulled him and pressed him against his body. His hips were raised, telling Kyle what he was thinking all the time during the movie. That was a little disturbing, but Kyle could understand that it was a time since he was on Earth.

"Maybe later, when I'm not busy".

There were no more words after that. The movie continued playing in the background, but sooner rather than later, their screams of pleasure ended up covering the scare screams from the film.

Later, when they were resting at Jason's bed, Kyle began to think of his plan attack.

“You know, I think we have a ghost in the apartment.”

Jason gave him an incredulous look. He was throw away over the sofa, watching a movie with a large popcorn bowl. Kyle should have joined him, but he had claimed how much he wanted to paint.

"And you think that because... ?"

Kyle stared at him. He usually didn't care how Jason looked like an idiot from time to time, but sometimes he wished his boyfriend would take him seriously. If Jason wanted a reason, he would have one.

"Because I was working on my canvas when some of your books fell from the bookshelf."

“Are you sure it wasn't you who has made them fall?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "I'm sure, because your stupid Jane Austen's books are floating everywhere, and I can't do that without my ring."

Red Hood grumbled. He left the bowl on the sofa and paused the movie before he got up. He didn’t seem not much convinced but went to the bedroom anyway. Kyle followed him. The two of them stopped in their tracks at the doorway. The room was uncoordinated, with all Kyle's paints over the bed and the floor. An easel was in front of the windows and on it the unfinished canvas. The scene could be normal, but there were some open books, floating mid-air. The books moved like someone was making them levitate. Maybe for the inexperienced eye they could look more real, but Jason wasn't a beginner. A single look was enough to know what happened there.

"If you make a single scratch on my books, it'll not matter how much I love you, you'll sleep in the streets for the rest of your Earth's days off." Jason said. He turned around and started to walk to the living room. "Put them back on the bookshelf, Rayner.”

The Lantern looked at him and back to the room.

"Aw c'mon, man! Are you serious?!" He ran after him. Jason was again on the sofa with the movie playing and the popcorn bowl on his lap. "You didn't doubt for a second."

"Who do you think I am, Ky?" He threw up a popcorn and ate it in flight. "I work with the big bat, your childish tricks could never fool me."

Kyle sighed loudly. He dropped on the couch, next to Jason, resting his head on the backrest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jason's mocking smile. Acting like a child, the White Lantern set the bowl aside and lay down on Jason's lap, crossing his arms with a pout on his face. Immediately, Jason caressed his hair.

Almost all the time, those gestures made Kyle doubt how people could think Jason was anything but a loving person. He knew how brutal and lethal Jason could be, but it was always for a reason... most of the time. The ex-Robin was very protective of the people he loved, and his love was not easy to earn but if you got it, it would last forever.

In Kyle's opinion, the man had suffered enough to let him be imperfect. Maybe Red Hood didn't comply with Batman's code, but he was efficient, and the same hands that could skew a life they also could be affectionate.

"Just for curiosity.” Kyle said. "What gave me away?"

"Many things. Your canvas was dry, and I could see the fishing line a mile away". Jason's voice was flat, even bored, but Kyle knew him for years and he could hear a tiny, tiny, note of fun on his tone. "You'll need to be more convincing if you want to scare me, Lantern."

Kyle snorted, giving Jason a bite in his thigh. Scare Jason Todd would be more difficult than he had thought in the first place.

"OH MY GOD! JASON!"

Kyle's scream surprised him in the shower. Normally he would have ignored the Lantern while showering, but this time something sounded wrong in Kyle's voice. Jason turned off the tap and wrapped himself with a towel. If it was a joke, he would ensure that his boyfriend would have a punishment.

Jason walked towards the kitchen, leaving a trail of water behind him. He would clean it up later, when he was sure Kyle hadn't been hurt by any nonsense. If anyone could do something so stupid and end up hurting himself, it was Kyle (and Dick too, but that was another matter). Sometimes Jason would try to explain to himself how Kyle could survive in space and be part of a group like the Lantern Corps as clumsy as he was.

"It may already be import… ant."

Jason fell silent as he entered the kitchen. Kyle was standing by the counter, with a rolled-up cloth tightly covering his hand. The cloth was completely stained red, and was dripping profusely. The cutting board and the knife with which he must have been working until then were equally stained with red. At first glance, it would appear that Kyle had cut himself. Very much so. To be honest, Jason would say that was the best performance the White Lantern could do. He was even crying! He could have fooled anyone, but not Jason. Definitely not Jason, who could distinguish fake blood from the real one with his eyes closed.

Red Hood saved the prank in his mind, he would ensure that Kyle will do it again with the Outlaws. Roy's face would be epic. But for now, he stayed near the door, looking at Kyle with his arms crossed.

"That's the best you can do?" Jason's tone had no emotion, but he arched one eyebrow, revealing his amusement. Jason had left his warm shower to suffer another pitiful try from his boyfriend to scare him. He'll make Kyle paid for it later. For the moment, Jason would be satisfied with dismantling his joke. "I don't know what have you used as fake blood, but it is more liquid than real blood. Nice whack, Lantern."

"In your defense I would say that it could have been quite convincing for someone with no experience. Play the joke on Jordan or Gardner, they'll fall for it."

"What about John?"

"Steward is the smart one in your little gang. He probably won't believe it."

"Does that mean I'm an idiot too?"

Jason didn't answer. He smiled and said:

"You're going to clean up this mess and make dinner while I finish showering, got it?"

Kyle pouted but smiled after. Scare Jason was his challenge, and it would be more fun than the second Robin had thought.

"Okay, this time it has to be the final one." Kyle took the final look at his latest work: a tall ghostly figure hanging in the middle of his studio. The smell of fresh paint still hung in the air, as the last layer had not yet dried.

The first two attempts had been a total fiasco, but this time Kyle thought he could make it. He had been working tirelessly for days to finish the puppet of the ghost, covered with layers and layers of fluorescent paint that gave it a rather spooky realism.

That night, none of them would be home. Jason had patrol with the rest of the bats, and Kyle would spend the day working as a team with other Earth Lanterns. That meant the Lanterns had an excuse to drink together, and for Kyle it meant he had an alibi when his prank exploded in Jason's face.

"Okay, Kyle, you can do this."

Kyle had left home early, having left a light construction as an alarm to know when Jason was leaving. So he had come back and set the trap, placing it where Jason didn't expect to find it.

When he returned with the rest of the torches, they bombarded him with questions. Hal and Guy laughed outrageously, while John and Simon looked at him with some disapproval. On the other hand, Jessica smiled at him and gave him new ideas in case the prank didn't work.

Time passed quickly between laughs and drinks, and by the time Kyle returned home, he had forgotten his own trap.

"I'm home," he said, opening the front door.

Jason's muffled voice received him. He wasn't in sight, so Kyle thought he was probably in the bathroom. Exhausted and a little drunk, Kyle went to the bedroom to change his clothes, thinking of making a light dinner for him and his boyfriend later. Suddenly, a tall, shiny figure pounced on him. Kyle, lost in thought, had no time to turn away completely and let out a cry of surprise. The figure collapsed after hitting him, and broke into pieces on the floor.

Kyle stood extremely still, totally taken by surprise, and watched what was left of his joke that he had been working on for a whole week. His drunkenness disappeared suddenly, with the loud sound of his heart beating in his ears. Obviously, Jason hadn't fallen into her trap, but he had.

How ironic, a victim of his own plans.

"What's broken?" Jason asked, poking his head out the door.

"My dignity..."

Jason was curious, but didn't push for Kyle to tell him what had happened. Kyle looked, and was, very embarrassed, with a strong blush on his cheeks. He just cleaned up the broken pieces of the ghost without saying a word.

Later, when Kyle checked the security cameras, Jason's laughter echoed throughout. And the next day, when he woke up, the icon of an unread message was blinking on his phone. When he opened it, he found a laconic:

<Jason: 3, Kyle: 0>

Sometimes he really hated his boyfriend.

Kyle started to get discouraged. He already had three failures in his mission to scare Jason. Perhaps it was impossible, after all, Jason had been through too many traumatic experiences since he was a child to be afraid of mundane things like ghosts, blood and floating books. Kyle thought about googling. He knew that Gotham had a website where people explained and taught how to make those kinds of scary jokes and traps, not just for Halloween but in case someone wanted to make them at any time of the year. Kyle thought it was a bit disturbing. Some of the jokes were funny, but others also made him think that most people in Gotham needed to go to therapy.

"How do you make a fake cut head? And then they say this city has the highest crime rate in the country. I wonder why."

Kyle decided to try one and ended up watching all the available tutorials. They were really creepy and unpleasant, although Jason probably wasn't afraid of them either.

"But I don't lose anything by trying..."

What Kyle hadn't counted on was having to watch people hide their fake heads in the fridge. That made him feel a lot worse than knowing that he probably couldn't scare his boyfriend, because... Well, the thought of Alex had never stopped hurting him. He had learned to deal with it over time, it was true, but... No, if he was going to play that prank on Jason, he couldn't, shouldn't, even think about going near the fridge with something that simulated a human body part.

The choice of model was quite easy. He couldn't risk anyone going off the rails, so he couldn't choose anyone from Jason's immediate environment. No Waynes, no Alfred, no Outlaws, no Titans in general. So he had to use someone just as willing as he was to play those kinds of jokes. Guy Gardner was always the best choice if you were looking for a partner in crime. Kyle only needed to tell him his plan so Guy would sign up without hesitation.

Now, a large jar was on the kitchen table, and inside was a picture of Guy's head.

"I'm home!" Jason announced from the front door.

Kyle looked up from the picture he was working on and took a look at the jar. He smelled the Chinese food, Jason had brought dinner. "Kyle?"

"Here." Kyle forced himself to stay focused on his work.

Jason walked over to the couch, left a kiss on Kyle's head and went into the kitchen. Kyle needed all his willpower not to look at his reaction. But to his disappointment, Jason pretended that nothing was out of place.

"Okay, I admit I almost believed it this time," he said, calmly. Kyle put the notebook aside and looked at his boyfriend. Jason was taking out the Chinese food boxes, placing them on the counter near Guy's fake head. "Gardner is a pain in the ass, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you decided to give him his due.”

"Don't say that." Kyle leaned against the sofa, watching Jason put the food on the plates. "You should get along better with him, he's my best friend and you're my boyfriend. You get along so badly because you look so much alike."

"Even more so.” When Jason left the dishes on the table, he approached Kyle and leaned in to kiss him properly. "Anyway, it's pretty well done. Can I put it on the shelf?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. Another failed plan.

"Whatever you want. Just don't put it in the bedroom, I don't want to see my friend's head while we're having sex."

Everything had failed. Kyle had no ideas anymore, no real strength, to try and scare Jason. His boyfriend was like an iceberg, nothing seemed to scare him, and the most he could do was make him laugh at his pathetic jokes.

"Just jump after him and say 'BOH!'" Dick had said last night, when they were having dinner with Jason's brothers.

Dick's suggestion was absurd. If Jason wasn't scared of anything, he definitely wouldn't do it because of a jump scare. But in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.

Kyle came closer to the couch, where Jason was having a nap, using his ring to float and make less noise possible. But he was distracted by the thought that he might give Jason a heart attack, until he suddenly realized that his boyfriend had opened his eyes and was staring at him. Kyle flinched.

"Tell me you're not doing what Dick told you to do." Jason said. His voice sounded sleepy and resigned.

"No?" Kyle replied. Jason raised an eyebrow, skeptical, and Kyle felt his cheeks burning. "Okay, okay! I'm out of ideas."

"Do you want one? Admit your defeat, and come here with me."

That was the last attempt and the last defeat, so Kyle decided to be content, rather than reward himself, by curling up in Jason's arms and abandoning himself to pampering.

It had to be a nightmare.

Jason searched Kyle's body, frantic and agitated, desperate to find signs of life. He held the lantern in his arms, his head tilted unnaturally, and his eyes closed.

"Please wake up, Kyle, please, please." Jason whispered.

"Jay..." He heard Roy, who put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly in a gesture intended to be comforting.

The other Lanterns of the Earth landed in front of him. Jason didn't need to look at them to know how they felt. He could hear Jessica's grasp, and he was pretty sure that sound was Gardner hitting something.

That couldn't be happening.

"Jason."

Jason ignored that voice, more focused on stroking Kyle's cheek. His skin was cold, and it shouldn't be. Kyle hated the cold, he always wrapped himself in a lot of blankets when he was in Jason's flat.

"Jason." The same voice called him again.

This time, a firm hand grabbed his arm. Red Hood looked up and met Hal Jordan, the man who had once argued with Batman about how Jason was fucking his beautiful little brother.

"Let it be." Jordan said.

Jason frowned.

"I'm not going to leave him! He's hurt, he needs help!" Red Hood replied, angry.

Jason saw compassion in Jordan's eyes, and he hated him. Why did he feel sorry for him instead of helping Kyle? No one around him was moving a finger, what was wrong with them?

"Jason, he's gone." Roy said.

"He's right here."

"Kyle's dead, Jason." Batman's voice echoed in his head.

"Poor little broken Robin. Did you lose something?" He knew that voice. It was the Joker, chasing him wherever he went. "Maybe if he hadn't been near you, he'd still be alive."

His singing voice made Jason feel sick. Batman was right, Kyle was dead. And the clown was also right, if he had been more attentive, maybe, maybe Kyle wouldn't have had to intervene and...

Kyle was dead because of him.

"Jason."

Someone was calling him, but Jason ignored him. I had to help Kyle, I had to do something. He felt a pang of horrible guilt crushing him to the ground.

"Jason."

The voice was loud. He knew it. It was sweet and quiet, like Kyle's voice when he convinced him to stay home on a rainy day, and drink hot chocolate until they couldn't take it anymore. He felt a wave of affection. That had been a good time.

"Jason, please wake up."

Jason opened his eyes. He could feel his heart beating strongly against his ears.

"Come on, honey, breathe. It was a nightmare."

Jason closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled, trying to do it as slowly as possible. When he became aware of his surroundings, he felt someone beside him. A hand was tracing soft circles on his chest, making him feel much more comfortable and calm. A calm voice spoke intelligible words of comfort.

When Jason finally opened his eyes and got used to the twilight, he saw Kyle next to him. He looked very worried, but was smiling softly, surely relieved that Jason had finally calmed down.

"Hey." Jason mumbled.

"Hey." Kyle replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm feeling better." It was going to take Jason a while to recover, but he would work on it.

"It was just a nightmare." Kyle repeated, still anguished.

Yes, it had been a nightmare, but it wasn't just that, Jason wanted to say.

All of Jason's nightmares were hard.

Sometimes the dream was about his own death, other times it was about the death of his loved ones. None of them were better than the other, all of them made Jason feel like a wreck for a while.

"You were dead in my arms," he whispered.

Kyle bit his lip. He felt many emotions bubbling up inside Jason, but (sadly) fear was the predominant one. Kyle curled up on his side, resting his head on Jason's chest. Jason moved to put his arm around Kyle, keeping him close to him.

"I know he was trying to scare you, but that's not how he wanted to do it. Kyle felt Jason's laughter under his cheek as he pressed him a little closer to his body.

"I'll give you that." He said. "But I prefer all the other times, they were much more fun than... this."

They were silent for a while. Kyle began to feel sleepy, although he knew Jason wouldn't fall asleep, at least for the rest of the night. Then... he heard him.

"I love you."

Kyle smiled, barely surprised, but delighted. He felt it, he felt his love overcoming his fear at full speed.

"I know."

Jason mumbled, with a snort.

"Don't quote Star Wars, nerd."

They burst out laughing almost at once. In the end, Jason had gotten scared, though in the way Kyle would have wanted. It didn't matter though, they were together, they loved each other.

And that was the most important thing.

#jaykyle #kylejay #jason todd #kyle rayner #red hood #green lantern #white lantern #DC comics #batman #my fanfiction #link to ao3

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wiener-soldiers · 4 years

Text

the imperfect bubble - steve rogers

summary: y/n looks at bucky barnes like he’s the sun and the stars; bucky looks at y/n y/l/n like nothing more than his best friend. steve looks at peggy carter like she’s a divine angel; peggy looks at steve rogers like he’s nothing more than the remnants of a college romance. y/n looks at steve rogers like he’s a mirror; steve looks at y/n y/l/n like she’s the only person left that he can confide in.

words: 10.2k (you read that right)

warning: angst, unrequited love, the slowest slow burn you can possibly fathom, okay maybe not a slow burn but more like an oh shit that happened, minimal editing

a/n: im?? back?? i really enjoyed writing this one tho

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist! | faq

Leave your grievances at the door.

It was no longer an unspoken rule; when Steve and Bucky stepped into Y/N’s shared apartment with her college—and by association, their—friend’s Natasha and Wanda for movie night, they found the saying printed on the doormat inside their apartment.

It was a tradition that Steve, Bucky, and Y/N started their freshmen year of college. Steve and Bucky were best friends since childhood and have been through thick and thin together. So it was no surprise that despite the two attending different colleges, they still made it a habit to spend every waking moment together.

The two left their beloved Brooklyn to attend schools in Manhattan—Steve at Columbia pursuing his history degree and Bucky at NYU pursuing his engineering one. It was Steve’s turn to make the trip downtown and hang out with Bucky, but to his surprise, upon arriving at his dorm, he met eyes with a slightly wine-drunk girl hanging upside down Bucky’s bed while he tried to throw popcorn in his mouth.

It was quite the first impression, but Steve learned her name was Y/N, she went to NYU for journalism, and that she’d be sticking around a lot.

That night, instead of going out, Steve joined them in Bucky’s dorm, watching shitty Netflix reality shows, getting drunk on cheap wine, and their weekly tradition lived on ever since.

The doormat saying was one Y/N jokingly said to Bucky in their sophomore year of college. Y/N had moved into a new apartment in the East Village with Natasha and Wanda, two girls she bonded with over mutual hate for a certain TA. Despite Steve and Bucky’s place being decently big after deciding to move into a place together, the girl’s place was decidedly better decorated and more suited for movie nights.

Bucky had come in complaining about how a girl in his class flirted with him just to steal his notes and eventually best him during their midterms. Granted, it was a thrilling tale, but Y/N has jokingly told him to, “Leave you grievances at the door, Buck. This is movie night; we are going to chill and get drunk.”

The unspoken movie night rule stuck ever since.

So, when Steve and Bucky (now juniors) kicked their shoes off upon entering the girl’s apartment, the let out an audible laugh, alerting them that the muscle of the group was here.

“You like it?” Y/N calls out from the kitchen, followed by several ‘pops.’ The smell of buttery popcorn wafted through the air as the two followed the scent into the living room. Natasha was already occupying her seat on the couch. Wanda sat on the floor, in between her legs so to let Natasha braid her hair, as she scrolled through her Netflix queue for movies to watch.

“Looks great, doll,” Bucky smiled at her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Steve notices a red blush crawl up her neck and smirks, sending the girl a wink. Y/N’s blush extends even further.

“Where’d you get it?” Bucky asks, sauntering into the living room and hopping over the back of the couch to land beside Nat.

Wanda giggles, “I custom ordered it on Etsy. I thought it would be funny.”

“You’re not wrong,” Natasha replies before the three of them fall into easy conversation about their weeks.

Steve stays behind the kitchen, observing Y/N as she observes Bucky. He smiles amusedly at her before saying, “I take it he still doesn’t know.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “He didn’t know last week. He didn’t know last year. He didn’t know since we were seventeen. You think I’m gonna tell him now?”

Steve shrugs, routinely helping Y/N gather the snacks and drinks for their movie night, “I think you’d be cute together, s’all.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the man himself,” Y/N says sarcastically.

“You could always tell him,” he counters, “Guys find it hot when girls make the first move.”

“Whatever you say, pal.”

---

As it turns out, Steve was right. And as much as Y/N hates to admit it, Steve was right about most things.

A few months after some mutual pining, Peggy Carter, the hot British international student that’s studying political science at Columbia grew more balls than Bucky and Steve ever could and asked the latter out on a date.

Y/N liked Peggy. She had gorgeous brown hair that was somehow always perfectly curled, warm eyes, but always wore seductively red lipstick. She looked like a drug, and if she wasn’t dating Steve, Y/N was convinced that she would ask the woman out herself.

Steve had stumbled into the girl’s apartment after their first date. Peggy had taken him dancing in a place in the East Village that played swing music and turned a blind eye when college students with sketchy looking fake IDs ordered cocktails. It’s not like they could do much harm anyway, most college kids who went there hopeless romantics who want nothing more than to dance with their dates with a little liquid courage.

As opposed to hopping on the subway slightly tipsy and potentially falling asleep before he reached in Midtown, Steve stumbled into his friend’s apartment, tipsy and high on the drug that took form in Peggy Carter.

“Hiya,” Steve said with a dopey, crooked smile. Y/N, Wanda, and Nat looked between themselves and Steve with widened eyes.

There were red lipstick stains all over his face.

Natasha smirks at him, “Looks like you had a good time with the missus.”

Steve points at Y/N, his eyes slightly lidded from drowsiness, “I told you it was hot when girls make the first move.”

Y/N lets out a snort. “It’s hot when Peggy Carter does anything, Stevie.”

His enormous grin widens. “Well, you got that fucking right.”

The three girls collective gag at the picture of Steve defiling the girl as Steve rolls his eyes at them, plopping down on the grey IKEA couch the girls were occupying. The couch was a moving in present from him and Bucky and despite how cheap it looked, they refused to allow the girls to get rid of it. If they were being honest, the girls didn’t have the heart to do so anyway.

“Do you mind if I crash here tonight?” Steve mumbles into Y/N’s lap.

“I’m staying at my brother’s tonight anyway,” Wanda says as she reaches over and runs a hand amusedly through Steve’s hair, “You can take my bed if you want, Steve.”

“No, s’okay. I’m comfy here,” he says, voice muffled by Y/N’s thighs.

“You’re a big fucking baby, you know that?” Y/N jokingly says, slapping Steve’s back. He screeches an ‘ow’ but doesn’t move an inch.

Nat smiles at them. Before she met Y/N and Steve, she would’ve been convinced they were dating. But, her heart is just as full knowing the incredibly wholesome and healthy friendship the two share. She reaches down to stroke Steve’s head before saying, “Y/N, I’m gonna go ahead and use the bathroom first—you seem occupied. Goodnight Steve.”

“Nighty night, Nat,” he murmurs. With Wanda, then Natasha stroking his head, sleep comes a lot faster than he intends.

“Steve?” Y/N asks him. It was her turn to slowly stroke his head.

“Mmhmm?”

“Did you let Bucky know you were staying over?” she asks, Mom-mode activating.

She feels her thighs rumble with Steve’s laughter. “He’ll live,” he tells her.

“He’s your best friend, hon. You gotta keep him updating on this kinda stuff.”

“But you’re my best friend too,” he sighs sleepily and Y/N’s heart swells with pride.

The corner of her mouth quirks into a smile, “Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course you duffus. ‘Sides, he probably thinks ‘m getting laid or somethin’.”

“You’re gross.”

“Eh, you love me.”

She did indeed. She let him fall asleep like that with a slight smile on his face, thinking about how well his date went. Y/N slowly slide out from underneath Steve, placing a blanket on top of him. She placed a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol on the coffee table for him when he woke, along with a sticky note saying:

Gonna be up early tomorrow, lover boy. Take whatever leftovers you want from the fridge. Also, invite Peggy to movie night :)

---

Per Y/N’s request, Steve did ask Peggy to come to movie night with him. To which, she excitedly agreed.

And against Steve’s assumptions, Y/N seemed more excited to have her over than he was.

Steve and Peggy entered the apartment hand in hand, with Steve carrying a takeout bag and Peggy nursing a bottle of white wine. Bucky trailed in behind them, carrying a pack of beers.

“They have a cute place,” Peggy comments, slipping her shoes off and following Steve into the living room.

“Don’t tell it to their face, though. One compliment and they’ll fall in love with you and you’ll never be allowed out of their sight again,” Bucky jokes from behind them, wandering into the kitchen to set the beer down.

Despite their five-person gathering being a six-person one that night, Peggy fit right in. Over cheesy horror movies, glasses of wine and swigs of beer, and copious amounts of takeout, the bombshell of a Brit felt very at home with Steve’s friends. To her surprise, none of them were jealous of her—Steve was incredibly attractive and the perfect guy, so she was sure it was impossible for him to have female friends without them throwing themselves at him.

She was wrong.

She really got a full understanding of their friendship—especially Steve’s friendship with Y/N—when she wandered down the hall to find more blankets. She heard two voices quietly discussing in someone’s room. She would’ve walked away because she didn’t want to eavesdrop until she heard her name.

“Peggy seems to be really enjoying herself.” She recognizes the voice to be Y/N’s.

“God, I hope so. Thanks again for inviting her.” Steve’s voice this time.

“You were the one who invited her, jackass,” she hears Y/N say sarcastically.

She hears Steve groan, “Don’t even start with that. What I meant was…thanks for giving her a chance.”

Softer this time, she hears Y/N say, “Steve, you’re my best friend. I didn’t like your other girlfriends because they seemed like shitty people. Peggy is…Peggy is good for you. Like, really good.”

“Okay now…” he laughs.

“No, I’m serious. If you didn’t ask her out, I was really fucking close to taking her for myself,” she finished before she hears a yelp followed by a soft thud and mattress springs squeaking. She can’t help herself and takes a peek inside the room to find Steve tickling Y/N on the bed. Peggy smiles to herself at the closeness of the friendship.

She’s about to walk away when she suddenly feels the feeling in the room shift.

“Steve, I think I’m gonna ask out Bucky.”

She hears an excited gasp, “Fucking finally! I’ve been saying you guys would be great together for years!”

She hears Y/N shush him, “He’s in the other room Steve, shut up!”

Peggy hears Steve laugh, “Sorry, sorry. Why now, though?”

“Dunno. I guess I just like seeing you happy with Peggy. And I don’t know, it makes me think that I deserve that happiness too,” Y/N says softly and Peggy’s heart melts.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N,” she hears Steve say. Despite not knowing Y/N that long, she’s proud of her too.

“Thanks, Steve.”

---

Y/N doesn’t get a chance to ask Bucky out.

As Y/N, Nat, and Wanda were preparing brownies for movie night when they got a text on their group chat:

Bucky: Can’t make it to movie night

Nat: got a hot date or smth?

Bucky: ;)

“Y/N…” Natasha calls out.

“Mhmm?” the girl calls out. “Gimme a second, I gotta take the brownies before they burn.”

Natasha sighs and walks into the kitchen to find Y/N gingerly setting the pan of brownies onto the counter. Wordlessly, Nat shows Y/N her phone with the group chat open.

The smile immediately falls from Y/N’s face.

“Y/N…” the red-head starts before getting vehemently cut off.

“I should be happy for him, right? My best friend just scored a date—”

“Y/N—”

“I was happy when Steve started going out with Peggy, why can’t I be happy Bucky found someone too—”

“Y/N!” Natasha says, more firmly this time.

“Why did you show me this, Nat?” she hisses, whipping her head and staring accusingly at her.

Natasha narrows her eyes at her, “You fucking know why. This was on the group chat, but I wanted to be there if you needed me when you saw it.”

Y/N’s eyes soften, “Nat, I’m sorry—”

Natasha cuts her off and immediately envelops her in a hug. “Don’t be,” she whispers, patting her head comfortingly, “You’re too good for Bucky, anyways.”

Y/N scoffs into her shoulder, “That’s my best friend, asshole. And Steve always said we’d be good together.”

“Steve has no fucking clue what he’s talking about.”

Y/N laughs a little harder, forcing the tears she was trying to keep in slowly stream down her face. Natasha immediately notices, and wipes them away with her thumbs, “Don’t cry, sweetheart. And don’t think about Bucky. ‘Sides, it’s movie night and—”

“—I need to leave my grievances at the door, yeah I know,” she finishes with a sad smile on her face. Y/N shakes her head, “That saying is kicking me in the ass, isn’t it?”

Ten minutes later, Wanda emerges from the bathroom, screeching in frustration from Bucky’s texts in the group chat. Y/N tries her best to tell Wanda that she’s over it, but Wanda is strangely good at reading people (it doesn’t help that she’s also a psychology major). The girls usually love Wanda’s weird sixth sense, but Y/N couldn’t help but find it quite inconvenient at this very moment.

Half an hour after that, Steve arrives at the girls’ apartment, this time without Peggy. The first thing he does is wrap Y/N in a bear hug, despite her protests at everyone making a big deal out of it. Steve doesn’t care, only hugs her tighter.

The four of them huddle around the TV, watching whatever movie was next on their queue and catching up on life. They tried really hard to ignore the awkward tension and the lack of the Bucky-ness the group had. It was movie night, after all. The perfect bubble that was their movie night felt a little different than it normally had.

---

Bucky misses movie nights for the next few weeks.

With the end of junior year approaching, the group of friends rarely had time to socialize outside their study groups except for their weekly tradition. With Bucky gone doing whatever Bucky was doing, Y/N didn’t see him for weeks on end. The only interaction they had was the occasional meme being sent to the group chat or like on Instagram.

She missed him. But deep down inside of her, she wasn’t that all surprised.

What did surprise her was Bucky’s sudden appearance at their last movie night before the end of junior year.

They were halfway through their first movie—Wanda was teaching Peggy how to braid a flower crown, Steve had agreed to let Natasha paint his nails a red and blue ombre while he played a game of Connect Four with Y/N, all while a random movie played on the screen—when they heard the front door unlock.

“Sorry I’m late!” called a voice. It was distinctly Bucky’s, but the female giggle that followed was not.

Bucky and an unnamed blonde materialize in the living room and everyone looks at the pair in shock. Y/N could feel a few of her friend’s stares be redirected to her, but she can’t seem to overt her eyes from the blonde.

Her hair seemed like it was literally golden as it flows down her light-green sundress. She was wrapped around Bucky’s arm—the arm with his tattoo sleeve on it, the arm that she loved tracing the patterns of the tattoo with during movie night.

Peggy breaks the ice first, “Hi, Bucky.”

“Oh, you have an accent!” the blonde squeals and Y/N can feel her eyes roll. Wanda scoffs beside her.

“Bucky, can I talk to you for a sec?” Y/N asks, more like demands, as she stands up abruptly and walks briskly past Bucky towards the hall, away from the view of the living room.

Once they were out of earshot from their friends, she hisses, “What are you doing here?”

Bucky laughs almost mockingly, “What do you mean, ‘what am I doing here?, It’s movie night, isn’t it?”

Y/N sighs tiredly, “Bucky, we haven’t seen you for weeks. Then, you show up with some blonde girl that we’ve never met?”

“I’ve been busy. What, am I not allowed to be busy anymore? The world doesn’t revolve around movie night,” Bucky snarls at her.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, that’s not what I meant and you fucking know it,” she growls back. “You’ve been radio silent for weeks—you pretty much ghosted all of us. Hell, if it wasn’t for Steve living with you, we would’ve thought you were fucking dead! But we gave you space because we aren’t helicopter-friends. But then, you show up after ignoring us for weeks with some chick I’ve never seen before at my fucking house on fucking movie night?! Can you see why I’m a little pissed off right now?”

“The British chick is here! Why the hell can she be here but not Dolores?” Bucky bites back, his voice rising.

“Because Peggy was invited to my house and Dolores fucking wasn’t!” Y/N says aggressively, her voice nearing a shout.

“This isn’t your tradition, Y/N. You want to control everything about this friend group and trust me, sweetheart, we’re all getting sick of it.”

“Oh, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk like you’re still a fucking part of this friend group.”

“What, you’re gonna kick me out of your clique because I’ve been busy? Because I have a life?”

“No, because you’ve been a shitty fucking friend!” Y/N shouts, chest heaving, and face red.

Bucky’s eyes widen in shock. Sure, they’ve had points in their friendship where they haven’t communicated in a few days, but never this long. And Y/N had most certainly never been this angry with him before.

That seemed to knock some sense back into him. “Y/N—”

“Get the fuck out, Bucky.”

“Wha—”

“I said get out,” she says, eerily quiet.

So, he did. Bucky stormed out of the hallway and grabbed Dolores before marching out of the apartment. When Y/N sat back down with the rest of their friends, she could feel their stares burning into her face, but all she did was reach for the remote and continue playing the movie.

---

After Y/N’s argument with Bucky, he stops showing up game nights. They even make a new group chat without Bucky in it (because apparently, kicking him out of the apartment was fine but kicking him out of the group chat was too mean). Despite not really knowing what exactly was said, everyone understood what happened that night. To be frank, they were all waiting for someone to snap. A confrontation with him was long overdue.

The friend group is different without Bucky’s presence. Not better, not worse, just different.

It was clear that there would be awkward tension among the friends immediately after the argument. Wanda and Nat immediately sided with Y/N and clearly wanted nothing to do with Bucky. Steve was a trickier subject. Wanda, Nat, and Y/N all understood that they couldn’t force Steve not to be friends with him, so they all accepted him as their neutral party.

After a few months, their different was starting to feel normal.

But Y/N still missed Bucky. Despite her years of pining, Bucky was still her best friend. He was still the guy who walked her to her morning lectures after his run and got her wine drunk after a guy rejected her. Y/N missed that version of Bucky—she just wasn’t sure if he existed anymore.

Based on periodic updates that Steve gives her, Bucky is still with Dolores. “He’s happy,” Steve tells her. “Different, but happy.”

After a few months of living without Bucky in her life, she starts to blame herself. Had she been overreacting? Most probably. Did she really need to kick him out of her apartment? No.

“Was what you did justified though? Definitely,” Steve would always remind her. Some days she believes him, some days she doesn’t.

Still, her life begins to reach some semblance of normal. Movie nights are still once a week, but they’ve changed from a place where they have pseudo-therapy sessions lead by Wanda while a cheesy movie plays in the background.

It was about halfway into their senior year when Steve drops something on them during one of their movie night conversations.

“I might move to London,” Steve says out of the blue.

“What?” Y/N turns to him in shock.

Steve stares blankly at his lap, fidgeting with the nearly empty glass of red wine. “Peggy wants to move back to London after we graduate,” he says softly. “She wants me to go with her.”

It was Wanda’s turn to ask, “Well, why doesn’t she stay here with you?”

“Her family’s in London.”

“And your family is here, Steve,” Y/N replies softly, “We’re here.”

Steve sighs and runs a hand over his face before releasing a frustrated cry, “I don’t know what to do, guys.”

Natasha looks at him sympathetically before grasping his hand tightly, “Have you talked to Bucky about this?”

“Not yet…he’s got a lot on his plate right now,” Steve starts, warily looking at the girls sitting around him.

“What do you mean?” Natasha presses.

“Bucky proposed to Dolores a few days ago…” Steve sighs.

“Well…” Y/N starts, trying to find the right words, “Congrats to them.”

“Yeah,” Steve replies lamely before downing the remainder of his red wine. “I love Peggy, I really do,” Steve starts, “but I don’t know if London is right for me.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow at him, “What do you mean?”

Steve sighs again, “I don’t know how to explain it but…lately it feels like our relationship isn’t real anymore⁠—like she’s using me as a prop. It feels like she’s dragging me along because she feels like she has to. I really do love her but going to London with her just doesn’t feel right.”

“And what does feel right, Steve?” Wanda asks him gently.

Steve answer in a heartbeat, “New York. With you guys.”

Y/N offers him her kindest eyes. She murmurs softly, “Steve, I think you have your answer then.”

---

Steve stayed in New York.

He was a little heartbroken by Peggy’s reaction though; she simply acknowledged him and went straight back to packing, not even bothering to fight for their relationship. Maybe there wasn’t a whole lot to fight for after all.

Bucky also married Dolores.

After their graduation, Bucky and Dolores eloped. They didn’t want the pressure of an actual wedding, so they got on a flight to Vegas and got hitched in their graduation gowns. The reassured everyone (especially their parents) that they would have a real wedding for everyone else afterwards.

Y/N, Wanda, and Natasha finally got their own places. Wanda was moving in with her brother, Pietro, into an apartment in Morningside Heights. They were both starting their master’s at Columbia (Wanda in psychology and Pietro in exercise physiology), so they wanted to live closer together. Natasha was finally moving in with her boyfriend, Bruce. They were a very private couple, so they weren’t at all surprised when they told them that they were moving into their own place in Park Slope, close to Bruce’s research job and Nat’s marketing firm.

Y/N was really close to downsizing to a studio when Steve rolled his eyes and told her, “Don’t be an idiot, I’ll move in with you. That place is too nice to give up. Besides, Bucky and Dolores are looking for a place to move into.”

So, what was once Y/N, Wanda, and Nat’s apartment was now Y/N and Steve’s.

Not much changed about the apartment: Y/N kept her old room and Steve moved into Wanda’s. Natasha’s room had the most natural light, so they turned it into an office. Steve, Y/N learned, was the ideal roommate—his stuff was never messy, he helped run errands, and he was a delight to be around.

If it was possible for the two best friends to get any closer, they did.

Y/N fell into an easy routine with Steve, almost like it was second nature. After both taking the summer off, Steve started his law degree at Columbia and Y/N started her job as a Staff Writer at the New York Times.

They woke up at around seven and Steve got started on breakfast while Y/N used the bathroom first. As soon as she got out, breakfast would be waiting for her, so she got started on making coffee for her and Steve. Steve didn’t usually take long in the bathroom, so they ate breakfast together, enjoying each other’s company before their day started. After they both got dressed, they both walked to the subway and rode the L train before they had to split ways: Steve Uptown to Columbia and Y/N to the New York Times building. Steve usually got out of classes first, so he usually ran some errands for the place or studied in a café in the Village somewhere so to let Y/N get home before he did. She loved making dinner, so Steve usually came home to her blasting music and cooking.

The funniest part about their arrangement is that it was barely an arrangement: they didn’t really agree on splitting up their day this way. It just sort of…happened. It was natural but it felt right to the both of them and that’s all they could ever ask for.

The arbitrary lines of being roommates slowly began disappearing as well.

Four months into living together, Y/N and Steve started sharing a bed.

It wasn’t romantic, but more like a necessity. Steve had walked by Y/N’s room when he heard slight whimpering. He immediately swung open the door and found her lying on her bed, clutching her stomach in pain with tears streaming down her face.

Steve immediately lost his composure, “Y/N? Are you okay?!”

“It fucking hurts Steve,” she mumbles, “Why does bleeding out of your vagina fucking hurt so much?”

Steve’s eyes immediately soften and he lets out a low hum, “Y/N, I thought you were dying.”

“I am dying. This heat pad isn’t doing shit!”

Steve laughs and makes his way to the bed, lifting the covers and sliding beside her. Y/N immediately shifts so that Steve can be more comfortable. He wraps his arms around her, making sure to put his palm flat on her stomach. In the mess of tangled limbs, they fall asleep like that and take the most relaxing nap of their lives.

Steve shares a bed Y/N that night. And the night after that. And the night after that.

Soon, Steve barely slept in his old room anymore. It got to a point where it didn’t even make sense for him to have his own room: Y/N’s room was bigger, closer to the bathroom, had a comfier bed, and Y/N was in it.

The two spend a weekend clearing out Steve’s new room and moving all his stuff into Y/N’s. They turn they put the grey IKEA pullout couch inside along with an array of painting supplies and camera equipment, effectively turning it into a home studio. They like the apartment better this way.

A few months later, the two get a dog together. The mini Australian Shepard has a gorgeous coat, different coloured eyes, and a scar that stretches across his face, a reminder as to why they rescued him in the first place. The renamed him Mando (because his face reminded them of the Mandalorian helmet) and he was like their child. He was full of energy, so Steve loved brining him along for runs in the park. But he was also quiet, reserved, and sensitive so Y/N adored cuddling with him on the couch.

It was their own little family. Steve, Y/N, and Mando.

Movie nights were still a weekly occurrence, but it wasn’t always at their place anymore. Almost six months after Steve moved in with Y/N, they hosted movie night at their place again.

It wasn’t as if Wanda and Natasha hadn’t seen Y/N and Steve since then, but it was the first time they really felt the changes in their old place.

“You redecorated,” Nat commented with a smile. She noticed there were more pictures up: some of their entire friend group, some of just Y/N and Steve. There was also a hanging shelf above the TV (something that Y/N had always talked about installing but never did) that housed some pottery and other knick-knacks Y/N and Steve have collected over the years.

Wanda notices the dog crate and bed in the corner of the living room, along with a basket of toys for the dog. She asks, “Where’s Mando?”

“Steve took him when he went to get the takeout. He likes to cuddle if that’s what you’re asking, Wanda,” Y/N answers amusedly.

“Whathcu do with our old rooms?” Nat hums as she takes a seat on their new couch. She wondered where the grey IKEA one went; it was unlikely that Y/N had the heart to throw it away.

Y/N sits down beside her holding three wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. She pops the cork and pours them all a drink before saying, “We turned your old room into an office and Wanda’s into an art studio slash guest bedroom. That’s where the grey pullout went.” Y/N finished her sentence absentmindedly, almost like she didn’t realize the implication she made.

Wanda and Nat smirk at each other.

Nat takes a sip of her wine before nonchalantly saying, “You know, I always knew you and Steve would end up together.”

Y/N chokes on her wine, “I’m sorry…what?”

Wanda chuckles at her, “You live together, you share a bed, you got a dog.”

Y/N hums nervously, “We’re not dating.”

“Seems like you’re already married if you ask me,” Wanda counters with a smirk.

Before Y/N could get any more embarrassed, the front door opened and Mando came bolting inside, followed by Steve who laughed as the dog jumped on the couch and licked its occupants.

“Oh, Mando you’re so cute,” Wanda gushed before she immediately became occupied and played with Mando.

Natasha looked on with a knowing smirk as Y/N watched Steve approach, both wearing matching smiles, and Steve presses a kiss on her forehead.

“I got Lo Mein if that’s okay. I tried to make it to the pizza place, but I guess Mando likes the smell of Chinese,” Steve says quietly to her before setting the takeout on the coffee table beside the glasses of wine.

She smiles at him, “That’s okay, thanks for grabbing it anyways.”

“I figured you wanted time with the girls to catch up,” Steve shrugs before hopping over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

As the movie started and everyone started eating their serving of food and wine, Y/N assumed the natural position of leaning against Steve’s chest with his arm thrown around the back of the couch. The smell of his cologne is so synonymous with safety to Y/N, so she naturally leans closer to him.

Halfway through the first movie, Y/N catches Nat staring at her and Steve with a smirk. Nat sends a wink her way which sends Y/N’s face in a red flush.

She averts her eyes and looks back at the movie. We are not dating, Y/N thinks to herself, this is just natural.

---

It was about a year after Y/N and Steve started living together when they both got invitations to Bucky and Dolores' wedding.

Their group chat was blowing up with questions like ‘should we even go to the wedding?’ and ‘won’t it be awkward for everyone involved?’

Steve already knew that he was going. Despite everything, Bucky was still like his brother. They still saw each other almost weekly and although he wasn’t Dolores’ biggest fan just through negative association, he was happy that Bucky was immensely happy.

Y/N, on the other hand, needed more convincing.

“Jesus, I wish he never invited me to his goddamn wedding,” Y/N complained, her head buried in Steve’s shoulder as they sat on the couch, “Is this his version of a punishment? The anxiety of choosing whether or not I should come to his wedding?”

Steve rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, “Y/N, he did use to be your best friend.”

“Before I told him to get out of my life and that I never wanted to see him again,” she states bluntly. “God, I was so fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Steve says firmly, “The both of you were acting pretty stupid, we’ve established that. But you’ve grown up. Bucky did invite you, which means he wants you to come.”

Y/N stays silent as Steve continues, “I know you miss him, Y/N. And clearly, he misses you too. Maybe this is your first step at mending your friendship.”

“If there’s anything left of it,” Y/N says pathetically.

“You won’t know if you don’t go to the wedding.”

So, she ends up going to the wedding.

The actual ceremony went by in a blur. Dolores was wearing a beautiful gown with gorgeous floral lace and Bucky in a wonderfully fitted velvet suit. Y/N thought the first time she would see Bucky in years would be filled with melancholy, but Y/N just felt better that Steve (from beside the groom) was sending her reassuring smiles the entire ceremony.

The couple was technically already married, so they didn’t have a licensed officiant. Instead, they had an array of friends, including Steve, the best man, say different parts of the pre-made script. It was fun, lighthearted, and had Bucky written all over it—something that Y/N missed about him the most.

At the reception, she took advantage of the open bar. She spent her time socializing with Natasha, Wanda, and Sam, a mutual friend who became an Air Force officer straight out of college. The night was still young, so Steve spent most of his time with the wedding party, occasionally sending Y/N texts like:

Steve: Miss you!

Steve: How many drinks have you had so far?

Steve: You made sure to lock Mando’s crate, right?

Steve: Did I tell you that you looked rlly pretty tonight?

Steve: I can’t wait until everyone gets drunk so I can hang out w you :)

“Texting at my wedding? I thought you loved parties, Y/N,” a recognizable voice says amusedly.

Y/N’s head snaps up and she’s met with a face that she hasn’t seen in years.

“Bucky—”

Bucky cuts her off, “Before you say anything, I’m sorry. You were right, I was being a really shitty friend and I didn’t have the right to ignore you, yell at you, or just bring random people into your home like I owned the place. I just…really missed you. You’re my best friend and my life hasn’t really been the same without you.”

Y/N is rendered speechless. Her mind blanks as she stares into Bucky’s watery eyes, begging for forgiveness. She says nothing and instead wraps her arms around Bucky, pulling him close. The man immediately wraps his arms around her like they’ve never left.

After the wedding, Bucky starts to show up to movie night again.

It takes a whole lot of coaxing to let Natasha and Wanda allow Bucky back into their lives, but eventually, they come around. It wasn’t like college though, but it was nice, nonetheless. One night, Bucky revealed that movie nights are when he feels the most like himself again. The rest of them smile wordlessly at him, but confusion does seep into the back of their minds.

A year since the wedding, the group finally fully accepts Bucky back into their lives as if he never left. He catches up with Natasha during impromptu lunches, takes Wanda to dinner if she’s ever in Midtown, watches the Yankees play with Steve to take his mind off of law school, and drops lunch off to Y/N at the New York Times building if he’s in the area.

Bucky truly misses his friends, but somewhere deep in his heart, he misses Y/N a little bit more.

The rest of them also notice how little Bucky talks about Dolores when they’re together.

They found it strange at first; normally, husbands loved talking about their wives. But Bucky never brought her to their outings, to movie night (despite everyone insisting that they’d be happy to have her over), and rarely brought her up in conversation unless asked.

Y/N found it especially strange. In a mature attempt to move on from her college crush on Bucky, she tried to make amends with Dolores. Turns out, the blonde was an adorable girl from Brooklyn that absolutely adores Bucky. She’s sensitive but hilarious and Y/N loves spending time with her.

She also noticed how much Dolores talked about Bucky. It was clear how much she adored him, so it was almost unfathomable to her how Bucky didn’t talk about the wonderful woman nearly as much as she talked about him.

“Don’t you find it a little weird?” Y/N asked him as he was brushing his teeth. Steve was concentrated on her face despite toothpaste foaming around his mouth. Y/N sat on the bathroom counter, feet swinging as she absentmindedly played with an elastic.

Steve spit in the sink before speaking, “I mean, you know Buck. He’s a pretty private guy.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t shut up about crazy stories he’s had with you and Bucky loves you. I just find it a little funky that he doesn’t act the same with Dolores,” Y/N explained.

Steve sighs and gargles the rest of the toothpaste out of his mouth. “I guess I never thought about it that way… They have only been married for a little over two years though. Maybe they’re still figuring out the ropes of their marriage?”

Y/N shrugs with a sigh, hopping off the counter and stripping off her shirt and pants. Steve tries his hardest not to stare but he can’t help but stare at the curve of her body as she reaches to slip on one of his hoodies she likes to wear for bed.

Steve isn’t really sure where his relationship with Y/N stands, to be honest. It’s funny to him—they act like an actual married couple, minus the romance. Acting domesticated with her just feels so natural to Steve, but he’s scared putting a label on anything will change the dynamic, so he stays silent and cherishes the domestic moments he has with her.

“You’re right, I’m probably overthinking it,” Y/N mumbles before slipping past him, “I’m headed off to bed. Don’t take too long.”

Y/N doesn’t notice Steve’s hard blush as he scrambles to put on some pyjamas to join her in bed.

---

“I’m nervous.”

“Jesus, Steve. You’ll be fine! You’re the top of your class at fucking Columbia, so there’s no way you failed the bar,” Y/N cheers on excitedly from behind him. She rubs his shoulders as he stares at his inbox, too afraid to click on the email titled ‘New York State Bar Exam Results.’

Steve’s foot taps incessantly, “I’m still too scared to look.”

Y/N reaches over his shoulder and kisses his cheek. “Fine,” she says, “I’ll look for you.” She clicks on the email and scrolls down, searching for Steve’s exam number.

After a few seconds, Y/N hesitantly asks, “Steve?”

“Mhmm?” he replies, his head in his hands.

“What’s your exam number again?”

“S-24601,” he replies quickly.

Y/N squeals and hugs him from the back, pressing kisses all over his neck. “You fucking passed, Steve!” she squeals.

“I did?!”

“Of course you did, dummy!”

Steve laughs in excitement and disbelief, grabbing Y/N by the waist and spinning her off the ground. Mando barks excitedly, jumping up happily against Steve’s thighs.

“You did it!” Y/N smiles down at him, her cheeks hurting from all her laughing.

The two celebrate by hosting movie night at their place with extra food, desserts, and ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Wanda brings Vis, the high school chemistry teacher she’s been seeing, Nat brings Bruce, and Bucky finally comes around and brings Dolores along for the celebration. Even Sam, who happened to be off duty, was able to come to the celebration.

Despite it technically being movie night, most of the night was spent trading funny stories about Steve, emptying bottles and bottles of wine and beer, and finally letting loose for the first time in a long time.

Around ten in the evening, the board games came out and the group of twenty-somethings started playing games with a drinking twist. Y/N had been attached to Steve by the hip all night (largely because he always seemed to have his arms around her), but she couldn’t complain. The several glasses of wine she had did make it easier for her to ignore Wanda and Natasha’s smirks.

It also made it easier for her to be ignorant of how awkward Dolores felt at the gathering. Y/N sincerely like the girl, but she was unaware of her discomfort until around one in the morning. Most people had left, and it was just Steve, Y/N, and Bucky cleaning up.

“Y/N, I’m gonna take a quick shower,” Steve calls out to Y/N as she washes the dishes with Bucky picking up trash in the living room. “Goodnight Bucky!” Steve calls out before disappearing.

“Goodnight, Steve,” Bucky shouts back before walking into the kitchen. He leans against the counter and watches Y/N as she does the dishes. Y/N notices his presence, then notices the lack of someone else’s presence.

“Hey Buck, where’d Dolores run off to?” Y/N hums, drying the last of the dishes.

Bucky shrugs, “Took an Uber and went home early.”

Y/N turns around to face him, “Shit, Buck. You didn’t have to stay—”

“Nah, I wanted to. She’s probably fine,” he answers nonchalantly.

“Probably?”

Bucky doesn’t respond.

Y/N takes a deep breath and fiddles with the dishtowel in her hands before saying, “Bucky, why is this the first time in three years of marriage that Dolores has come to a friend get together?”

Bucky’s jaw unhinges a little, “What do you mean?”

Y/N sighs and sets the dish towel down. She takes a deep breath before saying, “We’ve asked you to invite her to come over for years, but you always make excuses for her. You don’t nearly talk about her as much as she does about you, and I know that for a fact because I’ve hung out with Dolores on multiple occasions. Bucky…is everything alright between you and Dolores?”

Bucky stares intently at her for a few seconds before his resolve crumbles. His eyes lose its intensity and are replaced with tiredness as he drags his hand across his face. “Dot and I…” Bucky starts, “are going through a bit of a…rough patch.”

“Bucky—”

“I made a mistake marrying her,” he says bluntly.

“What?” Y/N says in shock. Every time she’s spent time with Dolores, she had been nothing but lovely. She’s perfect for Bucky—she doesn’t understand where he’s coming from.

“I love Dolores but I…”

“But…?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. Instead, he crosses the kitchen floor in two long strides and grabs Y/N by the face, kissing her fiercely.

Y/N freezes and her eyes widen in shock. What the fuck was happening? was the only thing her brain could possibly register at the point.

Bucky pulls away but the grip on her face doesn’t fade, “But I’m in love with you, Y/N. And I know for a fact that you love me too.”

He leans in for another kiss, but Y/N pushes him away. “Bucky stop!” she says, harsher than she intends, but she doesn’t regret it.

Bucky stares at her, dumbfounded, but she continues, “That was a long, long time ago. And Jesus, Bucky you’re married!”

He shakes his head, “I don’t need to be forever—”

“—And you’re drunk!” she explains in exasperation.

“But I know some part of you still loves me. And God, I love you too. All those years without you and it finally got through to my thick skull,” Bucky argues.

“But what about Dolores?” she whispers.

“Fuck Dolores,” he says. Bucky reaches for her again, but Y/N steps away.

“Bucky, I can’t,” Y/N cries. “Maybe there’s some part of me that loves you, that may always love you. But there’s a bigger part of me that loves what I have right now. Bucky, I’ve never felt so safe before. So happy, so cared for, so loved. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t give away the happiness and security that I deserve to explore what my life would be like with you because I love—”

Y/N stops abruptly, her voice catching in her throat.

“Because you love who, Y/N?” Bucky asks. She notices how his eyes have become glassy and how his shoulders had slumped slightly.

Because I love Steve, Y/N thinks. But she doesn’t find the courage to say it. Bucky can see it in her eyes, though.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Bucky doesn’t have to say his name who she’s talking about.

Y/N is silent, her heart thumping so loud her she’s afraid Bucky can hear it.

Her silence is enough for him, “Ah.”

Bucky waits a few more seconds before saying, “When did you know?”

Y/N gulps and lets out a shaky breath. When did she know? She racks her brain but can’t think of a specific time. Part of her thinks that she always knew. She was so natural around Steve. So safe and carefree. Steve was there when that perfect bubble of her friendship with Bucky popped, and he even stayed with her after. He was the one that helped her mend her heart and, in the process, built himself a spot inside without even realizing it. Her imperfect bubble, her lens of the world, may have been broken, but Steve was inside, and Y/N knew that it’s all the really mattered.

I love Steve, she confessed to herself. She felt like she was Cher in Clueless, with the fountain of her emotions erupting inside her. Bucky could clearly see it on her face as he smiled sadly.

“Did I ever have a chance?” he whispers.

“Yeah... A long time ago,” Y/N answers softly, not trusting her voice.

“Will I ever get the chance again?”

Y/N shakes her head softly, “Don’t wait for me, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles sadly at her, a tear escaping his eye. She reaches for him, but Bucky shakes his head, “See you around, Y/N.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Y/N feels like she’s on autopilot. Adrenaline is still coursing through her system; coupled with alcohol and a whole lot of courage, her feet bring her to the bathroom before even realizing. She doesn’t realize that she’s turning the doorknob or stripping completely. She barely registers her stepping into the steamy shower before and she definitely doesn’t fully register her tapping Steve on the shoulder, reaching up, and kissing him fiercely.

He pulls away first, “Y/N?”

She kisses him in response. This time, he responds but pulls away a few seconds later, “Why are you doing this? Are you drunk?”

“Yeah, it’s not why I’m doing this though,” she says, voice raspy.

“Why then?”

“Because I love you.”

“Oh,” was Steve’s response before kissing her again. The two sloppily make out like teenagers discovering sex for the first time before Steve pulls away again.

“I also love you, you know,” he says lazily against her lips. He feels her smile.

“That’s good,” she replies before kissing him once more.

The night lasts a lot longer than both of them intend. But it wasn’t like they were complaining.

---

Life had a strange way of playing out sometimes.

It seemed as if Y/N and Steve blinked and the rest of their lives fell straight into their laps.

When they meet new people, they always ask them how long they've been together or when they started dating.

“A lifetime ago,” Steve would always say, his eyes lighting up and his face flushing slightly.

After the night that Steve learned he passed the bar, Y/N and Steve’s relationship didn’t change all that much, mostly because they acted like they were married in the first place. They already help hands in public, gave each other kisses on the cheek when their friends were around, and they acted more domesticated than a lot of actual married couples only months after they officially started dating.

In fact, most of their friends didn’t even realize they had started dating until almost six months later, Y/N made an off-hand comment about how Steve was secretly really kinky in bed.

The really didn’t have an engagement either.

After two years of dating, five years of living together, and nine years of knowing each other, Steve just decided to get straight to the point.

“You wanna get married, Y/N?” Steve asked her. He had just come back from his job as a corporate lawyer. He honestly hated it but needed the experience and the money to pay off his student loans. His grand plan after he was no longer drowning in debt was to become an Assistant District Attorney.

Y/N stopped cutting the vegetables and turned toward Steve who was leaning against the fridge, suit jacket slung across one shoulder and top button his dress shirt undone. She raises a brow at him, “Pardon me?”

“You wanna get married?” he repeats nonchalantly.

“Now? I’m making dinner.”

“Whenever you want, doll.”

She sets the knife down and slowly walks towards him. “This isn’t you proposing, is it?” she cackles.

Steve shakes his head and laughs, meeting her halfway. “No, I thought of this while I was riding the subway back home. I don’t even have a ring, honey,” he explains. “If I’m honest, it feels like we’ve been married for the past five years, so I kinda forgot that we aren’t.”

Y/N purses her lips in concentration before saying, “That’s fair.”

Steve stares at her for a few more seconds, “So…?”

“Do you want to get married?” she asks him this time, stepping forward and grasping his hands.

“I mean…yeah,” Steve says with a grin, “Telling people you’re my wife is a lot cooler than telling people you’re my girlfriend. Besides, if I ever commit a crime, you have the right not to testify against me because of marital privilege—”

He’s cut off with howling laughter and Y/N burying her face into his chest as he wraps his arms around her. Steve’s tired, really tired, but coming home to her was what he reminded himself he was working for.

“Should we do the whole proposal thing, too?” Y/N asks him after her laughter dies down.

“I don’t mind proposing if it’s something you want to do,” he tells her, pressing his lips to her head.

“Meh. I don’t really care,” she says cheekily before pressing her lips to his.

After their wedding—just like Y/N and Steve predicted—their lives didn’t change all too much. The only noticeable changes were that they were being addressed as Y/L/N-Rogers in the mail, but their lives were pretty much the same.

Their friends found it fascinating: when they had gotten married, they felt that their relationship dynamic had changed a little. But then again, they supposed Steve and Y/N had been acting like they’ve been married since the ripe age of twenty. It’s almost like they skipped a few steps in their relationship and went from friends to acting like they’ve been married for forty years.

The biggest change in their relationship came three years after their wedding when their twins, Avery and Jameson Y/L/N-Rogers were born into the world.

Steve and Y/N were natural parents and they loved their kids. When the twins were three, they took them on their first road trip to the Adirondacks. They spent the weekend at a lakefront cabin, swimming, canoeing, and hiking. When asked years later, the twins would always explain that this was their first memory. At four, the twins started school, and to say Y/N and Steve were worried would be a huge lie. They knew Avery and Jameson would protect each other no matter what. At age seven, a boy on the playground called Avery an ‘ugly liar’, and Jameson threw sand in his face. Steve gave Jameson a scolding about how it was bad to throw sand at people and instead saying that if he was going to throw something, throw a punch instead.

Y/N had to step in and tell him not to do that unless it was a last resort.

At twelve, Jameson had his first real crush on a girl named Mindy. But, Avery knew that Mindy was mean and the daughter of an entitled Karen, so when Jameson asked Mindy if she wanted to dance with her at the school dance, Avery made sure to scare her straight.

“My daddy is a lawyer and sends criminals to prison and my mommy works for the New York Times. So, if you hurt James, everyone will know how mean you actually are are,” Avery threatened, which made Mindy back out of dancing with Jameson. Despite being mad when he was twelve, he was thankful years later when he saw firsthand what kind of teenager Mindy would become.

Now at sixteen, though the two twins were still thick as thieves, they matured into respectable, and frankly perfect kids.

That year, the Fourth of July (aka Steve’s birthday) fell the same night as movie night and the twins took it upon themselves to plan their dad’s party.

“Avery? James? You doin’ alright?” Y/N called from the upper floor of their brownstone in Park Slope, Brooklyn. When it was obvious that Avery and Jameson were at the age that they couldn’t share a bedroom anymore, Steve convinced Y/N to move back to Brooklyn. It wasn’t the difficult, per se, especially when Steve found a place close to where Natasha and her now-husband Bruce lived.

“Doin’ just fine, Mom!” Avery calls back. She was busy frosting the good-old Stars and Stripes cake while James finished the last-minute decorations.

Just then, Y/N heard a thud before some soft moaning. She gasped, already halfway down the stairs. “Are you okay? Do you need help? Screw your surprise, I’m com—”

“No!” James shouted, quickly sitting up, “I just fell off a stool, Mom. No big deal, you don’t need to come downstairs.”

“Are you su—”

“Yep! This is supposed to be a surprise!” James calls back.

“A surprise for your dad, not for me Jameson.”

Avery cackles from the kitchen and James rolls his eyes at her. “We’re fine, I promise,” he reassures her.

“Okay, just be done before everyone gets here. Bucky’s stalling your dad for as long as possible but I know he’ll want to come home soon.”

When Y/N is finally allowed downstairs, she’s impressed with their work. Red, white, and blue streamers are hung all across the ceiling as well as helium balloons that say ‘Happy Birthday America!’ except America is crossed out with Sharpie and ‘Steve Rogers’ is written in her kids’ handwriting instead. In the living room, several games are put out on the coffee table and a playlist full of patriotic movies is ready to be played on the TV. All her friends (minus Bucky and Steve) are in the living room, having a laugh at all the funny touches on the decorations. Their dining table was filled with food their friends brought for the potluck, and for some reason, James had blasted (and looped) a remix of the Star-Spangled Banner and Happy Birthday.

“Do you like it, Mom?” Y/N hears before turning around and facing her kids. Avery’s hand was grasped in James’ and her heart melts. How did I get so lucky? she asks herself.

She gives them a huge smile before enveloping both of them into a hug. “It’s amazing. Better than anything I could’ve done, that’s for sure.”

“Do you think, Dad’ll like it?” James mumbles into her shoulder.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” a voice suddenly shouts. The three pull apart to find Steve standing at the entrance of the living room with a huge grin on his face. Bucky stands behind him, chuckling at his reaction.

Y/N’s smile widens at the sight of her husband. “There’s your answer, James.”

The party is everything Steve could have really asked for. The food was great, his company was even better, and the thoughtfulness of his kids was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

When the night gets darker, the party of people head to the roof of the building so they can watch the fireworks. As they wait, Avery has everyone engrossed in a story of how James followed her on a date with a boy she really liked, Peter Parker. Steve stood at the edge of the crowd, smiling at how happy his kids and his wife looked. He feels a presence beside him and doesn’t need to look to know who it is.

“You did pretty great, Steve,” Bucky tells him softly.

“With Avery and James?” he asks.

“With life, buddy.”

Steve hums contently as the two of them watch Avery cause a bubble of laughter to erupt from the group. James punches her playfully on the arm, but the smile is still evident on his face.

“How’s Steph?” Steve asks him.

“She’s good. She’s with her mom for the weekend,” Bucky answers quietly.

“And how are you and Dolores?”

Bucky is silent for a few seconds. He clears his throat before saying, “Talking. We’re trying to work it out for Steph’s sake. She doesn’t deserve to have a broken family.”

Steve puts a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Buck. You’re a good father,” he tells his best friend.

Bucky remains silent. After a few minutes of silence, Bucky’s conscious drowns him in guild and he speaks up, “I kissed Y/N when we were younger. It was the night you learned you passed the bar. I told her I thought I made a mistake marrying Dolores, and shit…I don’t even know what I was thinking because I knew she probably loved you. I’m so sorry, Steve. I never told you because you’re my best friend and—”

“Bucky,” Steve cuts him off with a small, sympathetic smile, “It’s okay. I know.”

Bucky’s brows shoot up. “You know?” he asks.

Steve nods, “Y/N told me. Y/N tells me everything.”

Bucky exhales, “Ah.”

“I’m not mad,” Steve tells him.

“You’re not?”

“I am married to her and still best friends with you, aren’t I?”

Bucky chuckles and looks down. He doesn’t deserve Steve, Bucky thinks. But he’s damn grateful a guy like him is in his life. “I’m still sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay, Bucky. I mean it,” Steve says, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

The two stand in comfortable silence when the fireworks finally start to go off. The roof glows with red light and Steve can’t help but admire how beautiful Y/N looks with the glow of light on her skin. Avery has her head on Y/N’s shoulder while Jameson has an arm wrapped around her torso. Steve notices Bucky admiring his family too.

“You know,” Steve starts, “she loved you when we were younger. I actually thought the two of you would be great together and wanted her to ask you out. She was about to.”

Bucky looks at him. “Really,” he asks suspiciously.

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, still looking at the fireworks. “And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Love her?”

Bucky is silent. He stares at Steve’s side profile; he’s still staring up at the fireworks without a care in the world.

Bucky sighs and answers honestly, “All throughout college, even when I was with Dolores. But guessing by your reaction, I think you already knew that.”

Steve finally glances in his direction, “I’m your best friend. Of course, I knew.”

“Did I ever have a chance with her?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, finally looking at Bucky, “once you did.”

Bucky sighs, “How’d you do it? How’d you find someone you love so naturally?”

Steve shakes his head, his eyes trained on his wife and his kids. They looked so happy, living in their own little bubble. Steve smiles softly before saying, “I stuck around.”

Bucky nods wordlessly before turning his attention back to the fireworks above. Steve continues to stare at his family when Y/N turns around and catches his gaze. Despite the night sky, her eyes are bright and filled with joy and love.

Steve smiles widely at her.

And in their own imperfect, but beautiful bubble, Y/N smiles back.

---

steve rogers taglist: @milea

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fireheartfaery · 4 years

Text

Day 10: “Can you quit being sappy for five seconds?”

masterlist; my links

sorry if the editing is trash i’m almost black out drunk (blame @nishlicious-01 and co)

Elain's heart is so full from the smiling kindergarteners and the paint splotches covering her jeans —it was art day at the school— that it takes her a second to realize just how cold and desolate her apartment feels. She shivers as she tosses her keys on the counter and switches the kitchen light on.Despite the warm yellow glow the rest of the house is still dark and foreboding. The floor to ceiling windows high above the city seem to make the shadows of buildings crawl across her space.

Inheriting this place from her late father was both a gift and a curse. She wasn't used to this life of grand and tall, having grown up in a quiet cottage on the outskirts of the Vanserra Forest with her sisters and their mother. But her father, in his passing, had asked her to have this place, and when she had gotten a job in the city it seemed to all fall into place. A little too nicely she sometimes thought but it immediately came with a flood of regret for being so ungrateful. So she sucks it up and lives in this big loud place with its large concrete slabs and the glass that refracts the light instead of letting it melt.

She should visit home.

Instead she moves through the apartment, switching on lights and talking softly to the plants scattered like jewels around her home.

Hello little Thea, glad to see the burns are clearing up.

And buttercup, oh you are sprouting the prettiest flowers

Ah and Nicolas you look a little down? She frowns at that, making a note to give him some water after she showers. I know how you feel buddy, she strokes a leaf.

Then she's at her room and she's pulling off the button down and unclipping the bra and sighing at the freedom as each item comes off. Her shower is steaming, enveloping her like the morning fog when she used to skip to school. By the time she steps out, the floor is slick with the dampness of the steam, and her stomach is rumbling loudly. Guess it's takeout tonight; she can't be bothered to cook for one today. Friday evenings were for snuggling up in her giant knitted blanket, switching the TV to some horror/mystery and gauging on popcorn and chocolate.

Her plans certainly start out the right way. The popcorn is popped, the milk duds box pulled apart so she didn't have to shove her hand all the way inside and the blanket pulled up to her shoulders. But just as she puts her choice of movie on there's a ringing at her door.

Her eyes immediately dart to the clock in the kitchen, the crease between her brows deepening as she sees the hand strike nine. The doorbell rings again and she reasonably argues with herself that a murderer would not be so polite as to buzz. Nonetheless she makes sure the baseball bat is sitting in the unnecessarily tall vase near the front door.

With slow, nervous movements she unlocks the door, poking her head around. And laughs herself silly when she sees Chaol, her next door neighbor and fast friend in this strange city, standing in the other side.

He looks confused as he stares at her, doubled over, tears pooling in her eyes, laughing at her own jumping mind and absurd theories.

"You alright, love?" It's the first words he ever said to her. The day she moved in, boxes stacked past her head, wobbling down the corridor like a newborn deer.

"Hello Chaol," She sighs the last of her laughter away, "Glad you're not a murderer."

"Glad I'm meeting the bare minimum." He raises an eyebrow. "Can I come in?"

"Did you bring me chocolate?" She demands.

"Something better." He winks.

Apparently in the four months they'd known each other he had her pinned down, because she falls for it hook, line and sinker.

"What?" She squeals, "Tell me!"

“You have to let me in first."

She steps aside, practically bouncing as he walks in but just as she's closing the door she spots her dinner walking up the hallway.

Moments later, pizza boxes in hand, she settles back on the couch, her leg pressing against the warmth of Chaol's

She offers him a box and digs into the three cheeses, an expectant look on her face.

Chaol isn't even looking at her, transfixed on the pizza in front of him, eyes shaped like hearts as he stares at the cheesy, pepperoni goodness.

"Can you stop looking at the pizza like that and tell me the exciting thing!" She scolds, jabbing him in the side.

"I am having a moment." He pouts, and it reminds her of her toddlers at the kindergarten.

With an eye roll she shoves another slice into her mouth and pinches his side.

He glares, already reaching to retaliate. Her brown eyes narrow in what she hopes is a menacing glare. Instead she finds he's fighting a smirk.

"Tell me before I put on a horror movie and make you watch it!" The threat works because his own eyes, a bronze to her hazel, widen in fear.

"Okay, okay," He turns to face her, "I got two tickets to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show on Broadway."

Her scream is enough to deafen the country, and if this fancy apartment wasn't soundproof it might have. Unfortunately for Chaol he was in the blast zone. The scream reverberates through his skull. And then Elain is throwing herself at him, pizza boxes crashing to the floor, and her arms wrapped around his neck.

There are definitely tears in her eyes but later when they recount the story she'll deny every drop.

For now she squeezes his neck, muttering unintelligible excitement against his skin. Her heart is beating to the speed of a race car and her lungs feel like they've taken flight without her.

The one good thing about living in this massive city is that she can watch the productions she's only ever seen on a scratchy VHS when the signal in the cottage was good enough. It's been her one true burning need since arriving, and something she quickly spilled to Chaol. In fact it was the very first night she came, after they had carried all the boxes in and he'd sat on the floor with her eating chow-mein and showing her how to use chopsticks.

His arms are warm around her back, fingers brushing her waist as he hugs her to him, just as fiercely. She pulls back a little, only enough so she can see his face. Their lips are a breath away from brushing against each other. She doesn't think about it.

"Thank you," There's definitely tears in her eyes.

"It is your favourite one yes?"

She just nods, too choked up to respond verbally.

"Want to know when it is?" He grins, and she thinks it rivals the morning sun. "Next week Friday."

Her gasp is soft, sharp with surprise. "You didn't—"

"Oh I absolutely did," His grin widens, and it glows like stars. His hand, large and slightly calloused, comes up to brush strands of hair out her face. He looks at her so gently. They are still so close

"On my birthday?"

"The very day," He taps her nose. "And guess what?"

"Oh gods," She groans, burying her face into his neck. He smells like the forest, and the faintest hints of soap. "I can't take anymore things. I'm going to be a pile of mush soon."

He pokes her side, smiling delightedly, "You get to meet the cast."

She bursts into tears. "I hate you." He kisses the top of her head. "You're the worst person in the world." He strokes her hand across her back. "How dare you make me cry!" He laughs softly; she feels the sound in her stomach.

"Can you quit being sappy for five seconds?" She glares, tear-stained cheeks nullifying her doe eyes, "So I can be mad at you for making me blubber."

"I figured you deserved something special, this being your first birthday away from home in a big city you don't know."

She kisses his cheek, ignoring the blush that covers their cheeks. "Thank you."

"Anything for you little flower." He swipes a thumb across her cheek, cradling her jaw in his hand.

"Anything," She grins.

He groans, knowing what's coming. "Almost anything. I'm not watching horror with you."

She pouts her lower lip, making her brown eyes huge with plead. "I'll give you all the milk duds for it."

He smirks, turning his head to see the box which had been scattered in her little meltdown. "How about something sweeter?"

"Than milk duds?" She frowned, "I'm not sure you should even be eating candy that's sweeter than milk duds. I feel like that's the fast track to—"

His laughter cuts her off, and she frowns at him, feeling his ribs shudder with amusement underneath her.

"What's so funny?" She demands.

"Not candy Elain," He swipes more strands from her face. He always wants to see her. The freckles across her cheeks from far too much time in the sun. And the slight dip in the bridge of her nose where she fell onto a step when she was little and managed to chip off her skin. And the slight rose tint, brushing right down her neck that makes her look like she was permanently blushing. He especially liked to see her eyes, as he had drunkenly confessed one evening, because they reminded him of the warmth he felt on his back when he was at the beach or going on a run or simply standing in the street. A comforting weight, that wrapped its honeyed heat around you.

"A kiss," He stares at her lips, back into her very soul, down to the beating pulse at her neck. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Yes," She doesn't even have to think about it. She doesn't want to. "Kiss me Chaol Westfall."

And unbeknownst to them, when their lips meet, the garden growing inside her New York flat comes to life. They are the sun. They are light itself. They are—

"Dammit Chaol!" She gasps, breaking them apart, "I forgot to water Nicolas."

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

Tags:

@nishlicious-01

@simping4bookboisngrls

#Elain x Chaol #Chaol x elain #Valentines day crackship challenge #Crackships keep fandom alive #Day 10 #Ahhh we're almost done?????????#FDS fanfic #FDS series

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damn-the-dark · 5 years

Note

Vampire Damien??? Vampire Damien!!!!!

Yes? Yes!! owo)b I whole-heartedly agree!!

>:3c

(oop almost forgot to tag @boopymooplier ;w;)/ )

Words: 3200

Pairings: Damien x Reader (Y/N the DA)

Warnings: Blood, Blood drinking, Descriptions of death, Cursing, Vampires, Actor being a binch, my writing if it can be called that, sadness, my uwu’s

——

“Wake up, Damien.”

His eyes struggled open, unfocused, searching for the source of the voice. A playful hum came from above him and he strained to tilt his head to see a blurred smile leaning far too close to him.

“Ah there you are my friend, I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come back.” Damien could only blink and try to clear his vision further…but just by the voice he began to realize…

“Mark?” His own voice was hoarse and dry.

A hand brushed dark locks from his face.

“In the flesh.” Another smile, this time showing his friend’s perfect teeth. A smile for the movies he so liked to star in.

He pushed himself up to an elbow, finding he was in fact at home, in his own bed. His mind searched for a reason…Last night, they’d gone drinking hadn’t they? Did Mark have to bring him in here himself? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Dames had gone too far and had to be driven home, but how had Mark dragged him up to his second story bedroom himself?

He looked around, yes he was still in his day clothes, sans his blazer which was usually discarded for a night on the town anyway.

“Wild last night wasn’t it?” Mark stood upright from where he’d leaned over Damien. He’d have answered if he remembered anything about it.

“What exactly happened? I feel…” How did he feel exactly? Drained? Like he’d been hit by a truck? Air hit the back of his throat like fire with every breath. He must be more dehydrated than normal from the alcohol.

Though strangely, he began to realize, he wasn’t hung-over. Achy? Absolutely. Tired? Sure. But no pounding in his head. No beating migraine…no…

“I feel strange.” He said almost to himself.

“You’ll get used to it my friend, why I bet you’ll be right as rain as soon as we get you something to eat.” He stopped to press the little buzzer above the night stand and spoke into the intercom, “Send up the butler will you please, dear?”

It replied with a staticky ‘right away sir’.

Used to it? Mark was acting about as off as Damien felt. He carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat upright. The curtains were drawn, but he could see soft light filtering in from the window around the edges. Yet, somehow that was too bright. He rubbed his face, yes maybe breakfast would help his condition.

“What kept you here?” He didn’t mean for it to be so direct, but his mayorly political filter wasn’t yet functioning, “Surely you’d have liked to go home and rest yourself.”

“Oh I couldn’t leave you like that! Wouldn’t want you or anyone else to get hurt now would we.” Upbeat as ever, and deflecting. Damien had known this man long enough to see through his ever-present façade. He was withholding something. A prank? That was certainly like him, but Dames couldn’t shake the bristly sensation there was something wrong here…

He breathed in to speak again. It burned.

“Come now Mark, what did you do, slip something in my drink?” He mocked a friendly grin, trying to pry a straight answer from his friend. “You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, you’re up to something.” The words felt like sandpaper.

A knock at the door.

“Ah! Come in please,” The actor chimed, again avoiding Dames’ inquiry, “and, close the door behind you, would you?” His tone lowered.

Gabriel, the butler of 2 years came inside a little hesitantly, but did as he was told. “Good morning sirs, how may I be of service?” With a click, the door slid shut behind him.

Before he received a reply, Gabriel’s eyes grew wide and mouth gaped open in a gasp, “Sir! You’re hurt I-“ He’d only just begun to point in Damien’s direction when Mark…well…appeared behind him and clasped his hand over Gabriel’s mouth, silencing him to mumbles and frantic eyes.

“Shhh shh, that’s quite enough my good fellow.” His tone was dangerously sweet in contrast to his actions. “Don’t spoil it for our mayor. Especially not before his meal.”

Their mayor was just barely even processing what was happening. He jumped up to stand, a little unsteady still, but needing to protect his staff from his suddenly deranged friend.

“What the hell are you doing? Let him go this instant!” His hand began to trail up his torso, searching for what Gabe had been trying to tell him. He touched a spot where his shirt collar clung to his neck and shoulder and rubbed off some of the flaky, dry substance.

In horror, he saw it on his hand. Blood.

“What the fuck did you do Mark?” Shock raised his voice an octave. His heart should’ve been in his ears with panic.

And then he saw it. Mark smiled from behind the struggling butler, in that award winning smile grew long and deadly sharp fangs.

“Why, I’m saving you my dear Damien!” His features took on a feral quality. “I’ve found proverbial fountain of youth, as well as much, much more.” He stroked the butler’s cheek and tightened his impossibly strong hold on him.

“When your sister left me I was broken, I couldn’t bear to go on without her. I tried to die my friend, but you see the world had greater plans for me. I have conquered death itself! This is my gift to you friend, we can go on into eternity, it would be so lonesome without my one true good friend by my side. The only one who didn’t betray me.” The last sentence was barely above a growl.

“So drink up! A toast to our eternal youth!” Before Damien could even react, in a single motion, Gabe’s throat was slit open. Thick red oozing blood spilled from the wound. The man’s choked cries were now desperate gargles.

He wanted to run. To yell, scream, hide, do anything except what he was doing. Staring. Blankly staring at the disgustingly…delicious looking fluid now staining the man’s clothes and dripping onto the floor. The air was thick now in that delightful and disturbing scent. He parted his lips to say something, or yell or scream or…taste the life slowly pooling on the floor. Through those parted lips now peeked freshly grown fangs of his very own.

“Ah, that’s it friend! And I must say what a beautiful and terrifying creature you’ll be!”

Damien could only gag in response, his thoughts were disconnected and wild. He managed to slump over to the wall, unwilling to let himself get any closer. Deep in his chest, he knew. He knew that so much as a step in that direction all rational thought would be lost. He would kill Gabriel. He would gorge himself on his lifeblood and become the monster his good friend so wanted him to be.

His eyes darted around the room. Something. He had to do something. The light from behind the drapes had grown in intensity and hurt to look at.

Wait.

Not sparing a moment to consider the consequence, Damien grabbed hold of the curtain and ripped it from the rod above, unleashing daylight on the room.

The fabric fell on Damien, partially shielding him, but not from the piercing cry of the actor.

“How dare you, after all I’ve done for you.” His voice was a hiss. Damien crawled away from the sound, to the farthest corner of the room. Only then was he brave enough to look back.

Mark, or whatever he’d become, had scaled his wall to another dark corner. Skin was draped off of him, leaving large open wounds on his face and arms. He still clutched the butler, now nearly a corpse. Overpowering light drew a barrier between them.

“Well Damien I won’t waste the food I’ve so graciously prepared for you.” His eyes were black and angry as he lifted the body up to his face and proceeded to ravenously feed from the limp Gabriel. The missing flesh on him began to knit itself back together as he ate.

Damien could only watch in horror. And hunger.

The vampire tossed the body aside, landing with a hollow sound on the floor. “No matter Dames, I’ll return for you later.” His face finished patching itself together. “It seems you’re just a little …lost, take your time, you’ll realize soon enough the favor I’ve done you.” He mused and straightened his dress shirt.

And with that, he was just… gone.

Damien huddled into the corner. Emotions wreaking havoc on him. Fear, anger, confusion, betrayal. A friend. A dear friend. A monster. He clenched his fists, noting the dull color his skin had taken on. He made me a monster.

Gabriel’s glossy eyes gazed into nothing. The smell of blood hung like lead in the room still, but it had soured and offered no more temptation for Damien.

Covering himself in the drapes, he worked his way to the intercom.

“Everyone,” He rasped into the speaker, “Please, go home for today. You’re all excused.” He tried to manage normally. Should they think something were wrong…they might be tempted to check on him. To come in here and walk across the barrier of sun, smelling sweet and decadent and and-

He stopped his thoughts and sank back to the floor.

The mayor didn’t know what to do.

—

You thumbed open the front door lock and stepped inside. Good thing Dames had given you that spare key, you knew he wouldn’t mind if you let yourself in. Often you had to -to retrieve important paperwork from his home office.

The rooms were dark and swathed in the last remnant of the evening sun. You switched on the light in the entryway and noted the servants had apparently left early. Odd, but it wasn’t unlike Dames to give them the evening off, he was always kind to his employees.

You wondered why he hadn’t been in the office today, his secretary said there hadn’t been a call from him this morning. She mentioned he had plans with Markus Iplier, the actor, with whom he’s been friends since elementary school, and didn’t really expect to hear from him. Those two really knew how to party, she’d said.

But you were worried, and decided to check in on your old friend and fellow graduate of the same college. You knew how bad he always feels in the morning after a night of festivity, you’d been with him through quite a few in college.

Never mind the fact that you fancied bringing him gifts at work and followed him around the office when he stopped in. You were just friends, and yet your smile never faded when he was present and heart skipped a beat when he offered to take you to dinner last week.

Just friends.

You ascended the steps up to his office, usually where you found him when he was working late. The mahogany desk was empty.

Dare you poke your nose into his bedroom? Only after giving a few raps on the door first, of course.

“Damien? You in there?” No response. “I stopped by to check on you. Missed you at the office today.” Silence.

It couldn’t hurt to look in, after all it seemed he wasn’t even home.

The door groaned as you opened it. You peered in. The last rays of light sunk below the horizon and left his room in twilit darkness. The room was in disarray, the curtain rod pulled from the wall and in the dim light, something laying on the floor on the other side of the room.

What in the world had happened here? “Dames! Are you okay?”

Movement in the corner by the intercom. “Please…leave.” Barely above a whisper and full of pain. At that you didn’t hesitate to enter.

“Damien!” You swung the door open and began to rush to him, heart beating fast in your throat, was he hurt? Oh god did you need to phone an ambulance? What-

You stopped in your tracks. You were regarded by the corpse on the floor, Gabe’s eyes had clouded over in death. His neck was coated in thick dry blood. You made a choked noise.

“What the-“

“Go! Please!” He whipped around, forcing his cracking, dry voice louder. God why you, out of everyone why had you of all people…

By your terrified look, he could only guess the creature you saw in him. He felt the points poke his tongue when he closed his mouth. The sunlight had gone. There was nothing stopping him from crossing the room, irresistible scent guiding him, the pulse in your veins beckoning beckoning just a taste just a taste just a tas-

“Damien…” The way you said his name was so tender, so caring. He loved the sound of your voice. He loved the way you chatted happily to him when you brought him trinkets from gift shops. He loved how you teased him for his mayorly political-isms. The way you softened when he asked you to dinner. He loved your eyes, your hair, your blush, your beating heart your beating heart your beating heart your-

What was momentarily your friend, your quiet love, desperately pleading for you to leave, was no more. He stood from his hunched position on the floor, the normally neat and well kept mayor looked disheveled and wild. His dark hair scattered over one eye, jaw slack and eyes sharply focused. Like a predator. Like a monster.

You stepped back, instinctively. You knew your eyes didn’t deceive you when he flashed his teeth. Sharp. Too sharp.

An animal growl rolled from his lips, a drawn snarl completing the picture your mind had already begun to piece together.

A vampire.

You had not a moment to care about the how when or why of the matter. You were already in his grasp.

If there was any conflict about his actions you couldn’t see it. Your darling. Your warm sunny day at the seaside, soft whispers in the study long past curfew, the one your heart beat for…was nowhere in the beast that pinned you to the floor with an iron grip.

Your breath was caught. Unable to sob or scream or beg, tears flowed in their stead. He forced your head to the side, exposing your bare neck to his waiting, hungry lips. The lips you had desperately wanted on you for so long, leaving tender trails of kisses, perhaps maybe, in another life.

But not this one.

His fangs tore into your flesh easily. You found your breath enough for a yelp of pain that echoed through the room. It didn’t stop him, he greedily drank from your punctured artery, you felt drops and rivulets trace your collarbone. He fed from you sloppily, like a starved animal. Licking and biting at the already open wound.

As your vision began to dance and your struggles grew weak, you didn’t find yourself angry. You knew that this wasn’t who he was. Something had happened to him. He wasn’t to blame. You could never be angry with him. Confusion and heartbreak clouded your thoughts as your surroundings slipped into darkness.

Damien was narrowly cognizant of what he was doing, but through a thick haze of bloodlust. You were sweet on his tongue, though not in the way he’d ever wished to be tasting you.

He swallowed hungrily, feasting himself on your delectable essence. In the back of his mind he shuddered at how good it felt. Deplorable…yet natural to his new state of being, he could only continue to feed, helpless to override his new instincts and the sensations they rewarded him with.

When his better, more human senses, slowly began to return to him. He wished they hadn’t, for the sight of you, limp and encrusted with gore was simply too much for his stilled heart.

His screams of agony came from between bloodstained lips. He clutched you close and wailed.

“My, my, I see you’ve come to your senses and ate.” Damien’s head snapped up instantly at the voice. Mark was perched neatly on the window sill. “And it’s that lovely little crush of yours, I’m surprised Damien, I thought you’d have better control of yourself.”

Tears still wet on his face, his features contorted into a snarl, hot red rage boiled in his chest. The intensity of the feeling would have scared him at any other moment. But now, staring at the man who betrayed his trust, the monster that caused him to hurt one he loved so dearly…he let it drown him.

“You. Bastard.” Oh how he would’ve hated to hear the venom in his own voice.

Damien made a move to stand. But the actor motioned for him to stay put. For some reason he did so.

“Now, now,” he tutted, as though scolding a child, “I don’t think you’ve realized the picture I’m putting together here, dear sweet Damien.” Mark leaned casually against the window frame, “Your friend there isn’t quite lost to you forever. If you promise to play nice, I’ll tell you how you can bring them back from the brink.” A pointed devil’s smile graced his lips. “Why, I’ll bet they’ll make a wonderful member of the cast.”

His flash of anger evaporated into confusion. The mayor couldn’t think, what should he do? Agree to whatever sick game his former friend was getting at to bring you back…as a vampire too no doubt. He could just say yes now…just long enough to see the life back in your eyes…he knew that you couldn’t possibly forgive him. Just as he will never forgive Mark. But, maybe there would be a way…to live in dignity with this curse…this disease…

He could only hope. Because even the life of a creature such that he now was would only be bearable with you in it.

“Fine then…just tell me.”

A dastardly look. “Good boy.” He brought his wrist to his face and made a biting motion at it, “simply open a vein, you’ll find that your blood can work miracles on the recently drained if you offer some of yours in return.” He stated whimsically.

“I’ll be seeing you Damien,” Mark turned as if to go, then paused to look back, “And, you should leave your hair down like that more, it really gives me the ‘brooding villainous creature of the night’ sort of vibes.” His parting laugh echoed across the room and rattled into Damien’s very core.

He didn’t have time to think about what the hell Mark was blathering about, his only thought was of you.

He did as Mark had said, feeling stupid and selfish and upset that he wanted you back so badly. Biting his own wrist offered very little pain. His own dark colored blood slithered out of the wound, as if the night itself had taken up residence in his arteries.

Drip. Drip. Each drop fell into your mouth, and the burn of his fresh tears rolled down next to them.

Damien cradled your body, waiting in the cold silence. In that silence he vowed, the red burning fury briefly returning, Mark will regret the day he made him immortal. Because he will use every day into eternity to find him and make him feel every ounce of pain he felt here tonight.

That was a promise.

It could’ve been half a decade, or only after a few minutes, the body in his arms stirred.

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t beg your forgiveness, he couldn’t do anything but give you the truth. Damien could only hope as your eyes opened, reborn in death, that you could somehow understand.

#I'm writing an epilogue bc i can't let it be SAD #lmaooo #damien the mayor #vampire au

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yourethelostgirl · 4 years

Text

inseparable

Description: After the lost boys are taken to storybrooke you take care of Felix..at first it’s awkward and weird but over time you two become best friends and are practically inseparable. FLUFFY LIKE HIS LIONS MANE HAIR!!!

A ding from the door of grannies brought you out of your bored trance. You were working the cash register and it was same as always just boring. You looked up and gasped. Stood before you were Hook and Emma the savior back from Neverland.

“We have the lost boys”

You gasped and ran out to see. Now of course you were worried for Henry but you were also excited because you had always loved the idea of Neverland and lost boys. Upon reaching the boat docks you see a group of about twenty or so boys who looked like ragged hooligans. They stood close together all not saying a word. Suddenly the blue fairy cane and gathered up the younger boys to bring to the local orphanage. That left about five or so older boys most of which sat with people who appeared to be parents. One though stood alone his arms crossed with a brooding look. He had blonde hair curly and crazy and a long scar running from the bridge of his nose to below his eye. The savior and Charmings were trying to talk to him but he wouldn’t respond so you decided to step in.

“This ones gonna go down to the jail we have a nice little cell for him.”, they said.

“Charming. No, maybe he did some bad things but cmon he’s still a lost one. If you guys won’t take him in and just want to throw him in a cell then he can stay with me at my apartment and I will keep eye on him”, you spoke with confidence because the truth be it you yourself felt lost and if you had just been taken from your home you wouldn’t want to be thrown in a cell.

“Fine.”, David grumbled walking off.

You looked at the blonde,”Hi my names Y/N.”, you smiled politely at him

He looked you over with a piercing gaze, “you didn’t have to do that. I would have been very well on my own.”

You looked down. Damn, you offer the guy a place to stay and all you get in return is attitude.

He sighed,”Felix..my name is Felix..and thank you for taking me in. It’s just..I don’t want to be here.”

You understood and just gave him a smile, “cmon let’s get you settled in Felix.”

Well it had been about a few weeks since you had taken felix under your wing and so far it was so weird and awkward. You had to teach him so many things like how to wash himself and his clothing and how to cook and clean. You didn’t so much mind you loved to know you were helping plus it was almost cute watching him pull a pitiful face while trying to wash a plate.

One day you had come home crying why? Because you had just figured out your boyfriend was cheating on you. The door slammed as you slid down to the floor in tears. Felix who was innocently sitting at the table drinking tea turned horror struck to see you a mess.

“Um...Y/N? What’s wrong?”, his voice was delicate but also seemed a little uncomfortable like he didn’t know what to do in this type of situation. Which of course you figured he didn’t. He had probably never dealt with a heartbroken girl on Neverland before so you couldn’t blame him.

“It’s nothing Felix. I’m okay.”, your voice deceived you breaking as you spoke.

The blonde lost boy walked over and knelt to you awkwardly putting an arm around you, “what is it that made you so upset hmm?”

For some reason the comfort of his arm and voice had you sobbing more and breaking down as you explained the story. By the end you were more tear stained than before and felix seemed angry.

“He doesn’t deserve you...I may not be the best with girls or know much about them but I know a girl as sweet and cool as you does not deserve that. He doesn’t deserve a single one of your tears darling please don’t waste them on a bum like him”, you smiled up at felix thankful for a friend.

“Thank you Felix..I’ll be okay but I should probably get some supper started for us I’m sure you’re starving.”, you choked out a laugh.

Felix nodded his head vigorously, “you don’t worry about it though. I’ll get it. You relax.”

He was being so sweet,”Are you sure?”

He nodded and turned on his heel towards the kitchen. You sighed appreciating his kindness and went to sit on the couch and watch some tv. About an hour later felix called you into the kitchen to get a plate. You walked in to see that he had made tacos. You made your plate and so did he and the two of you sat watching tv laughing and eating together before heading off to your rooms for bed.

Over the course of the next few months you and felix had become inseparable. There was never one without the other.

One day the two of you sat watching a movie under a blanket with your head on his shoulder.

“Hey darling..”, his voice said softly

“Yes Fe?”

He shuffled and turned to look you in the eyes,” I just wanted to say thank you for taking me in all those months ago and teaching me and all...I’ll admit at first I wasn’t too keen on it but now I’m glad because you’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you,and one day I want to get back to Neverland and take you with me and show you my world.”

You smiled your eyes tearing up,”Awe Fe! That’s so sweet. Trust me I feel the same and I’d love to come alone to neverland with you one day. Promise me we won’t get separated?”, you held out your pinky something the two of you always did.

He linked his with yours with a smile on his face making his blue eyes crinkle,”never ever girlie.”

#ouat #ouatneverland #ouatfelix #felixthelostboy

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bup-incorrect-quotes · 4 years

Text

Two ghosts I

This is the part one of a fanfic I have been working lately. At first, it was going to be a one shot, but it ending been really long, so I cuted in half and publish the first part now. The second part is allready write, but I need to pass it to a word archive because I write better on a fisical paper...

Also, I need to advise that inglish is not my first language, and even if I have a good manage of it, some mistakes may scape my multiple revisions. So, if you find one, please, tell me and I will fix it.

Disclamer: None of the characters that aperar in this history belongs to me, they belong to TamarinFrog (I don’t @ her because I still feel a little insecure about this) and her comic series Bottle Up. Also, the two principal characters in this are ghosts, and how they die will be treated explicitly (I mean, not in a gore way, but one of then includes a grafic explanation that includes blood), so if you’re not confortable with these kinda thmes, maybe you shouldn’t read it. If you do it, do it under your ound responsability.

Nothing else to say, I hope you enjoy it!

______________________________

Well, that was unexpected. Of course, everything looked too easy. She had to grab the musical box and get out the creepy victorian house. It sounded so simple. She should have seen the problem, but nope, she had to did it.

But then, if it was so simple, why she was looking at her corpse, that now was bleeding over the victorian carpet.

______________________________

–Soo…– Daisy looked at her with a playful smile. –It will be really funny. Plus, we maybe meet some cute boys. –

If Tetrox were a rational and responsable, she would definitely said no and go to study for the next week exam. But Tetrox wasn’t.

– Ya can bet I will be there, sugar. – That was her first mistake.

If something could go wrong, it went worst. Turns out the mansion was truly haunted. So, even before they enter in the hall, things started go wild.

At first, they only heard sounds like steps or things falling and broken… Classic horror movie effects. One of the guys that was with them ran away when the big clock of the second floor give the hour with an unholy shriek sound. He was the first, but not the last. In less than 30 minutes, Tetrox was complety alone. Daisy had tried to convince her to go back, but Tetrox was more fascinated with the place than scare. She told Daisy to went back to the dorms with the rest of their partners.

Second mistake.

She should went back when she enter in that room and saw how books and other kinds of small objects were floating in the air, static in different zones of the room. The eyes of the paintings looked like they were following every one of her movement.

She should have go back when that voice on the back of her head started screamming to get the heck out of that place and forget about take something of the room. But she ignored it and spotted a little musical box. That was perfect. And she graved the musical box… and the pandemonium beging.

The temperature of the room dropped until the point she was able to saw her own breath, the eyes of the paintings become holes that droped blood like tears and the things that were floating started to atack her while she ran away of the room.

The panic and adrenaline ran across her blood when the courtains of the corritor tried to grab her, even if she was faster than them. The glass of the Windows were vibrating and the wood floor creaked under her feet.

She tried to went down the stairs as fast as was possible.

That was her third and last mistake.

Her foot sliped and she falled down the stairs, hitting her head with one of the steps. Then, all went black and quiet.

______________________________

When she "woke up" a few moments later, she discovered the scene: her own body on the carpet, in a really unnatural position (probably due to the fall, the stairs were taller than they seemed). The musical box was open, letting a sweet melody cover everything like cruel irony.

And she, she was an spectator of her own dead.

–God dammit! You just couldn't let my things in their place, could you? – A masculine and really annoyed voice sound behind her. She turn around as fast as she could, confused.

A really pale (and handsome, to be fair) man in victorian clothes was there with his arms crossed and looking at her as everything wrong in the universe was her fault.

–Excuse me? – But she stilled a bit in shock.

The man looked at she even more disgusted. –You and your friends broke into my house and try to steal my belongings, ignored my warnings and destroyed my property.– Then, he pointed at her corpse, that was leaking some blood in the carpet. –No one cleans this place anymore, that blood stains will be imposible to clean. –

–Hold on. – Tetrox had to interrupt him. –You were the one doing all lof that shit! –

–Are you even listening? –

–Yes, sugar. And it looks like ya’re blamiming me for this.– She pointed her corpse. –I’m the one who just die! –

–It is not my fault if you are clumsy. – He said in a prepotent way as he smile.

–Excuse me!? Who was the one who was making the things flight against me? – Now she was the one pissed.

–First, you should have left when all your friends left. –

–Yes, just because an asshole ghost doesn't like having visitors! –

–What did you call me? – He looked really offended after her comment.

–C'mon, sugar. Ya're dead, ya don't even need those things! –

–That's not your business! –

–Well, now it's because I'm dead because of yar "haunted house" show! –

–Wait! If this is someone's fault, it is yours! – He pointed at her. –You should have left when ...–

–Yes, when my friends left. – Tetrox imitated his voice.

–How dare you interrupt me when I'm talking! –

–Ya’re not my boss.– Tetrox was tired of the senseless conversation. –Ya’re only screaming at me anyway. –

He looked at her like she growed a second head. She didn’t care anyway, what else he could do to her? She started looking around the hall, that looked way less scary when you know that nothing can hurt you now. Tetrox began wondering if she would be able to go trough the the walls, maybe she should try it. Maybe she could fly now!

–What the hell are you doing? – The male ghost looked at her tired.

–I’m trying to fly. – She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

–Why? –

–Cause now that i’m a ghost there’s no much I can do. –

–You can go away of my house, for example. –

Tetrox grimed playfully. –And I should do that cause…?–

–Because this…– he pointed the walls that surrounded them. –is MY property, and you enter here uninvited. –

–How about no. –

He looked at her as his anger grew. –You are an intruder! This is my property and there is no way I would allow you to stay! – He exploded. At the same time, the things in the room started to fly and the walls started tremble violently. It would be terrifing to saw by some alive.

Tetrox was not.

–Ya can do that as much as ya like. Ya can’t hurt me now. – She smile smugly.

Then everything stop. The anger in his eyes became horror when he realised that she was right. He could do nothing to harm her. She was already dead and he can do nothing about it. He had no way to made her left the place.

–Oh no. – he whispered.

–Oh yes! – She exclaimed laughing.

He looked even paler than before, if that could be posible in a ghost, but he didn’t said anything else. He just floated over the stairs and his shadow got lost in the corritor.

Tetrox just shrugged. She didn’t care, the only thing she wanted was explore the old place with her new abilities.

______________________________

Arnick walked around the rooms. He finally managed to over come his frustration and anger.

He stopped and looked at the older painting like if them could talk. Everything was so quiet, just like it should be, just like always had been during the last century. Without anyone else but him. Maybe she decided to left.

Good, he didn’t need anyone else around that could disturbed his peace.

–What ‘re ya doing? – Maybe it was too soon to said that.

–Thinking – He gived to her a short and cutting response, but he refused to look at her. He wanna made her understood that he wanted to be alone.

–About what? – But looked like she didn’t got the signals. That was starting to made the frustation grow again inside him.

–That is not of your business. – Another cuttind responce. This time, he looked at her with disgusted, trying to got his message inside her head.

But she wasn’t having it.

–Ya have plenty of them around this place. They’re yar family? Yar friends? – Oh God. She never stops talking?

She keeped talking for a while. Arnick tried to ignore her and go away. But then, she started to follow him. Always talking, disturbing his precious silence. After a while, he had enough.

–Could you go away? Your presence is disturbing my peace. – He tried to be polite, but his frustation was starting to be pretty obvious.

–Nop. – She responded with a smile, like he just told her something nice.

If he were alive, he was pretty sure he will be red of fury. –Then why don’t you go to annoy someone who is not me. –

–Cause ya’re the only one I can talk to. – She kept smiling.

Arnick rubbed his forehead. Of coursed, she died just a few hours ago. She maybe was just confused or scared. That made perfect sense! She was probably in denial. And that could be the solution of the problem. Maybe he just needed to made her realised that she had died and she will let him alone.

–‘Re ya ok? Sugar? – She was looking at him a bit strangely. He had been quiet for a long time, not moving or reacting.

–Yes. – He felt in better humor, now that he finally knew how to restore his peace. –I undestand that right now you are a bit confuse. – She looked at him like she know nothing about he was talking about. –Your dead was sudden and you have no idea what to do now. –

–Not really. – she replied as if it was nothing.

He tried again. –Maybe you now feel that, but have you think in the reaction that your parents may have? Losting her daughter at such a young age… –

–Nah, I’m an orphan. –

–I am sorry to learn that, but now is the perfect change to opportunity them again. –

–I didn’t know them when I was alive, neither I know their names or how they looked. – She didn’t looked sad or even nostalgic; she was talking like the conversation were about the clime: boring and uninteresting. That attitude annoyed and scared him in equal parts, if she was alone in the world, she would never left.

–And what about your friends? – If that didn’t work, he would be in troubles.

Luckily, her bored expression changed –Oh… – She looked away for a second. –I guess I should say goodbye… Probably Daisy and Bella are worried about me… – She looked sad and guilty. That was what he need.

–Meh, I guess I will have to wait until someone find my body, then I will said goodbye in my funeral. – And she looked again like the begin of the conversation. –By the way, what’s your name? I’m Tetrox. –

She was smiling again, only this time she was offering her hand to him.

–You… YOU ARE INSANE! –

–And you’re, again, screamming, sugar. –

–How a person could be so careless, so airhead and… – He would have continue, but she started laughing.

–Why are you laughing about? – His voice was full of poison, but she didn’t seen to care about it.

–I never met someone who do such a funny faces when is mad! –

–Do you are aware who are you laughing at? – At that point, he was in the limit of his patience.

–No, cause ya had refused to tell me during the last, I don’t know, 15 minutes? – She had stopped laughing, but her voice kept a mocking tone and a mischievous smile was on her face.

–Well, my name Arnick Samuel Stilton and you better remember because it is the name of someone who is related with the England royalt! –

She was quiet, making he thought that he finally impressed her. But after a moment, she started laughing even more louder than before.

–What is so funny? – If she wasn’t dead, he would have kill her with his bare hands in that moment.

–Your initials spell ass. – She kept laughing, wich made him want to be able to kill himself.

______________________________

She didn’t know how many time had passed since she die, but she expected to be prepared. She wasn’t.

Someone had finally came to take her body, but what she wasn’t expecting that her Friends would be present when that happend.

Joalquil was hugging Daisy, who was endlessly crying. Bella was outsite of the house, with her hands over her face, trying not to cry. Cyan, Marian and Vadelma were with her, trying their best to comfort her. Clem and Winter were also inside, talking with the police and explaning them why Tatrox were in the house in the first place. She only was a bit relieved cause the rest of her friends weren't there to watched the horrible spectacle.

–This is my fault. –Daisy’s crys were definetly the worst.

–You didn’t know this would happend, –Joalquil kept trying to comfort her, –You know how she was. She never listen anybody when something got in her head. –

–I’m her best friend! She would listen to me! I just didn’t insist enough. – More Daisy cryed, worst felt Tetrox.

–I guess this are the Friends that you mencioned. –Arnick had a condescending tone in his voice. –Looks like they care more than you expected. –

–Don’t ya like peace and being alone? Get lost. –She had no time for his complains.

He looked a bit confused, probably cause it was the first time she talked him with that mood.

–If you would had have to live in my time, you would probably have ended internated in a mental sanatorium. Those frame of emotions changes are not normal. –

She didn’t have the energy to deal with this prepotent and emotionless comentaries and the endlessly cry of Daisy. She felt too much stress in that moment, she only wanted everything to disappear, that whats was happening was only a nightmare.

–Ey! –But Arnick seen to had a reason to made her realy clear that all was real, but she tried to ignore him. –Tetrox! Please, listen! – He really wanted to mocked her up really badly, cause he was almost screaming. –For the love of God! You are gonna destroy everything! – What? She wasn’t doing anything.

–What ‘re ya saying… that? – But Tetrox needed no answer when she looked around.

The glasses of the windows were even more shattered than before and somo of then looked like they just plain exploted; the ceiling lamp was dangerously swaying, really close to fall and some of the pictures and bases were broken in the floor.but that wasn’t all, a dense red liquid was coming out of the eyes of the eyes of the statues and portraits that were intact and the melody of the musical box filled the air, even if it didn’t have more string.

Some people had run outsite, but a few still there, frozen of fear. No one said anything for a few minutes, but it felt like hours.

–What happend? –Tetrox felt really confused. Did she that? How? She didn’t mean to.

–Now that you are a ghost, your emotions can afect the place that surround you. –Arnick didn’t have a prepotent tone anymore, probably cause he was worried that she could destroy anything else. –If you start panicking, everything will begin again. –Just as she thought.

–I didn’t want to do that, it’s just I…–

–I know, thei situation must be really stressful, but you have to calm down. – Now, that felt more genuine. –If not, you may do something you would regret later. –

She tried to focus on other thoughts, but since that wasn’t working, she tried to focused in her most happy memories: when her friends planned for her a surprise party (the first in her life), when she finally was free of the orphanage, when she found the prefect dress for the prom dance…

–It looks like is over now. – She opened her eyes (she didn’t noited that she closed them) and take a look around: The lamp wasn’t shaking anymore, the melody had stoped and no signal of the red liquid could be spotted. The people that had stayed in the room seem to be more calm, well, as calm you could be after wittness paranormal activity in direct.

–What… what was that? –Clem was the first alive person that said somthing, but her question was left without answer. The police made them left the place and cordoned off the area.

–I probably should go with them. –When she said that, Arnick just nooded and looked at the floor.

Without waiting for an answer, Tetrox crossed the door and followed the ambulance.

______________________________

The mansion was really quiet since she left. Everything was the same again, and that was allright for him. She had left maybe two week prior, but he was surprised that she never came back. Maybe she was able to find the peace thet he never could, maybe she found other people to annoy. Whatever was the case, he didn’t care at all. But, for some reason, the house had been feeling more big than ever.

–Whao, ya look even saddest than I remember. Did ya miss me? –

He jumped out of shook and looked at the place the voice came from and she was there, smiling at him like the day before her body was found, like nothing happend.

–What are you doing here? I thought you left. – He was really surprised to saw her there, he thought he would never see her again.

–Well, I also thought I will ever came back, that after my funeral and say bye to my people I will, I don’t know, pass to the after life, I guess. – She didn’t show any sign fo sadnest, but she seem to found it intresting. – But it didn’t happend, so, after messing up with a few people that I really don’t like and going around, I got bored cause I couldn’t talk to anyone. So here I’m now! – Then, out of the blue, she hugged him. –Dis ya miss me? –

–Wha… No! –He tried to free himself, but she was stronger than him. –Let me go! How are you even doing this!? –

–Doing what? –

–Touching me! This is no even posible! – He was never, nor when he was alive, a person that felt confortable with fisical affection, so he didn’t felt really please with the interaction.

–Ya’re blush. –She mutted.

–What!? – His voice was higher than he pretended.

–Ya’re blush! I didn’t know a ghost can do that! –She smiled widely –It looks good on ya, ya almost look alive. – For some reason, his cheeks warmed more.

–Ah?! Just let me go already! –He tried to fight, but she just hugged him tightly and laughed.

He thought that the rest of the eternity was going to be really long.

______________________________

This is the end of the first part. I hope you enjoy it and (I hope) soon I will update the second part.

Have a nice morning/evening/night

#Fan Fiction #Arnick #Tetrox #Two ghosts #mine #I think I mention almost all the other charapters here...#I fix it

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cloverlyanxious · 5 years

Text

Schrodinger’s House: Chapter 1

Summary: All Dee wanted was to move out of his brother's apartment and find a place of his own. Things are rarely that simple.

Pairing: None

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, I think that’s it but im willing to add more if you spot any.

Notes: Welcome to the first installment of my Monster!AU (that still needs a series name;;; ), which i’m dedicating to my buddy @sanderstribute. I literally couldn’t do it without em!

Dee was never one to believe that life was easy. Solutions to problems don’t conveniently drop into your lap, and answer don’t just magically pop out of thin air. You had to work hard for what you wanted, and put effort into solving your issues.

Which was easier said than done when you found yourself constantly evicted due to circumstances that were out of your control but, well, what can you do. Such is the curse of the gift of sight, Dee thought to himself as he clutched the iron nail in his pocket out of habit.

In all honesty, he never expected to come across something that would help him move out of his brother’s apartment when, out of nowhere, he was called upon to settle a dispute between some minor fae in the park nearby. He’d been more concerned about coming out of the meeting unscathed, all things considered (while the small fairies that lived in the flower bushes were more than a little enamoured with him, the Lesidhe that lay claim to that particular patch of woods was less than fond of humans as a whole…). That being said, his mind was far from the prospect of apartment hunting when something caught his eye, making him stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

The house exuded a quiet discomfort from its spot on the street, almost as if mocking the surrounding houses with its very existence. While the neighbouring homes were bright in color and encompassed by gardens of varying sizes, this one sat alone in a yard devoid of all life, plants seemingly withered and dead with no animals in sight. The house itself seemed to be saturated in shadows, though there were no trees or buildings around it capable of creating such a dark overcast. It almost looked like the very wood of the house itself was drenched in darkness, though you could faintly make out the muted blue of the original paint. The windows facing the street seemed to be caked with dust as nothing discernable could be seen of the inside, and the porch looked to be in desperate need of repairs. All in all, it was not a very pleasant house to look at, practically begging for people to ignore it and walk away.

Which is exactly what Dee would have done, had he not seen that the front door was wide open.

He eyed the place suspiciously, looking for any signs of trouble. As much as he’d like to believe that the neighbourhood was as peaceful as it seemed to appear, he wasn’t an idiot.

Well. As much of an idiot as his brother would lead you to believe.

Peering at the towering structure before him, he wondered what could possibly have led to it falling into such a state. Areas like this were sure to have a Home-Owners Association attached to them, and he knew from experience what a group of stuck up elitist troublemakers they could be (and that was putting it politely). He found it hard to believe that no one had done anything about the obvious eyesore this house create to its surroundings.

Before he realised he had even taken a step forward, Dee found himself making his way along the short stone path that lead to the front door. Stopping short of the possibly rotten porch step, he took a moment to glare down at his traitorous feet before raising his gaze to the darkness that lingered beyond the open doorway. This was ridiculous. A terrible idea, really. Going inside is exactly what the dim-witted protagonist of a horror movie would do before meeting a drawn out, torturous death. Clearly he was smarter than that.

He stepped up onto the porch.

Clearly not.

Resisting the urge to groan at his own stupidity, he finally gave up any semblance of doing the smart thing and warily entered the house. Silence greeted him like a old blanket; smothering as it wrapped around him and leaving his skin to itch. He immediately noticed that the interior was just as dark as the outside, little to no light coming into the rooms despite the tattered curtains by the windows being open and full of holes. The room he stood in, which he guessed was the living room judging from how large it was, was empty of any furniture or decorations.

Dee stepped onto the wood floors lightly, testing to see if they were sturdy and hopefully not rotten through. When the boards stayed firm and intact, he cautiously continued forward. He could feel the hair on his arms raise up as the weight of unseen eyes settled over him, but a quick look around proved that there was nothing to support his feeling of being watched. Overall it was unsettling, and Dee considered getting the heck out of there until he noticed what looked to be a fallen picture frame resting near the base of the stairs.

Walking over slowly, he leaned down and picked it up. He was surprised to see a photograph within the frame, colors almost leached out giving it a black and white appearance. Before his eyes was the house, back in what he assumed was its glory days, proudly seated in the background. A small man stood in front of it, pointed face looking forward but small eyes darted off to the side, shoulders almost hunched around his ears. Dee found himself comparing the man to a rat, and could easily imagine him scurrying from room to room in his too big shirt and stained pants. Looking over it again, he squinted when he realized that there appeared to be someone else in the photograph, partially visible from one of the upstairs windows. Frowning, he leaned his face closer to the frame. Maybe his eyes were just playing tricks on him…?

Suddenly, the theme song to Steven Universe cut through the silence, startling Dee bad enough that he dropped the frame. He winced at the sound of breaking glass, but chose to side-step the mess he’d made as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” he answered automatically.

“If you say so,” the voice on the other end laughed out. “Though part of me is gonna be wondering what the heck you’ve been up to to need that response.”

Dee rolled his eyes. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he drawled. “Now, what can I do for you, brother of mine?”

“What, can’t I just want to talk?”

“Yes, though from past experience calls like these usually mean you’ve forgotten to pick up something while you were out.”

Thomas was silent for a moment, and Dee could see him slumping his shoulders in his mind’s eye. “Yeah, okay you got me. I totally forgot to grab the milk and I really really need it if i wanna get this baking done tonight. Could you swing by the store on your way back? If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Well my schedule seems to be pretty filled for the moment, but I guess I can squeeze you in between defacing public property and reclaiming dominance of McKinnley Park,” Dee said leisurely as he made his way back to the front of the house.

“How generous of you,” Thomas replied dryly, before adding quickly, “Please don’t actually deface anything, please, my muffins will burn if i have to break you out of jail.”

“You ruin all my fun,” Dee groaned, stopping at the front door.

“That’s my job, bro.”

“If you insist.” Casting a quick glance to the darkened room behind him, Dee leaned against the door frame, feeling the dry wood press into his back. Without taking his eyes off the shadows, he hummed into the phone. “I’ll be back soon, then. I have to make a quick stop at the library before returning home.”

“Oh yeah, no problem! Just remember to shoot me a text when you start making your way back please!”

“Of course.” Saying a quick goodbye, he slipped his phone back into his pocket before turning to face the interior of the house once more. Gripping the edge of the door tightly with one hand, he gave another glare into the nothing, almost as if willing whatever was hiding inside to show itself. After a moment of nothing changing, Dee sighed to himself before walking backwards, all while pulling the door in front of him until it closed shut with a resounding click.

Shaking his head again, he finally turned his back on the house and made his way to the sidewalk. There was really no reason for him to be this invested in an decrepit abandoned house that probably had as many long forgotten ghosts as it did spiders in it. Especially when the abandoned bit suggested that there were probably a plethora of reasons as to why it would be a bad idea to move in. Even if something that terrible looking would probably not be that expensive to rent. Not to mention the building itself seemed to only need minor repairs and was, surprisingly, in not too bad of a condition as what he expected going in…..

“This entire day has been a bad idea, “ he groaned, rubbing at his temples to alleviate the headache he was giving himself from thinking such stupid, possibly dangerous, idiotic-

“Y’know, Sonny, all talking to yourself’s gonna do is make people think you’re as crazy as you actually are,” a voice rang out from behind a rosebush, almost succeeding in making the young man jump completely out of his skin.

Dee grimaced before peering behind an exceptionally fat rose to see a little old lady kneeling in the fresh dirt of the flower bed, gloved hands hard at work. “Duly noted,” he grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets before hesitating. “Have you lived here long?”

“Been here as long as my house has been standing, boy-o,” she replied cheerfully, wiping some sweat off of her forehead with one of her arms. “Couldn’t pay me to move away, worked too hard on these plants to give up on em now,”

“Right…” Gesturing to the dark house next to him, he added, “Then I’m sure you’d know all about the property next to you, yes? Could you tell me about the previous owners? Why they left, how long they’ve been gone..?”

The old lady looked up to where he was pointing, face scrunched up in a frown. Her eyes, small as they were, seemed to have trouble locating the building in question. “Oh… huh, y’know I’m not actually sure…?” She said slowly, an almost blank expression overcoming her features. “Kinda always forget that place is there… kinda dreary, y’know? Haven’t seen anyone in years, probably no one ever lived there, wouldn’t surprise me… i think…”

Looking back to the gardening tools in her hands, she blinked, before smiling suddenly up at him. “You looking to live around here, boy-o? Ain’t no houses for sale, but sure wouldn’t mind seeing a handsome fella like you around the block!”

Dumbfounded, Dee shook his head as he backed away slowly. “Not any time soon,” he said in parting, watching as the lady returned happily to her flowers without a second glance to the dark property next to her. Strange, Dee thought to himself. Positively strange.

The boy was certainly peculiar, there was no denying it. To have made it into his domain at all was a feat in and of itself. To do so with little to no power of his own? Practically unheard of. And yet there he had been, like a fish swimming through still water, disturbing the silt and the muck in his wake. Unaware of what lurked beneath the surface. No idea of the predator lusting for the taste of fresh prey…

It was foolish to entertain the thought of life making its way back into the house. Humans were silly, foolish things. Yet, watching the boy walk away, the stale air almost tasted of something long forgotten. A zest of intrigue. Possibly excitement. Would he forget having ever stepped foot so close to danger? Or would he be back, bringing with him that sweet gift of unpredictability so often missed?

As the boy disappeared from view, so did the shadow that lurked in the top floor window, blending back into the darkness within. All there was to do now was wait.

And waiting was something He has long since perfected.

#Clover Writes #Schrodingers House #Monster!AU #Sanders Sides #Thomas Sanders #Deceit Sanders #TS Deceit #sympathetic deceit #Lil Old Lady

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mikey-girl12-archive · 5 years

Text

Dragon Witch Series ch.4

words: 1164

Warnings: Virgils mother is a bitch, potions, spells, angst

edited by: @demonickittykat

Virgil knew that Patton had to be catching onto his nervous behavior. He was jumpier, often going quiet and staring into space. Patton had been polite, simply snapping him out of his daydream and bringing him back to reality. The closer the party got, the more Virgil’s anxiety spiked.

“Hey Verge, you want to go see a movie today?” Patton asked as he walked up to Virgil’s locker. Virgil jumped, having been pulled out o his thoughts, before smiling at Patton.

“Yeah, just no horror movies.” Virgil would have loved to go to a horror movie, to have Patton cling to him as if he could protect him from the monsters in the world. However, he doesn't think that he could handle that. He limited his affection towards Patton to strictly platonic. He couldn't let anything hold him back from doing what he has planned.

Patton gave Virgil a look as if he was reading him, before he smiled and nodded. Looping his arm with Virgil’s, he pulled him towards the cafeteria, chatting about how Logan and Roman had reacted to a prank he pulled on them. Virgil sat beside his friend and stared at him. Patton was the best thing to happen to him since his mom. His mind began to drift back to the fateful day.

*Virgil didn't know what was happening. His dad had come into his room and woken him up, telling the little boy that they were going on an adventure and that he needed to only take what he thought was important. Being only 3 years old, Virgil had stuffed his favorite blanket, jacket, and teddy bear in his backpack before meeting his dad in the living room. His mother wasn't in the living room and when Virgil questioned his dad about this he was simply told that his mother was too busy to join. Virgil had been relieved, his mother was not that nice of a woman and he always hated to be in the same room as her. He fell asleep in the car and slept for the whole ride. When he woke up he was in a house he didn't recognize.

“Verge, I know this is confusing, but you're going to stay here with a friend of mine for a while. I have to deal with something and then I’ll come back and get you and we’ll go on that adventure!” his dad explained while smiling at him. Virgil nodded clutching his teddy bear to his chest. The nice lady introduced herself and showed Virgil to his room. After a minute of unpacking, he made his way back to the living room to say goodbye to his dad. The older man squeezed him tightly before smiling at him. Then he hugged the woman, thanking her for doing this for him. Before he left he slipped her an envelope.

“In case I don't make it back. If I’m not back in a month assume I’m dead. If I don't make it give this to him, please. He deserves to know.”

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

Virgil opened the door quietly as he made his way into his house. It was well after midnight and he didn't want to wake his mother. He entered the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle. He became lost in thought as he walked to his room and laid on the bed. It was technically his birthday, and Patton had insisted that Virgil, Roman, Logan and himself stay up until midnight so that they could be the first to wish Virgil a happy birthday. Logan passed out at 10, Roman following behind at 11. Patton had slumped against Virgil, nearly asleep himself but refusing to sleep. In fact, when the clock hit 12 he snuggled sleepily into Virgil’s arms and whispered happy birthday before his eyes slipped closed. Virgil had stared at the sleeping boy for an hour before he detangled himself and went home, leaving a note to say his mother had called him. Virgils plan was already in motion, it would happen today, but he couldn't just leave Patton without an explanation. Sitting up he moved to his desk. Grabbing a pen and some paper he began to write three letters. Roman and Logan’s were simple, he thanked them for being his friend, he apologized for leaving, he promised that one day they would understand why he had to do it. Pattons was harder to write. He wrote a full page explaining that Patton was the first person to ever really care about him besides for his mom. He explained to Patton everything that had happened to him. He apologized for leaving and confessed that, had the situation been different, he would have loved to be more than Patton’s friend. By the time he finished pattons letter the sun had risen in the sky and the paper was stained with tears. As he put the letter in the envelope he paused. Lifting his shaky hand he pulled off the necklace he always wore. The only thing he had that connected him to his father, to the woman who risked her life to save his. Carefully he placed it in the envelope.

The whole town attended the party at the lake, and one by one they all wished Virgil a happy birthday. They presented him with the food they made, as he had requested they bring food instead of gifts. He smiled and laughed, enjoying the last few moments he would have with these kind-hearted people. It was when the sky darkened that he put his plan into motion. He gathered Patton, Logan, and Roman, and handed them their letters before explaining that they couldn't open them until they went home. They had all nodded and went back to the party.

“Hey Patton I have to go make a call real quick, I’ll be right back okay?” he spoke, Patton nodded happily. Gulping Virgil pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you for the party, Patton… thank you for everything. Thank you for giving me a chance.” he whispered in the older ones ear. Patton pulled back with a chuckle.

“Verge, you sound like you’re saying goodbye!” Patton had a playful undertone that sent a pang of guilt to Virgil’s heart.

“Im just really emotional today. Anyway gotta go call, I’ll see you later Pat.” Patton giggled and nodded, bouncing over to Logan at the food table. Virgil looked at the three people that, in such a short time, had changed his life. Turning, he walked through the crowd and into the woods. Pulling the little jar out of his pocket he looked at the purple shimmering liquid that was in it. The potion he had spent the last week brewing. If he drank it he would disappear without a trace. Taking a deep breath he pulled his phone out of his pocket and left it on the ground by a tree. Opening the bottle, he swallowed the contents in a gulp and was gone.

#thomas sanders #thomas sanders fics #thomas sanders angst #logan sanders #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #patton x virgil #logan x roman

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trinity-blood-translations · 7 years

Text

ROM 6 - Chapter 1 Part III (english translation)

Translator: Roven, Editing: Lamy

Trinity Blood (by Sunao Yoshida)

ROM 6 Link for Part I Chapter 1 Link for Part II Part III

—Ah, ah, ah, ah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Between the sound of the sirens, there was a cry of pain. Looking at the priest’s headless body Esther thought it was a very annoying loud noise.

A girl screamed as if a piece of her soul was taken and been crushed. Esther didn’t realize that the scream came from her own throat until she saw a hand rising as if it was a puppet. The nun raised the shotgun without hesitating pointing at the young blond man and pulled the trigger.

—Watch out, mein Herr. Esther is... —said Butler...

Or was it Kämpfer? Or whatever...

The muzzle of the shotgun, thick as a thigh, launched a deadly discharge. The bullets were hurled into the air as if they were a steel net. Their target was the handsome young man called Cain, the angel who was looking sadly at the decapitated body of the devil. The rain of bullets hit his body and made him bend.

—Aaaaah, aaaah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Esther didn’t stop moving while she was screaming. She fired and reloaded the shotgun almost at the same time.

White.

Trigger.

The nun observed expressionless how the young man's body flew away, and she reloaded again...

She felt like a veil of blood was spreading through her mind. She wasn’t able to think. Rather, her heart forbade her to think. Her body moved as if it were someone else's. She fired mechanically again and again. It was like watching an endless movie. A terror movie.

When would that nightmare end? Esther realized that she couldn’t even hear the shots anymore. With her left hand she continued to reloading, but she felt no longer the effect of the bullets entering the barrel. Did she run out of ammo? Or was it that the gun had been locked...?

The room was filled with smoke thicker than the mist of the city. The air conditioning system, which had survived the centuries, made the mist swirl.

—Ah ... ah!

Esther stared with empty eyes at the two bloody figures —one white, the other black— lying on the floor. The nun stepped forward without realizing that she stepped at the remains of the round glasses, until she reached the side of the headless black corpse.

—Father..? She asked with a trembling voice.

No one answered.

—Father? —she repeated with more force.

But there was no answer at all.

The remain of the bloody neck were to see at the end of the habit like a chopped trunk.

The head that should have been there was disappeared. Some gray stains were visible among the reddish liquid spread across the floor, probably parts of the cerebral fluid. Some shining small white masses were also to see which must have been the teeth. The eyes with the color of a winter lake with nerves still hanging on it were covered with a whitish veil.

—No...

Esther stared at the decapitated body as if it were of someone she saw for the first time. With eyes fixed on the still bleeding cut, she repeated incessantly the same word:

—No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...

That was impossible. There had to be a mistake. He couldn’t die. Even if he was poor and clumsy, he couldn’t die in that terrible way. She was certain that at any moment he would appear calling her with his carefree voice: <<Esther!>>. She would turn to scold him, as he deserved...

—"Esther!" — A clueless voice addressed the girl.

It was a quiet voice showing no sign of worry. While turning toward the voice the nun was turning pale as if she had the same hell before the eyes.

—Eh!?

—Eh? What's the matter? Is something wrong with my face?

The young man dressed in white had appeared before the stupefied girl. He didn’t have any scratch on his face, but when he noticed that Esther’s gaze was fixed on the gap that had open in his stomach, he annoyed snapped his tongue:

—Oh well, what a hole I have in the suit!… Esther, doing this to a friend... You've gone a bit too far with this joke.

—Ah...! Ah ...! Bu..,. but... how? How is it possible...!?

The hole that pierced the young man was so large that Esther almost could have put her head in it.

It wasn’t unusual, considering that he had received a discharge in a close-range. However, there was neither a drop of blood nor a piece of entrails. There was only a white interior just like a perforated puppet.

—Ah, this? It's because a long time ago I had a pretty big fight with my brother and he threw me from a very high place, —explained the young man laughing and embarrassed to the girl stupefied in horror—. How many year have passed since then...? The burns from then still haven’t healed well yet. When it rains they itch awfully. That’s why I came here to look for our genetic map to fix me... What Isaak? Did you found it?

—My lord, the truth is that... —explained Panzer Magier, with an expressionless face, running his fingers over the console. —….the wrath of your brother has been a bit disproportionate. The files are completely useless. And not just the ones here. It seems that there were security copies in the system, but even though I tried to recover them, it was impossible.

—Well, that is a problem indeed... And can’t you connect to the net? Aren’t the blueprints kept in any database out there?

—It is not possible to connect. This electronic system is disabled. I am very sorry, but it seems that your brother and his anger have erased everything.

—All right. It's just that Abel has always had a bad temper. What are we going to do? It is indeed a problem..., a big problem... What can we...? Oh, sure!

The young man clapped with his hands as if he had just realized something, and he looked at the bloody corpse lying next to Esther.

—Thinking about it, we don’t have the blueprints but we have a sample... My brother and I are completely identical. Let's use his body... I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.

—Use his body? —Esther repeated mechanically. She didn’t quite understand the meaning of those words, but she had a baleful presentiment. It seemed difficult to imagine that anything worse could happen but Esther drew back frightened. Embracing the corpse of Abel she was about to escape running from the room..., when the young man dressed in white stepped quietly to her side.

—Where are you going, Esther? —he asked with the same expression as the priest who was no longer in this world.

Cain's voice was sweet but the nun couldn’t help but chatter her teeth.

—Excuse me if I frighten you... but we will be okay soon. Afterwards we will go back upstairs and eat some delicious food. What do you desire? Meat? Fish? I love pasta...

—Ah!

When the young man reached out Esther pulled away instinctively. Rather, she tried to do it but her body didn’t answer. Though Cain smiled at her with affability she stood petrified like a frog in front of a snake.

The young man extended his hand toward the corpse the nun was embracing.

—Come on, let's not lose no more... Huh!?

—What is it, my lord? —asked Panzer Magier surprised manipulating the mummies in front of the console.

When he turned around he saw that the young man in white had withdrawn his hand with which he was just about to touch the corpse. The fingers twisted in pain and showed a few black burns.

—What...? What happened? —Esther murmured in astonishment.

Upon coming into contact with the body a bluish light forced Cain to withdraw his hand immediately. It was the energy produced by the priest turned into Krusnik. But why? If Abel had already died...

—Take it easy, Isaak. I just got a little scared. Or maybe...Do you want to make things difficult for me, 02? —said Cain serenely, as if he wanted to reassure his subordinate, although in his gaze a metallic light appeared. —These melodramatic show of fighting to the end isn’t your style. Or do you just want to annoy me? Even if this makes you angry, this is not...Huhh?

Cain stopped abruptly talking to the corpse or to the person who had lived in it and glanced with a strange look at his own hand. The flesh until then of an almost transparent white was darkening periodically as if the burns from before were about to spread through it. The blackened skin oozed a yellowish and foamy liquid which gave off a putrid stench. And it wasn't only the hand changing. The edges of the gap that Esther had opened in his stomach were also turning into another color. What was happening?

—Eh? My body is... decomposing? —moaned Cain moving away from the nun who was staring at him with wide eyes. —What does this mean? Isaak, what is happening to me?

— My lord, unfortunately it means that we are running out of time.

The young man replied politely but in his voice was a shadow of disgust. Watching his superior falling apart Panzer Magier shook his head annoyed.

—It was supposed to last longer but the fight with your brother must had costed you more energy than we thought... Anyway, we have to go back before your body fall apart completely.

—Well, well, this is indeed a nuisance... I can’t walk around with this body, —Cain replied with a childish tone as if he was told to go home but he wanted to keep playing. —Anyway, what could we do? There’s no choice but return. It's a shame since we've come this far... Oh, by the way, Esther?

Cain turned to the young woman, who looked at them as if she would see visions. He didn’t approached her physically but his voice had the closeness of an old friend.

—Hard days are waiting for you. Cheer up! Promise me you will neither cry nor fall into despair, okay?

—Lord, please hurry. The body will not last much longer.

—Got it. I will go right now... Well, see you later, Esther.

The young man blinked his eyes at her and winked her a goodbye kiss before he disappeared from the room together with Panzer Magier. Literally, they disappeared. Esther was alone, with no other company than the decapitated corpse in her arms and Vanessa who was lying dead on the floor her stomach destroyed by the jellyfish. The four mummies had also disappeared and with them the documents they were hugging, so the room seemed even larger.

The sirens were still ringing. Sitting in the middle of the room, Esther had lost all sense of time...

—Sister Esther!? —screamed somebody suddenly. —Did you come here, Saint!? Doctor Wordsworth, it's sister Esther! We have found the Saint of István!

Some figures appeared in the room and were screaming to each other. They were men dressed in black, probably members of the Secretary of Vatican Papal State. The gentleman who was leading them had a face that the girl was familiar with. But who is he? She couldn’t remember. The truth was that she didn’t want to think about anything...

—Are you alright, Sister Esther? Good luck, I have put a transmitter on you for the case something like would happen. Let us return to the surface immediately. This area will be blocked very soon... Eh, who is this...?

While trying in vain to get the nun out of her stupor the gentleman looked at the body she was holding. Since his head was missing at first sight he wasn’t able to recognize it, but seeing the habit and the rosary he was looking like he suspected it already. Without realizing that the pipe had fallen from his mouth, he groaned:

—But this habit... It can’t be...

Esther couldn’t hear the gentleman's voice. Her mind was fixed on the corpse in her arms. The nun was stupefied shaking the body in her arms, repeating his name as if she were expecting an answer:

—Father Nightroad... Father...

But obviously her call got no answer. However, Esther kept shaking the corpse.

—Father, wake up... Father..., wake... wa... wa... Ah, ah, ah...! Nooooooooooo!!!

—Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

A scream of despair made Esther to come out of her nightmare in order to fall into an even more terrible reality.

When she opened her eyes and rose from the chair the scream had disappeared, but instead she heard monstrously violent gasps. As she instinctively moved her hand toward the place where she would have her shotgun, the nun realized that it was her own breathing. Her cheeks were soaked.

—Oh oh!

The girl lifted her face, letting the tears run freely.

Several portraits of saints decorated the walls of the room and on the altar was a large silver crucifix.

The shadows dominated in the chapel of St. George's Cathedral, located on the grounds of Windsor Palace. Only the weak light of the winter night shone through the stained glass windows. How many hours had she been there? How much time had passed since that?

The Professor had rescued her from the underground levels and carried her back to the surface. Then she thought to remember to be examined by several doctors, but she wasn’t quite sure how everything went. The only thing she clearly remembered was the pool of blood stretching out on the floor. And the corpse dressed in habit, but without a head...

—I…, I've killed him... I...

Esther repeated over and over again the same meaningless words in front of the coffin that lay next to the altar. It was a simple coffin of cedar without decoration and aperture. However, Esther was painfully aware of who was in there.

—If I hadn’t said that... If I had shot him before...

—Sis..., Sister Esther? —asked a hesitant voice.

When did he entered? Esther looked back, full of tears, towards the teenager who had appeared in the chapel.

—Holiness?

—E..., E..., Esther..., are you okay?

Instinctively, Alessandro stepped back when the nun lifted her face towards him in a mechanical way, like a puppet. There was no doubt that he had impressed the girl's emaciated face. After hesitating a moment, with a fearful look, the teenager said:

—I've... been told… that... you haven’t left... this… place in a… while.

Are you... you ... are you okay? You haven’t..., eaten anything and... I’m sorry..., I’m really sorry… the Fa... Father Nightroad... I don’t have... I don’t have words for...

—...

Esther dropped her face again while the Pope tried to comfort her clumsily. She decided to remain silent, because she knew that if she would say something it would be terrible things. Despite of how exhausted she was, she still kept sufficient lucidity to know it.

Thinking that the nun was just tired, Alessandro said, looking towards the coffin:

—Sorry... I'm sorry to bother you now, but... I wanted to talk about something. Is it… okay? It's..., about Virgil and Angelica... Pe..., Petros is hurt and..., they don’t let me see him... Paula wouldn’t hear… she wouldn’t hear me, and... Esth... Esther, would you mind if...?

—I'm very sorry, Your Holiness, but I don’t think I can be useful to you. <<Don’t talk to me anymore!>>

Esther barely controlled the scream that raged in her chest and she replied in a measured voice:

—I am sorry. I'm no good… I’m useless...

—You a…, you are u…, useless?

—No use... I'm no use! For nothing at all!

The emotion then gushed out of the girl. She herself was surprised at the strength of her voice, but once she started she couldn’t control herself. The teenager drew back, terrified by the shrieks of the nun, who tore off her hair and threw them towards the altar. From her clenched fists dripped blood and stained the floor.

—I can’t do anything! The father has died because of me... And I wasn’t able to shoot… I was too scared!

In that dark underground she hadn’t lost only Father Nightroad. She had lost everything she had. A feeling of emptiness more violent than hunger made her voice break. She wasn’t yet considered as a mature woman, but she had overcome many difficulties that had helped her to gain self-confidence. She had just begun to feel within herself the strength that encouraged her to move on.

But it seemed that everything had suddenly evaporated. Instead, there was only remorse, fear and self-hatred…Such violent emotions that it seemed they were about to tear her chest.

She felt a huge emptiness in her heart, a void that couldn’t be filled. She had lost him forever. He would never come back...

—I'm no use! I'm no good!

—E..., E..., Esther...

Alessandro watched horrified as the nun scratched her face and bit on her lips until they started to bleed. Not knowing what to do he just stayed there watching her, terrified, as blood and pieces of skin dropped on him...

—Enough, Esther!

A calm voice but full of authority made the young woman to stop. When Alessandro turned toward the voice, the person who just spoke had already passed his side with a martial rhythm and grabbed Esther’s wrists.

—Stop! A lady shouldn’t damage her face like this…

—Colonel Spencer?" —she said, looking at the newcomer with empty eyes.

Ignoring the teenage Pope who was looking at them with horror, the nun repeated to the orange-haired officer:

—Colonel... I killed him…, I..., I…, I killed…, I…,

—Now enough!

Something made a dry sound on Esther 's cheeks. As the slapped nun looked up with an expression like a demon just had been fallen of her face, she met with her gaze the sky-blue eyes of Bloody Mary.

—Sister Esther Blanchett! Have you forgotten that you are the Saint!? You have been chosen to fight against the evil in the world, to be the voice of the Lord and the admiration of the people... How can the Saint fall apart like this!? I won’t let you!

—The Saint... I...

She was no saint!

The scream almost came from her lips, but something stopped her. <<Where have I been wrong?>>, said the revenger in her hometown. <<Can I trust you, Esther?>>, asked the young man she met in the desert city. <<You are not my subject. You are my friend.>>, said the girl who ruled the city of non-humans. <<You will be the Saint.>>, said the friend she lost in the winter city. <<I am on your side>>, said the one who had always been by her side and now he was silent forever.

Esther buried her nails tightly in her fists, to avoid taking them back to the face.

She didn’t want to have anything to do with this name. She could only be saved when she erased that agname. But in doing so, she would also erase all those people who she kept inside. It would be like eliminate everyone who live thinking about her and those who don’t live anymore, except in her memories...

—Ah! —cried the girl and covered her face. <<What an ugly voice...>>

As a Saint she should cry a little more beautiful —thought Esther without realizing that she was burst into tears at the same time. Her shoulders trembled violently and felt as if she were going to vomit all the blood that ran through her chest.

<<I am not a saint!>>

The girl cried with all her might just in order to stifle that scream. Her face was soaked with tears and snot, as if there wasn't left a drop of liquid in her body.

Mary waited patiently for the nun to finish crying. With her gaze fixed on her, she didn’t even realize that the Pope had left the room. When she saw that the tears abate a little, she whispered:

—You really loved him, isn’t that so?

—Did... love him...?1 Esther raised her head with a confused look, full of tears, as if she just heard the voice of an incomprehensible oracle.

Mary hugged her murmuring: —All right. You can still cry. But then you must get up again, Saint... Now cry all you want.

—Colonel?

—Yes?

—Why? Why are you worrying about me...?

—Maybe it's because we're sisters. Yes, you are... my only sister. And soon my only relative.

<<the only relative>>... Those words made Esther's eyes light up. Didn't she had someone else in the palace? As if Mary had guessed what she thought, she shook her head.

—Our grandmother... The queen is doing very badly. The representatives of the aristocracy have been called to her side. That's why I came to pick you up… When you are calmer, get ready. We'll go to the palace together.

—To ... together? But I...

—It's all right, Esther... —Mary said, offering the nun a handkerchief to wipe away the tears.— I'll take care of everything. I will protect you... I will not let that bunch of scavenging vultures to do anything to my sister.

—Sister, —Esther repeated.

The emptiness in her chest made her feel a deaf pain which would never cease. But, at the same time, the hand that the Colonel was giving her was warm and soft.

—Thank you sister...

—Don’t worry... Are you calmer now? Calm down a little and we will go. The car is waiting outside. The palace is not so far from here...

Mary was hugging her sister and talking gentle but some shouts outside interrupted their conversation. When she turned to see what was it about, someone violently opened the door without knocking.

—Jane!? —Mary yelled in surprise.

The colonel was so shocked by the sudden appearance that she exclaimed, forgetting all manners:

—But what are you doing here?! Hadn’t you gone to the palace!?

—I've deviated halfway.

Jane Judith Jocelyn Albion's most notorious nobleman was pale as ever. With a stiff expression, free of all irony, Calamity Jane pointed outward.

—It's a terrible thing, Mary... Look.

The aristocrat pointed toward the castle gate. By following her directions with the eyes, Mary and Esther were shocked.

—But…, but, what is that?!

The first who broke the silence was Mary, still hugging Esther andlooking towards the entrance of the castle.

—What happened!? How could...!?

—What is that!?

Before her eyes stretched a sea of people and people and more people... The crowd filled the field of vision of the two girls, who were looking in astonishment.

The road leading to the castle was full of people and cars. And not just at ground level. Above the cars, on the roofs, and even on the streetlamps there were people looking curiously into the palace. Many of them carried sheets of newspapers in their hands. In addition, there were groups of men with the appearance of journalists arguing with the soldiers who protected the enclosure. What was happening!?

—Look at this... It's the Times special edition that has been out ten minutes ago.

Jane showed them a newspaper identical to the ones that the crowd was carrying. On the cheap paper it was printed a photo of Esther and Mary, taken the day before at the airport, but it wasn’t the fact what attracted the attention of the sisters. Their eyes were fixed on the letters that danced around it: <<Sister Esther is the lost princess>>.

—<<Sister Esther is the lost princess>>?....It can not be!

Why did they published this!? —cried the older of the two sisters, and turned to her friend, who was drawing the curtains—. Jane, what does this mean?! Why has this story been leaked out to the media!? Who is responsible!?

—How should I know it!? All the newspapers have published the story at the same time and also the radios have announced... —explained Calamity Jane, pulling out more and more newspapers from her coat.

The aristocrat took out more than ten balls of papers, which soon filled the floor.

—Who has spread the news especially now? The Vatican? It can’t be, they don’t have such strong ties with Albion’s media. The Duke of Argyll... he isn’t skilled enough to do such a thing. Letting all the newspapers take the same story in the evening edition... nobody is able to do this. I don’t know who it was, but it’is someone very skilled.

—Eh? So...

Esther began to speak in a hesitant voice, and the perplexity in her eyes showed that she still didn’t fully understand what had happened.

—Then, what are we going to do? We have to go to the palace to see your majesty... but with all those people...

—There's a car ready at the back exit, —Jane quickly replied, crossing the newspapers on the floor with her needle-like high heels. —We'll catch the attention of the people outside with a decoy and you can escape… Mary, are you alright?

—...

Jane's question went unanswered. Seeing her sister absorbed by her thoughts, Esther asked fearfully:

—Colonel Spencer?

—It will be a fight to death...

—Eh?

The colonel had spoken in such a low voice that the nun hadn’t understood what she had said. Tilting her head Esther asked:

—Colonel? What did...? What did you say, Mary?

—Eh? Oh, nothing, it's nothing... — the officer replied as if she just woke up from a dream.

As she turned her gaze to the nun her eyes had lost their hardness of before. Shaking her head, Mary said softly to her sister:

—It's nothing, Esther. Don’t worry...

1 The japanese original version uses 愛 (love) which very uncommon. Usually they use for “to love somebody” 好きです (literally: I like you). The use of 愛 implies very strong emotions here - that’s why Esther is surprised by the use of this word. It seems like she realizes in this moment that she was really in love with him. (Compare with the conversation between Mary and Jane about her before.)

Illustrations by Thores shibamoto and Kiyo Kyujyo.

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ikonislife · 7 years

Text

Tolerable.

-Namjoon x Reader

-Angst

-When your friendship built upon a lie, one person will always hurt more.

a/n. I had this saved for awhile so here goes, something for y’all to read before i upload the Jundong, CEO!Junhoe, High school au Hanbin scenarios.

Pic Cr. X

“Did you hear? the oldest Kim kid got into the elite police academy. He’ll probably be a great detective someday.”

“Aye, I knew he’d do well. If only our Y/n was half as motivated, maybe she’d at least have a part time job by now.”

Another day, another 24 hours of enduring insults coming from your own blood and flesh. For as long as you could remember it had been this way, it was you compared against the world, more specifically, the world that revolves around Kim Namjoon.

You bit your lips and quiet yourself, shoes gently being place back into the rack as you crept along the hallway making yourself invisible, something, perhaps the only thing you had mastered in your life. You watched as your grandparents boasted about Namjoon as if he’s their grandkid while your parents endured yet another bout of passive aggressive derision. Honestly it’d have been better if they just outright insulted you because at least then, you’d have a reason to be angry. Your parents love you for who you are and never once did they force you to do anything you didn’t want to just because the neighbor kid did it, but at some point during high school you began to feel sorry for them. How awful must it be to have a kid that was and still is completely average, meanwhile their best friends had practically raised a genius. He was good with school, a great athlete yet still somehow had time to dive into the world of underground hiphop. You, what did you do... Nothing.

To everyone else, you and him were best friend. To you, he was the source of your first crush, first heartache, and hell, even first love. To him, you’re simply the girl that live next door whom the neighborhood seemed to have decided to be his future bride. Namjoon is a polite kid, never was he mean to you but he wasn’t your friend either. Growing up seeing each other nearly everyday, the friendship between your parents had lulled you into a sense of false security, of presuming your own and his was also something of best friend material but you had long found out it was all lies - you’re barely tolerable in his eyes.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, sometimes things float by in the air and it was neither yours nor his fault that it was you whom happened to catch it. Blissfully unaware of the boy you loved, you were heading back to the gym to change, P.E. was over and you couldn’t be more happy as you skipped along side the fence of the football field. You had ignored the chatter at first but by the time your name was brought up for the third time, you feet stopped itself without even needing you to command them.

“Hey Joonie, are you and that girl really engaged to be married or something?”

“Who?” You heard him replied with shock in his voice.

“Y/n, your neighbor.”

“OOhh, Y/n. No, people just think so cause our parents are friends. No way, man.”

“Well it wouldn’t be so bad. I think she’s cute, not the best at school but good enough for college. She’s pretty funny too if you ever bothered listening to her. I wouldn’t be mad if she’s my betrothed.”

“Man, stop bullshitting. I don’t even like her. Hell, she’s barely tolerable if I’m really honest. She’s like the annoying little sister you know, I feel like I always have to look out for her. If not, my parents would shit on me if she’s hurt. Such a burden, always Y/n this, Y/n that.”

Suddenly every precious memory you shared with him was tainted with an ominous cloud, like a beautiful paining stained by the spilled glass of paint brush rinse water. The picture perfect friendship severed in an instant with the blade of Namjoon’s word and burned by the hurt piercing your heart.

You had always remembered Namjoon as the kid that always made sure you had a part on the playground, that no game would ever exclude you even if you weren’t the best at games but now you understand why he did it. He did it because his parents made him not because he wanted you to be with him.

And so your tears brought out the memories of middle school, the small glances he’d exchanged with his buddies, the awkward smiles and the nervous stammering whenever you’d grouped yourself with him every field trip. You had just thought he was scared a girl would ruined the dynamic of his group which consisted of 7 boys but you were his best friend, where else would you be if it’s not with him.

You thought of the little snickers his 9th grade girlfriend would share with her best friends whenever you were around and how he’d tapped her shoulders with a small smile of his own that you never really could decipher...

They were laughing at you, at how clueless you were.

It was all so wrong, your whole life had been a lie and Kim Namjoon was the one orchestrated it all. Even then, you still couldn’t stay away from him. The little butterflies in your stomach would still rage whenever those dimples were prominent under a blinding smile. You couldn’t hate him, you could never hate Kim Namjoon.

That fateful afternoon happened near two years ago and since then, second by second you learned to distant yourself away from the source of your temporary happiness that was also poisoning your heart. You now know his kind gestures and sweet smiles were nothing but lies and feigned interest to please his parents. For some reason this week, the last week of your high school life, it brought back all the pain and all the hurt of standing there in the field listening to the boy you thought you knew slandering your friendship.

You stood by the living room’s door, listening in on your grandpa gushing about how cool it’d be to have a detective in the family, listening until you couldn’t anymore so you turned around and put on your shoes. The cool yet sticky air of a hot summer night left you frustrated, even more so than the snide words of your grandparents. Your feet continued to pitter patter their way down silently out the front gate before stopping short, not really knowing where to go or what the end destination was and so you stayed there, leaning against the metal gate, sighing in relief the little bit of coolness it provided. You watched as the swarm of gnats dove blindly into the light and think of yourself and Namjoon... He had always been the source of light to everyone’s life while you were a mere bothersome herd of gnats, good for nothing and annoying. Unknowingly a single tear slipped from your eyes and with it too, a bitter chuckle. What a joke.

“Y/n... You’re okay?”

Great, he has to show up.

“Yea. What’s it to you?” You couldn’t bother to face him, Mr. Perfect, burning you with his brightness.

“Oh... I... I was heading to the coffee shop for a drink. W-Wanna come? I heard you got into your 1st choice, let’s go grab a coffee to celebrate.”

“I heard you got into the academy. Impressive. Congrats, I guess.”

“Hmm, yea! Thank you! I’m glad it worked out for you too. Come on, I’ll buy.” Namjoon’s a smart man and by now he had figured out something had happened yet no matter how much he postulated on the reason why, he had never figured out why you suddenly stopped being his friend.

It started out with eating lunch together at school, you had always been excited to share lunch but then one week you disappeared and till this day he never learned of your secret spot. Then it was the weekend movie night with both your families. You had always claimed the spot next to his and although he’d rather focus on the movie, he was more than glad to share his shoulder for you to cry on whenever your mothers would chose a sappy movie, or his chest to shield you away during a horror movie that of course your fathers chose to retaliate. Although he knew you were scared shitless when your dad had chosen to put on the grudge that night, you refused his outreaching hand, planted yourself firmly on the ground and braved the whole movie on your own. That night he watched your shoulders shivered in fear and listened to your kittenish sniffles of tear but there was nothing he could do. Till this day, he never really knew what the Grudge is really about. In the end, your face would be a rare occurrence before disappearing altogether from family dinner and he saw only glimpses as you rushed pass to the confinement of your room.

“It’s okay. I’m not in the mood for coffee and plus... If you wanted to celebrate, maybe it should be with someone a bit more special than just barely tolerable.” With a sigh, you finally said it, you said your least favorite combination of words and Namjoon felt himself stiffen. He looked up from the spot where his foot had been kicking nervously for the past five minutes awaiting your answer, sincerely hoped you’d accept his invitation only to meet your cold and empty eyes. That’s another thing that was gone along with your smile and appearance, the warmth and wonder behind your glistening eyes. These days they resembled the pitch black sky of a moonless night rather than the stars filled one he had grew accustomed to from growing up with you. Your lips neither frowning nor smiling but rather this uncomfortable nonchalantness, pressed tight into a line before you scoffed with the roll of the eyes, looked back up at the sky above.

“W-What?”

“Nothing. Don’t mind me. I’m just spewing nonsense again.” Hands shoving deep in the pocket of your sweat, you straighten yourself and with one last look, you walked off into the distant but not before muttering another congratulation.

That was the last time Namjoon really saw you, as he stood there under the yellow streetlight watching you walked into the darkness away from him. His fists balled up at his side and his heart shattered at the thought of you suffering from his words. those words “barely tolerable”, those were his exact word and he’d bet all the money and his future away you heard him that day. How could someone so smart be so stupid as to not realizing it sooner. For two years you looked at him with dejection clouding the once brilliant glint in your eyes and he was too goddamn into himself to understand why. He broke you.

You moved away soon after, silently and without even a goodbye. Namjoon had returned home that day, beaten from a long physical at the academy only to find his mom sobbing hysterically. Panic engulfed his body when his dad explained your family had bid adieu that morning before leaving for college. If only his instructor could see him run now, he’d be so proud of the speed Namjoon was tearing out of the house leaving a trail of smoke behind him despite the aching of his bone wanting nothing more than to collapse onto the ground.

“No...”

He muttered repeatedly like a fool staring at that for sale sign hung in front of your gate, hand rasping at the door hoping you’d answer but it just flung open lifelessly, the sight of your empty home pulverized the last bit of his heart. He was too late... You’re gone forever, still believing he hated you...

#BTS #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts drabble #bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon scenario #namjoon imagine #rap monster #rap monster scenarios #namjoon #bangtang boys #bangtang #namjoon scenarios #RM

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rootbeergoddess · 7 years

Text

What are Friends For?

Rowdy’s old friend has a super big favor to ask of him: date his daughter. Like this story? Leave me a tip!

“Rowdy, I need a favor. A big one.” Waddell said

“Jesus, I’m already worried,” Rowdy chuckled. “What is it?”

“You know my daughter Y/N right? Well, she’s coming back home for a while. She just graduated school. Got her degree and now she’s planning to be a marine biologist.”

“Yeah, I remember her. She always loved the sea. Why do you need me?”

“Her shitty ex-boyfriend is trying to get back with her,” Waddell sighed. “I’m going, to be frank Rowdy, my little angel deserves better than this shit stain. He broke her heart already, and I can’t have it happen again.”

“It almost sounds like you want me to date your daughter.”

“Yeah. I know it sounds odd, but you have to understand Rowdy. My daughter is my whole world. I love her more than I love myself. If Satan himself came up from Hell and said I had to kill the president or my daughters, you bet your ass I”d kill the president. Rowdy, please. I just need a decent fella to distract her.”

Rowdy had to think about this. This wasn’t the weirdest request he had ever gotten. It was also coming from Waddell, a man who had known for years. How could he say no to his old friend?

“Alright Waddell. I’ll do my best.”

You looked out at the road, sighing. Dad was supposed to be home by now. Apollo, the family Great Dane, was lying on the porch. He hadn’t left your side since you came home from school. Seemed like the big lug had missed you. Smiling, you looked down at him, and he began to wag his tail. Then, he got up and started to bark. You look up to see your father’s car.

“Dad!” You jumped off the porch to run to the car.

“There she is!” Your father grinned.

You hugged him. You were all grown, but you still loved coming home. The rustic country home you had been raised was heaven compared to the city. It was like a little slice of heaven just for you. Apollo came up behind you, his tail wagging like mad. Your father laughed as he reached down to pet the happy dog. Stepping back, you realized he wasn’t alone. Someone else came out of the car. Once he was out of the vehicle, you realized who it was. Rowdy Burns, the famous race car driver. Your father was his crew chief. You had met him before, but he hadn’t really been all that impressed. Rowdy came off as vain and reckless. Of course, you weren’t going to say that out loud. Not in front of your father.

“Hello Y/N,” Rowdy smiled at you. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” You said.

Apollo sniffed Rowdy’s foot. Rowdy crouched down and immediately, started licking Rowdy’s face.

“Aw, you giving me kisses?” Rowdy asked. “Those are some good kisses.”

“You remember Rowdy, right Y/N?”

“Of course Dad. Your #1 guy,” You said, smiling at him. “How can I forget him?”

Rowdy stood up and offered up his hand. Wanting to be polite, you placed your hand in his. You were shocked when he kissed the top of your hand. For a second, you felt yourself blushing.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Rowdy said.

“Thank you,” You took your hand back. “I’m going to go help mom with dinner.”

“Mhm, that’s some damn good meatloaf Jane,” Rowdy said.

“Oh Rowdy, you’re so sweet.” Your mother said.

More like an asskisser you thought. Again, you said nothing. As you continued eating, your father and Rowdy talked about racing. It wasn’t exciting to you, but you didn’t mind. Your father loved the race track. It made him happy.

“So Y/N,” Rowdy suddenly said. “Your daddy told me you’re going to be a marine biologist, isn’t that right?”

“Oh, yes,” You said. “I studied the behavior of whales.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Rowdy smiled at you. “I’m no brainiac. That is why I just drive cars. Doesn’t take a smartie to do that.”

At least he admitted he wasn't that bright. Once dinner was done, you went to go to the dishes. You reached for them, but Rowdy beat you to it.

“Allow me,” He said.

“You don’t have to do that. You’re our guest.”

“It’s no problem,” Rowdy started putting dishes away.

“Hm,” You leaned against the counter. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“Catch?” Rowdy asked.

“Dad doesn’t invite guests over without telling us beforehand,” You eyed him. “Something is up.”

“Nothing’s up,” Rowdy said. “I just wanted to visit. Plus, he talks about you all the time. You’re the apple of his eye. You know he’s got a picture of you on his desk.”

“What? No way.”

“Yeah. It’s from one of your Halloween’s. You dressed up as Elvira.”

“Oh, yeah. Elvira one of my favorite people. I’ve watched everything she’s ever been in.

“Really? So you like horror movies?” Rowdy asked.

“I love horror,” You smiled. “I mean since you’re here, I could show you my collection. Unless you’re too scared.”

“Well if you’re with me, I think I can manage,” Rowdy said with a grin.

“Morning Dad!”

Your father looked up from his paper as you kissed his cheek. Smiling, you grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table. “That’s a pretty nice dress you’re wearing dear.” He commented.

“I know right? Rowdy bought me this for our six month anniversary,” You said with a dreamy sigh. “It’s a Gucci original, and he had it made just for me.”

“Wow,” Your father whistled. “That’s a pretty special gift.”

“Yeah,” You took a bite of your apple. “I’m so glad you tried to set me up with him Dad.”

“Oh,” He chuckled. “You’re too smart. When did you figure it out?”

“The first night he came over,” You replied. “You know Dad, I’m a grown woman. I can make my own choices.”

“I know sweetheart. I just didn’t want that scumbag back in your life. You have such a bright future ahead of you. That ex of yours was no good, and I was afraid he’d hold you back.”

“Aw Dad,” You smiled. “I know you’re just looking out for me and I do appreciate it. But next time, no surprise dates.”

“Well, hopefully I won’t have to plan anymore.”

Beeping was heard outside. You tossed the apple into the trashcan, gave your father one last kiss and then ran outside. Rowdy got out of his car, a bouquet of roses in his hand. Apollo followed him, wagging his tail. Rowdy removed his sunglasses, smiling at you as you approached. Once you were in reach, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Hello handsome,” You cooed. “So where are you taking me tonight?”

“It’s a surprise,” He said, grinning. “I mean this is a big milestone. Six months.”

“Yes. Six months that happened because my dad didn’t want me to get together with my ex.”

“Oh,” Rowdy chuckled. “God, you are way too smart. How long did you know?”

“Since the day you came over. Lucky for you, I am very forgiving.”

“Lucky me.”

@rookerstash-after-dark, @rooker-renegades, @rooker-shenanigans , @multi-villain-imagines , @lucifers-trash-stash , @allhailkingrooker51, @babelincolns, @socktrollqueen, @missmendelsohn, @the-galaxy-savers

#Rootbeer Writes #Days of Thunder #Rowdy Burns #Rowdy x Reader #Self Insert #Rowdy Burns x Reader #micheal rooker

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hollywoodx4 · 7 years

Text

Sticking with the Schuylers (50)

It’s been too long, thank you for your patience! There’s a lot going on in these next few parts, so I’ve been hunkered down with research and re-writing (and what’s now just about 10 pages of notes and little bits of story that need a home). But this is the 50th part. shit. I know I say it a lot, but it’s genuinely amazing to me that you are still reading this-I know it’s long, but it’s my baby and I’m so glad there are people out there that love my baby too.

Anyway, sorry about that. Here’s PART 50!! YAY!! CELEBRATE!!

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 1112 I 13 14 15 16 17 18A 18B 18C I19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 I 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 3738 39 40 41 42 I 43 44 B 45 46 47 48 49

Tagging: @linsnavi @workworkbae @adothoe @oosnavi

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy on mentions of both physical and emotional abuse

Her red rubber boots are heavy as they carry her through the snow; it’s another frigid day in February, falling into those last few chugging weeks that lead miserably into the promise of spring. There is a slight swell of snow which the wind picks up and tosses around in the air, patterns rising and falling and whipping themselves onto the exposed skin of her face. Eliza takes the biting winds and bitter flakes of snow with not so much as a blinking eye; there is no difference between this outdoor battle and the syncopated thrumming of her heart.

She’d only felt this particular brand of terror once before, when she was much younger. The memory plays in her mind like a scratched up record not quite able to be destroyed. Her mother did not take a single moment of misbehavior from her daughters, not even when they were still wearing matching outfits and sitting on Santa’s lap at the Christmas tree lighting ceremony. Phillip was a bit more lenient, but only with the innocence of one of his daughter’s sparkling eyes or tiny hands in his. They got away with very little as children, but it never bothered the sisters much. They were good girls, polite and charming in public and loud and raucous at home. Peggy caused the brunt of the trouble, with her child-hearted mischief and wild temperament. Angelica’s brand of trouble followed words that grew a bit too feisty, arguments that were biting especially when she hit puberty. Eliza, the ‘sweet, quiet one,’ was known to never raise her voice. She was an adaptive child, one who’d always take the flavor of lollipop neither of her sisters wanted, or to sit squeezed tight between them in the town car. She’d only once known the sinking, harrowing physicality of getting into trouble, and the experience still makes her heart pulse irregularly.

She’d been eight years old at the time, old enough to know the rules but just young enough for her naïve, impressionable air to take a stronger hold. If she closes her eyes on this campus, ignores the smog of her breath mixing into the air, or the bitter cold making its way through her red rubber boots and woolen socks, she can feel herself shrink down to the age of headband bows and tulle church dresses. Eight years old was young, infantile compared to Angelica’s graceful eleven. Even the word of her age seemed juvenile; everything did in this time, where her older sister was already getting excited about middle school and leaving Eliza back at the little private elementary school they’d been walking to together for three and a half years. She was excited, Angelica, early on. And in the case of this particular memory, Angelica was excited for middle school in February-the day she turned eleven.

She’d been wearing a new dress; they all were, the sisters, but Angelica’s was the prettiest. Hers was a matte black, straight at the hips. Her tights were patterned and sheer, and on the edge of her shoes was a heel-a heel. Eliza feels her own flat boots bring her closer to choking nerves as she remembers those shoes, shiny and sleek and tucked away in her mother’s bag until they got to the restaurant. It didn’t seem fair; her flat, bow-topped Mary Janes didn’t shine the way Angelica’s new boots did. They didn’t make her tall, or elegant, or old. They just made her feel young-and even worse, without the attention of her parents.

As tradition would have it, Angelica was tasked with choosing the place they would eat dinner, a special night out to honor her birthday. They ended up at an Italian place they’d only been a few times, before the rare and exciting nights they’d be taken to a show or a fancy exhibit, out past their bedtimes and allowed an extra sweet treat to share. Angelica chose a booth by the window, and the seat closest to the foot traffic outside. She ordered a Shirley Temple and crossed her legs underneath the table as she drank it, dainty and graceful, straight from a glass. Eliza sipped reluctantly on her milk, shifted her once crossed legs so she might sit like her older sister. The table was too high, just by the fraction of an inch that made it annoying for her to keep an elbow over-bent as she tucked into her pasta. She couldn’t sit like Angelica. She couldn’t wear high heels, or drink a Shirley Temple, and she certainly couldn’t handle herself the way her older sister did.

Eliza never got in any real sort of trouble as a child-except two nights after this birthday that had left her feeling more upset than celebratory.

She hadn’t been thinking-there was the first clue to her naivety. From the moment they’d gotten home from the restaurant, and Angelica had opened her presents and said her thanks…from the moment Eliza crawled into her older sister’s bed after they’d all been tucked in separately, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those shiny black heeled shoes. And when Angelica had sighed, turned her head to come nose to nose with Eliza and stroked her moon-like cheeks, Eliza’s eight year old heart sunk.

“I’m going to miss you when I’m in middle school, Betsy,” She’d said. “If you were old enough, we could go together.”

The black heels had looked so nice on her; she’d twirled around in the mirror all morning, coveting the prizes as she paired them with her own flared out party dress. There in the mirror, Eliza puffed out her chest and fashioned her hair into the best rendition of a French braid her poorly trained hands could manage. And then, she’d tucked the shoes into her backpack and left for a friend’s house. She remembered the prim, popular little redhead. She remembered the way she’d stared longingly at the high heels Eliza had brought; all the girls in their party dresses had envied her, thought her old and mature to be clicking around the house during the movie star themed sleepover. She’d thought highly of herself, too, glancing in each mirrored surface at the level of those shining shoes, refusing to take them off.

There was pizza at the party, with sauce that rolled from crust and onto the shiny shoes. She’d wiped them with a cloth and said nothing, continued on with the night. There was dancing, and a fashion show, and by the time the party was over the next morning Eliza had forgotten about the heels on her feet completely. Then, her mother had come.

In the present day, as her woolen socks finally succumb to the cold, Eliza shudders at the memory of Catherine Schuyler’s contorted expression of horror as she looked down at her middle daughter’s feet. The shiny, coveted shoes had been ruined, scuffed and stained and played in. She’d shaken her head, made her change into her old winter boots in front of each girl at the sleepover and carry the heels between shaking fingers. Her wide eyes were brimming with unshed tears of embarrassment, her mother’s eyes on her until she got to Angelica’s bedroom door.

“You need to own up to what you’ve done.” Catherine scolds her with a lower voice and crossed arms, knocking on Angelica’s door for her. She shrinks within herself, ducks into her shoulders with a reddened, weeping expression.

“You need to own up to what you’ve done.” It’s the same thing James says to her years past those childhood months she worked toward buying Angelica a new pair of shoes. At eight years old the words had felt just as life-shattering as at eighteen. This time, however, there is no pair of shiny shoes. Eliza stands in front of James with her eyes narrowed in confusion. She shakes. She doesn’t understand.

“You know I have a problem, and yet you continue to drink like it’s nothing. You’re eighteen, for fucks sake. You shouldn’t even be having alcohol in the first place.”

“It was at Angelica’s, I stayed over. I,”

“Don’t give me that,” He is a picture of beauty, her James. With his tanned skin and freckles, bright eyes and pearly teeth, a freeze-frame of the moment would capture nothing but each of his remarkable features. Even when he is upset, he is still a pretty picture of the beautiful thing they had built so many months ago. She is sorry. She’s sorry when his tone grows from Catherine’s low leveled voice to his own booming argument; when he rises from the couch to approach her. Her body jerks in shock, an unsolicited movement she attempts to cover with a stretch.

“You’re getting to be crazy. You know that, right? You walk around here like you’re waiting for something bad to happen, and you sit around treating me like the bad guy. I don’t know what else I could do for you to get you to stop being such a victim every time I say something you don’t like.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You know, considering the fact that the whole drinking thing is hereditary, and something you know about, a good girlfriend would probably be a little more considerate than this.”

“Are you drinking right now?”

“Maybe I should be!” He clenches his fists, opens and shuts them and walks around the living room with the first signs of a narrow-lipped scowl cracking his beautiful features. “Now that you’ve gone out and done it, why shouldn’t I? You’re tempting me again. If I fall down this hole, think about that. All you ever do is tease me, Eliza. And then you walk around like I’m the one causing all of your problems.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s not?” Eliza’s gutsy, randomly sparked confidence drives her rebuttal through shaking nerves she hides well. Even as he hears her, takes his own straightened posture and incredulous air of defense, she sucks in her breath. This time will be different. Angelica’s voice rings through her head-you need to start saying no to him. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, or what he’s saying that’s getting you so upset, but you don’t deserve this.

“It’s not.” Her voice takes half a step up, tripping over itself before she regains her composure. “It’s not true. I’m not trying to disrespect you, that’s why I spent the night at Angelica’s.”

“You know it makes me upset when you do that-I don’t know where you are, or if you’re safe.”

“If I text you while I’m there and you know that I’m there, I don’t see where the problem is, James. I’m not a child. Spending the night with my sister shouldn’t be such an issue to you.”

“So sue me for worrying!” James throws his hands up in the air, running over his buzzed hair and settling by his side. He is the release of rolling, boiling anger into a thick cloud of steam as he pulls back from himself, giving his head a slight shake. Through her peripheral vision Eliza counts the tense and release of her boyfriend’s hands as he curls them, in and out. He seems to be settling, taking a moment to collect and reconfigure himself after the raise of his voice and her recoil.

In all of the time she has spent with him, Eliza knows that this is nothing more than a false pretense she has fallen for one too many times. In these moments, when she has frustrated James to the point of his shouting, she can count on this burning, seething steam settling through the room, enveloping her in its choking hold. His movements turn into concentrated, slight motions; the miniscule tilt of his head, the way he looks at her through eyes narrowed just enough to portray that she has done something wrong again. His posture straightens, yet he seems to be bent toward her, looming. His grassy eyes, rare and beautiful against his olive-toned skin, point down at her. She is below him; in size, in physicality...in this argument, where she feels she has done nothing wrong, Eliza has suddenly committed a series of horrible acts against James. The guilt is incredible, her heart squeezing and thrumming against her chest in protest of herself.

Eliza recognizes these things as James takes another breath, poised to speak. Angelica’s voice is a broken record begging to be listened to. That same spontaneous spark of confidence shoots back through her gut, and Eliza raises her finger in rapid motion.

“Stop! Just-stop speaking to me like I went and murdered someone, or did a line of coke, or robbed a bank. I went to see my sister, which I don’t need your permission to do. And whether I drank or not I still came home sober. I still haven’t talked about it, or offered you one, so don’t act like I’m trying to get you back down that hole because we both know that I’ve always been the first person here for you when you have. So stop, James. I can’t argue like this anymore!”

The sting that spreads through her cheek is familiar-it spreads like electricity, hostile and hot as tears fill the brim of her eyes. She says nothing as he stares back at her, his lip pinched into a stiff gathering of muscles at the center of his face. It’s the same tight balloon tied expression he wears when she gives him a Warhead from her purse. In that instance, when his eyes are wide and wondrous and his body relaxed into the couch, her body convulses with laughter that has her doubled over. When his eyes are narrowed, when his hand lowers from her face with conviction, his sour face shakes her with fear.

She does not move from her place in the kitchen when he leaves her line of vision. The mass of emotions pulse through her body like fireworks, popping and hissing and keeping her stiff and rigid. She is consumed with a fear of their escape; it keeps her rooted to the hardwood, concentrating on the way the air moves around her and waiting for the next inevitable blow. She has never spoken back to James.

“Look what you’ve done now!” James hisses. His body is pressed against their front door, and his eye trained on the peephole when he groans. The movement of limbs when he comes back to her is elongated, rapid. He crosses the space between them before she can even register what is happening. All Eliza can decipher is from the hushed and tensed tone of his voice, his sour lemon face coming back so that he may stare at her with eyes that throw an intense, incredulous stare her way.

“You’re so far down this victimizing little hole you’ve built yourself that the police are here! How do you feel about that? Do you feel good about yourself now? Because this is just going to look fucking great to our landlord.”

“James,”

The persistent knocking interrupts her speech-thankfully, because the sense of vocal direction is lost on Eliza, who stays rooted in her place in the hallway. Her bare feet dig into plush carpeting and she pushes her toes back and forth on them. A flood of unfamiliar noises enters the space; the jangling of keys, static feedback of a radio, and the new, bass-toned voice that accompanies James’s smooth words of apology. It’s a song, almost, the quiet gathering of sounds that push themselves together in one complete rhythm. And in her mind, Eliza can just hear the melody of it all; This is my chance, I can have this chance. James is wrong, I’m not making anything up. Say something.

“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”

The man before her makes her breathing hitch in her throat, stops and starts her heart as her eyes catch the shine of the badge he wears. She’s not sure how her contorted face might read, but in one invisible motion of air to her lungs she attempts to collect herself the best that she can. Eliza nods.

“We received a call from a neighbor about the level of noise coming from this apartment.” She’s not sure what he says next; her mind thrums in and out of focus, unable to catch specifics other than its masculine tone. Her body still aches, longs to release what she has bottled for her own safety. She nods and shakes her head to questions she can’t completely decipher, her eyes trained on the shadow of James’s body from where he waits in the kitchen, just around the corner. She swallows the air, thick and dizzying, and holds herself high.

“Can you explain what happened leading up to this? There was some shouting,”

“-We got into an argument, that’s it. I was shouting back at him, I-I was completely in the wrong, and it won’t happen again. I don’t usually shout, I’m so sorry.”

The man shifts on his feet, writes his transcription of her words in a little notebook he holds in the palm of one hand. He is composed, gentle yet carrying an air of authority that surrounds her in an immediate sense of safety. The dissolution of this is inevitable. When he goes, she will be alone. The vision of it breaks her bubble of security immediately. And when she lets her eyes wander somewhere other than the officer’s gold badge, she catches the long black deflection of light that throws itself onto the tile. He’s leaning against the wall, he’s listening.

Maybe it is my fault that this man is here, I was the one who lost my temper. I don’t want to be kicked out of this apartment, we just got here. What would everyone say, that I can’t handle being an adult? That we can’t just work things out for ourselves? I should be old enough by now to sort things out, and he’s never meant to do what he’s done. People lose their tempers. And the alcohol…he’s struggling, and I ignored that. It’s my fault.

“Miss, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It really isn’t a big deal, I’m the one who started it all in the first place. I’m going to apologize to the neighbors, get everything squared away…”

The officer looks at her, and for just a second, when she lets her eyes meet his, she feels herself falter. His eyes are warm, concerned. They wrap her in a sense of security that has her stuttering, flickering between what’s in her heart and what her mind is being told. The words nearly come out, questions of help and guidance, but they’re blocked by shadows and a figure that covers both figuratively and literally. She is blocked.

“We’re fine.”

The officer nods, reaches out to shake her hand. And in that hand she feels the press of a hard corner of cardstock, something she clutches and tucks into the pocket of her dress. And as he leaves, he carries a piece of that opportunity with him. She could have done it; could have saved herself then. But she’d been fine-she’d convinced herself of that fact a long time ago.

She lets herself into the big, foreboding building and shakes the snow off of her boots, kicking at the carpet until she’s sure each melted-on bit has landed there. There is a receptionist, a younger woman who stares at Eliza until she looks up from her task, clearing her throat in a way that echoes through the high-ceilinged foyer. Eliza’s face grows hot with embarrassment as she moves to the counter, her eyes shifting warily around the unfamiliar territory as she’s looked over.

“Elizabeth Schuyler, I’m here for a meeting?”

“With the dean, right? I’m glad you finally called back.”

“Let’s just say he missed me the first four times.” The receptionist chuckles, and Eliza lets out a breath that had been subconsciously stuck in her throat. The response to an unplanned joke is welcomed, brings her mind to a place of distraction. “He couldn’t get a hold of me when he emailed, so it took a while to even set this up.”

“Well whatever you’re in for, don’t sweat it-he’s a nice guy behind all of that pomp and circumstance, he really makes himself seem scarier than he is. Trust me, I work for him.”

“Thanks.”

“And anyway, you’re a legacy. I’m sure whatever he has to say to you will be slapped between memories of ‘the good old days.’”

The sentiment does not leave Eliza when she’s called into the office, red boots squeaking along the floor as she holds her coat, slung over one arm, with both of her hands. The old, ornate building seems to capture each sound, replay it over and over as a march to the unknown that catches her thrumming heart and makes it work twice as hard. There’s an electronic sweeping, a break in the anxious noises that raises alarm as she scrambles to silence her phone.

Alex: Whatever it is, good luck at your meeting. I’ll be waiting for you at home. Love you. You can do it!

The sentiment alone is enough to raise her posture, and by the time the trek to the dean’s office has ended Eliza enters the room with a smile, a picturesque vision of confidence and poise as she shakes the aging man’s hand and introduces herself.

“Oh, I need no introduction. Even if your father and I hadn’t gone way back, I’d still know your face from all of those magazines.” She laughs-something forced with a well-played air of humor, as if she has never heard the joke before. The man continues on his path, recounting stories of ‘Phil Schuyler’ as if they had been best friends back in the day. In reality he refers to her father often as ‘a treasured student’ or an ‘example of what Columbia truly builds.’ As she lets the man take his trip through his own memories, Eliza can hear Peggy’s unfiltered groaning in her head. She’d hate this-the way the meeting seems to drag on, the man’s dimpled eyes and lifted wrinkles creasing his forehead as he chuckles, jokes with her as if to lighten the mood.

But I’m lucky to be here, sitting in this seat. I’m lucky to be at Columbia, and this man is just trying to make me feel less anxious.

“And your sister, heading off to Oxford in the fall. We’re delighted to be sending one of our best students there, I bet she’s thrilled.”

“She is, thank you.”

“And your younger sister-a senior, right? Has she considered Columbia at all? Because the normal application period is running short on time, and I know the two of you applied as early applicants, so…”

“She’s not sure what she’d like to do, but Columbia was on her list. We took her on our own little tour in the fall.”

“Ah, good. It’d be a wonderful thing to have all three of you girls under our roof. Speaking of which, I’d like to move on to the reason I called you here. Enough pleasantries for now, but do tell your father that we’re still thinking about him.”

She shifts in her chair; the elaborately carved wooden chair is uncomfortable on her back, its curled wooden dowels dig into her spine if she rests against it, but the tough material sends an ache through her butt if she distributes her weight in the wrong way. She settles for a posture that is just at a bearable level, crossing one leg over the other and leaning slightly forward in her chair. This helps to hide the shaking of her hands, which she tucks neatly onto her lap.

He opens the conversation with something about academics, which she hadn’t been expecting. Eliza isn’t sure what she’d thought this meeting would be about, but the way he brandishes a manila folder, one with her name on a printed label, closes her throat. Her mind flashes back to elementary school, to coming home with her first real report cards and being unsure of the few B’s it displayed. Angelica’s, always on the fridge, displayed an array of A’s every single time. Hers varied; sometimes, the subject matter wouldn’t capture her, or she’d stumble on particularly hard scientific concepts. As middle school approached, she maintained rows of A’s with only ‘sometimes B’s,’ which attributed to things like teachers that didn’t click, or time spent studying that seemed to go to waste. In high school, the playing field was the same; Angelica graduating with a 4.0, Eliza just out of her reach. She was not a bad student-still is not-but there is clearly something wrong by the way the dean’s words come through a tone of certainty.

“We’ve looked everywhere, and this document is not in our records. It’s unfortunate, because looking at your files from last year everything else seems to be in order. There are even bits and pieces from this particular assignment, but no final paper.”

“I’m sorry, which assignment are you missing?”

“One from your freshman year, your observational thesis. We have proof of each observation, we have written drafts, but the key to this assignment is what you’ve learned as a whole. It’s thoroughly explained in the syllabus that this assignment is crucial not only to passing the class but to add to your growing portfolio, which I’m sure you’re aware is a requirement of completing the degree program. I’m not sure how this was overlooked, but I’m sure you remember this assignment?”

All Eliza can manage is a nod. She combs her hair over one shoulder with her fingers, occupying them from their stilled state. Her blink is held a moment too long; when her eyes are closed, she can see the lines of writing on the screen of her laptop. Back when she had the spacious balcony of a townhouse to work from, she’d hide away there to do her work. It was an easy place to escape to, with the rush of the city below her to drown everything else out. She’d even brought a big chair out there; John had helped her with the task, the lifting and assembling. Her happy place had been a glorious escape, and she reveled in it. Even in January, when they first moved in, she found the rush of the bitter outside air to be more relaxing than the loneliness of their new home. With the city below her, Eliza always had company. Today, in the closed-off pseudo-sanctuary of the dean’s office, all that is present is silence as she sorts through her memory.

The assignment had been due on March 1st, a Tuesday shrouded in clouds that never broke to rain. The document was on her computer, waiting for submission, but she’d been busy that morning with cooking; with chores and work that kept her occupied. She’d been busy waiting.

March 1st was the day James left early for work-a rarity in that time, where his schedule was so widely dependent on the amount of private time he did not want to allow her. It was a day of only one class, a seven a.m which came and went faster than expected. She’d kissed him at the door that morning promising updates of her day. Her first text, just after class got out, was habitual, mechanical. She watched the other students pour out of the room from behind her, chatting and laughing, making spontaneous plans. She said no; she always said no. There was no room for spontaneity back then.

Her heart had felt strange that day, loose and brimming with a chaos she could no longer control. A switch had been set; kissing James at their front door felt false, her sweet and docile mannerisms harder to keep up with each passing conversation. His grassy eyes no longer charmed her, for she’d found the snake hiding within their depths long ago. She’d been living in a hell she’d only just woken up in, and March 1st found her writhing to get out.

Her consideration came without speaking to anybody; not Angelica, or her friends from class…especially not her parents, although in this case she wasn’t sure where she’d go or how she would explain her sudden need for a home so quickly. These were trivial things, facts and figures that would only matter later on. Her mind was occupied with plans-codes and keys and ways to get around the walls he’d built to keep her in.

She didn’t make dinner. She didn’t text to tell him she’d gotten home safely.

After that 7 a.m, Eliza shoved her laptop, photos, fifteen outfits and a good pair of shoes into a hard-worked and heavy duffle. She bought a subway ticket with cash she’d been keeping in the pockets of a dress in the back of the closet. The city went by in a blur of emotions that hit too quickly, that made her stumble over herself as she fought the crowd to street-level. And in the unknown part of the city, with a dress not comfortable enough for travel and a duffle that kept it riding up farther than needed, she sucked in her nerves and plopped herself down at a café table.

“Moving?”

She jumped in her seat, the voice unexpectedly close as a male form took the empty spot next to her. He handed her a paper cup brimming with heat and she placed it on the table, refusing to make even the slightest bit of contact. I was this voice that brought that current of electric nerve back into her system, and Eliza frowned and kept her gaze down at her feet, shaking her head. At first, she thinks that might be enough-that the simple gesture is going to send the guy away and make him forget he’d ever seen her. After all, the city was a big place; she’s not sure how her luck became so skewed in the first place to warrant this visit after only ten minutes of travel outside of her usual routine.

“You sure? Because the bag,”

“-The bag is nothing, just some clothes I wanted to give away.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good. Hey, want me to get a hold of James? We can turn this into a little morning coffee date.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, trouble in paradise?”

“Everything’s fine.”

It’s the second time she’d said the phrase that day; the first had been to herself in the mirror, just before she’d shut the apartment door with the cash she’d saved radiating hope, a way out. Then, at the hole-in-the-wall café, the weight of her decision carried itself in those dollar bills, a secret that made her feel dirty, and wrong.

“You know, Eliza, I get it. James can be an asshole.” She opened her mouth to protest but the man was faster, shushing her with the raise of one finger on his oversized hand and the blinking of his murky grey eyes. “You don’t have to defend him. I know he’s your boyfriend, but even you have had to see some of his bad side.”

She shrugged, silent. But her hand met the heat of the paper cup James’s friend had brought to her, and she drew it to her lips in a wordless agreement. Taking the cup meant peace.

But taking the cup had also meant taking the bait.

She tenses in the dean’s chair as she remembers the moment; the heat of bitter, over-sweetened coffee burnt her lips as his friend’s eyes looked over her shoulder. For a brief second she lets herself remember that false security, the way this guy had been trying to help, to understand and discuss her problems without her having to say a single word. She’d thought he was such a nice guy, such an unexpected light to begin her day. But that security had turned to fear when the guy waved, pulled another stool to their table as a hand met her shoulder.

“I thought you were hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

Again; the phrase came out barely spoken, through a hushed voice that strained through her fear-tightened throat. He seemed to be in a pleasant enough mood-sipped from his cup and smiled between her and his friend. She knew better than this, though. He kept one hand on the back of her chair, rooting her in place without making physical contact. He didn’t need to. The way his voice had dripped from his full and smiling lips was saccharine, hauntingly dressed for a show that would be over as soon as his friend left the shop.

On March 1st, she kept his friend there as long as possible. She asked an array of personal questions, listened to stories about the failed high school lacrosse career this friend treasured at an Olympic standard. She bought them all a second round of coffee with her card, felt the cash weigh with an even heavier upset as she attempted to keep it hidden. She ‘d kept her mind off of what would happen when they got home, when her sanctuary was infiltrated with questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. This had been her first attempt at leaving. This had also been her first time the consequences of her actions had caused her to be ‘too sick’ to leave the house.

The world, in Eliza’s head, did not need to see the blacks and blues that were a fault of her own poor planning. As she hid in the bathroom that evening, let the shower run far longer than needed, she felt every fleeting hope escape her-even the dress pocket full of cash couldn’t overshadow the new hues that now served as her own scarlet letter. She’d been stupid to think that a duffle bag and a hope would be enough to get out. Stupid…

“I have the assignment done on my computer.” Eliza blinks herself out of the flashback that’d had her silent, straightens in her chair as she remembers the things she’d meant to get done on the day of her first attempt of escape. She’d been submitting the research when she’d decided to leave. It had never gone through.

Her words are rambling, arduous as she attempts to arrange her thoughts into a coherent string of sentences. She’s not sure which side of the coin to land on; guilt and an overwhelming feeling of distress hit her both at once, fighting a tumultuous battle over which will take the primary place of settlement in her gut.

“It was done that day, I went to submit it and it just-it never went through. I know that’s no consolation, I know there’s no way you can really verify that, and I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. Is there anything I can do to make this right? It’s entirely my fault, I shouldn’t even be asking, but I really want to stay in this program and I,”

“-Elizabeth, take a breath.” She follows the instruction although it is tasking, taking in minute amounts of air as her lungs will allow. The dean furrows his wrinkled brow at her for just a moment, just long enough for her to shake in her chair. The uncertainty is crushing, and along with it comes a barrage of plans that cross her mind in incoherent paths. There are other schools that could use her; maybe they’d take my credits, maybe I could still graduate on time. But where would she go-what would she tell her father, who had been so prideful in seeing another daughter attend his alma-mater?

“I know your family well; you come from a long line of people who never give up. You Schuylers are always trying to upstage the others, to set boundaries that are impossible for your fellow classmates to keep up with. Some of the most beautiful recommendation letters I have on-file are those that were written for you, from teachers you observed or professors you had classes with. Not to mention the very deep, very real love the public has for you,”

“-please don’t mention that.”

“It’s true, but I’ll note that. Turn in the assignment when you’re ready, I’m sure it got lost in submission. Cyber space, right?”

Eliza chuckles, a forced noise that comes more from confusion than humor. He shakes her hand then, lets the smile reach his dimpled eyes as he walks her from his office. The wrinkled, humored old man stops to chat with the friendly receptionist, who leaves her with the same sort of wide-eyed grin that has become a common occurrence. But as she walks back to her apartment, the dean’s initial words repeat themselves in her head, covering up the relieving news that her problem can now be solved so easily; “We’re missing an assignment…a requirement of completing the degree program…I’d still know your face from all of those magazines.”

She says nothing when she gets back to the apartment, kicking off her boots and loading her laptop. The assignment is still in its designated folder, labeled and organized right next to March 1st in small, digital documentation. Eliza is silent as she watches it load into her portfolio, sent away to a professor who’d long past graded the others. And as Alex approaches her, cautious and calm, the sinking pit in her stomach grows large and looming, brimming with a strange cocktail of guilt that has been laced with the one word she and her sisters loathed more than anything; Privilege.

#sticking with the schuylers #swts #mine: swts #character: elizabeth schuyler #hamilton #hamilton au #this is a big feat #everyone put on your happy pants #except this is a huge emotional crazy story so

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