#sigh.... it's just more people being exclusionary again... what else is new....

[steakout-05]

me hearing about someone or something being queerphobic in some way and wanting to know what happened: 🤨☕

me when the "queerphobic" stuff in question is just people being supportive of contradictory labels and other identities that most people don't understand, and the drama is just exclus people complaining about harmless stuff again: 😒🫗

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fiancé: Chapter Six

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The title has been taken from the Ella Fitzgerald song of the same name.

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

It’s Only A Paper Moon

WEDNESDAY

“I am in heaven.”

“Doll’, this is Y/N’s wedding, not yours.”

“We have the whole place to ourselves, I can try on one thing, right?” 

Well, the first part of that is true. Sitting on a couch not designed for sitting on, you play with your hands in your lap as your gaze travels the room. Nat had, she’d told you before you’d left that morning, bought the whole place out, for the sake of sensationalism, security and it just seemed like something a very famous person would do.

‘Sensationalism’ is so far so successful; there is a crowd of people similar in size to the one at the cake shop outside, trying to look through the French windows, though you’re located at the back of the shop. As for security, it means Nat doesn’t have to plant people inside and you won’t get crowded and overwhelmed by people coming up to you, and for seeming like something a famous person would do? Yeah, probably, you don’t know.

“Just have some fun,” Nat had said as you’d gone down in the elevator. “It’s just trying on some dresses and having a fun time with your friends.”

Fun.

You’d nearly laughed. But, you’d just smiled and nodded, because that’s what you do now, smile and nod and go along with things. If you don’t, that leads to conversations, and conversations lead to you having to admit to things, like the panic attack you’d had that morning as you’d dressed or the fact you have feelings for your best friend and every moment of this week is both wonderful and torturous. 

Speaking of... you haven’t seen Steve today.

Last night, after you’d woken up from your nap, you’d showered, masturbated while in there, ‘cause, hey, things had only gotten more stressful, and changed and wandered downstairs, but Steve was nowhere to be seen. Then you’d heard sounds of machines in the gym room and realised he was working out. He’d left a note for you on the island, though, saying there were leftovers in the oven of what he’d cooked. You’d eaten alone, watching TV.

You did that for about two hours, and Steve didn’t emerge once, still working out. You hadn’t thought anything of it, though, he is super-human. So, you’d gone to bed, leaving him a note in return saying thank you, you hadn’t wanted to disturb him and that you were going to bed, with a little drawn smiley face.

There’d been no note when you’d come down after calming yourself and pulling your shoes on, not wanting to be caught out like yesterday morning, just Nat.

But space is good for you two.

Even if you never usually go this long without at least messaging each other.

But this isn’t a ‘usually’ time.

“Y/N?”

The Christmas jazz music filters back into your hearing as your head snaps up to look at Dolly, sat on a gorgeous pale pink shell chair, her big eyes wider than usual.

“Yeah, sorry?”

Her smile is wide and her eyes seem to be only getting wider. “I can try on one thing, right?”

You nod as you smile. “Uh, yeah. As bridesmaids, you probably actually should try something.”

She releases a sound akin to a squeal and claps her hands together. “Great! What colour do you want for us?”

“Uh...” Oh, you know this, you talked about it with Nat in the car... “... Red.”

Bridget looks at you, then exhales a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God, I thought you were gonna carry on and say ‘white and blue’.”

Your lips twitch as you tilt your head. “Come on, we’re not gonna be that on the nose.”

Bridget raises their eyebrows but before they can retort a woman, Sally, appears with an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne inside, and three glasses. All three of you give some kind of very grateful sound before thanking her as she sets them down on the glass table before you. You also all cheer as she pops the champagne, (God, who are we... desperate for free alcohol, that’s who), and thank her again as she fills the glasses and hands one to you each.

Beaming, she stands back, her hands clasped together. “Can I get anything else for y’all?”

You hum as you quickly swallow your mouthful. “Mmh. Yes, please. Do you have any dresses in red, for these two?”

She glances at them, her gaze sweeping over them and you realise she’s expertly measuring them, and nods. “Absolutely. What style would you like?”

“Uh, any, we’ve got time.”

Her beam grows as she nods. “Wonderful, I’ll be five minutes.”

You take another sip as she trots off to the back room. Much like at the cake shop, you’d said to the shop attendants assisting you, all five of them now having nothing to do but assist you, that you will try everything and anything. Like Damilola, they’d looked delighted, probably used to, as you’d seen on reality shows, people coming in with very specific requests.

And, boy, do you all have the time to try every damn thing on. Dolly and Bridget have the day off, Yvette being very understanding at the short notice, officially, though unofficially she probably isn’t too pleased to not have her best receptionist and the Head of IT on the same day.

Who am I kidding, she never breaks a sweat. Probably a good time to get those interns trained up, too.

You also have the time as you were meant to be visiting two places today, though the first hadn’t exactly gone to plan. In other words, you’d walked out.

“Oh, our, uhm, our plus-size section isn’t very large.”

You fold your arms as Bridget raises their eyebrows and Dolly narrows her eyes.

“Oh? And why not?”

The woman, Candace, looks between you, her cheeks pink. “Oh, because we, uhm...”

You raise your eyebrows, placing your hands on the counter. “I’m about to blow your mind, Candace, but bigger people get married, too. And you’ve just lost my custom.”

You’d walked out seconds after, a smug smile hinting on your lips as Candace had called after you, practically begging for you to return, that they could order whatever you wanted in, but you’d just kept walking, Bridget telling Candace to save it as Dolly looped her arm through yours.

Nat had apologised profusely once you’d gotten into the SUV she was going to spend the day ferrying you three around in, saying it hadn’t occurred to her to check, as Dolly and Bridget had stared at her, still unused to being in her presence.

Of course it hadn’t occurred to her.

This place, though, The Pearl... It’s gorgeous. Despite not having felt offended at the last place, just angry and exasperated, you couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. What if this was going to be your whole day? Going from place to place just because they were dumb and exclusionary? You’d felt welcomed the moment you walked in, though, all five assistants and Sally smiling as they greeted each of you in turn, and all Sally, obviously the senior member from how she led the conversation, had done was ask you your usual dress size and that had been it.

You look at the interior again, taking in the pale pink and white walls, framed photos on them of dresses or models in them, or real people on their wedding days in them, the plush cream carpet, the crystal chandeliers, the gorgeously decorated Christmas trees in each corner, the fairy lights adorning the counter by the front door.

Yeah... I can have fun here. And why the fuck not? Trying on dresses is always fun, no matter what, and there’s free champagne and I’m here with Dolly and Bridge’.

Sitting back on the pale pink couch, the tightening in your chest easing, you sip your champagne with a smile.

Am I a champagne person now? This week’s telling me yes.

Bridget stretches their legs out as they sigh contentedly. Looking at you, they smile softly. “How are you feeling about the interview?”

You pull a face as you hold the glass between both hands. “You know about that?”

“Uh, it’s been trending on Twitter for the last two days is all anyone’s talking about.”

You groan as you take another, longer sip.

“So how do you feel?” Dolly gently repeats the question.

You smile lightly, looking between them with raised brows. “How do you think?”

She smiles softly, endearing assurance in her tone. “You’re gonna be fine, Y/N.”

 You open your mouth, then close it. Then again... you can talk about it freely with these two, they’ll understand without feeling guilty or worrying too much or treating you like a breakable vase.

You exhale a breath, one you feel like you’ve been holding for days. “I don’t know, it’s live and we haven’t been able to get an idea of what they’re gonna ask yet and... I just don’t want to think about it too much, really.”

Bridget rests their arm on the back of the couch, turning their body to you. “That’s not like you. I’ve watched you spend months preparing for one meeting.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not.” They point a finger at you. “This is a meeting, and you’re pitching your marriage.”

You have no idea how close to the truth that is.

You take a breath. “Can I practise on you two, then?”

Both of them perk up, smiles wide.

“Absolutely!” Dolly enthuses. “We’ve been dying for you to tell us all the details, we’ve been so patient.”

“And a little bit offended,” Bridget adds good-naturedly with an arched brow.

“I know, I know,” you smile, even as your chest twinges.

“It’s fine, two birds, one stone, you can make up for it now and practise,” Bridget says, holding their glass on their knee and fixing you with an expectant gaze and adopting a stereotypical news reader voice. “So, how did this happen, when was the first kiss, the first fondle, the engagement, I want every dirty detail, and the romantic details, too.”

“Okay,” you say through your laughter as Dolly giggles. “All right, all right... God, I’m gonna need more champagne.”

—

He could see the headline now; Cap Goes To Seek Former Flame’s Approval!

At least it would be better than the one’s that had been written when he’d gone on two dates with Sharon. Had that been why they’d both ended it? The media pressure, the questions, the constant hounding? No, but maybe that had been a factor in it. Sharon is great, but... He hadn’t felt a real connection, and neither had she.

He’d only felt that connection a few times in his life, so he knew when something was worth fighting for.

"Engaged, hm?” Peggy Carter fixes him with her gaze, an eyebrow arched, and, God, nothing ever passes her by, not even now.

A smile pulling at his lips, he raises his own eyebrows a little. “Peg—”

She exhales a laugh. “You can’t tell me, I understand.” Lacing her fingers together on her stomach, she smiles. “I do like her.”

“You’ve never met her,” he reminds her gently.

“I know,” she adjusts her head on her pillow, “but the way you talk about her makes me like her. How is she doing with all of this?”

He nods, his own hands clasped together. “Okay, I think. She’s tough.”

Peggy looks at him, her jaw moving minutely. “Hm.”

“What?”

Her lips lift a little, her features soft. “People called me tough. Said I handled things okay. But I can’t tell you how many times I cried in my office, then pulled myself together. I don’t mind crying, it’s very therapeutic, but I would have hated them to see me do it, hated what they would have twisted it into. Or even some of my friends, how they might have gently told me to maybe cut back my hours or something like that, to take on less. But just because I cried it didn’t mean I couldn’t handle matters.”

Steve opens his mouth when she continues, “Did you know that after you went into the ice our relationship is all anyone wanted to talk to me about? Interview me about? Even when I became Director of SHIELD the same questions followed me around, ‘What do you think Steve would think? Would he be proud? Do you still miss him?’”

Something in him twists as he looks at her. “I’m sorry, Peg.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Lord, I’m not saying it to make you feel bad, Steve, still so dramatic...” Her features soften again, but her gaze fixes on his. “I’m just trying to give a little perspective, having been in the position she is. It’s not easy.”

He exhales a long breath, his shoulders dropping a little. “That’s what I’m afraid of, actually.”

Her brow dips. “What do you mean?”

“Like you just said, it’s not easy being with me.”

“Steve Rogers...” His gaze, having lowered, meets hers again, and he finds it faintly incredulous. “... It’s the easiest thing in the world being with you. You are easy to be with. It’s the rest of the world that’s the problem.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “I liked where that was goin’ but that last part doesn’t make me feel any better.”

She huffs out a laugh, tilting her head. “But the rest of the world doesn’t matter, though, does it? Not if you’re with someone you love, hm?”

He looks at her, his lips lifting a little higher. “No, it doesn’t.”

—

“... So, it was only a couple of weeks ago... We were out at the park we like to walk in, you know the one, I go on about it all the time, the trees are always on my Instagram ‘cause it’s just so pretty, ‘nd it’s quiet, y’know, we’re in the middle of winter, and it’s dark, no one wants to really be out walking, except us...”

 You’ve had a bit more champagne than you probably should, but, hey, go away, morals, this is a nice story.

“... so we’re walking, and we’re just talking, and then we stop, and we’re looking up at the stars...”

Dolly, Bridget, Sally, and the other five shop assistants, Donna, Nicole, Max, Jamie and Priya all sigh together at the imagery, and your eyebrows raise and you nod in an expression of, ‘I know’.

“... and then he just gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him.”

They all sigh again, a couple of them putting their hands to their chests and ‘aww’ing and you nod as you sip your champagne because, yeah, that is very cute.

Good one, me.

“What did he say? How did he ask you?” Max asks, all the assistants bunched together on a long couch they’d dragged over.

You take another, longer sip of champagne because what did he say...

“... Oh, well, that’s just between me and him,” you say with a coy smile and they all boo good-naturedly.

Nice one.

“That’s such a lovely story,” Sally smiles warmly and you return it before raising your eyebrows.

“Shall we carry on trying these gorgeous dresses?”

They all cheer and the assistants get to their feet and scurry off to the back to find more for you and Dolly and Bridget. You look at your two friends, Dolly in a yellow ballgown, Bridget in a multi-coloured floral suit, and beam. You are wearing an ivory lace number that hugs your figure and then flows out just below your hips, and are trying very hard not to spill champagne on it.

The session had quickly escalated into Dolly and Bridget trying on whatever they wanted between red dresses, and you just putting on whatever was brought out. You’d told Sally you were here to get an idea of what you wanted, but that you’d be returning very soon. Nat has scheduled in another dress shopping day for Friday and you’d quickly messaged her about half an hour ago while you were changing to cancel wherever that was and make it here. She hadn’t argued.

You’re also giving little bits of details here and there to practise for the interview, your first kiss (at your place after watching a film), when you’d said I love you, (at his place after having dinner and watching a film together), and the story of how he proposed. You’re going to have to remember all this to tell Steve, though, so you keep making notes on your phone as you get changed.

You’ve also sent him a message because you still haven’t spoken.

You know he’s with Peggy, though, so he absolutely won’t be checking his phone, but... 

It just feels strange.

“Right...” Your attention comes back into the room as Sally and Jamie appear with an armful of dresses each, “... We have a vintage style one here that we think y’all are gonna love.”

Dolly claps her hands together as Bridget gasps dramatically.

“Vintage? Oh, he’s absolutely gonna love that.”

You don’t know why that makes you feel warm. It’s not like he’s actually going to see you in it... Unless...

—

“... Thank you so much! ... We will! We’ll see you Friday!”

You have to practically drag Dolly out of the back doors of The Pearl, the three of you giggling as you wave at the assistants. Who knew you could become such firm friends with people in the space of in five hours? Well, two bottles of champagne will do that.

You’re on the higher end of tipsy, in a lovely, warm, chatty way, and you have lined your stomach and soaked some of it up, Sally having ordered you all food so you wouldn’t have to leave and 1) Face the crowd, and 2) You couldn’t be bothered to leave, really.

The crowd is also the reason you’re leaving out the back doors, none of you wanting to face the horde outside. It has grown throughout the day, people desperate to get even the tiniest glimpse of you and what you’re wearing. Priya had closed the curtains after an hour, though, and they’d had two of their security guards stationed outside the front doors and it was just bliss. You’d had the chance to forget all about the outside world and just have some fun. Moving across the staff parking lot for The Pearl and a couple of surrounding shops, people haven’t had the chance to get in because it’s guarded, and the man whose job that is looks up from his newspaper in his little station, then looks back down.

Bliss.

Nat waits for you in the SUV, those sunglasses on, one hand leaning against the steering wheel.

“Such a ‘top’ pose,” Bridget stage-whispers and you’re all falling into giggles again.

You’re still gigging as you climb into the car, you in the passenger seat, Dolly and Bridget behind you. Nat’s lips twitch as she raises an eyebrow.

“Did we all have a fun time?”

“So fun.” Dolly, who is usually the most intimidated by Nat, which isn’t surprising considering she has a crush on her and they’ve both only met her three times before, including today, launches into a glowing review of the shop and day, “Everyone was so nice and the dresses and suits and jumpsuits and shoes are gorgeous, I can’t wait until we go back, oh my God, it’s all I’m gonna think about tomorrow...”

Nat’s smile lingers on her lips as she heads towards Dolly’s apartment, Dolly carrying on for the whole journey with Bridget occasionally butting in to add a comment. You laugh the whole way, your cheeks almost hurting from how much you’ve been grinning.

Nat parks up outside Dolly’s building, and turns in her seat, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head and meeting Dolly’s gaze, which provokes a pink blush to rise on her cheeks.

“Sounds like a really good day, then.”

Dolly just nods now, swallowing lightly. “Yep.”

Glancing from her to Bridget, Nat smiles and you think you hear Bridget let out the quietest of sounds. Wanting to save them both, or maybe they don’t want to be saved, they could be loving gazing into her eyes, who knows at this point, you turn to them, too.

“Oke doke, we’ll see you later, Doll’, I’ll text you when Sam and I are on the way.”

Bridget’s eyes whip to you, their mouth dropping open. “Sam’s picking us up?!”

You can’t stop your smile from widening, your eyebrows rising. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God, right, I need to go home and get ready now, Doll’ get out, I only have three hours, oh my God...”

Dolly is laughing so hard she nearly trips out of the SUV, and one hand is on your chest as the other wipes at your eyes as you laugh. Dolly waves from the pavement as she grins before she trots into the building, and all feelings of intimidation have left Bridget as they point ahead.

“Step on it, Nat, this is a national emergency, go...”

Nat just shakes her head as she turns back around, but she’s still smiling and you’re still laughing. “All right, all right, don’t worry, hold on...”

And, boy, does she mean it.

How does she drive this fast and this safely.

—

There’s just something about getting ready for a night-out while you’re tipsy. 

Sometimes, if you haven’t had a chance to pre-drink, you have a few moments of ‘ugh, do I really want to go out, I can’t be bothered, there’s that new show out, I’m so tired, oh my God, what if I do something embarrassing...’ but now, the champagne having only worn off a little from what you made yourself for dinner, and, okay, it probably didn’t help that you also made yourself an alcoholic beverage to have with it, you’re still quite buzzed.

Steve hadn’t been home yet and Nat had left a few minutes after making sure you were inside the penthouse so you’d been able to play your music and yell along to it. You’d been able to take your time getting ready, trying on a few outfits before settling on a true classic number that makes a lot of appearances on nights out because 1) you look amazing in it, and 2) you look really damn amazing in it.

You’d even, Nat having requested it, taken a selfie once you were ready and uploaded it to your Instagram story, along with a few gifs of glasses clinking together and someone dancing.

Job done, you’d returned to the group chat you have with Dolly and Bridget and sent them the picture, accompanied with, ‘time to fuckin party’. You could send them a picture of you in a bin bag and they’d still reply with the same thing they do for every photo, and you would for them.

Bridge’ 🌟: Y E S

Dolly ✨: WHO IS SHE???

Bridge’ 🌟: INCREDIBLE, SHOW STOPPING, AMAZING, ICONIC, LIFE CHANGING

Dolly ✨: I LOVE IT

They swiftly send their own photos.

You: LOOK AT US

Bridge’ 🌟: WHO ARE WE

God, they’re great.

You ignored the slight, unpleasant flip in your stomach at seeing Steve’s message, that he sent an hour ago and you haven’t replied to yet.

I hope you had a good day, have fun tonight x

You message each other every day so you never send ‘kisses’, so this just makes you think he’s done it to soften the blow of a slightly blunt message. Is it blunt? Or are you reading too much in to it? He has had a busy day based on what Nat told you when she’d driven you to the penthouse. He was seeing Peggy all day and then going over to Bucky’s to see him, and then they are going to have their own night out.

That’s busy, right.

Whatever, he doesn’t have to reply all the time, it’s fine.

You reply:

Thanks, you too! :-) x 

Which is the kind of reply you’d give to someone at work.

You’d ignored your phone vibrating as people, strangers, react to your Instagram story, slipped it into your bag and headed downstairs.

If you were an ego-maniac, Sam’s reaction on top of your friends would just make your head explode.

“Well, hello, ma’am!”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Nu-uh, let me look at you... Wo-ow. You look amazing.”

“Stop it... but thank you, I know.”

The moment you got into his SUV, (does everyone get one the moment they join SHIELD?) he has music playing that you can both sing along and dance in your seats to. Bridget had told you to pick them up last to give them more time so you swing by Dolly’s place first and she looks gorgeous as always in a short, glittery pink dress with matching eyeshadow and lipstick, her blonde hair curled and bouncing.

You give little squeals as you see each other, despite having only seen each other a few hours ago, and she’s definitely still buzzed, too. Sam gives her the same reaction he gave you and, God, you love him.

As you pull up outside Bridget’s building, you can’t stop meeting Dolly’s gaze in the rear-view mirror, your lips twitching. She’s doing a worst job than you at hiding her smile, her hand in front of her mouth, and you’re both trying so hard to stop a laugh.

It escapes when he gets out of the car and closes the door and you’re both turning in your seats to stare at Bridget as they walk out, gorgeous as always in a buttoned up, black blazer with no shirt underneath and matching black shorts, one side of their head freshly shaved. Dolly’s hand darts out and grips your arm as Sam approaches them and kisses their cheek and they’re both smiling but you can’t hear what they’re saying and you hate SUVs, are these things sound-proof, I’ll ask Nat...

As they climb into the car, you and Dolly are staring at Bridget, smiling. They just raise their eyebrows, grinning and say, “Hey, girls.”

“Well, hello.”

“Hi.”

You have to once again stop a laugh as Sam starts to drive, turning the music up, and you were all soon yelling along to the songs.

Now here you are, at a roof-top bar, being escorted to a table that had been reserved for you. Usually, you’d go to your favourite bar opposite work but Sam had gently insisted that you move it to another place he was more familiar with and where he could have better access to an exit and eyes on you. For a place simply titled The Venue, it’s very nice up here; it’s large, fire pits and heaters dotted around so you can’t feel the cold, a stunning view of the city, low, sultry tunes playing, a dance-floor in one corner, everything either purple, red, or gold. There’s even table service, and you recognise a few people dotted around.

“Is that—”

“Oh my God, yes...” Bridget whispers back to Dolly’s question as they stare at a table a little way away.

Your lips twitch as you each take a seat at a wooden table with a candle on it, the chairs red and plush. Your server informs you that a tab has already been set up for you, so you each grab a menu and debate for a good few minutes about what to get, the server standing patiently. Settling on cocktails, the server leaves with a beam, promising to be back in a few minutes.

“God, this place is fancy,” Bridget says, turning in their seat to get another look at everything. 

“And we actually have a table!” Dolly sighs delightedly.

“Perks of being Mrs America, huh?” Bridget turns back around to look at you, their eyebrows raising with a smirk.

You snort, your cheeks heating. “Not quite yet.”

Bridget opens their mouth but Dolly gets in first, gasping suddenly. “Did you see the news by the way?”

You pull a slight face. “No, I don’t tend to look at it anymore.”

She beams, her eyes sparkling. “Well, what happened at the dress shop, at the first place, everyone’s talking about it. People are so happy you said something and brought attention to it, there’s so many discussions being had about the wedding dress industry and the fashion industry in general when it comes to plus size clothing.”

The server returns before you can reply, and as she sets your drinks down you feel heat rise on your face again as you bite at your lower lip, pride spreading through you.

Well... Great power, great responsibility... I could get all kinds of stuff to be talked about... Note to self, change world tomorrow.

The three of you take long sips of your chosen drinks, humming in delight at the taste. As you lick your lips and set your glass down, Bridget places their arms on the table and leans forward.

“Now, come on, Y/N...”

Your eyebrows raise. “... What?”

Bridget tilts their head. “What’s he like in bed.”

You give your best scandalised gasp as Dolly laughs and Bridget smirks, continuing, “He’s kinky, isn’t he? It’s always the quiet ones...”

“Bridget Sanderson,” you gasp again, even as you grin, Dolly’s laugh infectious, “A lady never tells.”

“Well, you ain’t no lady so spill.”

You take a long sip of your drink to buy some time.

Could you? Should you?

Well, I’m in this far... And they won’t let it slide...

Licking your lips, you lean forward and lower your voice. “All the details?”

Dolly giggles and claps her hands together as Bridget grins. “All of them, you saucy bitch.”

—

Who knew you were so imaginative. Who knew you could remember every detail of every fantasy you have ever had about your best friend. Who knew you could think up such filthy, delightful things. Who knew you’d start comparing these imaginings with actual things you’ve done in your life, and that Dolly and Bridget have done with their sexual partners.

Who knew all three of you could drink so much.

Sorry to whoever’s paying the tab. The government? Shit, sorry, government, no wait, no I’m not, another round!

As the server, Melanie, you found out is her name while ordering the second drink, brings you your fourth drinks, you’re currently in the middle of laughing so hard it hurts at a story Dolly is telling of a sexual encounter, tears streaming from your eyes.

“... and then...” She dissolves into laughter herself, leaning over. “... and then her cat came in and it just, it just sat on the bedside table and made eye contact with me and...” God, you bloody love her laugh. “... she was doin’ such great things and sayin’ such good dirty talk but all I could do was stare at this cat and I just felt like apologising to it... and then it just started licking itself!”

Bridget is practically curled up in their chair as they laugh and you’re having to wipe at your cheeks, practically crying. Once you’ve all calmed down, you blow out a breath and massage your stomach.

“Oh my God, Doll’, I can’t believe you never told us that story...”

“I’m gonna wanna hear it again every day,” Bridget says, running a hand through their hair as they grin.

Dolly beams, sipping her drink. “I’d forgotten ‘bout it, think I repressed it.”

“So Steve’s into dirty talk, too, huh?” Bridget asks, sipping their own drink.

You nod several times, because part of you had always just thought, with him being such a great commander and leader, that he would be... and you’ve already told them that he is. “Mmhm, he’s made me come by jus’ his words alone.”

“No.”

“Get th’ fuck outta here.”

You nod smugly, your tongue catching your straw and you take a long sip. Not a total lie, you’ve imagined his voice in your ear several times... with a vibrator helping you along. And, hey, you won’t feel guilty about any of this ‘cause this is boosting his image... to your friends.

Dolly’s eye are wide and she and Bridget lean in, wanting more sordid details. You grin, happy to oblige and divulge more of your fantasies.

“So, it was when he was away one time ‘nd he called me ‘nd—”

“Excuse me?”

All three of you pause and turn to look at a woman, close to your age, smiling as she pushes her brown straight hair over her shoulder.

“Hi.”

“H’llo.”

“Hiya.”

“Hey,” she says, holding a phone in her hands as she looks at you. “I’m sorry to bother you, but can my friends and I get a photo with you?”

You blink, and look at her. Did... Yeah, you heard it right. Photo? With you?

You nod quickly, realising you’re just staring and silent. “Oh, yeah, sure, absolutely.”

What the fuck is happening. I hope I don’t sound as drunk as I feel. Or look it, oh my God, are my eyes open properly?

You push yourself up and, oh, fuck, yep, you’re drunk, and step around your chair as the woman beams and beckons her five friends over.

“Thank you so much!”

Bridget offers to take the photo, the woman very grateful, and she and her friends introduce themselves, a little tipsy and giddy with nerves and being with a celebrity, oh my God, I’m a celebrity, this is hilarious...

You stand in the middle, your arms around the girls either side of you, and you smile, making sure your eyes are open properly, as they pose. Bridget takes a few photos before smiling and handing the phone back to the first woman as they break away from you.

“Oh my God, thank you so much!”

“You’re so pretty!”

“We’re so jealous of you!”

You just smile and nod, trying to appear a little more sober.

“Thank you, have a nice night!” you call as they wander off, still giddy with excitement and all wanting to look at the photo.

Sitting back down, blinking, you look at Bridget and Dolly. They’re looking at you, blinking, too. It’s Bridget who finally speaks.

“... So, as you were sayin’ ‘bout gettin’ absolutely railed by America’s Finest?”

The three of you dissolve into giggles again, Dolly throwing her head back as Bridget leans over the table and your hands cover your mouth.

“Hey!”

Oh my God, I really am a celebrity.

Your wide smile lingering, you lower your hands and look up at the woman. You hear a chair scrape back on the stone floor somewhere as you pause. Hang on, you know this woman—

“You worthless bitch!”

Dolly screams as the woman throws some kind of small can at you and you’re suddenly drenched in a thick, liquid, your eyes closing just in time. Someone else screams as you hear Bridget shove their chair back and yell obscenities at the woman, lunging for her, but suddenly other voices are there, and they must be pulling the woman away because her own screams are coming from further and further away.

You’re frozen in your seat, hands half-raised. People are shouting around you but you barely listen. Dazed, your hands continue moving up, as they had been doing to protect yourself, and you wipe the liquid away from your eyes, and slowly open them.

You can feel the cold now, the heaters and fire-pits worthless, the liquid sticking to your skin and clothes. Or maybe you’re just shaking because you’re in shock.

You suddenly realise someone has been talking to you. Your head moving, you meet Sam’s gaze, suddenly feeling his hand on your back. His features are soft and his voice is gentle, but you can see the rage in his eyes.

“I got you, it’s all right. Can you get up? And we’ll get you out of here?”

You nod and lower your gaze, going to reach for your bag.

“It’s all right, I got it,” he says and your eyes move to his other hand, confirming that he does.

Getting to your feet, Sam’s arm goes around your shoulders and your feet are moving. People are still shouting, some trying to take photos, but there are people pushing them away, giving you and Sam space to head towards a door he’s leading you to.

It’s paint, you realise suddenly. Blue paint. You look back down at yourself again, watching it stain your skin and clothes.

“Where’s Bridge’ and Dolly?” you hear yourself ask.

“Another agent’s got ‘em, don’t worry, she’s gonna take ‘em home.”

Sam shoves the door open and you step into a stairwell, two men stood inside it. One of them moves to your left and you see an elevator, which the man opens by typing in a code on a keypad. Sam’s hand is still on your back, gently guiding you into it. The doors shut as the man types in another code, and Sam drops his hand from you and presses a button marked ‘B’. The elevator starts to descend and you stare at the doors.

“We’re gonna get you home, all right?” Sam says quietly, and you just nod, not caring to ask if he means home home, or the penthouse.

You hear him unzip his jacket. Yeah, it is hot in here. Your skin is warm all over and your throat feels tight, and you can’t quite take in a deep enough breath. Then you hear the sound of something ripping. Your gaze darting to Sam, he holds a section of his polo shirt in his hand and offers it to you. You stare at it, your brain putting the pieces together, and then you take it. You wipe at your eyes, mouth and face, and Sam zips his jacket back up and looks at you.

“You okay?” His voice is quiet again and you’re grateful for it because even the sound of his shirt tearing has made your heart beat faster.

“That was the woman from my work, who got in, wasn’t it?” you ask blankly, your volume matching his.

He shifts a little, scratching at his jaw as you hear him release a breath. “Yeah.”

You nod, swallowing hard and you wish the lump in your throat would go away. “Right.” He opens his mouth when you continue, finally meeting his gaze, “Why did you do that, Sam? You’ve blown your cover, surely, or they’ll know I’m being watched.”

He gives a light smile. “People will expect you to be watched, it would’ve been suspicious if no one stepped in.”

“Ah.” You start to wipe at your hands.

Sam tilts his head slightly, his smile softening. “And I wanted to get you out of there.”

You meet his gaze again, but you don’t have the energy to smile, despite the sentiment being touching, and just nod. His eyes linger on you as you look back down at your hands, concern swiftly replacing his smile. 

The elevator slows then comes to a halt, the doors sliding open a moment later, and the cold night air washes over you as you both step out into the underground parking garage, yet another one, Sam’s hand returning to your back. The place is silent, and you spot Sam’s SUV amongst a few other cars, both of you heading towards it. He gestures to someone in another car but you don’t care to look, assuming it’s another agent.

He moves a step ahead of you to open the passenger side door and you stop abruptly.

“What?” he says instantly, tensing.

“The paint. It’s gonna ruin the seat.”

He looks at you for a moment, his features relaxing into a smile. “Ah, that’s all right. That can be taken care of.”

You get in after he nods, and he places your bag on your lap. Closing the door, he jogs around to the driver’s side as you buckle your seatbelt then settle your hands over your bag, gripping it along with the piece of his shirt. Your eyes focus and stay on the dashboard as he secures his own seatbelt and puts the car into ‘drive’.

The barrier is more guarded than the other parking garages you’d been in this week but that hasn’t stopped paparazzi and occupants of the building from gathering, assuming that’s how you’d leave the area. You keep your eyes on the dashboard as lights flash and people shout.

Shouting, always shouting.

Sam doesn’t drive as fast as Nat, but he’s goes at some speed when you’re out on the main road. “Steve’s gonna meet us at the apartment,” he says after a couple of minutes, keeping his eyes on the road, “He was out with Barnes.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounds small to your own ears, distant.

Neither of you talk.

You look at your hands, the paint dry and barely having come off from when you’d rubbed at them in the elevator.

You start rubbing at them again, then use your nail, trying to scrape what you can off.

“Shit...” Sam murmurs suddenly.

Glancing up at him, you find him looking in the rear-view mirror every few moments.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s followin’ us.”

Your stomach drops, and exhaustion hits you like a fucking freight train. From his reaction, you guess it’s not a news van.

Sam presses a button on the steering wheel and the sound of dialling fills the interior.

Nat answers on the first ring.

"Where are you?”

“Nat, we’re bein’ followed.”

“Shit. All right, there’s a car on the way. Change your route.”

“Okay.” He takes the next left, and you know your heart should be pounding but you’re just so tired.

“How far away are you?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Sam replies, glancing up at the rear-view mirror. “We’re definitely bein’ followed, Nat.”

“The car will be there in three minutes. Keep taking turns, it’ll follow behind them.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, nearly home,” Sam murmurs.

“Mhm.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Nat asks, her voice a little softer.

“Mhm.”

Sam glances at you as he pulls up at a red light, his lips pressing together. “Not long now.”

“Mhm—”

The sound twists into a gasp as you’re thrown forward slightly, the seatbelt catching you. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you lift your head and look in the wing mirror as Sam spits out a curse.

A car, its bonnet dented, is reversing... then it speeds towards you again.

“Sam—”

“I see it.”

“Sam, what’s going on?” Nat demands to know as Sam pushes his foot down on the accelerator, the SUV lurching forward.

“We just got hit, they’re tryna ram us.”

“Are you both okay?”

Sam’s expertly weaving through the traffic, leaving horns blaring in your wake, but he just keeps going.

“Y/N, you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” It’s an automatic response, but you think you are. Physically, at least. Whiplash will properly rear its head soon, though.

A faint memory comes to you, however, of Sam telling you all the SHIELD cars have been built to absorb the impact of things like this, it having happened a fair few times, leaving the occupants with minimal damage, if none, so maybe not.

“Are they still following?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Think we lost ‘em.” He only slows his speed a little, though.

“You’re right, the agents are following them now, just get back here as quick as you can.”

“All right.”

The call ends and Sam glances at you.

“Y/N, you gotta tell me if you’re not okay, are you hu—”

“I’m fine, Sam, thank you.” You swallow hard, the lump still in your throat.

He falls silent, leaving you be, and you’re grateful for it because you’re so fucking tired.

Several minutes later, he pulls up at the penthouse building and he makes you wait, sliding out of his seat and jogging round to open your door. People stare as he ushers you across the main foyer to the elevator that’ll take you up to your floor but you just look ahead. Thankfully, Sam doesn’t say a word as the elevator ascends and you just look at the doors. When they slide open at the penthouse floor and you step out into the tiny circular foyer, you let Sam get his keycard out, opening the door.

And then the noise washes over you.

People talking, to each other, over each other, on phones, demanding, ordering, snapping. You hear the door close and feel Sam behind you as you slowly walk down the short hallway, then into the living room area.

There are agents everywhere, maybe about twenty, all stood around, talking. Loudly.

They don’t look up at you as they continue on with whatever they’re doing, typing on tablets, staring at tablets, standing over a hologram of what you realise is the floor-plan of the penthouse.

“Y/N.” Your eyes dart up to Nat as she approaches, striding across the carpet. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Tired.”

“Okay.” Her gaze scans you, assessing, and you’re too drained to care that she knows you’re lying. Her hand settles on your arm gently and she holds your gaze, her voice lowering. “We analysed what this is, okay, we got the can of it from the woman, and it’s just paint—”

“Who is she?”

Nat pauses at your abrupt question, and you know she’s weighing up what to tell you. Her hand doesn’t move from your arm as she speaks, “Her name’s Marise Daniels. She’s one of Steve’s stalkers, we’ve been aware of her for a while.”

Stalkers. One of.

“Oh.”

“She...” Sam starts to say, choosing his own words carefully. “... She isn’t meant to be out, especially after what happened at your work.”

“Apparently there was a system error. Someone’s seriously fucked up,” Nat continues, the information new to you both considering Sam’s hissed release of a breath.

“Is that why these people are all here.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard your own voice sound so lifeless.

Nat pauses again, weighing her words again and, God, just tell me. “Someone tried to break in. They got into the elevator and overrode it, got up here but they couldn’t get in. The tampering alerted our systems but by the time we got here they’d gone. We’re checking CCTV footage now and asking people if they saw anything.”

You look at her, her words barely feeling like they reach you. “So why are all these people in here.”

Her hand is gently rubbing your arm now, and it’s faintly starting to ground you. “They’re checking the security systems in place here, making sure they’re secure or reinforced.”

“Okay.”

“They’ll be gone in thirty minutes, I promise.”

“Okay.”

She takes in a breath and smiles lightly. “How about we—”

“Agent Romanoff?”

A muscle in her jaw ticks slightly but she turns to the agent, her eyebrows raising. “Yeah?”

The agent lowers her phone from her ear. “Captain Rogers has helped to apprehend the suspect. He’s on his way over. Agents Moore and Lane are taking the suspect back to HQ.”

“All right, tell them to...”

Nat’s voice drops out of your hearing, and your gaze drifts to the stairs. Sam’s hand settles on your back, rubbing gently, and you remember that he’s there.

“I’m gonna... gonna go upstairs and wash this off,” you mumble to him, and you don’t hear if he replies as you move forward.

People don’t look at you, continuing with their business, talking, talking, talking. You reach the top of the stairs before you know it, opening your bedroom door. You close it behind you, muffling the sounds of the people downstairs.

Removing your shoes, you drop your bag to join them on the floor as you head to the bathroom. You pull your outfit off, letting it drop to the floor, too, you can deal with it later, hopefully the washing machine will get it out.

You turn the shower on and step under the water. Head down, you watch some of the blue paint start to wash off, swirling and whirling in the water and disappearing down the drain. Only a little, though.

You have to use your hands and the body-wash to get it off. Scrubbing at your skin. Scraping at it.

You’re in there for twenty minutes. Scrubbing. Scraping.

When you finally make yourself get out your skin feels raw. There’s still a faint stain in some parts, though. You grab a towel and use it to continue rubbing at your skin, blue now staining the cream softness of it. The rest of your skin is dry by the time you make yourself stop and you pull the robe on.

Then you look at yourself in the mirror.

The lump returns to your throat and tears fill your eyes. You look... drained. And you fucking feel it. You’re exhausted. So exhausted, in every single way. You’ve spent all week fighting so hard to stay up-beat, to stay positive, to make this work, to see the good sides, but the world isn’t allowing that. You’d just wanted to yell at the woman, Marise, that you are doing this to keep him safe, that he is in danger, and you are just doing this to keep your fucking best friend safe.

The fact there’s still some blue paint staining your cheeks and neck is what makes the tears finally spill down your face. Sniffing, you swallow hard and grab a hand towel, wetting it and scrubbing at your skin once more.

It’s not moving.

You inhale a quiet, shuddering breath, almost a sob, as you stare at your reflection, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.

Three gentle knocks sound on your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you say automatically, your voice cracking, and you wipe at your eyes.

You look up as the door opens and see in the reflection... Steve.

He pauses, the door nearly closed behind him. You sniff again as you look at him, his eyes assessing you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” you answer. You shrug then, your features crumbling. “... It’s not coming off.”

The door closes and he’s moving towards you.

“Come here, it’s okay...”

As you turn from the mirror, you’re then enveloped in his embrace, your cheek pressed against his chest as he holds you. A jagged sob escapes you as your arms go around him, holding onto his shirt, gripping it.

“It’s okay...” he murmurs again, and you feel his voice rumbling in his chest, his chin resting on your head.

You’ve tried so hard to stave off tears all week that now that you can, now you don’t care anymore, now that you’re so tired, they’re not stopping. The front of his grey shirt must be damp, now, and your throat hurts and your chest is heaving but you just let the tears come and come, and he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t say anything, just holds you, his hands occasionally stroking your back and arms gently.

It’s not until you start to draw back that he does, guiding you to the sit on the rim of the bath.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks with one hand. “Still a bit drunk, I think.”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little as he crouches down before you and takes the hand towel. “You don’t need to apologise. You can cry as much as you like.”

Your own lips lift for a moment as you sniff, and then you want to cry all over again as he starts to gently dab at the stains on your face and neck. You watch him, your eyes tracing his nose and mouth, the small, concerned lines on his forehead. If he got into a fight with the suspect earlier, there’s no sign of it. His hair doesn’t even look tussled.

Your eyes continue moving and meet his. He lowers his hand and inhales a quiet breath.

“I’m sorry, about all of this, Y/N.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. “Steve, it’s not your fault.”

He looks almost pained at that, shaking his own head. “I could’ve prevented you being in this situation, though, I knew the risks of—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt sharply, surprising you both, but you continue on, “I already know what you’re going to say, and I will take it all, all of this, if it means I get to be your friend. Like we’ve said, we’re a team in this. I really wouldn’t want anyone else as my fake fiancé or as my friend.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to take all this, though, you shouldn’t—”

“No, I shouldn’t. But I will.” Your hand has found his free one, and grips it gently.

He turns his hand over instantly, curling his fingers around your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His smile softens.

“I think the world’s finally gonna see the stubborn pain in the ass I have to deal with.”

You exhale a laugh, and his smile widens at seeing yours.

“Well, it’s only fair others should have to suffer,” you say, shrugging a shoulder.

“You’re right there.” He resumes dabbing at your skin as you look at him.

“How was your day?” you ask quietly after a few silent moments, knowing he’ll just ask how you are if it stretches any longer.

“It was okay.” He’s dabbing at your chin now. “Peg says hi, and that she understands what you’re going through.”

God, you just want to cry all over again.

Your chest warms as you smile. “Really? Maybe I should go on your next visit.”

“I think she’d really like that.” His thumb is still brushing over your knuckles, and you wonder if he realises he’s still doing it. “She knows this isn’t real, though, think she figured it out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less. How was Bucky?”

“Fine. He says hello, too.”

“Wow, everyone’s being so kind to me today.”

He arches an eyebrow at you as you laugh, trying to stop himself from doing the same. “I don’t know whether it’s a good sign or not that you’re already joking about this.”

“Humour’s a great coping mechanism, you know that.”

He’s still smiling, but you can see the concern returning, so you quickly continue, taking your hand from his so you can raise a finger, raising your eyebrows, “Well, Doll’ and Bridge’ told me to tell you, by the way, well done, on having me as a fiancée.”

The corners of his mouth lift higher, now reaching his eyes. "Yeah, I know how lucky I am.”

“Oh, and, you proposed to me in our park, by the way.”

He tilts his head as you smile somewhat smugly. “Did I, now?”

“Yeah, under the stars.”

His eyebrows raise as he smiles widely. “Wow, you’re also very lucky, then.”

You wave your hand slightly. “I said a lot of stuff today, I’ll have to fill you in. I made notes.”

He chuckles as he lowers the towel from your face and rises to his feet. “You can show me my homework tomorrow.”

You watch him as he moves to the sink, dropping the towel into it, then raise your hand suddenly. “Oh, there was a dress I actually really liked there, too.”

 “The one you sent me a picture of?”

You freeze, staring at him as he turns to you.

“... What?”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he moves back towards you, unlocking it, then taps on a couple of things before turning it towards you.

Ohp.

And there you are.

In the vintage style dress, cascading flutter sleeves stopping just below your elbows, tight on your breasts and with a v-neckline, satin gold, your hand on your waist, beaming at your reflection in the gold mirror at The Pearl. 

Ah, now you remember sending it...

“... Yeah, that’s the one.”

“It’s really nice,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he offers you a hand to get to your feet. “You look great in it.”

Your face heats as you take his hand and get up, shrugging a shoulder and smiling. “Oh, well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Your hands drop, yours going to your side, his going into the pocket of his jeans. Looking up at him, you give a light smile, which he returns.

“You okay?” he asks softly, and you nod after a moment.

“Yeah. Just so fucking tired,” you say with a slight laugh. “Think I’m just gonna sleep now.”

He nods, his teeth grazing over his lower lip. “That sounds like a good idea. What a fuckin’ day, huh?”

You snort, your eyebrows raising. “Yeah, for both of us.”

He sighs, as if remembering that, oh, yeah, someone had tried to break in, too. “The agents have all gone, now. The place is even more secure, it’s like a fortress.”

“Well, that’s good.”

You head into the bedroom, and he follows you out, moving to the door. He opens it, turning to you, and you share another smile.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asks again, and you bite at your lower lip.

Stay.

You widen your smile. “Yeah. Just very ready for sleep.”

He nods, taps his fingers against the door and smiles. “All right. Goodnight. I’m just down the hall if you need me.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

Your smile lingers for a moment as the door closes, then fades as you hear him walk away.

—

Halfway down the stairs, Steve pauses, his hand on the railing.

He considers turning around.

Going back up the stairs.

Opening your door.

Taking you in his arms again.

After a minute, he carries on down.

—

In your pyjamas, phone in your hand, you climb into bed, sinking into the soft safeness of it.

You unlock it, finding several messages in the group chat from Dolly and Bridget, asking how you are, saying they’re home safe, that Sam had filled Bridget in and they’d filled Dolly in, that they both hope you’re okay.

You send a message back saying that you are okay, you’re tired, and that you’ll speak to them tomorrow, and you hope they’re okay.

There’s a message from someone else, too.

I’ve just seen what happened on the news, I really hope you’re okay x

I’d have a normal life with Aaron.

Where the fuck did that come from?

But you can’t help thinking it.

He’d slipped into your mind when you’d masturbated that morning. You hadn’t wanted to think about it. You’d just imagined him, out of curiosity at first, as he’d posted a photo on Instagram of him at the gym again, just to imagine what he’d be like, you do it with most people to pass the time... and then he’d stayed in your mind.

It had seemed... more real than when you’d imagine Steve. Probably because Steve is your best friend and you shouldn’t be thinking of him that way and you don’t want to ruin what you have, you really don’t, and Aaron... Aaron is the kind of person you could take a chance on.

You feel tears start to prick at your eyes because this is fucked, this is all so fucked, and you love your best friend and you can only think that in it’s entirety without your brain shutting down when you’re drunk or tipsy because it’s the only time your mind is free and you love him, you love him, you love him, you love him...

But there is no fucking way you will ever risk losing him as a friend.

—

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the chosen daughter // colby brock - chapter one

A/N: READ FIRST!! AHH IT’S FINALLY HERE :) I’m so exicted for yall to read this story. I haven’t written a vampire story in a long time, so hopefully this goes well. That being said, it is similar to the one shot it is based off of, HOWEVER, you need to read this chapter. Things aren’t all the same from the one shot, so please read this otherwise you will be confused. I know it’s long, but that’s because there is a lot of backstory to give first. I’m posting the next chapter tomorrow and then I will be posting once a week. All right, without further ado, here’s The Chosen Daughter ;)

story description

taglist: @far-to-many-bands , @idfk-tbh-oops

trigger warning: backstory (but necessary), cursing, mentions of blood/fighting, mentions of sexual assault, death

word count: 3260

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought vampires would be real. Yet, here we are: 2019. The year of the blood sucker. Everywhere you turn, vampires were to be seen.

I relaxed back against my couch, watching the news while I ate breakfast.

A news anchor appeared on screen, a graphic next to them reading ‘Vamp News’. “Today’s top story involves another vampire killing. Last night, outside of the popular club Bloody, two vampires murdered a young female. Police have not released the name of the victim. Eyewitnesses say that the two vampires in question had been harassing the girl during the night. Police ask that if you know these two vampires, to please call in at the number on your screen and if you see them in public, call the authorities immediately.”

Two blurry images from a surveillance camera came on screen, showing the vampires in question.

“How the fuck is anybody gonna know who those two are?” I mumbled out loud, taking another bite of cereal.

I sighed, changing the channel. I hated hearing vampire killings first thing in the morning.

My whole life, as of recent, revolved around vampires. And I guess, a lot of other peoples did too now.

I stood up and walked to my kitchen, dropping my bowl into the sink. I glanced around my apartment.

Empty… very empty.

I’ve always enjoyed being alone. I’ve been alone my whole life. I was born into foster care, my parents dying right after my birth. The only thing I had left to remind me of them was a crystal necklace that I never took off. After bouncing around from family to family, I never got to settle down. When I turned eighteen, I was able to get away and move to Los Angeles. Now I live here in my own little apartment, working at a vampire bar called Vampiro.

Growing up, I was interested in the supernatural. I always liked the idea of vampires existing.

‘Be careful what you wish for’ was a bit of an understatement for me.

When I was in eighth grade, vampires came out to the public. It was… weird to say the least. At first, people didn’t believe they existed – chalking it up to some strange, elaborate prank. But it became apparent very soon that vampires were real. There was a lot of violence, but it calmed down after a while. A good number of ‘powerful’ vampires (celebrities, politicians… you get the gist) came out with a PSA letting everyone know that vamps were harmless, only wanting to be treated just like humans.

They were tired of hiding and wanted to be out and proud.

It took until now for things to feel normal, almost as if vampires always did exist in our culture. However, there was still animosity towards vamps. Some states, especially in the more ‘religious’ areas, hated vampires. They believed they were demons, dressed in the bodies of humans. But that wasn’t the case. But nonetheless, these states didn’t want them, so they banned almost all vampires. Because of this, other states took this as an opportunity to be the sanctuary for these tossed out vamps.

Enter stage left… California. In particular, Los Angeles.

LA was the hub for all things vampy. It was almost the vampire capital of the world. We had sections, stores, bars just dedicated to vampires and the tourism it brought here.

The bar I worked at, Vampiro, was a non-exclusionary vampire bar. Vampires and humans could mingle as they pleased, and no one minded. However, we weren’t the most popular out of all the clubs and bars. Because of this, our human-to-vampire ratio was a bit slacking.

But Bloody, the most prominent and well-known, catered heavy towards tourists and vacationers who wanted a ‘vampire experience’. It was extremely hard to get into, mostly because it was packed every night.

Another famous club, The Trapp Haus, was a ‘vampire only’ place. One night a month they would have a human and vampire night. Those were the nights our bar had its lowest patrons.

I had never planned to work in a bar that’s mostly filled with vampires. But it was one of the only places that would hire me. Originally, I was hired because I was human, which would attract more vampires. My best friend and coworker Ronnie and I were the only two humans in the whole place. I had planned to only stay at this bar for a bit, get enough money to be alright, and then find a better paying job.

But because of this place, I was able to learn something about myself.

One of the reasons I was never able to stay at a foster home for too long was because I was deemed ‘special’. When I look at vampires, I can see an aura around them. It’s always in a different color, and this color depends on the vampire’s power and how they use it.

Oh yeah… vampires have powers.

Vampires’ powers ranged all over the place: from the scariest (mind control), to the least frightening (super hearing). Depending on how old the vampire was, their power could be extremely strong or barely noticeable. This is why certain states believed vampires were demons. No one knew what powers a vampire had or how strong they were unless they told you. And none of them really ever did.

I was able to tell though.

When a vampire would use their power, an aura appeared around them. Every vampire had a different aura, even if they had the same power as another vampire. Their aura was based off them and how they used their ability.

Because I would see these auras, but didn’t know vampires existed, I thought I was crazy.

And so did my foster parents.

Years later, this all makes sense. But as an extra added bonus to me being able to see these auras is that vampire powers don’t affect me. Vampire powers work on everyone, except vampires. And me.

I’ve never told anyone this. Mostly because I don’t have anyone to tell. But also, because it would be too dangerous for me. I try not to let vampires know, but that can be hard when you work at a bar that vampires frequent at.

I get by… but I feel like that’s gonna change soon.

~ \/ \/ ~

“Jade, you’re late again.” Roger, my boss, berated me.

I groaned. “I’m sorry. I tried getting here early, but traffic getting into the city is crazy. The Trapp Haus must be having human night early.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Roger raised his eyebrows. “They’re changing it to two nights a month.”

“Cool… so I’m gonna be late twice a month.” I smirked.

He sighed. “Why did I hire you?”

“Because her blood smells good… apparently.” Ronnie chimed in, walking behind the bar with a tray of empty glasses.

“Veronica! Did you get to table two yet?” Roger asked.

She shook her head. “I thought Jade could get them.”

“Jade’s mending the bar while I go take a break. Go on now.” Roger stated, waving his hand and heading into the back of the bar.

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “I swear if he wasn’t a vampire, I would fist fight him.”

I laughed. “Even as one, I might still.”

She chuckled, grabbed her notepad, and walked over to table two.

The night slowly became a blur. Hours passed. I bartended while Ronnie waitressed, and when the night began to slow down, three vampires strolled in.

You could tell they were vamps. They had a certain confidence that only immortal beings could have. They were all dressed nicely, a little too nice for a bar. Each had different hair colors; black, brunette, and blonde. Blondie and Brownie went to a table, while the black haired one walked up to the bar.

I wiped down the counter as he called to me. “Yo! Can I get ten shots of jäger? And a pint of blood? B positive?”

“Of course. Since you asked so kindly…” I replied, a tight-lipped smile falling to my face.

I typed in the drinks at the register. Looking up at him, he waved his card at me, smiling with his fangs out. I swiped his card, glancing at his name for a second.

Cyrus Gladstone… interesting.

I handed it back to him with a nod as he went back to his friends.

Grabbing the jäger bottle, I poured out the shots. Going to our mini-fridge, I pulled out a bag of blood and emptied it into a cup. Placing everything on a tray, I glanced around for Ronnie. She was over with another set of patrons, talking and getting orders. I shrugged, picking up the tray and walking over to the vampires.

I set the tray down, sliding all the drinks onto the table. “Ten shots jäger, one pint B positive for Cyrus and co.”

“You know his name? She must have feelings for you.” The blonde haired one joked.

“Right... Anything else I can get you guys?” I questioned, my hands resting on my hips.

“Why don’t you relax, get to know us a little better? My name is Jasper.” Blondie smiled innocently.

“Lovely. Unless you guys need anything, I kinda need to go back to the bar.” I stated.

Blondie lightly grabbed my wrist. “You know, I’m not really into B positive. What blood type are you? You smell like O positive, maybe AB?”

“My blood type is actually super rare. You might have heard of it? It’s F.U.” I deadpanned.

He stood up quickly, gripping my arm tightly as I tried to pull away. “I think you should be a bit nicer to me. I am a paying customer.”

“I’m pretty sure Cyrus is the one that paid. Also, get your hands off me.” I grunted, glaring up at him.

“Why don’t you say that looking into my eyes, sweetheart?” He hissed, pulling me into him, making me stare into his eyes.

The way vampire powers work is first, the vampire must make you look into their eyes. It draws you in, making whatever power they have connect to you immediately.

I could see his pupils dilate and shrink. Suddenly, a deep purple aura appeared around him. It ended at his fingertips, where he was touching me.

In a split second I could tell what he was trying to do to me, an almost vision-like image came to my mind. He was manipulating me, trying to make me feel sexual feelings for him.

“I think you’re feeling apologetic for being a bitch to me. Maybe you want to say sorry to me by giving me just a bit of your blood. And of course, sex.” He whispered. He nodded his head to the rest of the boys at the table. “I think we could all have a turn. Don’t you agree?”

Oh my God, what an absolute douche.

In most situations like these, I would just go along with what the vampire wanted. I didn’t want anyone to know about my powers, but this was too fucking far.

Fuck hiding it.

I smiled, still staring into his eyes. “I... can’t do that for you. Besides, if I say I’m sorry, that would make both of us idiots.” I ripped my arm away from him and took a couple steps back.

His mouth was slightly gaped for a moment. He hid his surprise, immediately glaring at me.

I sneered. “Do anything like that again and I’ll call the cops on you. And let me tell you, they ain’t as nice as me.”

I rolled my eyes and walked back to the bar. I could hear the vamps whispering to each other as I got back to work.

“What was that over there?” Ronnie nudged me as she strolled behind the bar.

I shook my head. “Nothing. Just a couple vamps being dicks to me once again. I think I attract them like a magnet.”

“Sucks to be you.” Ronnie joked.

“That’s not a lie.” I mumbled, starting a new cocktail order.

~ \/ \/ ~

“Night, Ronnie! See ya later!” I yelled, exiting the back door of the bar. Ronnie waved as she walked to her ride, getting in and leaving.

I sauntered towards the employee parking lot, where my car was parked.

A chill ran up my spine. The air wasn’t cold; August in California never reached a temperature below 70. I could feel goosebumps rise all over my skin. I could feel eyes on me.

Suddenly, a gush of wind flew past me. And then another. Another. Another. I looked in every direction hastily.

What the fuck is that?

I ran to my car, keys in hand ready to unlock it. Right as I was opening the car door, it slammed shut, a hand pressing it closed. I was then spun around and pressed against my backseat side door.

“Hello bartender. We meet again.” Blondie smiled, holding me against my car.

“What the fuck do you want?” I snapped, trying to shove his hands off me.

He pushed me harder into the car. I could feel the handle press harder into my lower back, causing me to wince. “I want to know how you did it.”

“Did what? Make such a fine cocktail?” I jeered.

“How did you ignore my power?” He insisted, getting close to my face. “I can make anyone want me with just a single touch. Except you…”

“Guess I’m lucky. What type of asshole has to use his powers to get girls to fuck him? Must be small, huh.” I hissed.

He chuckled darkly. “Saying shit like that really isn’t gonna keep me from getting what I want…”

His hands tightened their hold on my waist. I started punching his chest, trying to shove him away. He just kept grinning down at me, not a single hit phasing him.

“Let her go.”

My movements stopped as Blondie turned around to the deep voice that spoke.

The man stood a few yards back. His body was relaxed, but his face was tense. He was dressed in all black; a fitted tee, ripped jeans, and vans. His hair fell over his forehead and almost covered his eyes. The front of his hair was an icy blue, almost matching his eye color.

He was beautiful.

“Who the fuck are you?” Blondie demanded.

The figure shrugged. “I don’t think that matters. Just let her go and there won’t be any problems.”

Blondie laughed. “Is she your bitch or something?”

“Fuck you.” I fumed.

He turned back to me. The smirk on his face fell. “You know, that is the exact reason why you’re in this predicament.” He opened his mouth and showed his razor-sharp fangs at me. “But you know what? I’ll do one better.”

Blondie grabbed my face, twisting it to the side and slammed his fangs into my neck. I screamed out in pain, feeling his teeth sink into my skin. But before he could drink from me, his mouth was yanked away.

The dark figure had grabbed Blondie and ripped him away from me. They began to fight. The dark figure threw punch after punch, blocking all of Blondie’s moves. Blondie might have been fast, but the dark figure was faster. Stronger.

The dark figure wrapped his hands around Blondie’s neck and snapped it, the loud crack echoing through the lot. Blondie’s body fell to the ground with a loud thud. Then, the dark figure pulled a stake out and slammed it into Blondie’s heart.

My eyes met the dark figure’s. I could feel myself get lost in them, almost like he had me entranced. I pulled myself away suddenly, pressing my body against the car, shaking.

His presence was suddenly behind me. I was turned around abruptly, the dark figure now directly in front of me. His hands rested exactly were Blondie’s had been. The gentle touch of him was surprising, given his overall demeanor. I glanced down at his hands. He noticed and pulled them away softly.

“Are you hurt?” He asked calmly, staring at my neck wound.

I placed a hand over my bite. “No. I… just like to casually bleed from my neck.”

He raised an eyebrow at me, smirking. “You don’t gotta be a smart ass. I did just save your life.”

“I had it under control.” I groaned, running my other hand through my hair.

“Right. My bad.” He chuckled, taking a step back. “So, being cornered up against your car was part of the plan?”

I rolled my eyes at him, not saying a word.

“What was his problem anyway? What did you do?” He inquired.

“Why do you assume I did something?! Motherfucker tried to assault me and I’m the one to blame?! On the news, there’s a new vamp attack every night. I highly doubt they’re all to blame too.” I argued.

He smiled lightly. “And they’re just the ones they tell you about.”

“How would you know?” I stared at him for a moment.

He cocked his head to the side. “Do you really think a human could have taken down that vampire?”

“…You’re a vampire?” I responded, leaning back from him.

I could see his fangs stick out while he talked. “Don’t I look it?”

“Without the fangs, I would just assume you’re emo.” I shrugged.

He bit his lip, hiding a smile. “You know, you’re not the first person to say that to me.”

“It’s because you look like you work at Hot Topic.” I smirked. “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m… X. What’s your name?” He stuck his hand out.

I shook his hand politely, our eyes meeting. “Jade.”  

A blue aura appeared the moment our hands touched. He stared at me for a moment, but suddenly his eyes widen. I tried to pull my hand away, but he held onto it.

“What the fuck?” He whispered, staring at me. The aura intensified in color.

“What?” I gasped, trying to yank my hand away.

X stepped closer to me, his eyes bore into mine. “How can I not see into you?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I exclaimed.

He ripped his hand away, the blue aura evaporating. “I’m able to read people. I can see their whole life by a single touch. How can I not see yours?”

“…Let’s just say I’m immune.” I answered.

X stepped back, stunned. “That’s impossible.”

I shook my head. “Not in my world.”

He backed away for a moment. “That’s why he was attacking you.”

“Not the only reason… I may have also said his dick was small which is why he had to use his powers.” I mumbled.

A light breath left X’s mouth as he shook his head. "Um... I have to leave now. As long as you're safe..."

"Yeah, I'm fine.” I bit my lip nervously, “Thank you, X... for saving me."

He nodded his head slightly, and then within the blink of an eye, he was gone. And so was the body of Blondie.

I sighed, finally somewhat relaxed as I realized I was alone. As I went to get in my car, I saw a white piece of paper on the ground, something that wasn't there until X had disappeared.

I reached for it, picking it up and looking at it. Scribbled on it was a phone number and a name of some sort.

 XPLR Services

(555-0157)

 “What the hell is this even for?” I wondered, gazing around at the empty parking lot.

CHAPTER 2 >>

[thechildoflightning]

The Kübler-Ross Model Ch2- Anger

Title: The Kübler-Ross Model [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: background LAMP, Elliot/Mitchell

~~~

Chapter Title: Anger- Chapter Two

Summary: 

Stage Two: Anger- Characterized by high energy and coped up frustrations that begin to pour out by lashing out at others or yourself.

In which Remy is angry about everything.

Warnings: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Verbal Fights, Toxic Relationships (hinted at), Transphobia (mentioned), Exclusionary Rhetoric (mentioned), Ableism

[ao3 link]

~~~

Anger- Chapter Two

“Selected: Voicemail. One item. Tab one of one,” Remy’s phone says, sounding almost bitter. Remy sighs, at this point already knowing who it’s from. He puts his finger to the screen, sliding it around as he searches for the desired section.

“Voicemail.”

One finger down.

“Daniel Zurko. M-”

Double tap.

“Remy. This is childish and has gone on way too long. I canceled the credit card. I expect you to call me so we can get you home. I get that you’re upset, but this is not the way to deal with it. You think I’m the bad guy but I am doing what’s best for you Remy, I always have. You need to grow up. You’re an adult now, act like one. Call me. Come home. Now.”

-

Moving into the dorms is a surprisingly low-key event. Remy gets to move in early, as does Kai, so they're not trying to get things done in the time most of the freshman are piling in. It’s a lot nicer that way. They don’t have people on top of them- actually they have pretty much no one on top of them- and that lowers Remy’s stress by a lot.

Except, this definitely wasn’t something he’s stressing about.

Okay, maybe he's been stressing about it a little bit.

It’s well- it’s just this an entire new place and the campus is huge. He’s visited a few times now to start getting a layout, but he knows it’s going to take weeks before he can find his way around with ease. It’s nice to start on that when no one else is here yet. It gives Remy space and he feels a little bit less self-conscious.

(It’s stupid that he feels self-conscious at all, he shouldn’t, but he does, so there’s that).

Kai and him get their dorm set up and decorated as well.

Or well- it’s mostly Remy setting things up while Kai comments snarkily from the corner that the bed doesn’t line up perfectly. (They had to move everything a bit to make space for Cha-Cha). Remy doesn’t really mind because it’s nice to see Kai relaxing. He seemed uncomfortable and unsure when he admitted that he couldn’t do any of the heavy lifting, so Remy takes the return to teasing as a good sign.

They decorate the dorm next and it’s fun and it’s easy and Remy’s really thinking he’s found a friend in Kai. 

Then Kai falls silent.

“Kai?” Remy asks when he stops making comments every two seconds.

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

Kai hesitates and Remy frowns. Remy’s about to ask a follow up question, but Kai beats him to speaking.

“Hey so, I brought two pride flags. I was hoping I could put them up in our room.”

Oh.

“Of course,” Remy says easily.

“I- yeah?”

“Yeah. Kai we’re literally in gender-inclusive dorming right now. But I mean, even if we weren't, yeah of course you can,” Remy insists, voice firm and even.

“Okay,” Kai says. He relaxes. “Okay.”

The tension in the room evaporates and Remy breathes out.

“Which flags?” he asks, curiosity peaking.

“Trans and demiboy,” Kai tells him.

Remy didn’t know you could be both trans and a demiboy. But that's probably better to google than to bug Kai with right now.

“I didn’t know there was a demiboy flag,” he admits.

The comment seems to perk Kai up and he explains to him the dark grey-grey-blue-white-and reverse of the demiboy flag. The two of them hang the flags up together. 

Kai gives him a hard time about hanging one up the wrong way and it takes Remy a solid minute to remember that both flags are reversible. He flips Kai off and scowls. Kai just laughs. The conversation turns casual once more.

“Oh!” Kai says at one point, moving quickly to sift through a bag on the other side of the room, “I got a thing and you can tell me if you hate the thing and if so I can return it, but you said that you have some light perception so…” he trails off.

There was a pause for a moment where neither of them said anything.

“Thoughts?” Kai eventually asks again.

“On?” 

“Ah man- you can’t see it?”

“Don’t know if we’ve talked about this yet but I’m blind actually,” Remy snarks back.

Kai groans.

“No just- okay catch.”

“Please tell me you’re not about to chuck something at a blind person Kai.”

The object lands softly next to him on the bed. Remy doesn’t know if that was intentional, or if Kai just failed to hit him. Either way Remy sighs and picks it up. The object is a box and has a thin circular button at one corner, but he still has no clue what it is.

“They’re fairy lights,” Kai explains, “Sorry. You said that you liked light and I thought you’d be able to see it because you said that you could see light.”

“Some light,” Remy says. He holds it up to his eyes and now he can barely see little tiny specs of light. “And I can kinda see it now. Is the box completely clear?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Uh…”

“I told you I liked light. You went out of your way to get fairy lights for our dorm. It’s an awesome idea, not your fault my eyes don’t work.”

“Yeah but the gift kind of failed.”

“Well if you like them we can still keep them. And if not- well you said you can return them? Depending on where they’re from we can see if we can find fairy lights I can actually see,” Remy suggests.

“Oh my gosh we could- there was a ton of options.”

Remy nods and stands up.

“Okay, where too?”

“Right now?” Kai asks.

“I mean it depends on where you got these, but yeah? I mean we have the time.”

That they do, now that they’ve mostly finished.

“Target. So there’s gotta be one locally.”

They spend a few minutes online, figure out the address, and then Remy’s getting up to go. He gets Cha-Cha in her harness and grabs his things before opening the door for a swing and waiting for Kai. Kai joins him at the door, hesitates for a second, and then grabs something right next to the door. At first Remy thinks it’s the bag, but Kai’s already holding that. Remy exits after him.

“I have a cane,” Kai says quietly. Which okay- that was the object by the door.

“Okay,” Remy says. “Do you want to take the bus?”

“No.”

Remy listens. He knows if it were him, he would just want somebody to listen.

“Okay. Where’s the Target?” 

Kai takes the lead and they’re off.

The Target is massive. But also Remy’s depth perception is shit so maybe it’s that but he’s pretty sure this is the largest Target he’s ever seen. By a lot.

“Holy shit this place is huge,” Kai remarks.

Remy murmurs his agreement. He hadn’t really known what living in a college town would mean. He’s starting to think he understands.

They make a beeline for the fairy lights which take up almost an entire aisle. They mess around, pressing all the buttons to light them up and see what their options are.

“I can’t see any of these,” Remy admits after a while, “The lights in here are too bright. But brighter and bigger is better, so if you find something that-”

“Remy there’s rainbow ones. Come here, come here, they’re shaped like rainbows.”

“We’re getting those.”

“They’re not that bright.”

“I literally do not care.”

They get the rainbow-shaped ones.

They head back- both a bit too excited about the rainbow-shaped lights to be considered socially acceptable. But also fuck socially acceptable so whatever. They’re adults and they can enjoy fairy lights. Step off.

Kai and him are talking when he suddenly stops and leaves Remy’s side.

“Hi,” Kai says, “Are you moving in today too?”

“I- uh- yeah- hi,” a person stutters.

“Oh cool! I’m Kai. He/they pronouns but he right now.” The jingling noise that follows is indication that Kai holds up his pronouns necklace. “And this is my roommate.”

It takes a second to long for Remy to realize he’s supposed to introduce himself. 

“I’m Remy,” he says, turning to face the stranger. “He/him.” 

Something inside of him clenches hard when he says those words. Clenches hards, grips his heart, and burns. It burns so much, choking Remy that he almost misses the strangers next words.

“I’m Elliot,” the now not-stranger says, “They/them.”

“Nice to meet you Elliot,” Kai says.

They don’t get must further in conversation because another person speaks up.

“El, hon? Who’s this?”

“I’m Kai, he/they, he right now. This is Remy, he/him. We just moved in here across the hall.”

“Oh you get to do that whole move in early stuff too? You’re blind, right?”

The second question is obviously directed at Remy, so he answers both.

“Yeah and yeah.”

“Huh. Well I’m Mitchell, I’m his boyfriend.”

A boyfriend who just misgendered their partner apparently. But Elliot doesn't say anything and Remy just met them so he doesn’t say anything either.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” Remy offers. Kai offers the same pleasantries.

“Okay. Well Elliot, we should get to finish moving you in. You still have a lot of stuff and if you’re going to make me help you I don’t want to be here all day.”

“If you need to go you can,” Elliot says.

“What, you trying to get rid of me already? Plus come on, you’re not going to be able to do it all yourself. And you’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

“Okay,” Elliot says, “Yeah.”

“He’ll talk to you later,” Mitchell tells the two of them.

“I- Right,” Kai says, “Well, Elliot I- we’re just down the hall. 204. So, anytime, pop by, yeah?”

“Yeah alright I-”

“Yeah he might, bye.”

“Elliot seems nice. But Mitchell doesn’t seem like the nicest guy,” Kai comments when the other two have presumably exited earshot. Remy gives a shrug and a slight nod in response. He pulls out his key and finds the lock on their door before pushing it open with a swing.

“Fairy lights?” he asks.

“Fairy lights,” Kai agrees.

Remy still ends up not being able to see them all that well- though they were certainly better than the first set. But rainbows, so he counts it as a win.

When they’ve finished decorating their room, Remy relaxes on his bed and pulls out his phone. He plugs in his headphones and opens google. Kai had both the trans and demiboy flags. Remy wants to know what that means.

He researches a lot about being non-binary and trans and he reads a lot about the exclusionist who demand you have to be identify as binary and experience crippling gender dysphoria to be considered trans. Everyone else is just faking or special or being dramatic. He thinks of Kai and he frowns. He ignores the exclusionists.

He finds celebrations of being trans and non-binary and being happy that way. He finds non-binary people who consider themselves trans and others who don’t. He finds the range of non-binary from androgynous presentation to falling to the extreme sides of masculine or feminine. He learns that people can also be assholes about that, about how many people expect non-binary people to look “watered down male.” He learns that non-binary looks like anything and everything. He finds people who are trans that use all sorts of labels. He finds people who are trans and are binary. He finds people who are trans with all levels of fluctuating dysphoria, stages of transition- including not transitioning at all, and more.

He learns that there’s so many more ways to be trans than he previously thought.

He hates it.

He hates it because it means something to him, means something to him more than just being an ally. 

The transgender umbrella is amazing and beautiful and there’s so many people who have so many experiences, some they share, some they don’t. It’s a wonderful community and it’s gorgeous and Remy-

He’s angry.

He’s so fucking angry. Because he’s Remy and he’s a boy and he’s eighteen and he’s lived this way his entire life and this is who he is he’s Remy and he’s a cis guy and-

And what if he isn’t?

He squeezes his phone tightly in his hand. Hard enough apparently that Kai asks if anything’s wrong. He starts to answer no when he gets a phone call. From his dad.

He hits ignore angrily and stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“I’m going for a walk,” he announces, and barely takes the time to grab his shoes before he’s slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t even bother with Cha-Cha, grabbing his cane instead.

-

That first week goes fast and soon enough everyone else moves in. They meet a few people, and start talking to Elliot. When Mitchell’s not around Elliot’s really funny. When Mitchell is around they short of shut down and Remy hates it. A little fire burns in his chest each time it happens. 

They go to the freshman movie night and both Elliot and Kai are already learning to give a shitty description of what’s going on on screen and they all laugh and the people next to them hiss at them to be quiet. It’s okay. It’s nice.

Before long, classes start and Remy remembers how frustrating it can all be.

He’s been working with disability services since he committed to the school. Over the years he’s learned that early is almost always better, because everything just takes time and then there’s issues and delays,  it’s a long process. 

It’s also Remy’s first time doing this alone and he makes mistakes and he feels like an idiot and he can’t help but hate his dad a little bit because he’s been asking to do some of this himself for years now, to get used to it, get some practice. His dad had always refused and now Remy is woefully underprepared. 

It reminds himself of when he was first going blind. When everything was new and confusing and he constantly felt lost and alone. 

It’s been years since he felt like that. 

He doesn’t like feeling like that. 

He figures the accommodations out in the end and gets the things he needs to set up. Note taker, permission to record, extra time, accessibility devices approved, and requests to all his professors to have things ready and accessible. It should all be good to go. But, there’s of course hiccups because there always is. And a week into school, he still doesn’t have notes from one of his classes.

It’s absolutely infuriating.

Because now he has a paper to write and he has to listen to the entirety of three separate lectures to find the things he needs.

It sucks and it’s unfair and time consuming and Remy hates it. He clenches a fist as he pauses the recording and goes back once more. 

It’s something so small but it makes him so goddamn frustrated.

He plays it again but he can’t hear it this time because at that exact moment Kai laughs from his corner of the room where he’s skyping his girlfriend.

He pauses the recording.

“Can you be quieter?” he hisses out, “I’m trying to write a paper.”

“Yeah. Sorry Rem. Want me to put in headphones?”

It’s a nice offer.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Kai agrees. He gasps a bit when he stands, pauses for a moment. Remy doesn’t restart his recording and listens, slightly concerned. But Kai moves after a moment, grabbing his headphones from the desk next to Remy. He’s limping slightly.

When he returns to his bed and has the headphones in, Remy takes a breath and presses play.

And pauses a moment later because Kai’s a bit too loud again. It’s unfair- Remy knows it is- because Kai’s really not that loud. But it’s loud enough to be distracting and Remy cannot deal with this tonight.

“Can you shut up?” he snaps.

“...I ...Uh?”

Remy is so angry.

“Whatever. Forget it,” he huffs. He saves his work and shuts his laptop with a snap. He shoves it, his braille display, and the recorder in his bag. He grabs his phone and shoves it in his pocket. Grabbing his bag he heads for the door. He barely spends the time to get Cha-Cha in her harness.

“Remy- come on- wait-”

“I’m going out,” he hisses. The door slams behind him. It seems to be doing that a lot lately.

“Oh hey Remy,” Elliot says almost the moment he’s out the door. 

“I’m going to the library,” Remy grumbles and moves past them. 

“Okay,” Elliot says, running a few paces to catch up with him, “Can I join you? I have this thing for religions and-”

“No. You can’t join me,” Remy snarls, and pulls away. 

Elliot stops, stumbling for words behind him. Remy leaves them behind. He doesn’t feel bad. He doesn’t.

He goes to the library and finds a corner that’s empty. He sets his things up and tries to focus. 

He still can’t. 

He had to keep rewinding and replaying the lecture because he still doesn’t have the notes even though he was told he’d start receiving them a week ago. He checked again the other day and he was told he’d definitely have them by today. 

He doesn’t have the notes. 

He doesn’t know what to do. 

He’s mad and he’s angry and he’s frustrated and he’s so pissed and he thinks it’s a bit extreme but definitely not unreasonable. He hates this. Hates it. 

He used to hate being blind. Over the years he’s learned that’s not the part that frustrates him. It was scary at the time, sure. But losing his sight wasn't the upsetting part- the upsetting part was being in a world who wasn’t willing to meet his needs. A world that was certainly able to meet his needs, or attempt to if they really couldn’t, but wasn’t willing to even try.

It’s ableism that he hates, not being blind.

With a sigh he packs up his things. He’s not getting anything else done tonight. He pulls out his phone and messes around with it a bit, trying to ward off the creeping frustrations that are starting to overwhelm him. He feels choked up and he’s not sure why. 

Then he gets a call.

For a millisecond he thinks it might be Kai. 

God he was a dick to Kai wasn’t he? If Kai’s calling him Remy can apologize. He can make things right and things will be fine. It’s fine. 

It’s his dad. 

Remy chucks his phone. 

It’s extreme and so fucking stupid but he’s suddenly furious and he doesn’t know what to do about it. His phone goes skittering across the floor and the two people quietly murmuring near him fall silent. Remy sighs and hates himself a little bit.

He takes a breath.

It doesn't help.

He takes another.

It doesn’t help. Nothing’s helping.

He has Cha-Cha get his phone.

When she brings it back to him he checks it for cracks and then goes to his contacts. He finds the one he needs and double taps to call.

The phone rings twice before it’s answered.

“Hey,” Remy saus, “I- can I spend the night at your place?”

“Yes,” is Virgil’s immediate response, “Are you safe? Do you want a ride? I’m not home right now but I can text Patton.”

Remy checks the time. It’s not too late. The cool air will probably do him good anyways.

“I’m safe,” he confirms, “No to the ride. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” Virgil says. He pauses, “Love you Remy.”

Something burns in his throat.

“Okay. Okay yeah,” Remy chokes out. He hangs up and blinks back tears, refusing to cry. He wants to scream. He doesn’t- everything’s just so much right now and he doesn’t know what he’s feeling anymore.

He packs his things up. Grabs Cha-Cha. Heads to Virgil’s apartment.

On his way there a random person grabs him by his shoulder and asks him if he needs help. He grits out a terse “no.” He gets a “well you don’t have to be rude about it. I was trying to help!” Remy’s teeth grit further, making an odd little screeching noise and causing pain to run all throughout his mouth. He doesn’t risk saying anything more, and just pushes past the stranger.

He knocks on the door when he arrives. He still has a key, but doesn’t really feel like digging through his bag. 

It’s Patton who greets him.

Remy shuffles off his shoes at the door, mind blurring. He hears Patton say something about Virgil and the library, he should've texted you- but Remy misses all the details.

“Hey Remy, are you okay?”

Remy is not.

He’s going to tell Patton he’s fine. He is. He promises he is.

He doesn’t end up saying that, but even he isn’t expecting what he says next.

“Patton, how did you know you were trans?”

“Oh,” Patton says, “Oh.” 

And that’s when Remy finally bursts into tears.

~~~

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