#this is my first time doing image descriptions - feedback welcome! i fear i am too wordy with it

[queerlycarter]

[begin image description: four photos of a tortoiseshell cat with a pink plaid collar, playing with a cat toy that looks like a small bundle of teal chunky yarn. in the first image, she is crouched next to a couch with the toy caught between her front paws. the second image is slightly blurry and shows the cat lying on the right side, partially curled around the toy. the toy is caught between her front paws and her head is blurry. she appears to be licking the toy. the third image is slightly blurry and shows the cat in the same position as the second image, this time holding the toy against her cheek. her head is almost completely upside down. the fourth image shows the cat in the same position, rolled slightly onto her back and holding the toy with both front paws against her chest. end image description]

got lux a new toy (so i could get free shipping with her meds from chewy) and she LOVES it (totally has nothing to do with the fact there's catnip in it)

it's a little bundle of fake chunky yarn, and the band that keeps it together is elastic so when she unravels it i can bundle it back up

i did open it out of curiosity to see how tightly it's bundled and to see if it's going to get strewn all over the house, and there's one piece of yarn tied so tight around the middle i genuinely can't tell if it's just tied or if it's sewn lol. it's gonna be a while before she unravels it

and she loves her other new toy too:

[begin video description. the same cat from the pictures is sitting in front of a round, dark green plastic toy with three levels and a ball trapped in each level. there is a plush bee dangling from a wire attached to the top of the toy. she gently touches the bee with her paw, then turns her head to the side and watches it. she crouches down to look at the lowest level of the toy. she begins to sniff at a leaf-shaped toy on the ground beside the plastic toy. the person behind the camera flicks one of the balls and makes it roll around the track quickly. the cat watches it and bats the ball with one paw twice, then remains still for a few seconds and watches the ball, which is now still. the person behind the camera flicks the ball again and the cat watches it, her head moving quickly with lizard-like movements. the person behind the camera reaches out and moves the bee on the wire, startling the cat. she stares at the bee for a couple seconds with her head tilted slightly, then looks at something off to the left and the video ends. end video description]

[laissez-fire-oh]

Pick A Pile #1 - Who are you?

Short messages

Take a deep breath and relax. Take your time to ground yourself and connect with your insight. Once you feel ready, choose the picture or number that calls you the most and check the description. If you feel called by more than one, there might be more messages for you. Being a general reading (and my first try too), take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. This is only for fun and entertainment. 

Please notice that all I am writing is only based on my intuition.

Any feedback is more than welcome to help me grow.

All the photos belong to me and you have no permission to use them. 

Pile 1

I feel you might be strong soldiers' pile. You are someone pretty straightforward and determined in whatever you do. I sense a lot of fire and earth energy here, but mostly fire: you may have fire in your chart or embody the characteristic of the corresponding signs. You take pride in your successes (and for a reason, I’d say!). You don’t let others and life take you down too easily. You know when and how to fight. You are also very smart and choose your battles wisely. You stand up for yourself and those you care about. You like to solve problems and are up for any new challenge that may come up into your life: you know you can win them all, or at least learn a new lesson. I can picture you working with a lot of concentration, putting all your effort to reach your goal, and I see you making it too. I see a lot of red and dark tones in your image. I see you wearing glasses (it may or not resonate with all, it could just be a symbol for the word "focus" or smth) and carrying a book or some papers in your hands. You may be a student or have a job or work/study/planning to get a job or willing to open your own business. I also see a dark suit, so many of you might work (or want to work) in finance, advocacy or similar fields.

-----

Pile 2

I sense a cute, smiling and playful group of souls here. I sense some air and water energy among you, but you don’t have to have a lot of them in your chart. You might only embody these characteristics within you. You are a funny ball of sunshine, always up for taking spontaneous trips somewhere with your friends, or just go to a concert or a movie night. You also love your friends/loved ones deeply and like to be near them and cheer them up. You actually love to make your friends laugh especially when they are down. They know they can count on you for whatever need they may have. I feel your smile is contagious. You also like to be in the spotlight, and don’t mind playing the fool in parties or during your nights out. I see you hanging around in your room, walls filled with posters and photos, with a lollipop in your mouth, jumping, dancing and singing along to your fav songs. You energy is so welcoming and plenty of light that fills up every little dark space around you; that’s one of the reasons why people loves to have you around: you make them feel better just by being there. Yellow and white clear light + beige/warm/earthy pastels tones are very strong in your image.

-----

Pile 3

I think this might be the pile for little sweet shy empaths. I sense a lot of water energy here, but maybe you just embody this energy. You don’t trust others easily, you might have been hurt in the past or simply fear getting hurt. You also may pick up others’ energies before they even speak or make a move (try to make boundaries, pls). You always try to give your love, affection and help to all those you care about, and are very kind, and you are loved for this. At times though, you feel left out because of the difficulties you have in opening up to others: they perceive this as if you’re being a little stuck up even if you are not. I see a little more dark/grey color here, but it’s not a scary dark, it’s more a nostalgic/sad feeling, and I bet it’s because of all these misunderstandings between you and your friends/close ones. I’m so sorry, I would love to hug you all. Know that you are very special and that it’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. Forgive yourself and forgive your friends too. The day in which you’ll feel like sharing more about you with someone special is not that far. I can see that, I can see you at night, smiling, a beer or a drink in your hand, talking with someone who really really likes you.

[sd1970x]

Marinette, work in progress - Chapter 1

Read also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203645/chapters/63770623

----

“One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.” Simone de Beauvoir

There is almost nothing about Marin Dupain-cheng's life, an aspiring clothes designer, that makes them happy. Certainly not the bullying they keep getting at school.

Marin doesn't even know her true gender identity yet.

Both of these are about to change. But would that be enough for her to fight the demons within? ----

CW - Homophobia

Pronouns note: in the beginning of the fic, as Marin(ette) is very much closeted, I am purposefully using he/him pronouns as these capture the correct perspective feel. Pronouns will change as soon as she realizes who/what she really is.

---

So, this is my first work after almost two years of not producing any new ones. I am planning to explore mental challenges involving the crossing of the gender barrier, the very same ones I am now fighting after discovering my own gender identity, as I was writing it in a Miraculous Ladybug fic.

This work is planned to be about a dozen chapters and around 30-40k words when complete.

Thanks go to: V- for inspiring this fic and for being the amazing and caring person they are. Wonderful beta feedback and copyediting: Skye, MyKeyboardDidIt

(further thanks will be updated as goes! if you helped with beta/ideas just hit me up and i'll add you!)

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

"Dear, your alarm’s been going off for fifteen minutes! You’re going to be late for your first day of school!”

You say that as if it’s a bad thing. As if I don’t want to be several hours late. Or days.

“Yeah Mom, I’m coming.”

Marin dragged himself out of bed, his form hunched as he made his way to his closet, regarding his clothes with indifference.

I Don’t even like any of them. And I doubt they would solve the real problem here. That I do not like what I see in the mirror.

Myself.

His hand drifted to a random shirt of no particular interest and he casually tossed it over his head. He shuffled over to the bathroom, glancing at himself in the mirror.

Ho-hum. Same old me, isn’t it?

His hair was in its usual mess on top of his head. Foregoing using a brush, he ended up lightly combing through his hair with his fingers until it looked somewhat acceptable.

I guess that’s okay, he thought while shrugging.

As he was brushing his teeth, his eyes strayed to his face. Studying it. Scrutinizing it.

I ought to shave better than this, He thought. His hand reached for the razor, but he stopped short of picking it up.

What even is the point. Either way, trying won’t make any difference.

The image in the mirror appeared to give him a judgemental look, his own blue eyes prying into the inner parts of his soul.

Well, at least these eyes aren’t half as bad. Perhaps they would have been of some use if they had been matched with another person altogether.

He sighed and turned his head away, as if that would be enough to make the thought disappear.

It wasn’t.

The stairway creaked just a bit as he went downstairs to the kitchen where his parents were already toiling about.

“Your need to patch up your shave, my boy,” Tom said. “You want to look good for the ladies, don’t you?”

I’m not into girls, Dad.

Maybe one day I’ll gather the courage to tell you that.

“Well… not really…”

After all, what difference does it make?

“Come now, where’s the spirit? Every girl is different, they can’t all be like Chloe,” Sabine interjected, attempting to be helpful but having just the opposite effect.

“Ugh, Mom, why’d you have to mention her at all?”

Marin frowned as he sat down for breakfast, unable to drive Chloe’s image away from his mind. He took a bite off of his omelette and was struck by the apparent blandness. He set the fork down, sighing quietly to himself.

And there goes my appetite. It’s not the omelette that’s the issue though....

A sip of fresh juice did the trick, the taste too strong to be overridden.

“Cheer up, buddy!” Tom came over. “Take these macarons to school, maybe a tasty start would help lighten up your day!”

“Thanks, Dad, these are awesome.” He said as he picked them up, giving him a half-hearted smile in return.

I appreciate the gesture..., but it feels more like bribing my classmates with these. Guess anything is worth a try at this point.

---

Marin walked into school where everyone was bustling about and chatting with old friends.

Bright banners greeted the students and everything still felt pristine and clean. The corridors even had flower bouquets placed as decorations. Marin took a breath of air, relishing in the floral scent, and proceeded to enter class.

The classroom was freshly painted and even the furniture had been patched with an attention to detail. Marin barely allowed himself a moment of excitement, before despair and weariness took hold again.

It may look different, but looks won’t change anything for people like me. It’ll still be an endless test of mettle against bullying and harassment.

He cautiously went for his seat and observed his classmates.

So there’s Nino, he’s kinda-sorta okay with me. Something I could never say about Kim. Max hasn’t been mean either, but he’s with Kim, so... At least I don’t see her , maybe we’re not in the same—

“What do you think you’re doing?” a loud cry halted his thoughts and confirmed his fears.

Chloe. The nastiest of them all. Here’s to an old-new welcome, a start-over that amounts to absolutely nothing.

“Ugh. Here we go again,” he muttered quietly, hoping Chloe wouldn’t pick it up.

She came over, an accusing look plastered on her face.

“That's my seat.”

“But Chloe, this has always…” he attempted to retort, then quickly backtracked.

“Fine, just… take it. I don’t care.”

“Take it? It’s always been ours.” Sabrina added, bearing the same mocking countenance.

Sabrina helped herself to one of Marin’s macarons uninvited, then made a puking motion.

“Ugh, they are so gross!” she said, even though she was quick to pocket one for her friend as well.

Chloe paid no heed to the macarons as she was already busy teaching Marin the new rules.

“Listen. Adrien's arriving today and the last thing he needs is someone who needs straightening like you giving this class a bad name. Stay away from him, get it?”

Marin tried his best to ignore the obvious insult and focus on the more pressing question.

“Who’s Adrien?”

Both Chloe and Sabrina chuckled, making Marin regret asking.

“Adrien is a famous model. Pretty, rich, glamorous, someone to look up to. Like me. And just like me, he’s everything you’ll never be and everything you’ll never have.” Chloe fawned over her imaginary description as Sabrina took up the task of reprimanding Marin for the question.

“A loser that doesn’t even know who Adrien is, needs to sit as far away from him as possible. You’re enough of an embarrassment to our class as is.”

Marin opened his mouth as if to deny every word, but opted against it.

You’re wrong. One day, I’ll be a famous and successful designer and every single one of you will be sorry for how you treated me. I just have to persist through this. I won’t bite it this time.

He picked up his bag wordlessly and slowly went towards his designated seat.

At least that’s what he planned to do, but the new girl pre-empted him as she grabbed him by the hand and helped him to the seat next to her. Apparently she had overheard the conversation and didn’t plan on letting it slide, at least as far as her expression read as she looked towards one Chloe Bourgeois.

“Hey! Who elected you queen of seats?” She cried out.

“I did. Good luck dethroning me with your pariah friend.” Chloe laughed at her.

It was then that Miss Bustier entered the class, finally putting a timely end to the whole ordeal.

“Has everyone found a seat?” she called.

“Hey. Don’t let her get to you.” The new girl turned towards Marin again.

He nodded.

“If only I could… She makes my life miserable. My only comfort is the thought that I’ll be free once I graduate.”

“I’m Alya, what’s your name?”

“I’m Marin” He replied. “Pleased to meet you.”

“For those of you who don't yet know me,” Miss Bustier called yet again, “I'm Miss Bustier and I'll be your teacher this year.”

At least with the lesson going on, I should be safe from unnecessary trouble.

Marin pulled out his history book, the same one from last year, bearing yet another reminder. "Marin the Gay-boy" scrawled over the cover, courtesy of Kim.

Safe, huh.

“Everything you’ll never be, Everything you’ll never have.”

Like a clean history book.

It was then when the memories came back to life, a flashback from last year.

---

“Who did this?”

Marin looked about, trying to discern any dead giveaways by his classmates. Too many of them seemed to be smiling too mysteriously to be able to get anything out of them.

You need to stand up for yourself! Show them weakness and they’ll hunt you down like prey!

… easier said than done.

He took another good look at his history book. A small red scrawl was now adorning it, not unlike a barb stuck in flesh and equally painful.

“ Marin the Gay-Boy ”.

“Please… tell me who did this.”

Weariness engulfed his voice as it went weak.

I’ll find out who did this! I’ll…

Drip.

Drop.

The book’s hardcover had just won yet another adornment, as Marin’s teardrops started collecting over it.

Marin picked up the book, tucked it by his side and blasted away from class, his legs carrying him as far as he could, a bout of laughter coming from his classmates in his wake.

By the time Nino found him, his tears had mostly dried out.

“I saw it, dude. It was Kim.”

Marin sighed.

“Thanks, Nino. I… there’s nothing I can do about it, now can I?”

Nino nodded.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

---

I may have missed first period and the picking of seats, but I haven’t missed out the first day entirely. I guess luck is somewhat on my side, today.

“Hey there, Adrikins. Here’s your seat, I saved it for you. Right in front of me!”

So, I have that going for me as well!

“Thanks, Chloe, that’s really nice of you!”

As Chloe and her friend Sabrina went to do something else, Adrien found it to be an opportunity to introduce himself to other students around. What caught his attention the most about the nearby student were his orange headphones, seemingly a fixture of his appearance.

“Hey, I’m Adrien, pleased to meet you!” he offered his hand and got answered with a sturdy shake.

“Yo, I’m Nino. So, you’re that guy Chloe mentioned earlier?”

It was at that moment that he caught something happening out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s that all about?” he called towards Chloe and Sabrina, as both were putting gum on one of the seats.

“The brat that sits here needs a reminder of his place in the hierarchy. I'm just commanding a bit of respect, that's all.”

“You think that's really necessary?”

“Ah, you've got a lot to learn about school culture, Adrikins. Watch the master.”

Hardly convinced, Adrien went about trying to remove the gum from that seat, as he heard another male voice.

“Oh. So that’s your method of choice. How original.”

The voice sighed as Chloe and Sabrina laughed.

“Uhhh… I…” Adrien tried to protest, as he turned towards who he presumed was the seat’s owner.

The first thing that struck him about this boy is that he had a good amount of untapped potential. Smooth black hair, bright blue eyes… given proper care, he could look so much nicer, but he was relatively unkempt and his clothes were poorly matched too.

“And to think I imagined this year would be any different. Stupid, stupid, stupid. ” The boy lamented.

“No, no, I was just trying to take this off!” Adrien tried to salvage the situation, but to no avail.

All the while, Chloe and Sabrina continued to laugh.

“I see you’re in cahoots with Chloe. You don’t need to play pretend with me.”

“See?” Chloe said, “Gay-boy here knows his place. As he should.”

Marin just covered the gum with spare tissue paper and sat by Alya.

“There you go. Adrien Agreste, daddy's boy, teen supermodel and Chloe's buddy.” Alya quipped.

“I bet he’s used to not seeing or caring how people beneath his status feel,” Marin muttered.

---

Alya had little interest in the class, but much more interest in her table partner. She quickly learned that Marin wanted to be a famous designer after he graduated. While she wasn’t a professional, the sketches Marin gave her seemed really good. But there was something else to watch for, too. How his face had lit up when he handed her his sketches. For a moment there, he seemed to be another person altogether. His face brightened up as he took at least a hint of pride in his handiwork.

And you should. Not to mention that a smile looks so much better on you than that sad face you had on earlier.

They had a free hour just after class, so Alya was only mildly surprised when Marin caught her hand and pulled her towards somewhere as he ran forward.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked.

“The best place this school has to offer.” he grinned and continued to dash forward.

“I present you… the art club room!” he exclaimed.

It’s as if he’s another person entirely.

Marin waded in, showing Alya all the different areas the art room had to offer.

A wall for street art, mostly cleaned from past works but still bearing color marks of older works. Desks used for writing, pen scratch marks still visible even after having been cleaned for the new year. Drawing stands, also marked by some uncleanable paint blots. Then there was...

“... Here it is. A state of the art sewing machine, My best and only friend in this entire school.” he laughed, but in a moment the smile dropped from his face.

“That… I…”

He sat by, not nearly as happy as before, and pulled a derby hat from the nearby drawer.

“I worked on this last year and haven’t managed to finish it yet.”

Alya picked up the hat and casually caressed the fabric. It felt somewhat sturdy yet comfy.

Marin flicked the machine on and seemed to be mulling his next move. Eventually, he just turned it back off without doing anything.

“We technically shouldn’t be here without a teacher, so let’s go.” His passionless voice took over again.

Alya could see this was nothing but an excuse, but she declined to call it out. Her instincts told her there was no chance on earth Marin wasn’t keen on violating this rule more than once.

“It really is a lovely place.” She tried to brighten up the atmosphere, with mild success.

“And I loved the hat.” She said as she handed it back for Marin to place in the drawer again.

That seemed to work a bit better.

“Wait ‘till it’s complete, then. I’m sure it will suit you well.” Half a smile crept to Marin’s face.

---

Marin bid Alya farewell as he left the classroom and slouched towards the school’s main doors.

He cautiously opened it, only to find rain pouring outside and the sky filled with grey clouds.

A fresh start, huh? The morning’s nice weather is already gone. At least the bleakness isn’t hiding anymore.

He stood by, still sheltered, when he found out another person was standing next to him.

That Adrien guy. And he just noticed me. That’s the last thing I need right now.

“Hey!” Adrien called.

He slowly sidestepped to maintain a safe distance between them and turned his head away, muttering a slight ‘hmph’.

“Hey, listen buddy… I really was trying to remove that gum from your seat.”

Marin turned his head around and looked at Adrien, wide-eyed.

I… I must be dreaming. Did he really just say that?

“S-so… you weren’t…” he tried to piece together his words and found himself unable to do so.

“Of course not. I came here to study, to make friends… I’m not here to harass or insult people, where’s the sense in that?”

He is sincere about it. Somebody that doesn’t see me as the “gay punching bag” everyone else does.

“I didn’t even get your name.”

“It’s… It’s Marin.”

Marin’s heart nearly skipped a beat, one that he was sure Adrien managed to hear even with the rain’s sound muffling it.

And then, there was an inaudible sound he missed.

A cracking sound, as the nearly-impenetrable shell, one that was built layer over layer of self-defence from bullying and mistreatment, sealing off his emotions, gave just a little bit of way.

Adrien let his hand out of the shelter, feeling the raindrops accumulating.

“So, Marin, It’s raining and I’ve got a ride, need an umbrella?”

He nodded ever so slightly and Adrien pulled out a black umbrella. A click and a whoosh and it was now open, handed for him to take.

Marin cautiously reached out for the umbrella Adrien handed him, his hand shaking and trembling.

That’s… so nice… so… so unlike…

No sooner than he had picked it up though, his hand slipped and triggered the activation switch, the umbrella closing shut over him.

Adrien laughed for a brief moment and gave Marin a slight friendly shoulder bump.

“You keep safe, alright buddy?”

“A… al… alr-...”

Marin barely even noticed his bag dropping, hitting the ground with a ‘thud’ and his personal effects rolling about on the wet pavement. His eyes were transfixed as Adrien waved goodbye and proceeded towards his pick up car.

He’s not going to insult me or beat me or humiliate me.

Someone I can trust. Someone I can rely on.

I feel… safe next to him.

.

.

Oh, Adrien!

Maybe things were going to be different after all.

---

Unnoticed by them both, there was another figure watching the exchange, clad in a hawaiian t-shirt and accompanied by a green looking creature.

“Are you sure of your choice, master?”

“Yes. He will make a fine Chat Noir…

… and she will make for an unforgettable Ladybug.”

next

[songtoyou]

Chapter Five: Whole Lotta Woman

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC)

Rating: PG to PG-13 (Might be 18+ for some chapters)

Description: There was always one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to communicate with one another openly but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation. However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either is willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,536

Author’s Note: We are back in the present time. There are major confessions in this chapter. 

Feedback is always welcomed. If you want to be tagged, please let me know.

Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans or anyone in his family and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms.

Updated for grammar and punctuation edits.

To say that Raina did an amazing job as Satine at the opening night of Moulin Rouge on Broadway would be an understatement. According to the reviews, she was fabulous, outstanding, mesmerizing, and captivating in the role. However, Raina could not bask too much in the glory of her rave reviews since she was too preoccupied with what happened at last night’s afterparty.

“Oh sweetheart, you were perfection. Absolutely stunning. I cried so many times throughout the show,” Lisa admitted as she hugged Raina.

“I cried too. It took everything in me to not shout, ‘That’s my boo!’” Scott revealed and added, “Fabulous job. It is going to be hard for others to live up to role after you have put your stamp on it.”

“Thank you both so much for coming. It really means a lot,” Raina expressed her gratitude to both Scott and Lisa. “Where’s Chris? He didn’t leave yet, did he?”

“No, he just had to make a pit stop to the bathroom,” Scott reassured her.

 After making the rounds and taking pictures with the cast, Raina finally found Chris. He was hanging off to the side in a corner, preoccupied with his phone. 

“Hey, you,” Raina spoke to get his attention. “Why are you hiding out over here?”

“Hey. I’m not hiding,” Chris answered as he put his phone back in his pocket. He immediately pulled Raina in for a hug and kissed her on her cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Chris. I am so happy you are here,” Raina replied. Neither pulled from each other’s embrace. He knew it was what Raina needed to help her relax and be present in the moment. 

As Chris continued to hold Raina, he came to the full realization that this is what he wanted for the rest of his life: to be with Raina. “I love you,” Chris whispered in her ear and turned his head to look into her eyes. “I’m in love with you, Raina. I have been for a long time.”

Raina was at a loss for words. She could not believe Chris admitted something personal at that moment. But she could not deny her feelings as well. She embraced Chris tightly and leaned into his ear. “I love you to Christopher. Like, in wholeheartedly in love with you. I have been for a long time,” Raina expressed honestly. She could not hide the smile on her face, and neither could Chris. He leaned in to give Raina a soft kiss on the lips. He did not care if anyone saw. He was no longer going to suppress his love for the woman before him. 

Before Raina could return the kiss, a loud voice interrupted the moment. 

“Oh my God!” Scott yelled and immediately walked over to Chris and Raina. “I saw the whole thing. It was beautiful. I might cry, but I’ll hold it together. Is this for real?”

“You were over there,” Raina said as she pointed to the other side of the room. “There is no way you could have known what Chris and I were talking about. Let alone hear us.”

“Uh…hello, I can read lips pretty damn well. Plus, you two are so wound up for each other that one of you would explode and reveal everything. It just sucks Ma missed the moment. Speaking of Ma…she now owes me twenty bucks,” Scott replied as he looked around for Lisa.

“What? You and Ma had a bet going on?” Chris asked, baffled by the possibility. 

“Yeah. We had a bet on when during the trip which one would say I love you first. I bet on Chris saying it tonight. Ma put her money on when you went to Raina’s apartment after dinner last night,” Scott shared.

“Well, technically, that happened,” Raina said, but then clarified when Scott raised his eyebrow at her, “I mean when he left, I said to myself, ‘I love you too, Chris. More than you realize’. So, if that is acceptable, then Lisa won the bet.”

“No! That isn’t acceptable. The bet was to say it face-to-face. Not after the person left the room,” Scott clarified while stomping his foot in annoyance. 

Chris sighed at his little brother’s antics. “Okay, Scott, you win. Just cool your jets when telling Ma, alright? Don’t create a scene.”

Scott scoffed at his brother and made a turn to leave but caught sight of Lisa. “Ma! You owe me twenty bucks! It finally happened!” he exclaimed, rushing over to her.

“Jesus Christ. Do you want to get out of here?” Chris asked.

“Yes. Just let me say my goodbyes, then we can head out and go back to my place.”

Before Raina walked away, he softly grabbed hold of her arm and brought her back to him for a kiss on the lips. Again, Chris did not care who saw it. Heck, he did not even care if spectators posted about it on social media. He was on such a euphoric high that he was ready for the world to know he was in love with Raina Morrison. 

The intimacy between Chris and Raina went beyond sexual interactions. Their intimacy was about closeness. The two understood that being together was establishing a strong foundation and maintaining it. If Chris wanted his relationship with Raina to succeed, he understood that his past relationship habits would not work. It would be all in or nothing. Chris also knew that he would have to step up and protect Raina from scrutiny, either from his fans or media. He could no longer sit by and allow the person he was with handle any negative attention on her own. Chris promised Raina that he would commit to being by her side and defend her from any naysayers. Raina made the same promise to Chris. 

While Raina’s fans could be respectful of her relationships, they often got a little bit too protective over her wellbeing. In the early stages of her relationship with Tom, her fans were ecstatic and rooted for the newly formed couple. Many of Raina’s fans supported the couple and helped combat any negative on Twitter or Tumblr with positivity. Unfortunately, no good thing lasts forever. That was one of Raina’s biggest fear from now on; being in a relationship with Chris could end in the ultimate demise of their relationship and friendship. 

As Chris and Raina said their goodnights to Jerry, Scott, and Lisa, the two quietly left the afterparty. During the taxi drive to Raina’s apartment, where the two would settle in for the night, Chris spotted that his companion was noticeably quiet. He looked over to see Raina with her eyes close as her head rested on his arm. It was a wonderful image that the only thing stopping Chris from snapping a picture was his thoughtfulness not to disturb the peaceful woman next to him. He was happy. He felt content. He felt at ease. 

When the taxi driver finally pulled up to Raina’s apartment building, Chris gently nudge Raina awake. “We’re home. Let’s get you to bed,” said Chris as he helped Raina out of the cab and proceeded to pay the driver.

“I don’t want to go to bed yet. That cat nap helped me get my second wind for the night,” admitted Raina as she wrapped her arms around Chris and leaned in for a kiss.

“A second wind, huh?”

“And possibly a third, fourth…might even have some energy for a fifth,” Raina teased.

Chris chuckled and dipped his head to place a kiss on Raina’s cheek, then grazed her lips. 

“Well then, we better not waste any more time,” he said and walked with Raina towards the apartment building. 

While the elevator ride to Raina’s penthouse felt longer than usual, it was the excitement of finally having everything out in the open that helped ease any impatience from the two. However, the longer the elevator ride felt, the bubbling feeling of doubt started to creep its way into Chris’s mind. Now he was starting to worry about things he had no control over. This caused his anxiety to surface.

“Stop it,” Raina said to Chris.

“What?”

“I have been around you long enough to know when you are at the beginning of an anxiety attack,” she noted. There is a little voice of doubt in your head about us, isn’t there?”

Chris merely sighed and nodded. “I’m trying not to, but I can’t help but worry a little. There is so much at stake with us getting into a real relationship.”

“You’re right. There is a lot at stake, but I am willing to take those risks. You’re worth it to me, and I would kick myself if I didn’t let you know how I really feel about you. However, I would understand if you are having second thoughts…”

“I’m not!” Chris immediately interjected. “Trust me; I’m not. I want this just as much as you do.”

When the elevator finally reached the penthouse floor, Raina held out her hand for Chris. The gesture was to indicate: Are you in…or are you out?

Chris took her hand and walked with her into the apartment. He was all in.

[briyourmotherdown]

Put On A Show, Darling - Chapter 1

Pairing: Brian May/Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 4137

Warnings: Language, some angst

Description: You and Brian have been best friends for over five years now, and you’ve loved him during most of that time. While you’ve been agonising over your hidden feelings, Brian’s gone and got himself a girlfriend. A serious one. 

A/N: This is my first ever (published) fic, and I’m a little nervous about posting it, but I really hope you enjoy the first chapter with more to come soon. (Give me feedback ! I need to improve !!)

Enjoy :)

Everyone always told me that when I grow up, I’ll fall in love for the first time.

They told me that I would give my all for them, that they would be my everything. 

That I’d fight to the ends of the earth for them, I’d brave the seven seas for them. 

They told me to be careful, that I’d lose myself in them. That how easily they could lift me up, they could let me down. Break my heart, destroy my soul.

And now I’ve learned how it feels, to fall in love. 

And I’ve learned the sting, the fervid burn that rages in your bones. But in my great affliction, he continues on. For they also told me the worst pain of all, when all of your affection, all of your pain, every single tidal wave of infatuation is all simply unrequited love.

 The bright lights reflect against his skin, glowing from the blinding heat and the vigour of his performance. His eyes flitter up from his guitar a few times to scan over the crowd, the room overflowing with energy. Excitement, felicity, admiration.

  You let yourself melt into the audience, heat crawling up your spine, hands shaking in exhilaration. you let yourself pretend for a moment that you’re just another fan. Just another fan staring up at him in adoration as he performs his art. Just another fan who hopes that just maybe he would glance in their direction. Just another fan who after tonight, can go home and rest, holding onto the sweet memories of seeing their favourite band in concert.

  But you’re not.

  You’ve been there from the start. When it was just two men trying to make it. You knew from the start he captivated you. Every fleeting glance had your heart racing and palms sweating. Every small touch had you reeling, internally begging for more. Just the smallest bit more.

  It felt as if you were watching him from behind a double sided mirror, heart in your hand, but all he could see was his own reflection.

  He was the movie, you were the viewer.

  You should’ve made it clearer, you know that. Maybe you shouldn’t have given up so easily.

   But you hid away those feelings, placing them gently in the back of your heart where you prayed he would never find them. You knew he would never find them.

  It’s better that way.

  For you are best friends, inseparable, shoulders to cry on.

  But you could not cry on his shoulder for one thing, as you feared your confession would tumble from your lips before you had time to catch them.

  I love you.

  “You guys were incredible!” You greet the four men backstage, taking in their dishevelled appearances with a wide grin. You hope that no one notices your eyes flit to Brian one too many times, but you can’t help yourself.

  “You think so?” He speaks up first, greeting his best friend with a hug. You close your eyes momentarily, gripping onto the moment before he pulls away all too soon, “Sorry, I’m all sweaty.”

  You laugh, shaking your head. “I’ve seen you much worse.”

  He grins at you, and you both share a beat of silence until he speaks once again, “We’re going to the pub after we get changed, you should come along.”

  Your eyes light up, always loving the nights of drunken singing with the band, especially Brian, “I would love-“

  “Brian!” You’re interrupted before you can answer, the all too sweet voice of the girl Brian is currently seeing.

  “Go get changed so we can go, silly. Oh, hi Y/N!” Dani turns to you with a polite wave, and you can barely muster a smile, but of course you do, you have to.

  “Hi Dani, how’ve you been?” You reply, turning your attention away from Brian and praying that both of them don’t notice your voice drop half an octave. Dani is a sweet girl, and as devastatingly heartbroken as you are, you can’t bring yourself to dislike her. She’s a lovely woman, who illustrates childrens’ books for a living, for god’s sake. You wish that you had a reason for the prickling feeling in your stomach whenever you see Dani with Brian. A reason more justifiable than your unspoken love for someone else’s lover.

  “I’ve been great, thanks! Has Bri asked you to come out with us tonight? You should totally join us.”

  “I just asked her, I have yet to get a reply.” He smiles, his sharp canines poking against his bottom lip and causing your stomach to flip.

  “I would love to, you guys, but I have work in the morning and I’d rather be in the land of the living.” 

   You joke, hoping that it’ll hide the fact that you’re lying through your teeth. You do have work, that wasn’t a lie, but you’d much rather stay home with a cheesy romance novel and a hot chocolate than have to suffer through the couples stolen kisses and hushed giggles.  

  “Aw, that’s a shame. Another time, yeah?” Dani finds Brians hand, and your heart pulls.

  “Of course.”

 You smile at the pair, mostly focusing on Dani so you don’t have to look at Brian’s confused face. You always goes to post-concert pubs with the band, it’s almost tradition.

 “I’ll uh, I’ll see you tomorrow morning then?” Brian touches your shoulder, and you try not to flinch as you nod.

  “If you’re coherent by then, yes.” You giggle, “You have a tendency to be a bit of a lightweight.”

 “I do not!” He stammers, cheeks flushing pink.

 “Anyway, I should really get going, sleep awaits.” Lies. “Stay safe, bye you two.”

 And without another word, you turn around, clutching onto the unspoken feelings in your chest as you exit the venue, eyes welling with tears of frustration when you hear  the loud laughter of the couple behind you.  

  You sink to the floor the moment the front door is shut behind you, a heavy sigh exiting your lungs as you cradle your head in your hands.

 Five years.

 Five years you’ve loved him.

 No matter how hard you try, you just can’t free your heart from his grasp. He’s got a hold on you, his grip so tight that it’s almost suffocating, but he doesn’t even realise.

  No matter how many dates you go on with another man, there is never a second meeting. No matter how many drinks you down, his image always stays so clear. It’s like you’re being haunted by him, like the shadows you see in the corner of your eye at two am when no one else is home.

   You’ve had so many chances to tell him, you just never could. You couldn’t ruin the friendship you both share. You couldn’t bear to have him walking on eggshells around you, to have him view you differently because he couldn’t reciprocate the same feelings.

   Picking yourself off of the wooden floors, you trudge to your bedroom to peel off the concert-ridden clothing. You wore it for him. The pale yellow dress that he said complemented your eyes. He didn’t notice, he never does.

   Moments later you’re sat on the shared sofa of your flat, cheesy romance novel in hand and hot chocolate long gone. You thought you’d enjoy the escapism, but you find yourself huffing at the too-easy fantasies. Love isn’t easy. Love can be torture. You close the book and set it in your lap.

   You pick up your black notebook, the cover is slightly scraped and the pages are ripped in places from the frustration of a blocked mind. You pour your thoughts out in a river of smudged ink, scribbling down the hope that maybe one day he’d finally open his eyes to see that you’re right there, and always have been. The pages are full, handwriting barely legible as your eyes begin to droop, notebook still open in your lap as you drift off.

  Your slumber is interrupted by a harsh scraping sound, and you recognise the sound as the front door that’s been broken for months, always scraping against the floor with a horrific screech. The landlord is yet to repair it. The sound is followed by two sets of giggles, followed by the sounds of shushing each other but soon returning to giggles. You sit up, closing your notebook and holding it in your lap as you rub at your sleepy eyes.

   “Y/N? You’re still awake?” Brian slurs slightly, obviously just as drunk as the woman hanging off of him. He’s got lipstick smudges over his mouth and across his neck.

  “I uh-“ You clear your throat, voice scratchy and hoarse from sleep, “I must’ve fallen asleep here.”

  Dani playfully runs her hand down Brian’s chest and you swallow thickly.  

  “Don’t mind me, I’m off to bed anyway.” Rising to your feet, you offer a small wave to the couple. You can barely handle their affection towards each other in the day time when you’re wide awake, but it’s all too much when it’s late at night and you’re exhausted. 

  “We’ll try not to be too loud.” He laughs, finding his own drunken comment comical, Dani erupting into a fit of giggles along with him.

  Your stomach drops, the familiar ache in your chest returning as you force a smile.

  “Goodnight.”

  The soft sheets of your bed welcome you with open arms as you approach it, falling into it with a huff.

  Well, that fucking hurt.

  And he doesn’t keep to his word either, as the muffled sounds of drunken passion reverberate through the two bedroom flat. The noise is still heard through the pillow pressed over your ears and the rain pelting on the window. A tear streams down your face as you finally shut your eyes, falling into a restless sleep once again.

   The shrill, loud ringing of your alarm clock wakes you from your sleep, and you reach your arm out blindly to shut it off. Your hand lingers over it, letting it ring a bit longer simply to annoy the couple in the next room. They kept you up, they should suffer too.

  But with a sigh, you decide not to let your feelings get the best of you, shutting off the alarm.

  Hot shower steam soothes your aching muscles, the scent of vanilla and jasmine helping you to come around from sleep. Your wet hair is blow dried and pinned back into a low bun, a small amount of makeup smudged around your eyes and on your lips in order to liven yourself up. Taking a minute to look fixedly at your reflection, you notice the darkness under your eyes, similar to the dullness in your once glistening irises. You’ve never really enjoyed the way you look, always finding an imperfection some place or another. The feeling only worsened throughout the years of feeling unwanted.

  With a sigh, you slip into your work uniform, grinning fakely at yourself in the mirror, an attempt to lighten your mood.

  It’s seven o’clock in the morning when you arrive, just on time for you to scurry to the back room and put your bag and coat in your locker. The scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries is already wafting through the air as the chefs in the back prepare for the usually very busy Saturday mornings.

  You wave a polite hello to your boss and begin wiping down the counters until customers begin coming in for the day. Your shift today is 7am to 7pm, a long one. This is how you spend your Saturdays—earning money to contribute to your rent. You work on weekdays as well, but not for as long as you do on Saturdays since you also attend university.

   You’re a couple of years younger than Brian anyway, but he dropped out of university to pursue his dream while you continued to study. He’s immensely intelligent, showing you up in conversations at times, but you admire that about him. You’re no idiot, but Brian’s brain moves at a pace that is hard to keep up with at times. You notice the way he slows his diction when around other people, but speeds back up whenever he speaks to you. You remember the pride you felt when you first notice him do this, flattered that he thought you were able to keep up with him.

  A ring pulls you from your reverie, the bell on the door jingling loudly as someone enters. “Y/N, darling!”

  A grin overtakes your features as Freddie waltzes in, his stage persona barely noticeable in his casual attire. You love that he could be someone so flamboyant, so brazen whilst on stage, yet so gentle and unpretentious when the spotlights were off. He was so Freddie, and that’s what made him such an incredible friend.

  Behind him stood John, a friendly smile just brushing his lips. Freddie tugs you into a tight hug the moment you walk around the counter, before pulling away and allowing you to quickly hug John.

  “I’m happy you lot are here, but...why are you here?” You grab some menus from the cart near the door as you speak, motioning with your hand for them to follow you to a booth.

  ‘We missed you last night… and quite frankly we were a bit worried. You always celebrate with us after a gig.” Freddie scoots into the booth, followed by John.

  With a quick glance around the corner to make sure no customers have come in, you sit down across from them. “I didn’t feel too well after the show, I think there was something off with my food.”

  Freddie and John share a pointed look, “I thought you needed to sleep because of work in the morning?” Freddie holds up his fingers in air quotes.

  “Brian told you?” You sigh at being caught in a lie, resting your head in your hands.

 “Dani. We knew from the moment she told us that something wasn’t right. Care to explain why our darling friend couldn’t celebrate with us?”

  “I just wasn’t feeling it last night, guys.” The bell on the door rings and you stand quickly to greet and seat the elderly couple, offering them a tea or coffee.

  “Bullshit.” John shakes his head, and you shush him when the elderly man turns around.

  “It’s not, it’s just that, that-“

  “You didn’t want to be there when Brian and Dani practically shagged on the dance floor?” Freddie pipes up.

  The elderly woman audibly gasps now.

  “Freddie!” You cringe at the image put into your head.

  “Well?” He continues.

  “I...I...you know? About my feelings?” Your shoulders slump when he nods, John joining in.

  “Darling, everyone knows except Brian. Even Roger bloody knows.” John snorts at Freddie’s remark.

  “Does…?”

  “Does Dani know? I think so, yes.”

  You groan and turn around to fetch the couples order, also taking a moment to regain your composure before turning back to the two men.

  ‘Does she hate me?” You pour some coffee into two cups for them, and brew a tea for yourself.

  “The short answer is no, but I’m almost certain that she feels threatened by you.”

   “Me? Why?”

   “Because you’re the only one that really understands that guitarist. He only ever really opens up to you, not even us!”

  Your heart skips a beat at the slightest sliver of hope that something may be there, before you quickly swallow it down. You are best friends, nothing more.

  “We’re just best friends, she has nothing to worry about.”

  “Oh darling, I’m not worried about her, I’m worried about you.”

  “Me?”

  “How much do you…”

  “Love him?”

  “I was going to say like him, darling,” He raises a brow, “but I seem to have gotten my answer.”

  You place your head in your hands once again, shaking it slightly with a strangled groan.

  “Oh dear.” John speaks, glancing at you with pity in his eyes.

  “I can’t help it.” You wince.

  “For how long?”

 “Five years.”

 “Good god!”

 “Freddie!” You shush him, glancing around the cafe, “could you be any louder?”

 “Oh, much, but that’s not the point here. Five bloody years? And you haven’t told him how you feel?”

  “I’ve got close a few times, but I just don’t want to ruin our friendship. He means everything to me and if hiding the way I feel about him means that he stays in my life, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  “But what if he feels the same way?”

  “He doesn’t, but either way, that's not a risk I’m willing to take.” Standing up again, you walk behind the counter to wait for more customers, bringing your empty cup with you.

  “Y/N, you can’t just run from your feelings. It’ll break you.” You hear john from behind you as you turn to put the cup in the sink.

   “It’s broken me for a long time, Deaky. I can handle it.”

...

   The wind whips at your hair, pulling and misplacing the strands, but you welcome it, breathing in the crisp air in attempt to clear out the heavy feeling in your lungs.

  Work is long over, but you simply couldn’t face Brian. You didn’t want to see his shoes by the door accompanied by a smaller pair that weren’t yours. After Freddie and John bid you goodbye, work passed by agonisingly slow. Your mind was occupied by thoughts of what could’ve been, it even dared to imagine a time where Brian loved you back.

   The city looks much too large from where you’re standing, the rooftop of a small bar you and Brian both came to know. You’d both sit in their tattered leather chairs, chatting over drinks for hours and hours until he became a bit too tipsy to walk home, and you’d practically carry him to a taxi.

  You’re standing in the exact place you once almost told him you loved him.

    “Wow.” He breathed as you both climbed the last step, revealing the twinkling lights that seemed to stretch forever.

  Your heart beat with adrenaline, from both sneaking into the restricted access of the roof and from how good he looked in the low light. You couldn’t even speak.

   “Why didn’t we find this sooner?” He slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his side.

   “No clue.” You melt into him the same way you’ve done many times before. The same way you do when you both pass out watching movies on his tiny television. The same way you do when work and uni becomes too much and he holds you close to him, whispering softly that everything will be alright.

You both stumble slightly as you lean your weight on him, laughing together as you steady yourselves.

  “Careful love, I’m afraid I’m a bit drunk.”

You both laugh, your eyes lifting up to look at his profile as he continues to stare at the city ahead. Your breath hitches, your laughter ceasing. The silence causes him to turn to you, glancing down to be met with your eyes.

  “Everything okay?”

  “I uh…”

  He cocks his head to the side, the glow shadowing over one half of his face. The sheer intensity of his gaze and the sound of cars whooshing past below has your knees weakening, tightening your grip on his arm just slightly.

This is it, this is your chance.

Tell him!

“Y/N?”  He furrows his eyebrows.

“I...you...you have a crumb on your face.”

   Damn it, you idiot!

 “Oh?” He reaches up to wipe his face with his hand, “Did I get it?”

 “Yeah, you got it.” You’re happy that he doesn’t notice the way your voice cracks as you finish your sentence, tears of frustration threatening to spill over.

  Brian smiles once more, squeezing your shoulder before he turns his head away from you once again.

  He doesn’t see the tear glide down your cheek.

 You frown in disappointment at the memory.

 Squinting in the dim light to read the time on your watch, you sigh at the realisation that Brian is probably worried as to why you’re not home yet. You usually get home around 7:30, it now being 10:00.

  So you begin your walk back home, feet dragging against the ground. With each passing step, the more you don’t want to go home. What if Dani is still there?

  The feeling of dread only grows bigger in the pit of your stomach, stopping in your tracks outside of your front door. The deep purple paint is cracked and peeling.

  Suddenly the door swings open, the breeze from the speed fanning over your face.

 “Oh, hi-“

 “Where the bloody hell have you been?” Brian doesn’t let you finish, pulling you inside by your sleeve and closing the door behind the two of you.

 Dani’s shoes aren’t by the door.

 “I got caught up at work, it’s no big dea-“

 “Don’t lie to me, I called your work and they said you clocked out on time.” He cuts you off again, arms crossed over his chest.

  ‘I-“

  “You’re always back at 7:30! Where were you?”

  “Listen-“

  “Explain!”

  “I’m trying to, shut up!” You yell back at him, throwing your arms up in frustration.

  He closes his mouth and presses his lips into a firm line, narrowing his eyes as he awaits an explanation.

  “As I was saying,” you put emphasis on the word, “I just went to Jones’s for a bit, the roof. Needed some air and just lost track of time. I’m sorry.”

  He sighs, uncrossing his arms and sitting on the stool next to the island. “I was worried, I thought something happened to you.”

  “I’m fine. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “That’s hardly the point and you know it.”

  You sigh, shifting on your feet. Your work clothes are feeling exceedingly uncomfortable as Brian stares at you like a child who’s just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He exhales through his nose, standing up from the stool to embrace you in a hug. You hesitate, but wrap your arms around his tall frame and sink into him.

  “Don’t do that again, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise?”

   You close your eyes, taking a breath,

  “I promise.”

   He pulls away from the hug first, walking into the kitchen to fill the kettle with some water, “How was Jones’s anyway?”

  “The actual bar, or the roof?”

  “Both.” He turns on the gas cooktop and sets the pot on top.

   You jump onto the countertop, legs swinging over the edge, “The bar, although cute, still smells like cheese.”

  He scrunches his face up, leaning back onto the counter across from you.

  “The roof? Still beautiful. It was different tonight though, foggy.”

  “Couldn’t see Big Ben?”

  “Afraid he just wasn’t big enough.”

  “Shame.” He hums, nodding his head as a curl falls in front of his eyes.

  “This damn hair.” He huffs, trying to blow the strand out of his vision.

  “Hey, be nice to the mane. I rather adore it.” You lean forward, almost falling off of the counter to push the strand behind his ear.

  To stop you from falling, he moves forwards so that he’s stood in between your legs, hands pressed onto the counter on either side of your thighs. Your hand brushes against the side of his face as you push his hair out of his eyes, it falling back in place a few times before finally staying put. You don’t realise how close your faces are until your gaze shifts from his hair, noticing his hazel eyes right in front of yours.

  The air feels thick as your eyes meet, and you can swear that you can hear his heart beat just as fast as yours. Your hand drifts from his hair to cup his cheek, his eyes glancing down at your lips.

  No, he’s got Dani.  You’re imagining it.

 The kettle begins to whistle, breaking you both apart as he scurries to turn off the heat. You sit with red cheeks, his equally so as he brews the pair of you two cups of tea. You thank him quietly as he hands you your cup.

  Taking a small sip, you push yourself off of the countertop, “I’m going to head to bed. I...goodnight, Brian.” You want to say something, anything about what just happened but you just can’t find the words.

  He glances at you with a shy smile, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

  And with that, you scurry away, placing your cup on the side table before flopping face down onto your mattress. You want to scream, yell, groan, do anything, but you’re aware of Brian in the next room. So containing yourself, you get ready for bed and shut your eyes, tea becoming cold as you drift to sleep.

[bbygrgu]

Bad Guy

Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic)

A/n: written for @bvcks​ 4.2k writing challenge, congrats on the followers, my love! special shout out to @rogueobservation​ for helping me and encouraging me on this fic. it’s been too long since I've written. if you still want to be on my taglist or not, please don’t be afraid to let me know! feedback is always appreciated, I hope you all enjoy! 

prompt: “Who are you running from?” + “From the same people you are.” 

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, cussing, smoking, 

word count: 3.378 - masterlist

A cigarette hung low from your lips, your eyes focused on the way the sun dipped behind the Vienna’s skyline. The sky painted blues, pinks, clouds reflected the warm orange from the setting sun. The only indication that time was moving was the darkening sky and the city coming to life, bursts of lights from the streets and the buildings contrasted against the black canvas of the night.

The breeze picked up, goosebumps evident on your arms, but you couldn’t feel the cold anymore. All you felt was the way the breeze brushed against your skin, the cool air no longer seeping into your skin, down to your bones and causing you to ache. A muffled laugh pushed past your lips, your lips rolled in to hold the unlit fag in between them.

It’d been ninety-eight days since you escaped and six hundred twenty-three days since you remembered anything at except for the fact you didn’t belong in that facility, your strength was heightened, and sparks of electricity flowed through your body.

The name of the organization sat on the back of your tongue, but your mind could not form the words (you thought they messed around with your Broca’s area only to have concluded the only thing they did mess with was your memories). Aside from your abilities, the black and red symbol of a skull with six octopus tentacles was the closest thing you had to identify the bastards who did this to you.

You grew tired of thinking. The tingling sensation ran through your fingers, the familiar twists in your neck, your cigarette close enough to your fingers to be lit from the jumping sparks. The amber light glowed before your eyes, you inhaled almost excitedly, your head pressed to the concrete of the complex.

Lie. You remembered one other thing. The man known as the fist, the Winter Soldier. You remembered the emotionless steel blue eyes, the plush pink lips that always remained pressed together, the motionlessness of his body when he stood, the whirring of his left arm and the red star painted on his shoulder. You remembered the day they brought him out of nowhere, his eyes trained on you before he lunged, heavy body and strong fist knocking you onto the ground over and over again, never letting you fully stand until you were begging for mercy.

Of course, he gave it to you, on their command at least. Blood dripping from your top lip onto the ground, your arms sandwiched between your body and the concrete ground as you heaved, desperate for air to come back into your body without any pain. Up, soldat, they’d scream at you. Arms hooked under your armpits before they painfully hauled you to your feet, your eyes glued to the ground. Again, they commanded.

They noticed each moment you eyed the doors and corridors, they noticed how your eyes scanned for cameras and two ways mirrors, weapons they openly carried and potential areas they might have them concealed. One of the soldatsin charge of transferring you from the training room back to your cell told you to be careful when escaping, you never knew where the Winter Soldier would be hidden; he liked to give his prey a head start.

The night you escaped was a blur. Soldiers, guards, were running around, commands shouted across the grounds. Men and women in high-end suits rushed out, manila folders pressed to their chests and faces full of panic.

Fear and excitement welled in your body, the then-new twist in your neck sending tingles through your arms and down to your fingertips. Moments later, a familiar yet distant smell filled the room, guards you passed on their backs, frozen with electric currents traveling through their nerves and towards their soon-to-be lifeless hearts.

The first time you saw him after your escape, something didn’t sit right in your stomach. The smell of fresh rain and faint sweet pastries wafted through the evening. The delicious scents of papanașiand plăcintă cu mere, sweet apple pie, carried by the rainy breeze and teasingly past patrons’ noses, inviting them into the bakery’s for treats.

Heavy rain drops rolled off the roof tops, off coverings and umbrellas, and onto the worn streets. Loud pitter-patters joined in the faint rumbles of cars, people wondering through the night in laughter, feet slapping against the wet concrete.

The heavy rain had you pulling your leather jacket from the collars over your head, thick drops of water managed to slip past your protection, pushing through your locks of hair and rolling down your neck, into your shirt. The aggressiveness of the pouring waterfall pushed you to seek refuge in one of the bakeries, one with a sign that read fresh plum dumplings!

You were greeted with the sight of couples and groups of friends sitting at small seats and tables, evidence of eaten cakes and treats on their smiles. Quiet chatter, ringing of the register, soft voices belonging the employees was music to your ears.

Jacket now off and hanging off the back of an empty chair, you shook your head, little drops dancing around and landing onto the floor. You put on a smile yet, your heart was clenching, the hairs on your nape and arms stuck straight up, your fingers pricked with unleashed energy.

In front of you, a tall man with shoulder length hair slicked back was asking the one of the baker’s if he could sample a plum dumpling. Something about always visiting town, but never getting the leisure of exploring the inner corners and local shops. His voice was low, calm for a man whose shoulders were tensed, gloved left hand tensed.

Eyes narrowed, you couldn’t help but feel that you knew this man, in one life or another. Your stomach dropped when he turned, a glimpse of silver when the sleeve of his jacket rode up and icy blue eyes glued on you.

You inhaled sharply, hands gripping the edge of the small table. The hairs on your arm stood again, this time from the static that suddenly came into the air. With the best confused and innocent look, you got up and gave him a once over. His own eyebrows furrowed, lips parted that sent you out of the bakery in pure fear. Jacket left behind, you quickly thanked the man at the front counter and rushed out, hands crackling with electricity in preparation for the attack that never came.

The second time you spotted him, fear still reigned its control over you.

The library down the street from your ratty, old apartment building opened at eight am every morning, with the exception of Sundays. One of the small rooms contained a handful of computers and if one didn’t arrive early enough, they always seemed impossible to get.

You managed to get there exactly at eight, polite and welcoming smiles regardless of the time on the face of the three or four employees opening. A bashful smile on your own lips as you made your way to the computer room, sitting furthest away from the door, where no one would see your activities.

You weren’t sure of the world, slivers of information and memories resurfaced before you could grasp onto. The fear of the memories decaying causes your heart rate to race, palms to sweat. You pushed yourself to do research, to stop the memories from erasing, the fear of them being gone forever, only for to discover later that they couldn’t really be erased. It was all in your long-term memory, hidden deep in the subconscious part of your mind.

The browser opened with a banner across, one that read S.H.I.E.L.D information now available for public eye: data on Captain America, death of Starks, Winter Soldier...

Click.Screen loading, few more people made their way into the computer room and you couldn’t help but take a quick glance around. The screen fully loaded, and the image of the Winter Soldier appeared on the left-hand side of screen, the caption with giving him addressing him as “James Buchanan Barnes.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the image of him, you scrolled down, not caring that you missed out on one third of the information; you’d do anything to not look at the picture.

You tried to skim through the information, pausing when it became too much for you, until you just couldn’t. His name wouldn’t stick, you couldn’t call him anything else but Winter Soldier. To give him another name was to make him human and you couldn’t do that. The mere thought of his title, Winter Soldier, reminded you of the hours and hours of him throwing you around, sparring and beating you until those commands decided enough was enough, when they saw no signs of any abilities.

A shift in the air made your sit up straight, the browser switched to one about politics happening across the ocean and the way the “Accords” were mixed in. You peered over your shoulder and pulled your fingers away, minimal currents of electricity running along your skin and that stupid, familiar twist in your neck.

His cold, icy eyes scanned the room. When they met with yours, the air electrified. Other patrons’ heads turned as strands of their hair stuck up. You stood, refusing to break eye contact but refusing to cause a scene in the library.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his eyes scanned over your tensed figure and your dancing fingers, the way they curled individually inwards towards your palm and back out, a continuous pattern. He moved, eyes still on you as he took one of the computers and your breathing heavy, body tensed as you moved past him and out the library. You didn’t see him sit at your computer.

Millions of thoughts ran through your head. What the hell was he doing there? Was he in Bucharest because you were here? Was he here to bring you back? Did he know where you were staying? Did he know about your abilities? Did they know about your abilities? Do they –

An inhale that lacked the taste of nicotine and tobacco broke you out of your train of thought. You huffed to yourself, the butt of the cigarette still between your lips. Patting the balcony beside you, a flat and empty pack of 100’s brushed against your hand. A scoff left your lips just as the filter does as well, a quiet thud when it lands on the ground below only you can hear.

A low, careful voice called out to you. You peeked over your shoulder, body tensed and shrunk into itself. Sam, as he introduced himself, called out to you, asking if you were hungry. You were still hesitant, head shaking. Sam asked if you needed anything.

“A pack of cigarettes, if you can.”

“You do realize that isn’t good for you, right.”

“A lot of things aren’t good for us, Sam,” you articulated, your eyes focused back on the skyline.

The third time you saw him, he’s standing across the street from you. You can tell it’s him from the clothes he wore. Layered jacket, black worn-out baseball cap, red Henley, and black gloves. His hair tucked behind his ears, his body moving so freely as he picked up a few plums and held them to the owner of the fruit stand.

He looks around, over his shoulders every few seconds. A fake, carefree smile contradicts his tense and stormy eyes. He turned around, the small black bag in his hands, and made his way towards the curb of the crowded street. His eyes are frantically moving, looking for danger. His lips are slightly parted, his face handsome with the light sprinkle of stubble.

There a was a small moment that made you question whether this was really the Winter Soldier for a brief moment. He stopped when a police car, sirens ringing, passed by him. His eyes followed, fear embedded in them followed by quick relief when he realized the sirens and racing vehicle wasn’t for him. The Winter Soldier would have never cared if someone was looking for him, he’d fight right back.

You notice the way his eyes stay on the newsstand longer than usual. You can’t help but to cock your eyebrow up in curiosity. His chest puffs out, his head turns quickly away before moving back to the newsstand. For a second, your heart beat picks up and your fingers itch with unwanted sparks. He sees me.

The smile disappears, his eyes remain tense and stormy. His eyes aren’t on you, but on the man in the newsstand. You can’t see the man’s face, but with the way he looks over at the newsstand worker, you can tell he’s sensing danger.

Cars stop zooming past, the crowd disperses and makes their way across the street, he joins them. He moves closer to the newsstand body tense, head turned towards the figure in a tracksuit, stumbling and rushing their way past the people walking the opposite direction, glances over his shoulder and face full of panic.

In his gloved hands, a Romanian newspaper sits. His cheek muscle tenses, lips pressed shut, eyes scanning his surroundings for something you’re not sure of. He sets the paper down and casually makes his way back where he came from, disappearing into the crowd. Nonchalantly, you make your way to the newsstand, peering over at the paper on the countertop.

Vienna Explosion: Known suspect, James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

James,you mentally repeat to yourself. James Buchanan Barnes. That’s who this man appeared to be, James, not the Winter Soldier. Not completely. You followed him and that’s how you found yourself in your apartment building, not even knowing he was also residing there.

You were on the stairwell when the sounds of boots and German soldiers echoed through the entire building. They rushed, pushing you aside, to the top floor. They all shouted commands, one with the battering ram slamming into the peeling red door. Moments later, the concrete beside the door broke and you caught the sight of silver shine.

His body slammed through the door and you caught sight of him, punching and pushing the officers aside. A few seconds later, a man in with a shield, who you assumed to be Captain America, rushed out, following him. They both punched and pushed, clearing the way for themselves. Then you heard it.

Barnes and Captain Rogers are resisting. Another project is with them, subject Em, is in the building.

A twist in your neck and the smell of rain filled the air, the once distinct and familiar scent; something about that title “subject Em” didn’t sit well with you, familiar and strange at the same time.  Both men’s eyes landed on you for a brief moment when the air shifted. Commands to grab you as well were shouted.

Sparks danced off your fingers, eyes locked with both men before you gave them a smile. The closest officer made a grab for you. You side stepped, hand opened with your palm facing up and thrusted it towards his neck. The open your fingertips touched the skin of his neck, he froze. Pink scar tissue spread on his skin, branching figures that resembled cracked ice; Lichtenberg figures.

You pulled away before the shock killed him, his body on the floor. In swift movement, you shouted for the two soldiers to get away from the railing, your hand grasping the metal. The smell switched from fresh rain to the faint smell of peaches and vanilla. Officers dropped, their bodies twitching.

Sparks still danced on your fingers, making their way up your wrist and up to your elbow. Rogers was a few floors above and… he used the hot railing to land right in front of you. Your hands fisted, ready for an attack until he grabbed you by the shoulders and kicked a door down, pushing you into the corridor with a door open, the afternoon sky bright and inviting.

“Who are you running from?” He questioned. A quick glance towards you, his body tense. He took a few steps back.

“From the same people you are, apparently.”

You knew exactly what he was going to do and followed in his steps. His body lurched forward, feet carrying him off the edge and into the daylight. You can’t explain what it was, but your feet carried you right after him. Your heart dropping to your stomach as your feet no longer touched solid surface, your body soaring through the air for seconds, landing on the building right below.

A brand-new pack of cigarettes brought you out of your memories, your hands fumbling with the box. Sam called your name out and you turned around, already having one of the nicotine sticks between your lips. A quick spark on your fingers and you inhaled the menthol tasting smoke, your body relaxed.

“Steve asked if you’re ready,” Sam pushed, his body next yours, arms resting on the railing of the balcony.

“An experiment of HYDRA,” you looked at Sam who nodded to tell you got it right, “joining a group of rogue heroes to fight their hero besties.” Wiggling your fingers, sparks danced, and you exhaled smoke with a shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be ready? I was made for things like this, wasn’t I?”

-

“White Wolf! White Wolf!” the children called out. This was new name, a new title that did not bring the hairs on your nape to stick up, that did not cause the air to smell like fresh rain and your fingers to tingle with raw electricity and your neck to feel that twist.

Shuri gave you a smile and you returned it with a nod. Ripples in the water brought a small smile to your face, your hands held behind your back. He walked, his movements relaxed, between you and Shuri. You glanced over at him, his eyes trained on the water.

“Had a good night?” he asked. The small smile on your lips grew into a genuine one.

“As good helping a one-armed man with his goats gets,” you shrugged, “how about yourself?”

Bucky scoffs in response, a roll of his eyes.

The fear once embedded in you took a while to ease. When you realized he hadn’t been the Winter Soldier for years, with the exception of the bastard that used Bucky to tear about Steve and Mr. Stark, you started to piece everything together. The night at the bakery and the day at the library, it was never the Winter Soldier. Didn’t mean that you didn’t fear that version of the man.

While Bucky, he told you no more calling him the Winter Soldier or James, was in the cryo and Shuri worked on ridding his mind of the triggers, she also focused on figuring out where the sparks came from, what triggered them, and why the air changed around you when your electricity danced through your body.

The day you stepped into the village and interacted with the kids, you felt free. Your memories were coming in, some staying, others still disappearing before they became permeant, before you were able to pull them to your working memory and conscious at any given time.

One of the village kids came running to you, white paint on his arm resembling the branching of the Lichtenburg figure. His smile wide, hand around your wrist to tug you down. You didn’t resist the giggle and smile when he dragged his paint covered finger over your inner forearm, replicating the figure on his skin onto your own.

“Thank you,” you whispered in his native tongue. It was one the words you asked Shuri to first teach you.

“Come on, Sparky, you and White Wolf still have a long way to go,” Shuri grinned. You rolled your eyes and followed Shuri, Bucky close behind.

The air around you stayed the same. No static and smell of fresh air. There were no unwanted sparks of electricity that danced at your fingertips nor on your skin, no tingling nor fidgeting of your fingers. There was no twist in your neck. You smiled at yourself, walking beside Bucky, following Shuri, ready for the next step.

[anon-luv]

[.2.] Countdown to Us (Yoongi X Reader, Taehyung X Reader)

Genre: Romance/Angst Soulmate AU

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader, Taehyung X Reader

What if your soulmate’s life was literally in the palm of your hand?? What if your soulmate is not the same man you have been in love with your whole life?? Was your soulmate late, or had the fates done a grave mistake..

Word Count: 4.2K+

♪ New Fic Playlist  ♪  (Will be updated as story progresses)

Author’s Note: Sorry I took so long loves. I have been super busy at work, and with everything going on writing has been a bit slow. I was able to finish this chapter and almost finish a few other’s of my WIPs. I am hoping you all enjoy this story. I promise it is going somewhere. The begining is slow, but I am so excited to show you all what I have planned for this. This story has been my favorite to plan, since I literally made up the whole world myself. Let me know what you all think :D

LEAVE ME FEEDBACK!! Good or bad it is always appreciated since it helps me develop as a writer. Minor Grammar mistakes are possible ( I will come back and reedit about a million times I promise). It takes me a lot to get the confidence to post, and when I do I love to see ya’ll comments and reblogs. It encourages me. So thank you guys :D

♪ It’s like I told you; If you stay, I stay. ♪ —  Lana Del Rey

It was like a ticking time bomb. It marked the beginning of what our society had deemed as normal, and it marked the end of what I had classified as my normal.

Taehyung's brown eyes had not left my figure the whole way home, and now as we laid in bed his voice was silent, but his trembling hand as it traced the darkened ‘50’ in my palm communicated the internal dilemma tonight had pitched our way.

“You know I love you… nothing has changed” my quiet raspy voice rang through the quiet room shocking us both.

“Nothing has changed... yet” Taehyung replied in a stronger voice than that of my own. Taehyung had always been brave, he had traveled through cities and forests bringing back full notebooks with stories of high mountaintops filled with white cold snow and drawings of an endless row of lit up buildings. Everything in my imagination vivid with the descriptions he planted to bloom within my brain. Trails I could only visit in my dreams for now because I had been condemned with strict, close minded parents.

“No, don’t say that… we have battled through rougher storms”, I replied grasping his sun kissed face between my hands, “You and I are not just for nows. We are forevers. We are eternal”

Taehyung avoided my eyes as he sat up, “Do you really believe that (y/n), you think we can go on like nothing happened while that clock in your hand ticks synchronized with each of his heartbeats. This soulmate shit is not a joke”

I looked at him petrified, “I will not hurt him. I will not misbehave and have his years stolen if that is what you think…”

Taehyung nodded, “(Y/N), you can’t fight fate”

“I know I can’t. A new year is about to begin, and you will be expected at the soulmate ceremony.  You will meet your soulmate that night, what are you going to do about that??” I asked as fear and rage consumed me from the inside out.

“I am going to talk to her, and I will explain my heart already belongs to someone else.  I will be her friend; not her lover.” Taehyung confidently replied, “I am strong and sure of who is the true owner of my heart”

I gulped down nervously. I had almost forgotten the soulmate ceremony would arrive along with the strongest storms of winter, and with our 25th year of life it would be our turn to walk on forward to be matched if we hadn’t run into our other half’s yet. Young adults from all over the world met up in the largest ceremony of the year in the capital/holy city where The Fates and Aphrodite made a guest appearance to finish matching the lone souls who had yet to have their mark burn into their skin.

The ‘50’. The curse. The countdown in my palm. Each number down is one less year, not for me but for him…. my soulmate. I had behaved in the eyes of my peers and superiors to keep his years intact for when I would finally encounter him, I would be able to move on forward without guilt. His lifespan untouched. 50 years from when our eyes would meet for this first time his would end. My soulmate would have a full life.

“I am strong too” I stubbornly said as my eyes watered and voice trembled. The sting in my palm pulsating.

“Did he have a 50 too??” Taehyung asked trying to drop the subject of his own soulmate that was still somewhere out there walking unknown to him in this world.

I shrugged my shoulders, I had not bothered to check at the moment with everything that was going, “I am not sure”

Taehyung stood up from the bed quickly rushing towards his sweater, “Wait, where are you doing??”

“We have to find him” he rushed out, “I will go, you stay here it is almost morning”

“No Tae, wait…” I rushed to him, “It is late, he probably isn’t there anymore. We can go tomorrow. Together.”

Taehyung stayed silent at the suggestion, his eyes glimmering with the internal battle brimming from these nights’ events.

“Please babe. He didn’t look like a bad person. I highly doubt he would sabotage my years by misbehaving. He didn’t seem very scared of the demigods either which is a good sign…. yes??”

Taehyung nodded, “Fine, but tomorrow we will head that way around the time we last saw him alright?? Together??”

I nodded, “Together”

  I lied. During the night as I rested entangled within Taehyung’s warmth I didn’t think about those brown orbs or rosy lips against the pale skin of my soulmate. I didn’t dream about his deep voice or long slender fingers interlacing with mine. I didn’t dream about him, but as soon as the warm rays from the sun tickled my skin awake everything about the stranger from last night intrigued me. The bed was empty beside me, just like it was almost every morning after a night spend with Taehyung. My mom’s frightening yells would scare him away from the comfort of my bed sheets and into the cool early dim mornings.

I stretched as my bare feet hit the floor, my impulsive ass had always been curious of what fate had chosen for me. Clearly Fate was blind to not see my one and truly soulmate had been with me all along; Taehyung.

I put on one of Taehyung’s old hoodies, the sleeves long enough to cover my hands from curious eyes.

“Mom I am heading out” I yelled loudly and jogged away before I could hear her scream out a response.

I traveled the street and alleys quickly, not bothering to stop and interact with neighbors or acquaintances. My mind had a mission, and that was to find the stranger and get rid of these nagging thoughts that had been attacking me since my eyes opened this morning.

A fluttering feeling of what I was declaring to be just nerves had doubled with every step, the dialogue I had relentlessly practiced repeatedly on the way to the convenience store had been thrown out the window as soon as it came in sight. I pulled up the hoodie trying to block my face from the world as I walked on in. I took a deep breath of encouragement as I stepped into the lonely store. His silhouette taunting me from outside the window throwing doubts my way as I fast paced into the candy isle. A lollipop hung from his mouth as he read a magazine.

“Welcome, let me know if you need help” his deep voice traveled throughout the small store shaking the daylights out of me, goosebumps traveled up my arm as my eyes found his.

I deviated my line of sight quickly hoping not to get recognized only to miserably fail as I saw him walking towards me, the magazine left abandoned at the counter. I turned to face him with a KitKat chocolate bar in hand.

His dark brown hair was silkier than I had remembered, the need to run my fingers through it had me cracking my knuckles nervously, the forgotten candy now laying on the floor.

The handsome stranger/soulmate bend down to pick it up before it was left abandoned. He looked into my eyes as he cautiously touched my arm pulling it towards him. He very slowly and carefully pulled up my sleeve revealing the mark in my palm as he placed the forgotten candy on it.

I looked towards his hand then, the dark 50 printed on his own reflecting my life intact and mesmerizing at the same time. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, the fear that had gathered in the pit of my stomach released with that lone deep breath.

“My name is Yoongi” he stated with a deep voice and a nervous bite of his lip.

“(Y/N)” I said trying to sound strong yet spilling out a small tremble at the end of my name.

Yoongi’s eyes traveled along my face making me self-conscious as I lowered down my hoodie allowing him to get the full image of what fate had put in his path. Yoongi looked at my palm once again and then back to his own. I could hear the gears turning in his head with the way his eyes traveled from my hand to his.

I stayed silent. I was unsure of what to say as I let my own eyes travel along his handsome features. I couldn’t help but compare Taehyung to Yoongi. They were both so different, yet they both had an unknown power over me. I had to look at the facts though. Taehyung had been slow to grow. Natural. Yoongi had been fast and unexpected. Fate/Fake.

Yoongi’s deep timbre brought me back to the present, “We need to talk”

I nodded reluctantly, “That we do”

 “My mom is dying” Yoongi said breaking the silence that had been established from the moment he escorted me to a small break room placed in the back of the store.

Yoongi stood tall against the wooden worn-down counter as I sat in a raggedy old plastic chair placed about 5 feet away from where he was. The air was thick and the need to run into his arms had strangely been creeping up on me as an unwelcome runny nose in a rainy winter day. Annoying, overwhelming, and part of the norm as per society deemed it, but I hadn’t expected the effect of a soulmate to overrule my senses the way it had been. His mere scent had me trembling in place, and his voice soothed me in ways no one else had in my life. He felt familiar, like coming home to your own bed after spending weeks away from it. Safe. I did not like it.

I nodded not sure of what to say as I coughed awkwardly squeaking out an, “I am sorry about that”

Yoongi smiled a bit my way, “It is in no way your fault, but I do need a favor from you.”

“What?” I asked a bit confused to where this conversation was heading to.

“How long??” He asked as he stared straight into my eyes.

I tilted my head like a confused puppy unsure of what he was talking about.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow as a smirk crawled its way into his handsome features, “How long have you been together with…”

“Tae… his name is Taehyung. We have been together for years now… we have been best friends since we were children, and stuff just started building up from that…” I started building excuses for my relationship with Taehyung unconsciously, my tongue feeling heavy against my lips as my mouth moved on its own.

Yoongi carefully inspected my face as if he was trying to read more into the words that were spilling out of my lips, “Hmm… you know you don’t have to do that right??”

“Excuse me… What am I doing??”

“This soulmate thing doesn’t have to change a thing. It is your decision. You are free to love and be with whoever you want to be with. I am no one to tell you what you should or should not do. I am not going to do that to you” Yoongi said, his voice soft with a small sprinkle of concern.

“Oh… I… thank you” I said now my face hot, unable to meet his brown eyes.

“OK. Now about that favor… I need you to pretend to be okay with this whole thing. I mean I know I just said I was okay with you not being with me, and I mean it, but you see my mom is a firm believer in fate and soulmates. You see her, and my father were stubborn kids and then when they met and everything fell into place… it was too late for them, she doesn’t want me to go through the same thing” he rushed out no longer looking at me, but instead looking dead set on the floor.

“You mean for me to pretend to be accepting of our bond?” I asked.

“Yeah, just for a bit… like I said she doesn’t have very long” he whispered now looking at me pleadingly.

“How long did they… I am sorry I shouldn’t ask”

“No, it’s okay.” he said, “From the time they met… he was down to 20 years and she was down to 25 years left. We estimate she has less than one month left”

“More than half?” I asked.

Yoongi just nodded.

I raised my palm to him, the 50 clear as day in my palm, untouched he still had a lifetime ahead.

He walked forward his hand reaching out to my palm as he eyed me questioningly as if asking for permission before he carefully traced the 50 in my palm just like Taehyung had done last night. Unlike Tae’s burning painful touch, Yoongi’s felt almost minty as if he was soothing the recent burn with an almost fresh cold sensation with just the graze of his fingertip.

My hand wrapped around his before I knew what I was doing. I took my time inspecting his long pale fingers and his visible veins, and then the 50 that resided right in the middle of his own palm. He interlaced his fingers with mine and I was more than accepting, the need to be close to him finally taking over. Yoongi smile and I smiled back.

“It’s nice isn’t it” I asked unsure of why I was saying such things when a second ago I had confessed of loving another man, “I know it’s just the soulmate bond triggering all this but it’s nice”

Yoongi let go of my hand quickly and took a step back, “Yeah the soulmate bond, anyway do you think you can come over tomorrow night for dinner??” His soft tone had been thrown out the window, his voice now deeper and distant.

“Yeah sure. Tomorrow is fine” I replied standing up from the chair. I started walking towards the exit as I could feel Yoongi following close behind. Taehyung’s face flashed through my mind reminding me of the planned visit for tonight.

I turned quickly around only to bump into Yoongi’s chest. His body warmth sending a swarm of chills up my spine, “Actually, I need a favor as well.” I looked up to meet his eyes, his closeness making my breath come in and out more rapidly, borderline hyperventilating as I drowned in his brown eyes. What I was about to say left forgotten as I counted each and every eyelash that framed his eyes.

Yoongi’s hand caressed my cheek softly and for a second, I let myself be consumed by his touch, but then Yoongi’s once again soft caring voice spoke out, “What favor?”

I snapped back to reality and reluctantly took a step back as Yoongi’s hand fell to his side, “Can you not tell Tae I came to see you today?? He wants to come talk later on tonight, and I wanted to wait…but...I… just...I”

Yoongi nodded, “Don’t worry about it. I am assuming the favor I asked from you, should be kept on the down low as well, right?”

I nodded, ‘Yeah I don’t think he would be very fond of the idea of us spending too much time together.”

Yoongi send a sad looking smile my way, “I guess I will see you tonight then”

I nodded, “Later Yoongi”

I turned once again towards the exit, as my feet grew heavier and heavier each step, I took away from him. It was like my body wanted something my heart had rejected. My own body was rejecting my decision. I looked back to wave Yoongi one last goodbye. He send a bright smile my way as he waved back, but I could have sworn his eyes were anything but happy.

  Darkness came quicker than I had expected and with the shadows came Taehyung. He jumped up my window and into my room as if he had some kind of superpower. He ran forth embracing me as if he had been gone for years, his hands trembled as he caressed my face slowly, I could see relief in his facial expression as I hugged him back. My lips sprinkled kisses all over his face finally searching his lips in an earth-shaking kiss. The warmth of his mouth coating mine sweet and slowly taking our time to rediscover each other as my hands traveled underneath his shirt on his bare back.

Taehyung smiled as he separated himself from me, “Not so quick there princess, we have places to go tonight”

I sighed annoyed, “Can’t we just cuddle for a little bit???”

“We can cuddle, kiss, and do anything you want on the way back, but we got to start heading out. I know you well darling, and I know once you get into bed it will be almost impossible to rip you away from those sheets” Taehyung said as he walked to my closet pulling out one of his old hoodies. He helped me wiggle my way into it, and as soon as my head had popped up, he placed a soft kiss on my forehead, “It is chilly outside”

I nodded, “Looks like we might be getting some storms too, so let’s get this over and done with quickly”

Quietly we both made our way out into the shadows of the night. The town was almost clear of wandering souls as the moon lit the path to the little store.

“Are you nervous??” I heard Taehyung ask after a long period of silence.

“No, why should I be??” I asked in return.

“This is your soulmate we are going to be seeing, and he is right up the street” he replied as he held onto my hand a little tighter.

“And you are the love of my life. I am fine, don’t worry about it. Are you nervous??” I asked curiously as I peeked at his beautifully sculptured profile.

“No, just a bit possessive to be honest… and jealous. This man won the lottery with my woman. It is only normal for me to feel a bit … you know…” Taehyung joked around as the store came into sight.

Taehyung walked inside first. I walked closely behind him curious of how things would develop now that it was known that the stranger before him was my soulmate. Yoongi stood right in front of the counter as if he was waiting for us. He was dressed in dark tight jeans and a white plain shirt that framed his body perfectly. There was a glint of something in his eyes I could not pinpoint as he eyed Taehyung and I from head to toe making me a bit weak in the knees when we met each other’s eyes.

“Good evening, can I help you with something??” Yoongi smirked towards Taehyung. The hostile environment overwhelmed my senses as I hid myself behind one of the isles.

“Cut the crap”, Taehyung responded surprising me, “You know why we are here. I doubt you would be stupid enough...”

“Cut it out Taehyung” I heard my voice ring out, “You promised we weren’t going to make a huge scene out of this, so please stop this rabid dog attitude and let’s do this peacefully, ok?”

Taehyung looked at me with betrayal written all over his handsome face, no more teasing smile my way as it was now replaced with an upset pout similar to that of a five-year-old who had just gotten grounded

“Babe please” I said softly, and his demeanor changed drastically with that simple plead. I could see him melt in front of my eyes as his shoulder’s relaxed and his found turned into a little smile as the word babe slipped passed my lips.

Yoongi looked down at his feet as if in deep thought, he then proceeded to lock the front door, “It was closing time anyway” he said as he shrugged his shoulders uncaringly.

Taehyung rolled his eyes as Yoongi signed for us to follow him to the back where him and I had spoken previously. The room looked a bit homier than before as there was now a row of snacks in a corner. I was assuming Yoongi had set up for us, and the fact he had been as thoughtful enough to do such a kind thing set a few butterflies off in my stomach. I smiled at the small cute detail as my eyes wondered around the goodies.

“Would you like some chips or cookies??” Yoongi asked, “There is also some juice here…”

“Yes please” “We are not hungry” rang simultaneously.

Taehyung glared at me as I walked forward and grabbed a juice box and cookies, “Thank you”

Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly before eye contact could even be made between Yoongi and I, “Anyway, I am Taehyung, and this is (Y/N). I am sorry about earlier, but due to the circumstances… I didn’t really know how to act”

Yoongi nodded understandingly, “Name is Yoongi, and I get it. Take a seat. Look I am not going to try and force myself onto her or anything if that is what you are worried about. Being soulmates doesn’t always mean we have to be together”

My heart surprisingly dropped at that comment. I was with Taehyung I shouldn’t had felt that way, but I did. My bag of chocolate chip cookies no longer looked appetizing after that. I snapped back into reality as Taehyung pulled a chair out for me to sit on.

“Thank you for being understanding, but that is not all I came here to talk about” Taehyung proceeded to say even catching me by surprise as I sat on the chair.

“Wait it isn’t??” I asked confused myself.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow my way as if in sneaking in a gesture my way.

“What’s going on??” Yoongi asked intrigued.

“I met an unmarked” Taehyung monotonously stated as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“A what??” I asked completely uneducated on the matter as Yoongi’s eyes widened with surprise.

Yoongi responded this time, “An unmarked is an uncursed. In other words, a person without a dictated soulmate.” He turned towards Taehyung now, “How?? I have only heard rumors of such people and situations”

“Same. My friend Jimin introduced me to him. Jimin’s mark is fading. They think his soulmate died in an unexpected accident and he wants to get rematched, so he was seeking out in dark places for an answer to his prayers, and then he ran into him. His name is Namjoon and he said he could help us break the curse and get us rematched so I can be with (y/n) and you can find a soulmate who will be able to correspond your feelings” Taehyung said excitedly.

Yoongi scrunched up his nose worriedly, “That doesn’t sound like it would be easy though. How does he propose we do such thing??”

My mouth dropped in shock. The realization of what we would probably have to go through shook me senseless and fear started to cloud my mind. I knew what Taehyung was capable of and what he would do to seek out what he is looking for He had never been one to back out of a challenge, and for that I dreaded for the worse possible outcome. For the first time in my life my admiration for his bravery and sense of adventure turned into fear of the unknown.

“Travel. A country away before the fates get to the capital. Make a deal in exchange for the freedom of you both” Taehyung replied as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

Yoongi’s grimaced Taehyung’s way, his eyes filled with worry. His mom. Yoongi couldn’t travel, especially not at this time.

“No, we can’t. That sounds way too dangerous Taehyung” I plead his way, “We can just arrange something between the three of us. Simple and without any traveling or dangers.”

“(Y/N), Yoongi deserves love as well, and we would be affecting his love life and way of leaving. He would be linked to you just like you are to him. The soulmate bond goes both ways. You wouldn’t be the only one suffering because of the fates’ mistake” Taehyung tried reasoning with me as he took a hold of my face and quickly pecked my lips. For the first time in my life his touch did not soothe my uneasiness. It felt wrong. I separated myself quickly from him and turned towards Yoongi. His face turned to stone without a single feeling encrypted in his pink lips.

“When do we have to leave??” Yoongi asked monotonously.

“You don’t have to...” I started only to be cut off by Taehyung enthusiastic response.

“This weekend. A group of them are going to strike deals and they invited us along” Tae smiled towards Yoongi, “I can pay for food and any necessary items for the travel”

“Not necessary. I will go” he replied.

“Wait, but…” I said trying to halt the escalating plans.

Yoongi turned to face me, his face blank of emotion, “I will go”

  ★ The universe, I’d learned, was never, ever kidding. It would take whatever it wanted, and it would never give it back. ★ —  Cheryl Strayed

[pllandcompany]

Fire Meet Gasoline (Part Two)

Summary: Hospital!AU. Family dinners are hard. Therapy sessions are worse. Fortunately, both eventually come to an end.

Warnings: mention of past drug use/addiction, description of past child abuse, some yelling, crying, description of anxiety, food mention, drinking/drunk character

Tagged:  @ziallwarrior @thefallendog @apologieslogan @trueunreal @flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @crofters-jam @jakesmolbean @band-be-boss-blog @ab-artist @asylia-5911 @backatthebein @oonagh-una

Pairings: Romantic Logince and QPP Moxiety

Notes: Part Two is here! I tried something a little different with the writing style, it’s a little more dialogue heavy than I usually do and the scenes with Logan and Roman are not taking place at the same time as Patton and Virgil. I basically kind of mashed up two standalone fics in one; hopefully it isn’t too confusing. Also, I’m sorry if I suck at writing Picani. Cartoons are not my forte (thank you, deprived childhood). As always, feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

 The waiting room was quiet, almost eerily so. A clock tick, tick, ticked steadily behind the heads of the two gentlemen seated in the desolate vestibule. A deep sigh echoed against the walls followed by the impatient drumming of fingertips on a plastic chair. Gentle hands clasped the anxious fingers, drawing a surprised glance from the drummer. The hands drew back to their original place and silence reigned supreme in the space once again. Tentative peace was broken once again by the drawn-out gurgling of a nervous stomach accompanied by flushed cheeks and a chuckle from both men. The unexpected moment briefly released a modicum of tension from the atmosphere and the first words were spoken.

“Sorry. Didn’t eat much before I came here. Nerves.”

“I can tell. Maybe we can go have lunch afterwards?”

A pause. “We’ll see about that.”

“Roman Courtland? Logan Taylor?” A bright voice pierced the air, earning the surgeons’ attention. “Well, what are you two peering at me with your Brown-Eyed Peas for? Come on in; let’s get it started in here!” The therapist sung the last few words of his sentence, posing valiantly as if it was the most brilliant joke known to man. The pervasive silence definitely indicated otherwise.

“I apologize, Dr. Picani, I don’t know that one.”

Dr. Picani hunched his shoulders but maintained his giddy smile. “Not a problem, Logan. It wasn’t my best work anyway. Seriously though, let’s get started.” He began frantically ushering the pair into his office. Roman lagged slightly, already unimpressed.

“Wonderful. It’s like Patton on speed.”

****

“Honey, you gotta slow down. You’re gonna burn yourself or break something!”

Patton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was only about the millionth time Dot had panicked over his speed in the kitchen.

“Mom, I’m fine. I always work this fast and stay safe. You taught me how to, remember?” He gave her a gentle but pointed look. “You’re hovering. Don’t worry so much. I’ve got this.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I just can’t help it! It’s what moms do, you know.”

“I know, Mom, it’s…it’s fine. Maybe you and Dad can help set the table? That is if he’s not still traumatized from surgery this afternoon.” Patton chuckled to himself at the thundering footsteps rushing down the hallway. Larry skidded to a halt in the kitchen doorway, pointing at Patton vigorously.

“No! You do not get to mock me! You took a needle the length of my arm and stuck it in a pregnant woman’s stomach! And you made me watch it!”

“Yes, honey, but he did it to fix her baby’s heart defect. He saved a life before it was even born.” Dot was practically beaming. Larry shuddered, still trying to erase the image from his brain.

“I get that, son, and we’re so proud but…I don’t know how you ever got used to that. You’re braver than me, that’s for sure.” Patton had to let himself grin on that one.

“It’s just my job, Dad, but…thanks. Can you and Mom set the table? Dinner’s almost ready.”

Dot checked her watch, suddenly furrowing her brow. “Sweetie, didn’t you tell Virgil to be here at 6:00? It’s almost 6:30.”

Patton looked up sharply. “Really? Wow, I didn’t realize it was that…late…”

“You are sure he wanted to do this, right, son?”

“Larry, don’t do that! Something could have come up; he is a surgeon too. Maybe there’s an emergency.”

“But wouldn’t they have also paged Patton? Wouldn’t he have let him know he had to go to the hospital? I’m just saying- “

“Mom, Dad, calm down. Virgil probably got held up with something at work. He is chief of trauma now; that comes with a lot of responsibility that he has to fulfill before he can leave.” He turned back to the pot in front of him, stirring the sauce absently. “He’ll show. Don’t worry; he’ll show up.”

****

It took Roman a second to process what he was seeing. Posters of cartoons and Disney movies littered the walls and there were plush animals and toys piled in a corner. He couldn’t even readily identify the plaque that held this man’s doctorate under the multiple stickers that covered the frame.

“Are you a children’s therapist?” God, I hope so, Roman thought.

“No! Everyone always says that, I haven’t the foggiest idea why…” Roman shot a dark look to Logan who widened his eyes and nodded to the red leather couch for him to sit. Roman pursed his lips and sat down on the opposite end from Logan.

He was not convinced about this at all.

“Okeydokey, welcome to couples’ therapy! I am Dr. Picani and while I’m no stranger to Logan over here, I don’t know you as well, Mr. Roman Empire so why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Roman raised an eyebrow at the rapid-fire introduction. This guy literally chirps when he talks. He let out a deep sigh and folded his arms across his chest, barely concealing his irritation.

“Okay…well, my name is Dr. Roman Courtland and I’m a neurosurgeon.”

“Oh, fascinating! So, you study the brain too! Well then, this should be a piece of cake for you!” Roman simply huffed in response, earning a look from Logan. Dr. Picani would not be deterred though. “Okay, well, obviously you two are here to work out some issues in your relationship, right? So, what’s going on in the world of Rolo?”

“Rolo?” Roman spat out incredulously.

“Yes, it’s your ship name! Just a little something I like to do with my couples.”

“Well, I don’t like chocolate.”

“Roman! That’s enough!” Logan’s shout startled both the counselor and the neurosurgeon. “Why are you being so rude? I admitted to you previously that his methods were unconventional. I also told you that they have helped me tremendously. Can you please just give it a chance?” Roman leaned back against the arm rest on his side of the couch, folding his arms yet again.

“Fine…what’s up, Doc?”

Dr. Picani smirked at the defensive doctor. “Very clever! You’re a quick one! Okay, back to the world of Rolo.”

Silence pervaded the space. “I-I’ll start.”

“All right, Logan, way to be the Brave Little Toaster and heat up this discussion! What’s on your mind?”

“Well, I believe that I am…no…I feel…afraid.”

“Good job. It’s okay to admit your feelings.”

“Afraid of what?” Roman’s voice was harsh and unyielding, the coldness rattling Logan slightly.

“I…well, I’m afraid that you want to leave me. I fear that my deception has pushed you away.”

Roman scoffed. “I think I’ve proven that I won’t do that.”

“Maybe not but you still resent me. I can tell; I’m not-”

“Stupid? No, definitely not. It takes incredible mental skill to manipulate those closest to you into believing nothing’s wrong without them ever catching on.”

Logan recoiled. “You’re angry.” Roman turned away and looked at the wall. “And rightfully so. You of all people didn’t deserve to be lied to. I am deeply sorry for that.”

Roman didn’t answer.

****

“Sweetie? Honey, the food’s getting cold, maybe we should eat- “

“Just heat it up then, Mom!” Patton was visibly tense.

“Hey! Don’t talk to your mother like that! She’s trying to help you!”

“I know, I know but I don’t need help because he’s coming! He just got held up at the hospital. He’s on his way.”

Dot hesitated, fearing the consequences of her next words. “But sweetheart…we haven’t heard from him- “

“He’s coming, Mom!” Patton looked down the hallway, listening for the door. “He’s coming.”

****

“Logan, why don’t you go ahead and tell Roman what we talked about sharing with him last session?”

Logan looked up, his face impassive except for the mild fear glazing over his eyes. “Now? Oh, ah…all right.” He took a beat to calm his nerves. “Roman. Firstly, I want you to know that I lo- “

“Can I ask a question?” Roman was looking straight at Dr. Picani who looked back at him, slightly surprised. “Well, I believe Logan had something he wanted say- “

“No, it’s fine. You may ask your question, Roman.” The neurosurgeon shifted forward, finally facing Logan with a steely gaze.

“I want to know…what made you start using? The first time, not this time.”

Logan’s face remained blank, the pounding of his heart secretly betraying him. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Really? You don’t see how it’s relevant?” Sarcasm dripped from each word.

“Let’s stay calm here, Roman. This is a safe space.” Logan held up a hand to cut off Picani.

“No, Roman, I do not see how the genesis of my addiction is relevant to our current circumstances. Please elaborate.” Logan could be sarcastic too.

“You’re telling me that you don’t see how the origin of the sole issue that is ripping the very fabric of our relationship apart is relevant to our current conversation? You really can’t see that?” Roman’s voice was starting to rise.

“That is not fair!” Logan began to shout back.  “Our issues are not all on me! It takes two people to make or break something!”

“Exactly! And while I have given you everything, you have given me nothing!”

“I couldn’t, Roman! I was sick and overwhelmed; I couldn’t give anyone anything!”

“No, of course not, because addiction isn’t your fault! Because you have a disease! Because you were traumatized!”

“Don’t you dare mock me. You can resent me all you want but I won’t tolerate being mocked.”

“I’m not mocking you! I am just stating facts. Because of the nature of your condition, you can’t ever be blamed for anything! This leaves me to shoulder the burden of our entire relationship!”

Logan froze, his eyes filling with tears. “You think of me…as a burden?”

Roman panted, his eyes blown wide. “No…no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, then what did you mean?!” He was outwardly panicking now. Dr. Picani had to step in.

“Logan? I think Roman is trying to say that he feels alone in this relationship. Am I close, Doctor?” Picani bore a slight smirk on his face at Roman’s stunned expression.

“Um, yeah, yes. I do…feel alone.” He turned back to Logan. “And I don’t want to be. But…I don’t know you, Logan. Not truly. And it makes it not trust you. I have to know you to trust you, so I need you to give me something. Tell me something honest. Tell me how this all started so I can better understand how to help you fight it. Because I want to, Logan. I want you. All of you, even the broken parts.”

Logan stared down at the ground hard, fighting the urge to break down. The room held their breath as they waited for him to come back to them. After an agonizing eternity, Logan finally looked up, a stony expression draped over his face like an iron curtain.

“Okay. I’ll tell you.”

****

“I’m gonna go ahead and start cleaning up, dear.” Patton didn’t move a muscle, barely noticing his mother shift next to him and start gathering plates. He was drowning in disappointment. How could Virgil do this? They had come so far, how could desert him now? Larry reached out and grabbed his son’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’m so sorry, son. I know how much this meant to you- “

The sound of a frantic doorbell pierced the air. Patton shot up from his chair like a rocket, practically sprinting to the door. He wrenched it open to discover a disheveled Virgil, dressed in an all-black suit and holding a wilted bouquet of roses.

“Virgil! What happened to you?! You’re two hours late!”

“PATTY!” Virgil bellowed, opening his arms wide and swaying slightly.

“And you’re drunk…” Patton couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Only a little but ‘ts fine, Patty…” He was slurring badly.

“You never drink.”

“First time for -hic- everything!”

“Virgil, what the hell is this? Why would you sabotage this evening?!”

“Psssh, I dunno, it’s crazy, right? Maybe I’m crazy, Pat!” He wildly gestured to his head, bugging his eyes out almost comically. Patton continued to rant, ignoring the erratic behavior.

“Virgil Davidson, this is not a joke! You were supposed to be there for me tonight! Do you know how scared my parents were for me when I came out? How much they worried that no one would understand and what that would do me? And now I’ve finally found someone who does understand but when I need them, they don’t show up! You know how important this was to me! You know how much it means to my family that they know the person that loves me!”

“Yes, I know, I know, it’s important to you, it’s important to them, my job is important, it’s all so freakin’ important and it’s too much! I can’t handle it! I am not good enough to do any of this!” His voice suddenly cleared up as he started to shout. Patton watched sorrowfully as his partner broke down in front of him. “I’m not good enough for you or your family, Pat. My dad was a drunk. My mom was a junkie. Hell, maybe I’m a drunk too. It’s in my blood! It’s who I am! I am made…from bad blood. So…you’re better off, your family is better off…”

Patton swallowed thickly, gathering up the courage to battle Virgil’s negative thoughts. “You think I’m better off.”

“Yeah!” Virgil flailed his arms dangerously.

“Without you.”

“Yeah, Pat, that’s what I said!”

“I’m sorry but…that! Is a damn lie!”

A sudden gasp sucked up all the air between them. “You-you never curse, Patty…” Virgil stumbled again as Patton took the hand free of roses in both of his.

“Virgil…you are good enough. You are so good. To me, to your patients. Your past will always be your past, sure, but it doesn’t define everything about you. In fact, it’s part of what’s made you so good and kind and loving: because you’ve suffered unimaginable pain and you want to protect others from ever feeling that way. I just wanted you to share that kindness with my family, that’s all.”

Virgil stared into middle space, eyes shining. “I’m good?”

Patton chuckled lightly. “Yeah, Virge. Of course you are. You know that.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right. I am good…I’m good. I’m good!” Virgil suddenly took off past Patton, through the open door…and right into the kitchen where Patton’s parents were still cleaning. Patton was hot on his heels but not fast enough to stop him.

“Hey! You guys! Patton’s family!” Larry and Dot whirled around at the same time, both wearing expressions of equal parts anger and confusion.

“Oh, geez,” Patton mumbled.

“Oh, now you show up. You listen to me,” his father growled, launching forward. Dot just barely held him back in time.

“Larry, no! You just calm down!” Dot turned to Virgil, brow furrowed in disappointment. “What are you doing here? Why bother coming now?”

“Look, I know you’re probably thinking all sorts of terrible shit about me right now! I showed up wicked late. I’m drunk. And I’m wearing all black so you probably think I’m some child of darkness and the truth is…I am. I don’t get family, like, at all. My family was super messed up, my childhood was insanity. I don’t know what it’s like to have parents like you. ​But I do know what it’s like to be loved. And even though sometimes I’m really shitty at showing it, I also know what it is to love someone and that is because…of your son. I love your son. A lot. A whole heck of a lot and because I love him…I wanna get to know you. Maybe then I’ll finally get what family is, you know? If…if you don’t hate me, that is.”

Nobody dared to move and break the palpable tension in the room. Every muscle in Patton’s legs twitched but he forced himself to stay still. Virgil had to face this on his own. The two parents exchanged a brief look, one that implied a seemingly secret communication. As if taking a cue from a director, Larry began to slowly walk forward towards the shuddering trauma surgeon.

“Oh God, are you gonna punch me out?” Virgil was terrified.

“What? No! I was gonna offer you a seat and some water. You look like you need to sit down, son.”

Virgil eyes shone for the second time that night. “Son?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Have you eaten, dear? We still have some pasta left. You should have some food and water and then you should get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning. Ooh, we should go for a pancake breakfast! That would be nice!”

“Or we could just make pancakes here, Dottie dearest!”

“Oh, don’t be so cheap, Larry, this is a special occasion! We’re expanding our family!”

Patton walked over from the hallway and collapsed at the table across from Virgil, both doctors too stunned to mind the gentle bickering of Larry and Dot over breakfast plans.

“I cannot believe that worked,” Virgil mumbled. Patton gently laid his hand over the shocked surgeon’s, a loving smile lighting up his face.

“I can.”

****

“It was the third year of my residency. I was the resident on call that night and after already having been at the hospital for a coronary revascularization that took hours, I was paged. I hadn’t even left yet but a massive apartment fire broke out and they needed hands. People came flooding in, the unit was packed; it was typical trauma madness. I was working on a 40-year-old man. He had what looked like minor injuries, a couple broken ribs, a head laceration, minor burns. I checked his airway, did an examination, stitched his head wound and moved on to the next patient. Three hours later, my attending was telling me that he was dead. He had a brain bleed and by the time we finally caught it, it was too late.” Logan stopped himself briefly, clearing his throat and letting out a choked sob.

Roman didn’t dare interrupt.

“My attending told me that he was a single father and the injuries he sustained were from pulling his two daughters out of the fire. He then said…that this man absolutely would have had a chance if I had bothered to order a head CT when I first saw him but because I was careless and failed to follow protocol, he was dead. He asked why I didn’t order the scan and I had to tell him the truth. I simply…forgot. It was shameful, I know but I was exhausted and rushed and I just…forgot. God, he was furious.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” The neurosurgeon’s voice was soft and tentative.

“I didn’t want you to think I was weak. I didn’t want you to see…how failure follows me everywhere I go.”

“That’s not true.” Logan went on as if he didn’t even hear him speak.

“My attending then forced me to deliver the news to his two young children. He called it a learning experience. He said it would make me stronger, more careful.” Logan chuckled bitterly. “I guess he was wrong. After I informed the family, I left the hospital with my prescription pad and drove straight to a 24-hour pharmacy. It’s funny. I picked up the drugs because I wanted to erase that night from my memory but…I’ve never forgotten it. And it happens every time. I fall into the trap of thinking the drugs will mask the pain but it’s still there.”

“Logan…you were a resident. You were young and inexperienced, you’re bound to make mistakes. God knows I did.”

“But I am not supposed to!” Dr. Picani leaned in.

“Why, Logan? Why can’t you make mistakes?”

“Because the mistakes we make cost people their lives.”

“What else?” Roman prodded.

“What?”

“No, we all have that responsibility as doctors. And we all fall short at times, but it doesn’t break us like it broke you. So what else is there?”

Logan struggled to find his words. “My…mother was not…understanding when it came to failure. She had…high standards.”

“About?” “Everything. From my performance in school to how I should dress to how I should behave, about everything. And if I did not meet those standards, she was…unkind.”

Roman closed his eyes. “Did she hit you?”

“Never. But she did…other things. Denied me food. Locked me in closets and screamed at me to study. So many nights I fell asleep in the linen closet on a textbook with a dead flashlight in my hand. One time, I failed a test and the teacher called her about it. Before I got home…she had the locks changed. I slept at a friend’s home for the rest of that week until she finally gave me a new set of keys.” Logan rattled off his list of horrors in a detached manner, as if he was reciting a grocery list instead of recounting the most painful memories of his life. Roman didn’t dare to move or speak. He simply held Logan’s hand until he suddenly made eye contact with him, terror and pain clouding his eyes.

“Don’t you see now, Roman? How it was so easy for me to believe David Bacall’s words? I’ve heard them my whole life.” Roman had to clear his throat before he could talk again.

“Well, then…everything you’ve heard your entire life is wrong.” Without warning, the cardiac surgeon crumpled into Roman’s chest, clinging to him for dear life as he cried. “You are not a failure. No matter what mistakes you’ve made, you are still a good person. You are worthy of love. Give yourself room to be human, darling. I’m here, I can help you through it. It’s okay, Logan. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

****

“Virge. Virge, wake up.”

“Mmm, noooo. It hurts to wake up.”

“Hmm, I bet, that’s what happens when you drink yourself silly. How much did you have anyway?”

“You know that bottle of rum we split when we dressed up as pirates for Halloween?”

“Yeah…oh, Virgil, no.”

“Yep, it’s gone. Along with my dignity.”

“Nonsense. My father actually appreciated your blunt honesty. And my mother found you quite charming. They are concerned though that you’re doing…okay.”

Virgil thought for a moment. “Maybe I’m not as great as I thought I was. But I still have you so I’m pretty good.”

Patton smiled, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair. “Still, I think we should check in with Nate. Just to make sure we’re on a healthy track.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And no more drinking alone.”

“No more drinking period, this is awful.”

“Aww. You know the best cure for a hangover? Pancakes and friendly conversation! Come on, Sailor Jerry, let’s get up.”

“Ugh, no alcohol references, please.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!...Morgan…”

“You hate me.”

“I love you.”

****

“Roman? Whatcha thinkin’ there, slugger?” Dr. Picani’s brow was knitted tight with concern.

“I just…don’t know how we move forward together now, Logan.”

“Wh-what?”

“I still want to, of course! It’s just…if failure is a trigger for you then how can I ever feel safe expressing how I feel when I’ve been hurt? Or when I’ve hurt you? Because it’s going to happen. We’re human, we’re going to fail each other. But I can’t have you going and hurting yourself because things fell apart. I won’t be in a relationship like that, I love you too much to put you through that.”

“Well, now, hold on here, Roman,” Dr. Picani chimed in, “keep in mind that Logan’s recovery is ultimately Logan’s responsibility. You can support him, sure thing, but managing his feelings and his reactions to those feelings? That’s on him. You know that, right, Logan?”

“Absolutely. That’s what being here has done for me. I have plenty of coping skills at my disposal to navigate difficult emotions. Other than using drugs, of course.”

“That being said, Roman brings up a good point: how does Rolo move forward? I think the best way to ensure that your relation-ship stays afloat is with open and honest communication! Logan, you need to make sure that you’re talking to Roman honestly about your feelings which means first talking honestly to yourself about them. Own your emotions and don’t be scared to let them out! Look at all the things you opened up about today. Is Roman rejecting you? No. He’s right here, willing to stay with you through this.” Logan looked at his partner, realization dawning.

“And Roman, you need to create a safe space for Logan to heal by letting him go at his own pace. You can’t push him to be vulnerable. Healing can’t be forced, otherwise it’s not real healing. Don’t underestimate his strength. It takes a lot to push him towards wanting to use. And one other thing…you need to forgive him. He knows he hasn’t been fair to you but he’s willing to make the commitment to showing you that things will be different now. Forgive him and trust that he’ll come to you.”

“That’s actually what I was going to say earlier. I thought that admitting that I recognize how I’ve hurt you and apologizing would be what you needed to hear. I didn’t anticipate you needing to know why it happened.”

“You don’t need to apologize anymore, Logan. You’ve felt guilty for enough, far more than you ever should have. And my anger earlier was misplaced. I’m not angry with you, I’m angry at the situation. I’m angry that someone would ever think to willfully hurt someone as wonderful as you.  And I was hurt that you didn’t tell me why you were hurting so much, especially after what we went through together. I haven’t always been fair to you either and I’ve tried so hard to make up for it. Being shut out…it made me think that you didn’t trust me, and that thought was…so painful. So, I lashed out. And I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. You’re trying.”

Logan gently took Roman’s hands into his own. “As are you.”

Dr. Picani smiled fondly at the new development between the two surgeons. “Hey guys…you’re sitting next to each other now.” Both men looked down simultaneously to their now touching thighs, exchanging hesitant but sweet smiles at each other when they looked up. “You know, I’m gonna go ahead and prescribe one more thing for you two.”

“What would that would be, Dr. Picani?”

“Simple: Go on a date. Once Logan comes home and you two feel ready, go out! Have fun with each other! Laugh, talk about anything other than therapy or work. Remember what it was like to fall in love with each other. You two have been through so much and you’ve come out on the other side together. Go celebrate that! Celebrate your lives.”

“That sounds…most reasonable. We…we can do that.” Roman nodded in agreement.

“Splendid! Welp, that’s all folks! Gotta run to the next session! And I mean literally run, it’s all the way on the other side of campus.”

“Porky Pig!” Roman blurted out.

“Nice catch of the reference, Dr. Roman Empire. Very clever. Now, Logan, I’ll see you in a few days and you two cool cats back here next week! Okay, shoo, I wasn’t kidding about needing to run.”

“Oh, well, we’ll be going then.” Logan rushed out of the door, leaving Roman to pause and turn to the cheerful therapist. “Doctor?”

“Yes, Roman?”

“I, uh, I’m…thank you.” Dr. Picani simply nodded, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Roman nodded back before joining his partner in the hallway.

“Well then! Now that we’re done with that, shall we grab that lunch we discussed earlier?”

Logan grinned earnestly. “Sure. I think I know a place.”

[welcometophu]

Missed Fortunes: Family & Friends 3

Twinned Book 2: Missed Fortunes

Family & Friends 3

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“Do you really think this is going to work?” Shawn has his arms crossed, dark eyes narrowed under a furrowed brow. He stands in the hall outside of Sam’s room, as if he’s been left there, waiting for them.

Maybe he has; Carolyn isn’t the one coordinating this and she certainly isn’t the one talking to him.

Del runs her hand over his shoulder, down his arm to his elbow. “I think it’s our best shot, and I think Sam thinks it’s our best shot. Which means it’s a shot we have to take.”

Pawel approaches, one of the nurses in his wake. “We’ve got an hour, and Joshua here will be in the room with us the entire time. If Sam gets combative, Joshua will administer a sedative that will help calm him, but not knock him out completely.” There’s a tension in his words; neither he nor Joshua look pleased, and Carolyn gets the feeling it’s a compromise on both sides.

“The point is to wake him up, not knock him out,” Shawn says curtly, pressing his lips together when Del squeezes his elbow.

“We need him to be calm enough that we can perform the ritual, but not actually unconscious.” Del addresses Joshua, despite her hand lingering on Shawn. “Did Professor Szczek explain?”

“At this point you might as well call me Pawel. My upper level students generally do,” Pawel mutters. “Not that you’re actually my student, but at this point, the details seem moot.”

“That’s not important right now,” Kit says.

Carolyn takes in a shuddering breath. She knows she’s standing right here in the hall, in the same place where she visited Sam not long ago. It feels familiar, but at the same time, there’s a sense of unreality about it. A sense that maybe this isn’t really happening, and they’re already in a dream.

It’s a disturbing thought, that maybe this is something already set in motion and they have no idea where real is, and where it isn’t. Because isn’t that what’s happened to Sam? Maybe there’s another layer to this, something else they have to escape.

She wraps her arms around herself and shudders. That’s not a path she wants to go down. She has to be confident. Calm. Ready to do this, finish it, and get the hell out.

Del presses a hand against Shawn’s chest, and from their expressions, Carolyn’s missed something. Del pushes, and Shawn steps back toward, stopping when he comes up against the wall. “Get out of your own head, and don’t act like a dick because you’re feeling insecure,” Del tells him, the words sharp. She seems more in-focus, less dreamlike than the rest of the world around Carolyn.

“Go into the room,” Del says without turning around. “I need to have a quick talk with Shawn, then we’ll be in.”

Shawn’s jaw is set, and the familiar anger is blunted by something. It’s the way he looks up, then down and away, and Carolyn can’t read the emotion in the movement.

Joshua opens the door, then stands to one side after entering, his nurse’s scrubs a stark dark slash of blue against the soft grey walls.

Sam looks up as they enter, gaze unfocused, and that makes Carolyn feel even more detached. Pawel looks exhausted still as he approaches Sam, one hand out as if walking up to a wild animal. Sam doesn’t move, even as Pawel sits on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Samuel,” Pawel says quietly, and Sam doesn’t turn.

Kit grabs one of the chairs in the room and sinks into it, sitting with his feet kicked out in front of him, arms crossed. He pulls papers out of his pocket and flips through them. Carolyn looks over his shoulder and takes in the images.

She already saw them once in the car, briefly. A new one of Sam, built from pictures that Sam’s mother sent of how he looks now. A little thinner, older. Sharper and more tired, as if fear eats him from the inside. Or maybe that’s just Carolyn’s thoughts based on what he said. It could be both.

There are easily a dozen pictures of forests, each one done based on Del’s descriptions last night. Instead of anyone having a nice, relaxing evening, they’d all spent the night together, Del talking while Kit slipped into a strange fugue and created image after image based on her words. There are even two with figures in them: one with Sam, and another with Sam and shadows in the distance.

The last one makes Carolyn shiver, and it’s the one she reaches to take from him.

“Carolyn.” The pleasure in Sam’s voice makes her look up. He stands and comes to her, his arms open, and she takes the hug he offers. “Kit. You’re both here.” Shadows in his gaze as he looks at Joshua, then back at the bed. He frowns to see Pawel, and at the way his door is still cracked open. “Are you both here, or am I dreaming? Are we going to find the right path?”

“We’re going to find the right path.” Del pushes the door open and it bangs against the wall before Joshua catches it.

Sam comes to attention as Shawn enters the room behind her, takes a step toward Carolyn. “We’re all here,” he says.

Del’s expression gentles. “And soon we’ll all be there. If this goes as planned.”

Sam’s gaze drifts to Carolyn. “It will. I trust you.”

She feels the pressure settle over her shoulders. “I’ll do my best.”

It takes some work to set themselves up in the room. Sam’s attention shifts again, his expression going slack as he takes the seat Kit offers. Pawel moves out of the way, standing by the door with Joshua. Del arranges them all in the order they’d planned: in a circle with Sam at the center, each with one hand on Sam’s shoulder, and the other on their neighbor. Del touches Shawn, who touches Carolyn, then Kit, and back to Del. A closed circuit.

The exact same way they’d fed their abilities into Sam’s illusions during senior year.

Only this time, it’s a feedback loop. They want to feed energy into Sam, and they want to connect with him, to travel to where he is. But they also want all their own energy to circulate, feed each other. It’s important that they act as one.

Carolyn holds the image that felt the most real to her when she touched it—the one of Sam inside the forest, with the shadowy figures in the background. It matches what he told her, and it resonates. It’s pinned between her hand and Sam’s shoulder, right in her vision.

“So what now?” Shawn asks, and his voice knocks her out of concentration.

“You shut up,” Kit says sharply.

“Carolyn’s Talent is traveling through illusions,” Del says, tone carefully even. “Sam’s Talent might intensify this, if he’s got any left. I’m hoping that when yours leaked out, it went back where it belonged. We can use that. I’m going to use my Talent at the same time as Caro, so when we travel we go into the actual Dreamscape where Sam is. Then we have to get back out.”

“How?” Shawn’s fingers twitch against Carolyn, like he’s going to let go of her shoulder.

“Good question,” Carolyn says. She looks across at Del. “We’re going to figure that out when we get there.”

“Time starts now,” Pawel says quietly.

He has a list of acceptable and agreed to ways of trying to wake them up, shake them out of the ritual if it goes too long. Pawel is their failsafe, but he has no real way of impacting them. Once they get started, Carolyn’s pretty sure that the only way out is to go through.

“Ready,” Carolyn murmurs, and she focuses on the image in front of her.

The illusion blooms quickly, trees growing and filling the room pushing everything away until the five of them are within the shimmering confines. Pawel is no longer visible, the sounds of the hospital are far enough away that Carolyn can barely hear them.

“Now,” Del whispers, a soft giggle at the end, and abruptly the illusion becomes real.

Sam crouches down in front of them, on one knee, head bowed. In the distance, shadows move amongst the darkness, and Carolyn thinks she catches glimpses of figures among them. It’s not welcoming.

They stand on a dirt pathway that seems surprisingly well trodden, threading between the trees. It stretches off in either direction, and Carolyn can see forks beyond forks, in a seemingly endless maze. Light streams down through the canopy of leaves overhead, flickering but surprisingly bright along the path. It quickly shutters into darkness in the depths of the forest away from the path.

Sam looks up. “Are you real?”

Del sinks to her knees in front of him, cradling his face. “Hell yes, Samson, and we’re going to get you out.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to be easy.” Kit drops his hand from Carolyn’s shoulder but catches her fingers, gripping tightly. “There’s not a sign that says Exit.”

“I’ve tried all the paths; none of them lead home.” Sam rises, shakes something unseen from his shoulders before he stands straight. This is the Sam of her memories, all the strength and vitality of high school. His cheeks are fuller, his shoulders broader. More confident than the last time she spoke to him.

“One of them has to.” Shawn starts walking to his right without waiting for them. “We have to start trying our options.”

“There are a thousand options,” Sam protests, raising his voice without moving a step. “Shawn. A thousand or more. I’ve been down every path.”

“You said we had to walk the paths.” Carolyn remembers this from her last conversation with him.

His gaze narrows. “You have to get us out.”

“You said we all had to be here.” She wants him to remember the conversation, wants to make sure they get this right because they may not ever get another chance. “You said everyone had to walk their path, even Kit.”

Sam’s gaze strays to the darkness beyond the path. “It’s too dangerous to split up. We don’t want to fall into the split.”

“No one said we had to walk our paths alone,” Del says. She catches up to where Shawn waits, energy barely contained. Carolyn suspects he would run if he dared, and she doesn’t blame him.

This place gives her the creeps.

Del catches Shawn, swinging their joined hands. “Come on.” Her voice is cheerfully singsong. “Let’s see where you need to go.”

Not want. Need.

This place isn’t just creepy, it’s downright disturbing.

“It’s like a reading,” Kit murmurs.

And oh, that’s true. It’s a pathways reading, with different choices, and different cards along the way. Carolyn starts moving as Sam and Kit bracket her.

“Read the right pathways,” Sam tells her. “Reach the final outcome.”

Carolyn remembers reading for Shawn long ago. The way he’d wait for her to lay all the cards out, then start to tell his own story based on the pictures. The way he’d just bull ahead, rather than looking at the meanings behind the cards, and the way he’d ignore half of what she said, picking and choosing the pieces that worked for himself.

He barely pauses when the road forks, picking a path by seemingly random choice. As Shawn moves faster, Sam seems to drag, until Kit grabs Sam’s hand and pulls him along so he doesn’t get left behind.

“We can’t split up,” Kit murmurs to Sam. “We’re not leaving without you.”

The shadows grow darker, closer to the path, and Carolyn sees movement closer as well.

“Shawn, I don’t think this is the best—”

“We’re going this way,” Shawn says, determined. He pushes forward, and the path narrows. He slows down as it does, stopping when he reaches an end to the path, a tall tree rising in front of him. The trunk is as wide as the path is narrow, blocking the way in its entirety.

Shawn goes to step to one side, to go around, and Sam grabs his wrist tightly. “Don’t go off the path,” he cautions. “Don’t let the split take you. The shadows will consume you.”

For a moment Carolyn thinks Shawn is going to explode. But his gaze catches on something past Sam, and he steps back, shakes off Sam’s hold. “Fine. We can’t go around. I don’t think we’re meant to go into the tree. Which means we’re here. This is the end of the path, so we go home from here.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have just tried to go home where we came in,” Kit grumbles.

“Because we have the paths,” Del tells him, patting the side of his face. “Don’t you know that’s why everyone comes here? We dream to travel the pathways, and find our way in the waking world.”

Logical, yes, but a little chilling the way she says it. Especially when combined with the fact that Sam’s been traveling these particular paths for years now.

Shawn feels his way along the bark of the tree, as if seeking a secret door. “So how do we get out this way?”

“How do you know it’s the correct path?” Del counters. She leans in, lips brushing against his cheek. “Maybe we should try another,” she whispers. “There are so many ways we could go. We should try them all.”

Definitely chilling.

Carolyn brings out the picture of Pawel. “It’s only the right path if it gets us back to reality,” she says, focusing on his face.

She imagines him as he has been recently: scruffy and tired, with dark circles under his eyes.

The illusion fails to rise.

“This isn’t the final outcome,” she says, and Kit smiles slightly.

“I’ve looked through into other worlds,” Sam mutters. “The worst of them want to come through to get you. The worst of them have been overtaken by shadows, and are little more than hell.”

There’s a great crack that shakes the ground and thunders from the sky.

Kit grabs Carolyn, throws them sideways as a branch crashes down, the trunk split. She lies there, stunned, as shadows spill out of the shattered tree, flowing briefly across the path before they disappear into the darkness.

Every spot they pass over succumbs to darkness, and the path is slowly consumed. The end is already gone, the tree a part of the darkest forest, surrounded by teeming movement.

“Change is beautiful,” Del murmurs.

“Do you see?” Sam asks. “If we don’t stray into the split, it might come for us. We have to find a way out.”

Kit scrambles to his feet, pulls Carolyn with him. “Run!” he orders, and does just that.

Shawn, Sam, and Del race after them. Carolyn keeps pace with Kit easily, her feet moving in sync with him in a way that they never would in the real world. The magic of dreams, she supposes, her lungs burning from effort but never quite seeming to give out.

The dream has given way to nightmares, shadows reaching out to graze the path, tickle their skin on the way by. Del’s giggle echoes softly, and Carolyn isn’t sure if she’s hearing it or imagining it, but she isn’t going to slow down long enough to tell for sure.

Kit hesitates at every fork, and every time he chooses, it’s exactly the one Carolyn would have picked. There’s a sense of rightness as she travels with her twin, step by step down the same path, following the exact same movement. It’s everything they had when they were younger, everything they have always been. They have always been different people, but they have always always traveled together, despite their differences.

Kit hesitates at one fork, gaze shifting between the three options. He quickly looks away from the far right, and Carolyn’s grateful. It makes her skin crawl just to look at it; she knows there is nothing good that way.

He looks to the left, and for a moment Carolyn catches a glimpse of a woman there, her image in reverse. She doesn’t hang upside down, but rather it is as if her entire world has been turned on its ear, upside down and backwards. And when she faces away, the world rights itself again and a man stands there.

“The Empress, reversed,” Carolyn murmurs. “Femininity rejected, and masculinity accepted.”

Kit takes a step toward that path, and she catches hold of him. “Not that way.”

“It feels right.” He takes another stubborn step, pulling her with him.

“I wonder what it would feel like, to touch a shadow,” Del muses. Shawn holds her close, keeps her from straying from the path.

In the distance, down the center path, Carolyn sees two figures. One, a man walking, and the other less clear, but beckoning them closer. “Not to me,” she insists. “I can see you down both paths, but I’m not on that one. If you go that way, I can’t go with you. If we go to the right, we destroy ourselves. But if we go to the center, it’s your path, but I’m with you. We’re different, and together.”

Kit wavers.

“Pick something before Del gets loose and goes chasing shadows,” Shawn grits out.

“We need to leave,” Sam insists, gaze darting around. “The paths are crumbling to darkness.”

It doesn’t look different to Carolyn, but she hasn’t been here nearly as long; she trusts Sam’s assessment. She holds out her hand to Kit, palm up, and says, “Together?”

Kit places his hand atop hers. “Together,” he agrees, and at Sam’s insistent yell, Kit shouts, “Run!”

They race down a path that grows lighter as they go. The tightness in her lungs eases, and Carolyn breathes in, long and deep before pushing forward again. They burst out of the forest into a meadow, the heavy scent of flowers and fresh grass almost overpowering. Sun beats down on them, thick and warm.

Del pulls away from Shawn and skips out, stopping to spin with her arms out and braids swinging with the movement. “Home,” she sings out.

“I’ve never been here before,” Sam says. He crouches down, runs his fingers through the grass.

“This is Del’s dreamscape. Her personal one.” It’s familiar in a way that Carolyn doesn’t want to remember, reminding her of high school and being trapped before. “Del, can’t you just—” She stops mid-sentence; Del is ignoring them all in favor of lying down on her back, starfished among wildflowers and grass.

They can’t rely on Del.

Kit’s staring at her like he’s waiting for her to do something. Sam looks like Carolyn holds the answers to everything he’s ever wanted. And Shawn lies down next to Del, watching her with wonder, and Carolyn supposes that he’s never seen her like that before.

None of them really have, except for Carolyn.

“I promised to get her out of here,” Carolyn whispers. “She knew she’d want to stay, and that she’d get lost.”

“Do you think this is the way back?” Kit asks.

Carolyn shakes her head. “Not exactly. But I think that if anywhere is thin enough for us to punch through and get out, it’s here. We’re with Del, and we’re kind of in her mind. It’s like when we went into Mattie’s dream and I walked us out of there through an illusion. We’re going to do the same thing here.”

She has the picture of Pawel in hand, waiting for her.

“Sam, I need you to hold onto me,” she directs. She doesn’t want to risk him getting left behind, and making sure he’s the first through is the best way around that. “Kit, as soon as I’ve got this working, I need you to get Shawn and Del over here. And be ready for an argument. I don’t think Del is going to want to go. She’s happy here.”

Like a child, she thinks. Innocent. Free. This is a place where the past never happened, and the future doesn’t loom. She can’t blame Del for wanting to stay.

The meadow is bright, but she can still see shadows around the edges, where the forest begins. They move, reaching out into the light, retreating again. She wonders if it’s only a matter of time before they push inward, making the light smaller. And she wonders what that means for Del’s mind, if it’s possible for the shadows to overtake her personal dreamscape.

Focus. She needs to focus.

“Don’t let go,” she murmurs as Sam holds her shoulder. He responds by wrapping his arms around her, heavy and solid against her back.

As she stares at Pawel’s image, an illusion springs up. He’s leaning forward, posture stiff and angry, mouth open as he says unheard words. “Pawel,” Carolyn calls out, and he straightens abruptly, turns toward her.

“Carolyn?” he says, peering in her direction. His gaze narrows as he catches sight of her. “Where are you?”

She didn’t think this through, and realizes she doesn’t know how to just open up a gate or a doorway to send everyone through. “Dreamscape,” she says. Sam’s breathing is rough behind her, and she isn’t sure if he can see Pawel or not. She hopes he can; it’ll make this easier.

“The four of you disappeared, and Sam passed out,” Pawel says curtly. “It’s been an hour and a half and I’ve been arguing every minute of the last thirty to keep them from doing something to wake Sam up.”

“Thanks.” Carolyn can’t be sure, but she thinks that’s a good thing. On the other hand, if Sam’s both there and here, she’s pretty sure she needs to rethink the plan. “This is Sam behind me. I was going to send him through first, but I get the feeling that if he’s already there, I need to bring him with me. Which means I need to deal with the physical people first.” She raises her voice. “Kit! Now!”

“Already here.” Someone touches her arm, and Carolyn glances sideways to see Kit standing there, eyes wide as he looks past her. Shawn stands behind him, Del thrown over his shoulder. She has a flower in her hands and is picking petals from it, tossing them into the faint breeze.

“It’s the only way she’s leaving here,” Kit says quietly.

Carolyn nods. “I promised I wouldn’t leave her behind.”

“Now what?” Pawel asks.

Carolyn reaches out, and Pawel lifts his hand to match her motion. Carolyn feels it when she breaks the plane between here and there, his fingers solid on hers. He’s more real than the world behind him, and she tightens her grip. “Okay, here’s how I think this is going to work. Kit, hold my hand, then take Pawel’s free hand and go to him. Then Shawn, with Del. Then I’ll bring Sam. Got it?”

“Got it.” Kit nods sharply and does as asked. Carolyn feels it when he leaves the dreamscape, like he sucks a little bit of reality out with him. The illusion falters, almost falls away, and she feels a thick surge all around her.

Pawel’s gaze is narrowed, lines deeply furrowed around his eyes. His fingers on hers grip so tightly that they hurt. “I’m trying to help, but let’s get this over with quickly.”

Carolyn reaches blindly for Shawn, grabs him and shoves him toward Pawel. As Shawn carries Del through, the illusion shakes again, and Carolyn goes to her knees, dragging Sam and Pawel with her. Echoes reverberate inside her head, pounding. She closes her eyes for just a moment against the pain, opening them again when Pawel snaps her name.

“I’m here,” Carolyn says, looking at him. She twists in Sam’s grip, wraps herself around him as he wraps around her in turn. “We’re taking you home,” she says.

He smiles, leans in forehead to forehead with her. “Thank you.”

She steps forward, stumbling as Sam’s weight disappears from her shoulders. Pawel catches her, lowers her to the floor where she kneels, head bowed, eyes closed against the light.

She hears a shout, Sam’s voice rising in the background. “I’m home!” he yells, and there’s the sound of flailing, of a struggle. Shawn yelling as Pawel pats Carolyn’s hand and leaves her there.

She can’t do anything but try to breathe, struggle to get her body under control again when it feels like she could sleep for a week if she just lets herself. She leans back, ends up sitting on the floor, half-sprawled because her limbs just don’t want to cooperate.

“It worked,” Kit murmurs, and she opens her eyes to find him crouched next to her, his hand behind her back to help her sit upright.

“Good.”

There’s yelling and alarms, people calling for examination while Sam protests. Carolyn can’t separate the words into coherence. She presses her hands to her ears, tries to block it out.

“Just breathe,” Kit says, and he does it with her. In. Out. In-two-three-four. Out-five-six-seven-eight. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

In the corner of the room, shadows coalesce, squirming in ways that make Carolyn think of the forest. She scoots backwards, further from the darkness, and Kit turns to follow her gaze.

“Did they follow us?” Kit whispers.

“You see it too?” Carolyn thinks maybe she’s imagining things, but maybe not, if Kit sees it.

A figure forms, steps out. She looks so normal as she stands there, hands on her hips, surveying the room until she looks down at Carolyn. She smiles, full of sharp teeth. “You people are noisy.”

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