#and okay there was supposed to be someone whose coming here today to do laundry and she is late

[atsu-i]

.

[softholand]

snowed in - t.h

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: you and tom are neighbors but you don’t get along very well, what happens when you’re forced to spend christmas with him?

warnings: some curses

words: 3.3k

a/n: this is my gift to @uglypastels as part of @peeterparkr​ ‘s secret santa 🤍 Z, i’m sorry this took so long but as you can see, i got a little carried away with the story lmao anyway, you’re actually one of my favorite writers so i’m kinda nervous to post this but i really hope you like it!! merry christmas ✨

You hated snow, that was a fact. But, since it was Christmas you were willing to face it, for the sake of your sister, that was hosting her first Christmas dinner at her and her husband’s new house.

Before you faced the snow though, you had to wash some of your clothes since your laundry basket was full. So, taking your dirty clothes, you made your way to the laundry room, which thankfully, was empty.

You were putting the detergent in when your phone rang and of course, it was your sister, already asking where you were. Just as you were about to answer, you heard the sound of the door opening, before your neighbor, the one you didn't like very much, entered the laundry room.

As always, you tried your best to ignore him and answered your still ringing phone. “Hello?” You said, already listening to the sound of chatting on the other end of the call. “Yes, I’m coming, I just had to do something first.” You told your sister, closing the machine and pressing start. “No, Maya! I’m not bringing anyone, you already know that!” That phrase caught the attention of your neighbor, which made you roll your eyes, both at him and your sister.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, bye!” You ended the call, stuffing your phone back into your purse, before taking your keys off. Then, just as you turned to leave, Tom’s body came crashing right into yours, knocking you off your feet.

“I’m so sorry!” He said, quickly helping you get up. “Fuck! You don’t look at where you’re walking?!” You hissed, and he immediately stopped his movements. “I said I’m sorry! And if there’s someone to blame here, it’s you!” He retaliated, making you widen your eyes.

“I’m sorry, what?!!! You came crashing into me like a fucking truck and I’m the one to blame?!” You practically yelled, you just couldn’t believe this boy. “As if! You turned so fast that it gave me no other option!” He scoffed, making you even angrier.

“Okay, it’s Christmas and I don't want to stress myself right now so can you please help me find my keys so I can go?!” Taking a deep breath, you asked your not so friendly neighbor. “To finally get you out of here? With pleasure!” He mocked and you had to restrain yourself from slapping him.

You two looked everywhere and when you were starting to lose hope, your neighbor, whose name you recalled being Tom said, “I found them but you’re not gonna like it where it is!” Rushing to his side you saw what he was talking about. He indeed found your keys but they were inside the floor drain, with metal bars locking it pretty safely.

“No, no, no! I need those keys!” You whined, getting on your knees to try and get them out of there but it was a failed attempt. “Can you help me, please?!” You yelled, outraged Tom wasn’t doing anything. “What do you want me to do? There’s no way we’re getting them out of there.” He exclaimed. “I don’t know, get a stick or something. I’m gonna try to fish them out.”

After a couple of minutes trying to look for something, Tom came back with a toilet plunger. “Seriously?!” You asked, to which he rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not?” He questioned, crossing his arms, making them look even bigger than they already are, which it’s completely not to the point here.

Your attempt to rescue your keys was not successful, since all you ended up doing was pushing them further into the drain until you couldn’t see them anymore. “Fuck! No, no, no!” You cried, desperately trying to take them out. “Just accept it, they’re gone!” Tom stated.

“How am I supposed to get to my sister’s house now? And my house keys were there too!” You groaned, which made him laugh. “Stop laughing! That’s not funny!” You finally gave up and got out of the ground, standing beside him. “I’m sorry but it is kinda funny!” He continued to laugh and you couldn’t help but slapped his arm. “It’s all your fault!” You scolded.

“Not this again, it was your fault too!” Tom retorted, making you even angrier. “Fuck! What am I supposed to do now? I have to get to my sister’s.” You paced around the small room, feeling your anxiety starting to build up in your chest. “Okay, I’ll call an Uber, stay at her place tonight, and tomorrow I can call someone to take care of this, right?” You asked, mostly to yourself.

“I guess…?” Tom answered, to which you rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you!” With long strides and without saying another word, you made your way out of the laundry room. “You’re not going to thank me for my help?” Tom smirked, making you stop. “Of course, how could I forget to thank the person who caused all of this in the first place?” You mocked. “Oh, c’mon!” Tom insisted. “Goodbye, thanks for nothing!” You jeered, completely dismissing him.

Once you were out of the room, you thought your problems were gone but once you got to open the door, it didn’t move. You tried again, and again and again and again. Nothing. Snorting, you tried one last time before giving up and kicking the metal thing with your boot covered feet.

“Yeah, about that…” You jumped at the sudden sound of Tom’s voice. “Fuck! What do you want now?” You questioned, losing your patience. “It seems like we’re snowed in, it’s all over the news, apparently there’s another snowstorm coming and the roads are all blocked.” He informed you while leaning on his door frame with his arms crossed.

“You’re kidding me, right?!” You exclaimed, feeling your heartbeat speed up. “Nope!” He shrugged, making you panic.”No, no, no! You’re playing with me, I don’t believe you!” You practically yelled. “Well, see it for yourself!” Tom offered, mentioning for you to come inside his house, where he had the tv on.

You hesitated, after all, you had never set foot in any of your neighbor's houses, but eventually accepted his offer and went into his house. And of course, just like he said, the snowstorm was all over the news with big headlines saying: “All the roads are blocked, for your safety, stay home!”

You groaned loudly, putting both of your hands on your head, and just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any worse, your phone started ringing again. “Fuck! She’s going to kill me!” You took a deep breath, before finally answering your sister’s call.

“Hey, Maya! No, I’m not! I’m stuck here, the door won’t open because of the snow! Yeah, I know! No, there’s no one working today, Maya! And the roads are too dangerous to drive. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make it to lunch tomorrow. I’m sorry, I love you! Bye!”

Ending the call, you realized you were still in Tom’s apartment, while he looked at you like you were some type of alien. “Just so you know, you ruined my sister’s first Christmas dinner at her new house.” You informed him, to which he scoffed, plopping himself on the sofa.

“For the last time, it was your fault!” He said, taking the remote control, looking for something to watch. You felt extremely uncomfortable so you made your way to the door, wanting to get out of this asshole’s house. “Well, it’s been a pleasure but I think I’m gonna head home now. Again, thank you for ruining my Christmas.” You grumbled, opening the door when you heard him clear his throat.

“What now?” You snapped, raising your voice. “You sure you’re not forgetting anything?” He inquired, leaving you confused, but all it took was a couple of seconds for you to realize something. Your house keys. They were gone. “Fuck! No, no, no! There’s no way I’m gonna find a locksmith on Christmas eve. What am I supposed to do?” You groaned, feeling frustrated.

“You could always… stay here?” Tom offered, making you laugh. “Funny! There’s no way I’m spending Christmas with you!” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Well then, good luck staying outside or with another one of our neighbors. Oh, right! There’s no one else here, it’s just us.” He smirked, making your blood boil.

Here goes your Christmas.

Sitting in complete silence in Tom's living room, with him watching a golf championship, while his house looked everything but Christmassy, you regret ever complaining about your sister’s Christmas party. “Do you want anything?” He asked from his side of the sofa. “No! Thanks!” You stated, crossing your arms.

“Oh, c’mon! We’re stuck here until God knows how long, don’t you think we should start to, at least, get to know each other? I’ll start, my name is Tom!” He said, to which you, once again, rolled your eyes. “Oh, I know your name!” You exclaimed, annoyed with his sudden enthusiasm.

“Look at that!” He smirked and you quickly realized how that must’ve sounded for him. “Yeah, the girls you bring home aren’t exactly discreet, and believe me when I say that these walls are very thin.” You declared, watching his smirk only grow in size. “What can I say? I know how to pleasure women.” Tom bragged, making you want to throw up. “Please, I don’t wanna hear it!”

“I was joking! What about you though, I still don’t know your name and we’ve been neighbors for what? Two years now?” He asked, completely forgetting the tv, now focusing solely on you. “I don’t know, something like that. And my name’s y/n!” You said. “Cute! And what do you do?” He questioned.

“I’m a personal chef!” You acknowledge, Tom instantly raising his eyebrows. “Fancy…” He teased, making you chuckle. “There’s nothing fancy about being in front of a stove twelve hours a day, serving people who sometimes don’t even know what a reduction is.” You added and Tom raised his eyebrows even higher. “You also have no idea what a reduction is, right?” He shook his head, to which you scoffed. “What about you?”

“I work as a personal trainer!” He exclaimed, clearly excited with his position. “That explains a lot!” You whispered to yourself, thinking about the size of his arms, shoulder, back… “What?!” Tom smirked, having listened to your words. “Nothing! I didn’t say anything!” You stated, to which he laughed.

After a couple of minutes of complete silence, Tom cleared his throat, before asking, “So… bringing no one to your sister’s Christmas dinner?” You rolled your eyes. “Don’t even tell me about it, she’s been bothering me about it since her wedding.” You blurted, suddenly realizing your mistake. “And I don’t know why I just told you this because you’re practically a stranger and this was very personal information.” You commented, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“It’s alright, don’t worry!” Tom assured, making you smile. “Well, it seems like I’m doing all the questions here, do you wanna ask something?” You didn’t even think about it for too long. “Why’s your house not decorated? I noted that your door is the only one without a garland.” You asked, dying to know the answer since you stepped foot in his house.

“Oh, it’s just… I live alone and my family is not here so, I don’t know, it doesn’t bother me.” He shrugged and you felt your heart sink hearing him said that. “Not even a tree? I mean, c’mon… everyone loves a Christmas tree!” You stated, to which he chuckled. “I actually have one, I just haven’t put it up,” Tom mumbled.

“What?! Can we do it?” You exclaimed. “Do it, like… right now?” He questioned, confused with your sudden burst of energy. “Yeah, if I’m going to spend Christmas here, I want to at least feel festive.” You stated, getting excited. “I mean, yeah, sure! Go for it!” Tom nodded, getting off the couch to pick up the tree.

When he came back with a giant box, you got up to help. “Can I take my coat and boots off? They’re very uncomfortable!” You asked and Tom nodded. Once you had everything off, you guys started to adjust the tree branches one by one, until it was perfect to start decorating.

With a box of ornaments by your side, you started arranging them on the tree, while Tom disappeared in the kitchen, making you think he just didn’t want to help. But, once he came out of the room carrying two mugs of what you assumed was hot chocolate, you couldn’t help but smile.

“For me?” You teased, to which he chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, it looks like we’re going to be here for a while so I thought, we better have something to drink.” He resonated, watching you take a sip of the hot liquid. “It’s perfect, thanks, Tom!” You smiled and he reciprocated.

“You wanna watch something?” Tom asked after a couple of minutes of silence. “Well, since now we’re all in, a Christmas movie would be great!” You said. “Why was I sure you’ll say that?” He grunted, making you smile.

With Home Alone on the tv and mugs of hot chocolate in hands, you and Tom kept decorating the tree and it didn’t take much for it to start to look festive. Since the tree had the lights already in, all it took was Tom plugging the power on for it to lit up, showing all the ornaments you and him had put and making the house feel instantly more festive.

“It looks beautiful!” You beamed, while from the corner of your eye, you saw Tom looking at you. “Stop!” You protested, hearing him chuckle. “What?” He asked, feigning ignorance. “I can see you looking at me and not the tree.” You crossed your arms, finally taking a look at him. “Well, everyone looks at what they find the most beautiful, isn't that right?” He smirked and you swore you felt little butterflies on your stomach.

“You’re such a flirt!” You scoffed, deciding it was best to play it off rather than acknowledging what he said. “I told you I know how to pleasure women.” He blinked, to which you groaned, mimicking wanting to throw up.

“So… what now?” Tom asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “I don’t know, I’m kinda hungry though. What were you going to have for dinner?” You asked, and he instantly widened his eyes. “I… didn’t really think about that. I was probably going to order something.” He shrugged, making you roll your eyes.

“Well, that’s not possible anymore, so what do you have in mind?” You questioned, leaning beside him. “I mean… you’re the chef here…” Tom snickered, to which you scoffed. “You’re seriously going to make me work on Christmas?” He pouted and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Fine! What do you have in this house?” You sighed, making your way to the kitchen. “I think I have chicken, some potatoes, frozen peas, eggs, milk, and a couple of oranges,” Tom informed you while looking in the fridge. “Let me think… I can make mashed potatoes, sautéed peas, and roasted chicken with… orange sauce. What do you think?” You said, matter of factly.

“I think it’s way more than I could do in my entire life.” He exclaimed, making you laugh. “So… care to help?” You asked and he nodded, making his way to your side. “What can I do?”

You instructed Tom to peel, dice, and boil the potatoes, while you seasoned the chicken and put it in the oven. You two kept working side by side in the kitchen and the more time you spent together, the more you got comfortable around each other.

Tom put on some Christmas music, per your request, and even took your hand, making you dance to one of Mariah Carey’s songs until the smell of something burning hit your nostrils. Once everything was ready, you set the table, and you two finally seated down to eat the improvised Christmas dinner.

“So… what do you think?” Anxious, you asked Tom as soon as he put the fork in his mouth. “Don’t tell my mom I said that but this is the best meal I’ve ever had. Holy shit!” He exclaimed, making you smile. “C’mon, you’re exaggerating!” You tried to reason but he wasn’t having it. “I’m not! This is so good!”

“Well, thank you! I appreciated it! Cheers!” You raise your glass, which was currently filled with the wine Tom found in one of the cabinets. “Cheers!” He repeated, raising his glass.

Tom got a FaceTime call from his family In the middle of your dinner and after asking if he could take it, he answered the call. “Hi, baby! Merry Christmas!” You could hear a feminine voice saying. “Hi, mom, Merry Christmas!” Tom responded with a smile on his face.

“We’re just about to eat, what are you doing?” The same voice asked, to which he answered, “Oh, I’m eating… takeout.” Tom said, making you feign being offended by his words. “Oh honey, I wish you were here with us! We all miss you so much! Promise you’ll try to come next year, please?”

“Yes, mom! I promise!” Tom said, passing his fingers through his brown curly hair. “Okay, we’re gonna leave you now. We love you so much, Thomas! Merry Christmas!” The woman on the other side of the call said, making him blush. “I love you guys too! Merry Christmas, everyone! Bye!” Tom gave his phone a little wave, before ending the call.

“Sorry, she can be a little… persistent!” He apologized, to which you shrugged. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” You assured him, taking a sip of wine. “But why didn’t you tell them about me?” You added, making him smirk.

“Trust me, if I told them I had a girl with me, they’d expect you to go home with me for the next Christmas,” Tom explained. “Is this an invitation?” You smirked, raising your eyebrows. “Only if you want to.” He winked, to which you rolled your eyes.

“You guys are not from here, right?” You asked. “What? The accent gave it away?” Tom inquired, making his british accent even stronger. “A little bit!” You answered and you both laughed. “We’re from England, I moved here about two years ago.” He told you. “Why? If you don’t mind me asking.” You said. “I had a pretty rough breakup back then and I don’t know, just wanted a new start.” He explained, seemingly saddened.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized but Tom was quick to dismiss. “It’s alright! What about you? Is your family from here?” He asked, to which you nodded. “Yeah, they’re all from here.” You answered, taking another sip.

After a couple of hours, you and Tom were finally finished with dinner and cleaning the kitchen. Now, you were both seated on the sofa, watching yet another Christmas movie. You had no idea how, but as time passed, you and Tom got closer and closer, until you were both cuddled up in the middle of the sofa, with both of your legs covered by a blanket.

You were close, your faces were almost touching and when you were about to close your eyes, Tom whispered, “Look up!” And you did, finding a mistletoe hanging loosely on top of you. “When did you do that?” You asked, failing to contain a smile. “I mean, since you’re all about Christmas traditions, I thought it was only fitting.” He smirked and you finally closed the gap between you two.

“You know, my Christmas wasn’t that bad after all.” You joked, to which he laughed, “Mine either!” He agreed, kissing you again. “Merry Christmas!” You smiled. “Merry Christmas!” Tom exclaimed, before going right back to your lips, where he stayed for the rest of the night.

tagging some of my mutuals ✨ @stuckonspidey @definitely-not-black-cat @missnxthingg @bi-writes @screamholland @peeterparkr @duskholland @wazzupmrstark @tomhollandthing @lauras-collection @tommybaholland @mrs-hollandstan @allyz @hazinhoodies @hollandcreep @worldoftom @whatevsholland @geminiparkers

[myonechicagoworld]

CHICAGO FIRE – LEADERS LEAD (S01E22)

Kelly Severide: A promotion, huh?

Tara Little: You need to stay away.

Kelly Severide: You get a promotion, and meanwhile, I could go to

                           jail?

Tara Little: Get away.

Kelly Severide: They’re talking about filing criminal charges. Why

                           the hell are you doing this? I didn’t do a damn

                           thing to you.

Tara Little: I said to stay away.

Man 1 (Shopper): Are you okay, ma’am?

Kelly Severide: She’s fine.

Man 1 (Shopper): Ma’am?

Kelly Severide: We both know nothing happened that night.

Man 1 (Shopper): Hey.

Kelly Severide: Tara!

                                        [car door shuts]

                                              cutscene

Matt Casey: I have a request.

Hallie Thomas: Yeah? What’s that?

Matt Casey: [groans]

Hallie Thomas: Jeez.

                                            [chuckling]

Matt Casey: We don’t move from this spot for the entire day.

                                        [kissing sound]

Hallie Thomas: And you skip your shift?

Matt Casey: Hmm? I’ll just have truck pick me up here if we get any

                     calls.

Hallie Thomas: Tsk. I don’t think these boxers are going to stand up

                           against a fire.

Matt Casey: I’ll just call out orders from this spot. “Cruz, grab a 2 ½.

                     Mouch put down the sandwich.”

                                         [kissing sound]

Hallie Thomas: At 24 hours and 1 minute, I wanna be right back

                          here.

Matt Casey: Deal.

                                            cutscene

                                        [car door shuts]

                                         [kissing sound]

Matt Casey: See you later.

Peter Mills: I’m happy for ‘em.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, me too.

Peter Mills: Are you?

Gabby Dawson: Without a doubt, yes.

                                [Mills & Dawson chuckles]

Peter Mills: Good.

                    So, um, this might be a weird time but um… I was just

                    thinking this whole two rent thing, it’s… it’s crazy.

Gabby Dawson: The two rent thing?

Peter Mills: I mean, you know, you’re basically living with me

                    already, and we don’t call each other to say, “Hey, I

                    mean are you home yet?” So… how about I give you

                    a key, we make it official, you move in? I realise…

                    that was the complete opposite of being romantic.

                    Um…

Gabby Dawson: No, no.

Peter Mills: No, look, I know I’m really, really bad at this. I-I keep

                    beating around the bush all the time. Look, I love you.

Gabby Dawson: Uh…

Peter Mills: I think we should live together.

Gabby Dawson: I’m…

Peter Mills: Oh, God. God, that was awful. That was really awful.

Gabby Dawson: [chuckles] Yeah, it was.

Peter Mills: Look, take the time you need to think about it. Let me

                    know. No pressure.

Joe Cruz: [groans]

Christopher Herrmann: All right, hey! Peter Mills, hurry up! ‘Cause I

                                         gotta take your money after I finish with

                                         Cruz here.

Peter Mills: [sighs] Okay, duty calls.

Leslie Shay: What up, sunshine?

                                     [station alert and buzzes]

                                         [ambo door closes]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Building collapse, 800

                  South Carpenter Street.

                                             [sirens wail]

                                           [horn honking]

Leslie Shay: He loves you. That’s great news, right?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know.

Leslie Shay: Out with it. What?

Gabby Dawson: I… [groans]

                            I still haven’t come clean with him about Boden

                            and his mom. And it just… it feels like this dark

                            cloud hanging over us.

Leslie Shay: Over you, you mean?

Gabby Dawson: Well, to be fair, yes.

Leslie Shay: Okay. So repeat after me. “It’s not my business.”

Gabby Dawson: Shay.

Leslie Shay: I’m serious. That is between Boden and what’s her

                     name.

Gabby Dawson: I just feel guilty is all I’m saying. A lie of omission is

                            still a lie. And if we’re gonna be getting this

                            serious…

                                     [sirens continue to wail]

                                     [indistinct radio chatter]

                                    [background commotion]

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): Chief. All the schools are on spring

                                                break, big party. We were here on

                                                D&D when we saw the whole thing

                                                collapse, one porch on top of

                                                another.

Police Officer (Nicole Sermons): There’s at least a dozen trapped.

                                                       Just tell us where you need us,

                                                       Chief.

Chief Boden: Get the surface victims first. Set up cribbing columns.

                        K-12, sawzalls to cut away the timber.

                        (into radio) Battalion 25 to Dispatch, we have a three-

                        story deck collapse, multiple victims. Give me an

                        EMS Plan 2 and two extra truck companies for

                        manpower.

Dispatch: (over radio) Copy that.

Woman 1: No! No, God! Oh, God.

Chief Boden: Ma’am?

Woman 1: Oh!

Chief Boden: Ma’am, stay back. Come back, come on.

Woman 1: No, let me go. Let me go!

Chief Boden: Okay. Look at me.

Woman 1: No.

Chief Boden: Look at me, look at me. We are gonna do everything

                       in our power to help your friend.

Woman 1: Paul. His name is Paul. He’s my fiancé. Tell me he’s not

                  dead. We were just talking [cries]

Chief Boden: Okay, Katie.

Woman 1 (Katie): [sobbing] No.

Chief Boden: I need you to listen to me.

Woman 1 (Katie): [sobbing] No. Please don’t say it.

Chief Boden: Katie, he’s gone. He’s gone, he’s gone.

Woman 1 (Katie): [sobs] No!

Chief Boden: Katie, you gotta stop. You gotta stop.

Woman 1 (Katie): [sobs] No!

Chief Boden: Okay?

Woman 1 (Katie): [grunts]

                                       [slapping sound]

Woman 1 (Katie): You did nothing! [cries]

                              You did nothing! [cries]

                               [sobs]

                                        - title screen -

                             [victims yelling in background]

Victim 1: [sobs]

Joe Cruz: I got one!

Victim 1: [sobs] I’m gonna die.

Gabby Dawson: You are not gonna die, ma’am.

                            You are not gonna die.

Firefighters: Watch that.

                      Yeah, I’ll get it.

                      You got it?

Gabby Dawson: She’s got an impalement in her chest and lots of

                            blood. We gotta get her free enough to transport

                            her and this piece of wood.

Victim 1: I can’t breathe.

Peter Mills: Take slow breaths, okay? Slow breaths. Slow breaths,

      ��              all right?

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): Hey. We got one.

Leslie Shay: We need some more hands!

Victim 1: I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna…

Gabby Dawson: Hey, what’s your name?

Victim 1: Valerie.

Gabby Dawson: Valerie, you’re gonna make it. You have to believe

                            that, okay?

Victim 1 (Valerie): Don’t lie to me. You’re not telling me how bad it

                              is.

Peter Mills: Okay.

Kelly Severide: Okay, Valerie. Keep still.

Victim: [whimpers]

                                       [saw whirring]

Victim 1 (Valerie): Aah!

Kelly Severide: All right, clear.

Gabby Dawson: All right, let’s get her on the backboard! Now!

                                         [siren wails]

                              [monitor beeping slowly]

Gabby Dawson: Heart rate’s dropping.

                                  [monitor flat-lines]

Gabby Dawson: She’s crashing, Shay!

Leslie Shay: (into radio) 61 to Lakeshore, we’re coming in hot with a

                     trauma victim. 20 years old, impalement injury,

                     respirations are dropping.

Dispatcher: (over radio) Copy that.

Gabby Dawson: [heavy breathing] Come on.

Hallie Thomas: I need a crash cart. Call for respiratory and blood.

                          Let’s hang units of o-negative. Let’s get x-ray and

                          CT standing by.

                          Push an epi now.

                                      [pumping ambu bag]

Hallie Thomas: Stop compressions.

                          We got a pulse! Let’s get her into trauma! Let’s go!

                          Nice work, Dawson.

Leslie Shay: Wow.

                                               cutscene

                                            [truck beeps]

Mouch: Could’ve been a hell of a lot worse. Two DOAs and I bet we

              saved a dozen or more.

Joe Cruz: That right there is what it’s all about.

                                        [Japanese on TV]

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

                                        Hey.

                                              [clapping]

Otis Zvonecek: What are you doing?

Christopher Herrmann: I’m supposed to speak to Luke’s class

                                        about fire safety. So I’m gonna rig one side

                                        of the house with flammable materials and

                                        then the other side with flame-resistant

                                        type stuff. Then, I’m going to demonstrate

                                        the difference. Kids are gonna love it.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh. What could possibly go wrong?

Joe Cruz: Guys, guys, I have an announcement to make. Please, I

                  need everybody’s attention. Today, I came across

                  something so upsetting that it literally shook me to the

                  core. I was in the laundry room. I was pulling my stuff

                  from the washer to the dryer, and I discovered these left

                  inside.

Everyone: Oh!

                  [chuckling]

Christopher Herrmann: Don’t look at me. I’ve been a fruit of the

                                         loom man since 1975.

                                            [laughter]

Mouch: 20 bucks to whoever finds the owner.

Joe Cruz: Lieutenant!

                                   [roaring with laughter]

Joe Cruz: No!

Matt Casey: First, they ain’t mine. Second, these don’t come down

                      until the owner steps forward. I can’t unsee this.

                      Someone has to pay.

Otis Zvonecek: He who smelt it hath dealt it.

Joe Cruz: You’re nuts. Those look like something that a Russian

                  would wear on his wedding night.

Otis Zvonecek: They’re not mine, but I will put my money on Capp.

Mouch: Keep deflecting, Otis. That’s a good strategy.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh! Whoa! Whoa!

                               [dog whimpering and barking]

                                    [extinguisher spraying]

Christopher Herrmann: Maybe I’ll just let the kids wear the oxygen

                                         mask.

                                    [extinguisher blows]

Woman 2: Excuse me?

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Woman 2: Hi. Uh, I was wondering, um, do you guys allow kids in

                  here to take a picture on a truck or something?

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah, of course we do. Where are the kids?

Woman 2: Oh. Um, I’m just checking. Some other time.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay.

                                               cutscene

Chief Boden: You confronted her in a parking lot.

                                          [water running]

Kelly Severide: I’m facing criminal charges. Damn right I confronted

                          her.

Chief Boden: You are not helping yourself.

Kelly Severide: Chief, I did nothing wrong.

Chief Boden: You did today. You strengthened her case.

Kelly Severide: Whose side are you on?

Chief Boden: I am trying to help you here.

Kelly Severide: Well, it doesn’t feel like it. I’ll handle this myself,

                           thanks.

Chief Boden: No, no. You contact her again, you go within 100 feet

                       of her, you will force me to take away your Squad.

Kelly Severide: That’s your way of helping?

Chief Boden: Yes.

Otis Zvonecek: Hey, Chief. Taking bets on the red skivvies from the

                           laundry. You interested?

                                              cutscene

Gabby Dawson: My dad used to tell me, “You have a choice. You

                            can either choose to be in a bad mood…”

Leslie Shay: Right.

Gabby Dawson: “Or you can decide to be happy.”

Leslie Shay: Where is this going?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, at first, I… I wasn’t sure about Mills, right? Was

                            he too young? Was I just rebounding? Did we

                            move too fast? But then I realised, damn it, he’s

                            good to me. Be happy.

Leslie Shay: So you love him ‘cause you choose to?

Gabby Dawson: [laughs] No. Because I do.

Leslie Shay: Aw. My little Dawson’s all grown up.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, shut up.

Leslie Shay: What about the mom thing?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know.

                                    [ambo door shuts]

                                [station alert & buzzes]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61. Man down from unknown causes.

Gabby Dawson: Looks like it’s one of those days.

                                        [siren wails]

                         [thunder rumbling, siren blares]

Gabby Dawson: Hey there, bud. How you doing?

                            Hey.

                            His pulse is fast. Let’s sit him down and check his

                            heart rate. Come on.

                            All right.

Leslie Shay: Oh.

Gabby Dawson: Here we go, bud. All right.

Leslie Shay: Okay… Virgilio Ventura. Welcome back, pal.

Victim 2 (Virgilio): [groans]

Gabby Dawson: You had a couple cocktails today?

Leslie Shay: No, I think something a little heavier. What’s your

                      flavour, Virg? A little H?

                      Huh. He’s clean. What’s up with you, buddy?

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

                                    [monitor beeping rapidly]

Gabby Dawson: His heart rate’s racing at 150. He’s in SVT. We’re

                            gonna lose him if we don’t stabilise his rhythm.

                                             [shirt ripping]

Gabby Dawson: Cardioverting at 100. Stand back.

Leslie Shay: Dawson, wait! His ears. Look at his ears. Look.

Gabby Dawson: Shay, he’s got an electrical burn.

                                           [clothes ripping]

Leslie Shay: His shoe’s missing. It’s a third degree burn. He’s got

                     an exit wound.

Gabby Dawson: He was hit by lightning. We can’t shock him. His

                            heart’s had too much trauma. 6 mils of adenosine.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, yeah!

                                   [monitor continues beeping]

Gabby Dawson: Hang in there. Hang in there.

Leslie Shay: Okay.

                      Ready when you are. On three. One, two, push.

                                          [monitor flatlines]

Victim 2 (Virgilio): [gasps]

Leslie Shay: Okay, it bought us some time. Let’s get him out of

                      here.

                                                cutscene

                                        [thunder in distance]

Christopher Herrmann: What is it?

Chief Boden: Ah, nothing. Rough shift.

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

                                            [car door shuts]

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, what are you doing for dinner tonight?

                                         I’m doing all the cooking now that Cindy’s

                                         in the home stretch. So it’s either gonna

                                         be pizza or steak. It’s your call.

Chief Boden: Well, I can never turn down a Herrmann steak.

Christopher Herrmann: All right. Great.

                                         Bring the beer, all right?

Chief Boden: I will.

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

Chief Boden: Thanks.

Peter Mills: Hey! Excuse me, Chief! Um, I was wondering, can I pick

                     up a couple shifts next week? Maybe pull 48?

                     These-These Squad classes are breaking the

                      bank, so… I just need the extra money.

Chief Boden: What did your Lieutenant say?

Peter Mills: Check with you.

Chief Boden: Well, we can make that happen.

Peter Mills: Yeah?

Chief Boden: I’ll talk to second watch.

Peter Mills: Thank you.

Chief Boden: Okay.

Kelly Severide: I’m not exactly one to sit on my hands, you know.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, well, you shouldn’t.

Kelly Severide: Yeah, well, that’s not what the CFD is advising.

                           I’m running out of options here, Shay.

Leslie Shay: I’m telling you, the more I think about it, the more I

                     think that she targeted you specifically. She knew

                     your background, and she took what, all of two

                     seconds to start flirting up a storm? Anyone do a

                     background check on her?

Kelly Severide: I’ve-I’ve been on my heels this whole time, no.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, exactly. It’s time to turn it around, go on the

                      offensive.

                                       [car door shuts]

                                        [engine starts]

                                            cutscene

Gabby Dawson: You thinking about jumping?

Peter Mills: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Peter Mills: You made it.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, bearing carbs.

Peter Mills: I see.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

                                         [kissing sound]

Gabby Dawson: What is it?

Peter Mills: You never answered my question. I know that I’m… I’m

                     moving too fast. I…

Gabby Dawson: Peter. I love you too.

Peter Mills: Really?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, really.

Peter Mills: [chuckles]

Gabby Dawson: I just got one question for you. Am I gonna have to

                            borrow Antonio’s pickup, or are you gonna help me

                            move?

Peter Mills: I will help you move.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

                                        [kissing sounds]

                                             cutscene

Antonio Dawson: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey, man. Thanks for meeting me.

Antonio Dawson: You sure you know what you’re doing?

Kelly Severide: Tsk. Like I told you on the phone, I’m-I’m feeling out

                           of options.

Antonio Dawson: Well, it might be worse than you think. I called the

                               Assistant State’s Attorney. That Rutkowski’s

                               testimony landed, and they won’t be accused of

                               playing favourites for a firefighter. They’re gonna

                               approve criminal charges. I ran a background

                               check on Tara Little. She worked at an ad

                               agency. There were criminal charges filed and

                               then withdrawn.

Kelly Severide: Against her?

Antonio Dawson: No. A fellow employee there named Clay White.

                              There’s an address in there.

Kelly Severide: I appreciate it.

Antonio Dawson: If I was smart, I’d tell you to let a lawyer handle it

                              from here.

                                             cutscene

                                          [bell chimes]

Man 2: May I help you?

Kelly Severide: Are you Clay White?

Man 2 (Clay White): I am.

Kelly Severide: I was told to talk to you about Tara Little.

Man 2 (Clay White): A-Anything you wanna say about her, you can

                                 tell my lawyer. Now get the hell out.

Kelly Severide: It’s… it’s not like that. I-I need your help.

Man 2 (Clay White): I was a mid-level executive at Ramsey-Cole, a

                                  high-end ad agency on Michigan Avenue. Tara

                                  was one of 20 graphic designers we had on

                                  staff. Tara and I had hit it off. Was it

                                  inappropriate? She was game, and I wasn’t

                                  married. It was all consensual. We had some

                                  fun but went in different directions, ended

                                  totally civil. Then we lost an account. The

                                  rumour mill started flying about downsizing.

                                  Next thing I know, Tara makes a claim, says I

                                  took advantage of her, it was a hostile working

                                  environment. I was fired and ostracised by the

                                  whole industry.

                                  I’ve got an MBA [chuckles]

                                  And this is what I do to pay my mortgage. She

                                  got a nice settlement from what I heard.

Kelly Severide: Sounds familiar. Would you consider coming

                          forward?

Man 2 (Clay White): I signed a non-disclosure agreement, so she’d

                                  drop the criminal charges.

Kelly Severide: You didn’t answer my question.

                                              cutscene

Hallie Thomas: Let me take a look at him

Patient (Miranda): [winces]

Hallie Thomas: Wow. What happened?

Patient (Miranda): [sighs] I was texting on my phone, and I walked

                                into a damn tree.

Hallie Thomas: Oh, that’s a new one. All right, I’m gonna walk you

                          back to a bed, where we can get that thumb set.

                          You can walk with me?

Patient (Miranda): Yeah.

Hallie Thomas: No texting while you do it.

                                          [chuckling]

Hallie Thomas: One sec.

                           Thanks.

                                       [door buzzes]

Hallie Thomas: Hey.

Matt Casey: You used to always drop by the firehouse with lunch,

                      so… I’m returning the favour, if you have time.

Doctor (Margaret): Got you covered.

Hallie Thomas: Come on.

                                       [door buzzes]

Hallie Thomas: I’ll show you around.

Matt Casey: Okay.

Hallie Thomas: We have five beds. But we can stuff eight in here if

                           we need to.

Matt Casey: All right.

Hallie Thomas: Um, a couple of visitation rooms, a couple of

                          offices. There’s where we keep the meds. This is

                          our bathroom. One bathroom, mind you, for all of

                          us, including the patients.

Man 3: Hallie.

Hallie Thomas: Oh, Steven Goody. He started the clinic. This is

                           my… this is Matt.

Man 3 (Steven Goody): Hey. Nice to meet you.

                                        Listen, Hallie, do you think you could help

                                        us out on Sunday, maybe, uh, noon to

                                        5:00-ish? Dr. Arend can’t make it.

Hallie Thomas: Yeah, I think so. I just have to check my schedule

                           over at Lakeshore.

Man 3 (Steven Goody): Great. Just let me know, okay?

                                        Nice to meet you, Matt.

Matt Casey: You too.

Hallie Thomas: One sec.

                                          [door buzzes]

Hallie Thomas: Huh. That’s weird.

Woman 3 (Bridgette): What?

Hallie Thomas: Uh, well…

Woman 3 (Bridgette): Oh, yeah, I know about this. I’ll take care of it.

Hallie Thomas: Okay.

Matt Casey: Everything good?

Hallie Thomas: Yeah. I’m starving. Let’s go.

Matt Casey: You really like it here?

Hallie Thomas: Yes. When I was away, I remembered why I got into

                           medicine in the first place. I remembered a lot of

                           things I wanted to reclaim for myself when I

                           returned.

                                              [laughter]

                                              cutscene

                                    [overlapping chatter]

                              [video game in background]

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

Herrmann Kids: Look it, look, look, right there.

Christopher Herrmann: I won! Yes! Turn that thing up. Screw the

                                         neighbours [chuckles]

Chief Boden: Uh, uh, no, no. Doing the dishes is my specialty.

Cindy Herrmann: You’re sweet, Wallace.

Chief Boden: Anyway, ain’t you supposed to be in bed?

Cindy Herrmann: You think I’m going to trust Chris alone with those

                               monsters?

Herrmann & Boden: [laughs]

Chief Boden: Get outta here.

Boden & Cindy: [chuckles]

                                     [glass bottles clinking]

Christopher Herrmann: So?

Chief Boden: So?

                       Okay. I, uh… I think I’m losing the respect of an

                        important man in the house.

Christopher Herrmann: Severide?

Chief Boden: Between this Benny and this Tara thing… I think he

                       thinks I’m the bad guy here.

Christopher Herrmann: Eh. What’s that you always say? “Leaders

                                         lead from the front.”

Chief Boden: Yeah. Sounds like me.

Christopher Herrmann: Up front can be lonely, that’s for sure.

                                        But… it goes with the territory, don’t it?

Chief Boden: Yeah. Thanks.

                                       [bottles clink]

Chief Boden: Again.

                                           cutscene

Matt Casey: Otis. Ready to lay claim to your undies?

                                          [chuckling]

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah, you wish.

Mouch: Just come clean, Otis. No one will judge you. This is a safe

              room.

Otis Zvonecek: [sighs] You know what? No. I-I can’t stand to look

                           at these another shift.

All: Oh!

                                           [laughter]

Mouch: That’s it. Now I know they’re yours.

                             [station alert blares & buzzes]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Vehicle accident.

                                        [sirens wailing]

                                         [horn honking]

Woman 4 (Bystander): The Taurus there was just pulling out of the

                                       hotel parking lot, when, bam! The trailblazer

                                       hit it straight on.

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Kelly Severide: We’re on the trailblazer.

                           He’s DOA.

                                           [indistinct chatter]

Matt Casey: Ma’am, try not to move until we get you collared and

                      braced.

Victim 3 (Lady): I need the report to say we’re just co-workers, and

                           we were coming from a lunch when that jackass hit

                            us!

Matt Casey: We don’t report that kind of stuff, ma’am.

Victim 3 (Lady): I gotta get out of here.

Matt Casey: Ma’am, you need to remain still.

                      I need that collar!

Peter Mills: Here you go, Lieutenant.

Matt Casey: Thanks.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Struts, wedges, and cribbing. Stabilise that

                       car so you can get that woman out.

Kelly Severide: You heard him. Get that cribbing in place. Capp,

                           centre part!

                                        [glass shattering]

Kelly Severide: Get it piped down. How are we on the other side?

                                         [metal clanging]

Joe Cruz: Almost there.

Chief Boden: Good. Let’s cut that roof away.

                                        [machine whirring]

Kelly Severide: Watch for sparks.

                           Roof’s clear.

Christopher Herrmann: C-collar.

Leslie Shay: Copy that. Flying in.

Kelly Severide: All right, you ready?

Leslie Shay: Take her out as straight as possible.

Victim 3 (Lady): Where are you taking me?

Gabby Dawson: Lakeshore.

Victim 3 (Lady): Will you call my husband and tell him you found me

                           by myself?

Gabby Dawson: Ma’am, you’re gonna have to take that up with the

                            doctors at the hospital.

Victim 4 (Man): [groans]

Kelly Severide: Hey, I’m gonna need you to cover for me for an hour

                           when we get back to the station.

Harold Capp: You got it.

                                            cutscene

Tara Little: You’re supposed to stay away from me.

Kelly Severide: Am I?

Tara Little: [scoffs] You’re finished. You hear me? I am about to

                   scream so loud.

Man 2 (Clay White): Hi, Tara.

Tara Little: [scoffs] He can’t. He signed…

Kelly Severide: A non-disclosure and confidentiality agreement?

                          What else can you take away from him? I checked

                          with the union attorney, and it turns out in cases of

                          fraud, the courts don’t care much about those

                          agreements.

Tara Little: Fraud?

Kelly Severide: Maybe we take you to criminal court, get testimony

                          on the record or you retract your lie, quit this job.

                          We never see each other again.

                                            cutscene

Woman 2: Excuse me.

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Woman 2: Hi. Um, I was the one that asked about the pictures.

Christopher Herrmann: Aw, yeah, of course. How are you?

Woman 2: Hi.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey.

Woman 2: Uh, this is my husband, Roger…

Christopher Herrmann: Hey Roger.

Man 4 (Roger): Hey.

Woman 2: And our daughter, Charlotte.

Christopher Herrmann: Aw.

Woman 2: Would you mind?

Christopher Herrmann: Naw, no. No problem at all. Come on

                                        Charlotte. I’ll show you around here.

                                        Come on.

                                        How old is she now?

Joe Cruz: One, two, three.

Woman 2: Uh, 12.

Christopher Herrmann: That’s incredible.

Joe Cruz: Tighter, tighter.

Woman 2: Yeah, plus today is her birthday. So here we are. She’s

                   really something.

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Joe Cruz: Hey, one more. Let’s do one more. Everybody smile…

                  hold it.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, do you have a few minutes. Because I

                                        think we can do something a little better

                                        than a couple of photos.

Joe Cruz: Great.

Woman 2: Sure.

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah? All right.

Woman 2: [laughs]

Joe Cruz: Get in there.

Woman 2: Okay.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, Chief. We got a kid’s birthday party in

                                        the common room, and they’d like to see

                                         you.

Chief Boden: You tell little Danny or Billy or Leo happy birthday for

                        me, but I have a mountain of paperwork that I need

                        to get through.

Christopher Herrmann: This one’s important, Chief.

Chief Boden: Okay, where are the other kids?

Christopher Herrmann: Well, it’s not that kind of party, Chief.

Joe Cruz: Later I’ll grab all the guys from the truck, take a picture

                 together.

Chief Boden: Hey.

Girl (Charlotte): Are you Chief Boden?

Chief Boden: Yes I am. And are you the birthday girl?

Girl (Charlotte): Yeah.

Chief Boden: And um, what’s your name?

Girl (Charlotte): Charlotte.

Chief Boden: Charlotte. And how old are you, Charlotte?

Girl (Charlotte): 12.

Chief Boden: Well, Charlotte, happy birthday [chuckles]

Girl (Charlotte): Do you recognise me?

Chief Boden: Um, I’m… I’m sorry. No, I don’t.

Girl (Charlotte): 12 years ago today, I was left on the doorstep of

                            this firehouse. He said you were the fireman

                            who found me.

Chief Boden: I always wondered what happened to you.

Girl (Charlotte): I was adopted. I live in Indiana now.

Chief Boden: Look at you. Don’t you look great?

Woman 2: She’s always wanted the truth.

Girl (Charlotte): When my mom and dad told me where I came

                           from, I had to come here.

Chief Boden: And I am very glad that you did.

Girl (Charlotte): Thank you.

Chief Boden: No, thank you, Charlotte. ‘Cause you have made this

                       Chief… a very happy man today.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay. Here we go.

All: Happy birthday to you; Happy birthday to you; Happy birthday

       dear Charlotte; Happy birthday to you.

                                [applause and cheering]

                                            cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: You’ll still pay a $20 bounty on these briefs?

Mouch: If you’re ready to admit they’re yours.

Otis Zvonecek: You wanna know something curious? I looked at

                           the tag here. Interesting that they’re a Japanese

                           brand of underwear not sold in the United States.

                           Japanese. The same language you’ve been

                           studying.

Mouch: That… that doesn’t…

Otis Zvonecek: Japanese. The same proverbs you’ve been

                           spouting for weeks, one of which you used to

                           fleece me out of 20 bones.

Mouch: Fine.

Otis Zvonecek: [chuckles] Thank you… very much.

Mouch: [sighs] Go ahead. Go, tell everyone. Get a good laugh.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh, I will. I will.

Mouch: I’ve been dating a Japanese woman. I’m doing everything I

              can to impress her, because quite frankly, I’m not getting

              any younger. Now, she mailed me the underwear as a gift.

              So that’s a good sign, right?

Otis Zvonecek: Wait, wait. Mailed? From where?

Mouch: Well, we’ve been uh… our relationship is, uh… we haven’t

              actually met yet.

Otis Zvonecek: An Internet girlfriend.

Mouch: I’ve talked to her on the phone…

Otis Zvonecek: Hmm.

Mouch: A lot.

Otis Zvonecek: Right, right. How much have you spent on her?

Mouch: Eh, not much.

             Yeah a little.

Otis Zvonecek: [chuckles]

Mouch: Please don’t bust my balls on this, Otis.

              Otis!

                                               cutscene

Chief Boden: Hey, just the man I was coming to find. I don’t know if

                       you’ve heard, but miraculously, Tara Little has quit the

                       fire service and recanted her testimony against you.

Kelly Severide: Did she?

Chief Boden: What’d you do?

Kelly Severide: Well, I-I…

Chief Boden: You know what? I’d rather not know.

Kelly Severide: It was on the up-and-up, Chief. I promise you that.

Chief Boden: Kelly. Throughout all this, never doubted you. I want

                        you to know that. Just had to be a Chief.

Kelly Severide: I know. I appreciate it.

                                             cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Can we talk?

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Uh, not here.

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Apparently, it happened during a time when your

                            mom and dad were already separated. Boden 

                            and Ingrid got together, but Boden backed away

                            as soon as he found out that your dad and mom

                            might reconcile. And I didn’t know what to do

                            with the information. And I didn’t think that it

                            was my place to tell you, so I just sat on it. But

                             the more I thought about how close you were 

                             getting, the more I thought that maybe I should-I

                             should just tell you, so…

Peter Mills: Boden and my mom? [sighs]

                    And you knew about this how long?

Gabby Dawson: Since the big banquet.

Peter Mills: [sighs]

Gabby Dawson: Look, I know I should’ve told you sooner. I know it.

                            But you have to see it from my point of view.

Peter Mills: Oh, do I? Is that what I need to do, Dawson?

Gabby Dawson: Peter, I’m sorry. If I’d have known you’d have this

                            kind of reaction, I would’ve just come right home

                            and told you then.

Peter Mills: But you didn’t, okay?

Gabby Dawson: I didn’t know.

Peter Mills: Yeah. I need to be alone.

                                [station alarm buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Engine 51, Ambulance 61. Building

                   fire, 3331 West Halsted Road.

Matt Casey: That’s Hallie’s clinic.

                                        [horn honking]

                                        [sirens wailing]

Matt Casey: Oh God.

                                   [indistinct radio chatter]

Kelly Severide: Let’s go! Why aren’t those hydrants open yet?

Christopher Herrmann: We’re gonna need this vented. Get that

                                         aerial to the roof.

Police Officer (Nicole Sermons): My partner, Barnes, he went in

                                                       further. He found a woman, but he

                                                       couldn’t get to her.

Matt Casey: Hey. Back door is there.

Kelly Severide: Fan out! Look for victims. I’ll stick with Casey.

                                           [coughing]

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): [coughs] I couldn’t reach her!

Matt Casey: Where?

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): [coughs]

Matt Casey: Get him out of here!

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): [coughing]

                                     [siren wailing]

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): [groans]

                               [ambulance beeping]

                                    [car door shuts]

Kelly Severide: Fire department! Call out!

Matt Casey: Hallie!

                               [metal cage shaking]

Matt Casey: Hallie!

Chief Boden: (into radio) This is an oven. Everyone out!

                                  [metal clanging]

Mouch: Hallie’s in there.

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): Who?

Leslie Shay: His girl.

Matt Casey: Hallie!

Chief Boden: (into radio) Casey, where are you?

Matt Casey: No! No! No!

                     [whimpers & groans]

                                  [wood creaking & splitting]

                                                [explosion]

Chief Boden: (into radio) Casey, where the hell are you?

                       (into radio) Casey. Casey!

                                       [explosion continues]

Chief Boden: (into radio) Talk to me. Where the hell are you?

Kelly Severide: We got her! We’re coming out!

Chief Boden: [sighs]

Gabby Dawson: Get oxygen on her and into the ambulance now.

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): We’ll lead the way.

Matt Casey: I’m coming.

                                        [ambo door shuts]

                                             [sirens wail]

Matt Casey: [heavy breathing] Breathe, Hallie. Breathe.

                      Damn it, baby. Breathe.

                      Come on! Breathe.

                      Breathe. Damn it, girl.

                      Breathe.

                                      [ambo door shuts]

                                        [sombre music]

Matt Casey: [sniffles]

                     [sobbing]

                     No!

                     No! [sobs & wails]

                                              - end -

Definitions:

D&D = Drunk and Disorderly

K-12 = Fire/Rescue saw. It can be used for forcible entry, ventilation, USAR (Urban Search and Rescue – technical rescue operation that involves the location, extrication, and initial medical stabilisation of victims trapped in an urban area, namely structural collapse due to natural disasters, mines and collapsed trenches), RIC (Rapid Intervention Crew - team of two or more firefighters dedicated solely to the search and rescue of other firefighters in distress), and vehicle extrication

Sawzall = Term often used to describe any brand of reciprocating saw. These saws cut in a back and forth motion, similar to a handsaw that’s just downed four espressos

EMS Plan 2 = 5 Ambulances, 1 Paramedic Field Chief, 1 Deputy District Chief, 1 Command Van, 1 Triage Van, Media Affairs Unit

SVT = Supraventricular tachycardia (SVT) is a condition where your heart suddenly beats much faster than normal

Cardioverting = An electrical cardioversion is a treatment which aims to get your abnormal heart rhythm (arrhythmia) back to a normal pattern. It’s done by sending controlled electric signals to your heart through electrodes placed on the chest

Adenosine = Used to bring your heart back into a normal rhythm

[scriptaed]

his side, her side | 11:11 A.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut;

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 3.1k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: alternatively: his side, her side pt. 10;

her side;

“So do you like him or not?” 

This must be the first time someone, besides yourself, has ever raised suspicions at your blossoming fondness for a particular man. The last time you had questioned your affections was at the pinnacle of a relation you’ve so desperately attempted to smother. You can still recall the pull of his magnetic force, his hands on your cheeks, and the way the touch of his lips are enough to envelop you with warmth, even whilst in the midst of a pool at midnight. Your feelings for him were confirmed then, it’s unequivocal; and despite burying such an epiphany after all these weeks, your heart still grows tender over a memory you wish had never existed in the first place.

“What?” you turn to give Yezi the most bewildered face you could muster just as you plop your hamper onto the floor. “Like who?” 

Your friend glares at you with her crossed arms and deadpans, “you know who I mean and if I need to say his name aloud for you to answer, you bet I will.” 

Knowing full well just how seriously Yezi takes her words, your eyes bulge at her bold proclamations before frantically scanning the laundry room of your apartment for possible witnesses. Just as you’re about to exhale in relief, your friend follows through with her promise a level or two higher than you would have liked. 

“Wait, Yezi—”

“—Jungkook! Your colleague, your ex partner! Jeon Jungkook!” she throws her arms up. “Do you like him or what?”

“Shh,” you almost jab a finger at her mouth and hiss, “are you trying to start rumors about me at work?” 

“Well, no, but it doesn’t matter if they’re not true, right?” she somehow manages to say with your fingers pressed against her squished lips. “Why have you been avoiding him lately anyways?”

“What do you mean I’ve been avoiding him?” The crease of your brows is the best look of disbelief you could gather. “I haven’t been avoiding him.”

Her chest heaves as she lets out a frustrated sigh, “oh, really?” 

It isn’t much of a surprise to you that Yezi could see right through you. Typically, after all the training you’ve undergone at pretending to get along with your coworkers, you’ve done an adequate job at masking your organic thoughts; but ever since you met him, Jeon Jungkook, you’ve caught yourself slipping up more than you would like. From genuine laughter to unapologetic cackles, from daring staring challenges to bashful peeks through the corners of your eyes, and from greeting him whenever you had the chance to going out of your way to avoid him at all costs, any fool could tell your affections for the man has changed with time. Whether the change is for the better or worse, Yezi couldn’t tell because not even you could explain it yourself. 

If Yezi knew you had attempted to cover your face as you crossed paths with Jungkook only for your pitiful efforts to be in vain when he calls your name out wide into the open because you were shy, she would have made fun of you. If she knew you had almost completely turned around while going up the stairs because you spotted him climbing down the stairs only for him to call out to you once again and for you to freeze because you noticed just how well his new ear piercing suited him, she would have rightfully suspected your growing infatuation; but if she were to discover you had meticulously planned out your paths at work in order to avoid the man of such admirations, she would have never understood your logic. 

The only conclusion you could surmise of your seemingly contradicting actions would have been a dreadful punishment to have to say aloud: you’ve never been the unconfident type before, but to put it simply, the boy is just too gorgeous for you to be unfazed...

...and luckily, you don’t have to explain yourself, because the second reasoning behind your complexity has arrived. 

“Hey Y/N, are you using that washer?”

She knows your name…? Jennie? Of all people?

“Oh, uh,” you snap out of your thoughts and nod, “yeah, I am. Sorry.”

“No, that’s fine,” she presses her lips into a tight, small smile, “I’ll come back later.” 

And with that, the girl gently shuts the door behind her and the silence left behind is almost as if she had never entered before. Turning to glance at each other, you and your friend are nearly at a loss for words over the sudden appearance of the very person you had been on the lookout for; but before you could switch the topic, Yezi beats you to it. 

“Since when did she know your name?” 

“I don’t know. Never talked to her before,” you blink blankly, barely able to mumble as you proceed to squat to floor level and insert a quarter into the washer, “I didn’t even know she lived in this complex.” 

“Neither did I,” Yezi leans against the machine as she warily observes your every expression before proceeding, “do you think the rumors about… him… and her are true?”

Shit—you think to yourself, even as you try to conceal the sudden restriction in your chest—who knew even the thought of them two together could make you feel like this.

“Jennie, just listen—” 

—the two of you turn heads to find Jungkook at the doorway; and while Yezi walks up to confront him, you quickly whip your head around and position your back on him in a desperate attempt to hide your presence… because out of all times and places, your crush just has to appear in your apartment complex with you in your most vulnerable, unseen state, bare-faced and in your pajamas. 

Not to mention, how are you supposed to hide the dreadful drop in your stomach that wrings you dry? Why is he here? And why is he calling out to Jennie?

“Jennie actually just left,” you can hear Yezi’s voice fading into the distance as she exits the room, “here, in this direction, over heeere.”

...and finally, when the door clicks closed and you internally finish thanking Yezi for her efforts in luring the boy elsewhere, you let out a bated breath. Without having to worry about your untidy appearance, you toss the remainder of your panties, bras, and bright pink pillowcases into the washer. Standing to your feet and heaving a sigh of relief as you watch the washer dispense heaps of water onto your undergarments, you whirl around and—

“—hey—”

“—holy shit,” you almost yelp when you find Jungkook standing right before you, pressing his lips into a crooked smile at you. Why does he always have to go out of his way to seek you out? And even though you had been fussing over your appearance just a few seconds prior, you find yourself frozen and distracted by his presence once again. Today, you’re blaming that mustard sweater of his; because even though he tends to stray from colors outside of navy, gray, white, and black, the boy had somehow made mustard his color. All you can muster is a wide-eye and an uttered, “whoa.”

The boy lowers his eyes to glance at his own sweater, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. Looking back at it now, you should have explicitly complimented him instead; but before you could snap out of your frenzy and save yourself from the guilt, Jungkook persists, “how has life been for you?”

“Huh? Life?” you repeat. Oh, right, what else is there to talk about now that you two are no longer acquainted at work? Then why is he trying to strike up a conversation? You hope to God he won’t be mentioning the kiss on that particular night. “I mean, good, I guess. What about you?”

“Really? ‘Good?’” he scrunches his brows and cracks a grin of disbelief. “I guess I’m asking the wrong person.”

“What?” you can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips. “What do you mean?”

“It hasn’t been too great for me,” he buries his hands into his pockets and grins helplessly. “Work and life, I mean. I’ve fucked up at both.”

“Oh… really? I’m sure it’ll be okay—” for the first time, less words come to you than the boy before you “—why are you here? You don’t live here.”

“How do you know that?” he raises a brow.

“Because you told me you live on the other side of the bridge.”

“Oh, I did?” he chuckles. “Why can’t I be here?”

“Not saying you can’t—” because, really, you’re more concerned over the possible relations between him and the girl who had “coincidentally” entered just seconds prior “—I was just asking.”

“You own this whole complex?” he quips, cocking a wry grin at you. “Can’t I hang out with some friends?”

“Right, friends…” you mutter to yourself, even if you don’t believe it yourself. “No, go right ahead. I’m not stopping you.”

The faded smiles and playful bickers, however, ring a different tone from your last remark. It’s almost as if Jungkook could read right through you. The tension, the distrust, and the discomfort, nothing has been the same since that particular moment. Sure, you had obviously been avoiding him because of your bashful nature and you’re sure that even he could tell from your abrupt movements, albeit his awareness of your reasons is more than likely nonexistent, but his relations to not only Jennie but to Jieun and his reluctance to disclose said relations has you boarding up walls once again. 

To be led on by a man would be the demise of your pride—the very last thing you’re holding onto; and whilst there was a moment in time when you thought two could play at such games, your heart has betrayed you and the tides have turned against your favor. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook begins firmly, “about that night—”

“—weren’t you looking for a friend?” you cut him off, pressing a thin smile as he glances at you with a raised brow. “What was her name again? Jennie?” 

The boy only stares at you for a silent ten seconds. Confusion and conflict flashes across his eyes until, finally, he settles for a helpless competence. “Yeah,” he utters, taking a step back and nodding, “I’ll see you around, then.” 

It was the dirtiest card you could pull. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean you’re in the right. It doesn’t mean you’re proud of it… but, sometimes, the best trump to win a futile game of tag is a refusal to play at all. 

This just happens to be one of those pivotal moments. 

Glancing at the remaining countdown on the washer and checking the clock on your phone, you almost laugh at the coincidental time plastered across the screen. 

11:11 A.M.

And you wish he never realizes that your refusal to play is, in fact, a confession of love.

-

his side;

“So do you like her or not?”

Unfazed by Jennie’s outburst, Jungkook simply answers, “what does that have to do with you losing your shit?”

“I am not,” she spits, pointing an accusing finger at him, “losing my shit.”

“Then why talk shit about me to Jieun?” 

Jennie pauses in her tracks, eyes lowering to the floor covered in Jungkook’s clothes. Her voice comes out meekly, “...she told you?” 

“No shit,” he remarks, catching the t-shirt he had lent Jennie as she hurls it at him. “Why do you hate me all of a sudden?”

“Does it matter if I hate you?” she rebuttals as she balls up another tee and tosses it at his face with a huff. The girl persists on her mission without a single glance at the boy towering beside her. “Do you even care what I think of you?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Her hands pause and she mutters, “don’t say that when you don’t mean it,” before continuing to sort through her pile of clothes intermixed with his.

“I don’t get it,” he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Didn’t we both agree this would be a casual thing? You went on dates and I was okay with it—”

“—I didn’t!” she abruptly cuts herself off, scrunching his gray tee in her hands until her hands turn pale. “...I didn’t want you to be okay with it.” 

“Jennie…” Jungkook considers consoling her but she shifts her body away from him. “Sorry. I thought you were over this—”

“—I was over this!” she snaps, whirling around to reveal the scowl on her face as she hurls another sweater at him. “I was over us! And I was okay with you moving onto Jieun until one day, she comes to my front door and bawls her eyes out because you did a one-eighty just like you did with me. Is it because of her, Jungkook? Why does it always have to be her?” 

Jungkook says flatly, “Jieun and I were never dating,” 

“I said,” Jennie bites her tongue to repress her anger, “was. it. because. of. Y/N?”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to Jennie when the boy remains silent with those unreadable eyes of his. Jungkook’s choice to protect her, however, only fuels the fire. He can’t choose to protect Y/N and expect Jennie to act as if nothing had happened between him and her; but when he finally answers...

“It isn’t Y/N’s fault. I should’ve figured things out beforehand. Sorry.”

...his reluctance to blame her scapegoat and willingness to assume accountability infuriates Jennie to a level she never knew she could harbor toward Jungkook. She knows she doesn’t deserve an apology and she knows Jungkook still felt slightly remorseful despite knowing full well that their relations were born of nothing but lust; and yet, it’s the only thing she craves that could quell the emerald fire within her. 

“And what about Jieun?” she speaks under her breath. “What about leading her on?”

“I fucked up. I know that,” he utters. “I apologized to her.”

“Whatever…” she sighs the remainder of tension pent up in her system as she stands to her feet and tosses the last gym shorts at his chest, eyes narrowing and lips downturning when she spots the irregular shade of his hoodie. 

“What?” the boy chuckles. “You think this looks shitty too? Remind me to burn this shit when I get home.”

“Did Y/N say it looks shitty?” Jennie asks, arching a brow. “Does she even like you?”

The grin on his face gradually blends into his usual illegible look of apathy as he states, “...no. Probably not.”

To which question he’s answering, Jennie would rather not ask. Instead, she places a hand on his chest, gently pushing him step by step in the direction of her bed with each following remark.

“Are you still with Jieun?”

Step. The answer is clear.

“Do you remember all the fun nights we’ve had?”

Step. He doesn’t answer.

“Does Y/N even like you?”

Step. Neither of them knew the answer. Finally, the back of his knees hit the bedframe and Jennie gently seats him to the ledge of her mattress where the two had spent many nights together in her long-coveted past. One hand on the mattress beside where he sits and the other hand pressed against his chest, Jennie stirs on. 

“You know, we could forget anything ever happened and return to the way things were before. I could forgive you, you could move on, I could wear your sweaters again, and you could spend your nights with me whenever you’re feeling down. We could be together, you and me,” she coos but something about her voice comes across as a plea. The unfazed beat of his heart beating against her hand almost has her clutching the sweater in self-pity. Her voice nearly cracks as she persists, “you know how I feel about you, don’t you?”

Not a second passes before Jungkook firmly shakes his head, peering his eyes up at the woman and speaking straight from his heart, “you’ve been a great friend and I don’t want to lose that, but I don’t feel the same. Sorry.” 

“You’re—” Jennie suddenly retracts her hand, standing upright and taking a step back with a constrained huff “—whatever. Have fun with her if that’s what makes you happy, but you’ll regret this.” 

Jungkook frowns as he helplessly watches the departure of a friend he had shared countless nights with, occasionally indulging in their beneficial relations and other times counting on her to bear his midnight blues. He might not have felt the spark that he experiences around Y/N, but Jennie had been his friend all along. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” Jennie shrugs without a single glance back at Jungkook, “anywhere away from you, really.” 

To sacrifice one friend in pursuit of someone whomst, from all he could tell, has no intentions of reciprocating similar convictions, he can’t help but feel as though everyone has abandoned him. The worst part of it is, he doesn’t know who else to blame but himself. 

Junghyun [11:55 A.M.] Yo you interested in a blind date? 

The boy rolls his eyes at his brother’s ill-timed proposition. 

You [11:55 A.M.] The fuck. No.

Junghyun [11:56 A.M.] Okay, I know you hate strangers, but TECHNICALLY this isn’t a blind date. Jieun wanted me to set up a dinner with you for her…

You [11:57 A.M.] ? 

You [11:59 A.M.] If she asked you this last week, then forget it. We aren’t a thing anymore.

Junghyun [12:00 P.M.] No, she begged me just yesterday. She said she wants to start over. 

Junghyun [12:00 P.M.] C’mon, just one dinner? 

Junghyun [12:01 P.M.] Just cause you messed things up with her, doesn’t mean you should mess up my friendship with her! >:(

Staring at the texts on his screen, Jungkook fiddles with his phone until finally falling backwards and collapsing onto the bed with a loud sigh. He can still remember the wrath painted across Jennie’s expression during her uproar and the pain he had inflicted upon Jieun when he confessed he had not intended to have led her on; but most predominantly, the evident discomfort on Y/N’s face when she had avoided him in the past month or when he had mentioned their shared moment of intimacy still stains his mind hours after. 

The mere thought of hurting her the same way he must have hurt Jennie and Jieun evokes more gnawing pain against his chest than he ever thought he would experience. Realizing that he would never hear a more explicit rejection to his confession has him lingering onto a hope that he has more than now recognized as fruitless.

Maybe a new start would be the best choice. 

Not only for him but for her, too. 

You [12:15 P.M.] Fine

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Soul of a Lion (Chapter 5)

Sequel to The Smallest Blade.

Summary: After the Red Lion steals them away from the Marmora base and takes them through a wormhole, Shiro, Keith, Katla, and Lance find themselves in front of a majestic castle with nowhere to go but inside. The events that unfold while they’re there will change the fate of the universe.

Also posted on AO3 under the username “kishirokitsune”.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆

5 | One Step Forward

Katla woke with a harsh gasp, nearly choking on air, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she could hear it in her ears. She sat up and frantically looked around the unfamiliar room, her panic rising when she didn't see anyone else. She was on her feet and out the door before she could stop and think about what she was doing and she only stopped once she reached Keith's door and had her hand poised to knock.

She slowly lowered her hand.

“What am I doing?” Katla whispered to herself, backing away. She didn't really want to wake him after their late night up on the holo-deck just because she suffered from a little nightmare.

Instead of bothering Keith, Katla turned to the other person who had been there for her through the years.

She didn't bother knocking on the door and instead opened it right up before stepping just inside the doorway. “Shiro?” she whispered, hoping to gently wake him. “Shiro, can I sleep in here?”

Shiro made a groaning sound. “Katla, wha...? Yeah. Of course you can.”

Katla crossed the room and slid under the blankets next to Shiro, cuddling in close and breathing in his soothing scent as she closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Mmm hmm... S'everything alright?” he slurred.

“Just a nightmare,” Katla admitted, seeing no point in hiding it. “I'm okay. Just didn't want to be alone.”

Shiro didn't ask why she didn't go to Keith. He simply wrapped an arm around her, silently offering the comfort she sought, which helped her drift peacefully back to sleep.

Her dreams, if she had any, were peaceful after that and when Katla woke again it was with the slow awareness that she was wrapped up in Shiro's warm embrace. Rather than feel embarrassed about running to him like a lost cub, Katla purred and snuggled against him, eliciting a chuckle from her mentor.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

Katla nodded. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“I meant it when I said that I'm here whenever you need me,” Shiro told her. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

“Nah, I can't even remember what it was about. Probably nothing important,” Katla said. She breathed in deeply and then extracted herself from the blankets and Shiro's hold, shivering as she got out into the chillier air of the room despite the long sleeves of her borrowed nightgown. “It did help me work up an appetite though. I'm starving.”

“Oh? Are you sure it isn't because of your late night adventure to the holo-deck?” Shiro teased.

Katla sputtered in surprise. “Wha- but how did you know about that?!”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You grew up in a secretive organization whose primary focus is covertly gathering information and you're really going to ask me how I found out?”

“Fair point,” Katla muttered, looking away from him. She left before he could tease her anymore and retreated to her room where she dressed in a clean set of clothing that she found in the drawers. It was too soft and too bright for her tastes, but she supposed it was preferable to wearing her sweat-soaked uniform for a third day. (She'd have to make sure and ask Hunk how they handled laundry in the castle.)

She ran a brush through her hair before leaving her room. Once she was back in the hall, she found that Shiro had rounded up Keith and Lance, who were also dressed and ready for a new day.

Keith bent over and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, wishing her a good morning before straightening back up. “Ready to go play nice with the Alteans?”

Katla crinkled her nose at the reminder.

After his lunch with Allura the day before, Shiro returned with news that they would have breakfast with their hosts to try and get to know each other better.

To say that they were not looking forward to it was an understatement.

“I think I'd rather eat more food goo,” Lance said with a loud groan.

Shiro gave him an unimpressed look. “They're willing to make an effort for us and I'd like it if we did the same for them. Listen, Allura said she wants to talk to us about the Lions today, so please be on your best behavior. If you don't have anything nice to say, then just don't say anything.”

“Now you sound like mom,” Katla teased him.

“Does that mean you'll listen to me?” Shiro asked.

“It means I'll think about it,” Katla cheekily responded.

Keith coughed to try and cover up his laugh, but he couldn't fool Katla. He was well aware of how often she listened to what her mom told her to do, mostly because he was right there by her side whenever it happened.

Shiro didn't bother trying to wrangle a promise out of any of them and settled for getting them over to the dining room without Lance feigning illness to try and get out of it.

Katla wasn't going to pretend like she knew what was going through Lance's head. She would have thought he'd be excited to be around other Alteans, but instead, he was taking even longer to warm up to them than he did on a base surrounded by those he had grown up calling the enemy. She'd call it a puzzle except he'd been pretty vocal about his reasons for not liking them.

“Hey,” she said quietly, nudging his arm as they approached the dining room. “You can handle this.”

Lance managed a smile just for her. “I think I deserve a reward after this.”

“When we go down to the holo-deck I'll let you make fun of Keith when I trip him up.”

“Hey!” Keith protested.

All of their joking subsided once they were standing in front of the door to the dining room and Katla immediately found herself missing the playful atmosphere they had cultivated on their walk over.

Maybe Shiro had a good point about learning to get along and work together. (Something that would be no problem with Hunk, who was friendly enough that she wanted to get along with him.) Being angry and annoyed wasn't only exhausting, it also meant they were no closer to figuring out a way to get home.

If only the Red Lion were a little less stubborn.

The door slid open and Allura rose from her seat at the head of the table to welcome them to breakfast, which was already laid out. Coran, who sat at her left, nodded in greeting, while Hunk, who was on her right, lifted a hand and waved cheerfully.

Breakfast went well, all things considered, though Lance didn't say a word to anyone the entire meal, and Allura struggled to get Coran involved in any conversation for more than a few ticks. Allura, Shiro, and Hunk were the ones who kept things flowing, but even with that Katla was thankful when they all finished eating and the kitchen robots arrived to clear the table.

“I've given it some thought and I believe that the first thing we need to do is locate the other Lions,” Allura stated. “It's only when all five of them are together that Voltron can be formed.”

“Voltron?” Katla murmured the question to Keith, who shrugged.

Apparently, she wasn't quiet enough, because Allura turned to Hunk with a look of surprise. “I thought you said that you told them!”

“Didn't I?” Hunk asked, sounding confused. “I thought... I must have only told them about the Lions and how I think they're the new paladins.”

Allura sighed. “It's alright, Hunk. Voltron is, well, it's what happens when the five Lions combine into one. The original paladins used him to keep peace throughout the galaxy. The four of you will use him to defeat Zarkon and return peace to the universe.”

Katla had a question dancing on the tip of her tongue (or rather, many questions), but Keith beat her to it.

“Shouldn't there be five of us? One for each Lion?”

“You are correct,” Allura acknowledged. “Currently, we're going on the assumption that the four of you are chosen because the Red Lion brought you here. It either means that we have yet to meet the fifth or that there is something preventing them from being here with us.”

The second Allura was done speaking, Katla jumped in with a round of rapid-fire questions and only stopped because Shiro pointedly cleared his throat. She would have slumped back and pouted if not for the fact that Allura began to carefully address each of her questions.

Katla didn't fully know what Shiro and the princess had talked about the day before, but whatever it was had put Allura in a more agreeable mood.

“We do not currently know where the three missing Lions are, however, I believe I have a way of locating them. You see, each Lion has their own unique energy signature and their method of choosing their paladin involves finding someone whose quintessence closely mirrors their own. Once they do that, it creates a bond between Lion and paladin. Using that bond, I should be able to locate the missing three and discover who has been chosen by which Lion.”

It all sounded a little far-fetched to Katla. Quintessence was just energy. Some forms of it could be traced, but she'd never heard of it forming connections or bonds that could be followed over long distances.

Allura took a moment to look around at them all. “I will need to sit with each of you but only one at a time. It's a process that could take vargas before I can see any kind of connection, so it would be best to only do one per day.”

Lance scowled.

“I don't mean to be rude, but I don't see how any of what you're saying is possible. I mean, the Empire has had all of this time to track down the Lions and they've only come close to one of them, as far as we know. So how is it that you can track their energy without knowing which direction to look?” Katla asked.

To her surprise (and likely to Shiro's relief) Allura didn't appear at all bothered by the question.

“It's because I won't be using technology to track them, but a gift passed down from my mother,” Allura said with a smile.

Coran made a small noise of protest.

Allura held up a hand to stop whatever he was about to say. “It's alright, Coran. The Aspects that are gifted to Alteans are hardly a secret that needs to be kept and I am proud to speak of mine.”

What followed was a crash course in what Allura called Altean “aspects”, which Katla eagerly listened to and absorbed. It had never occurred to her to ask Lance about how he was able to shape-shift and being handed the information was an eye-opener. (Just how strong was Lance if he was able to hold his shift for as long as he did?) But what sounded the most interesting by far was the Aspect of Spirit, which allowed Allura to manipulate quintessence and use it in a way that sounded like magic.

“Every living thing leaves behind a trace amount of quintessence wherever it goes, and that includes the Lions,” Allura explained. “When the Red Lion responded to you, Keith, it formed a connection between the two of you. Theoretically, since each of you has had contact with her and because we're going by the assumption that the Red Lion brought you all here because you're meant to be the new paladins, that means you each now have a connection with the Lion who most closely mirrors your quintessence.”

“But if the Red Lion also has a bond with the others, couldn't you just use her to find them?” Keith asked.

Allura nodded. “You raise an excellent point, Keith. We currently have two of the Lions here at the Castle and I could use either of them, provided that they allow me to get close. I'd prefer keeping that option as a back-up plan. The real question is: who would like to go first?”

Keith and Katla exchanged a quick look. There was no question in their minds as to who would volunteer.

Sure enough, Shiro told her that he would go first. He stood and quietly reminded Katla, Keith, and Lance to be on their best behavior while he was away, and then followed Allura out of the dining room.

She didn't speak as she led him through the halls and up several staircases, but Shiro found that the silence didn't bother him. Instead, it allowed him time to get his thoughts in order. It didn't take him long to land on a somewhat important question that none of them thought to ask.

“Princess, you said that the Lions choose their pilots based on who best mirrors their quintessence, but what does that mean, exactly?” Shiro asked politely.

Allura slowed a little as she responded. “An easier way to put it would be to say that there are certain... qualities that the Lions seem to be drawn to. For example, the Red Lion is the fastest of the five and is known for being stubborn and a little temperamental. She needs a paladin who can keep up. Someone who relies on instinct more than skill.”

That did sound like Keith, though Shiro didn't dare say that out loud.

“The Black Lion, as the head of Voltron, needs someone with exemplary leadership skills. Someone able to make the right decisions in the heat of battle and who has the respect of their fellow paladins,” Allura said. There was an odd tone to her voice as she spoke of the Black Lion and she narrowed her eyes into an almost glare as she stared down the hall.

Shiro eyed her curiously but didn't say a word, hoping she would tell him more on her own, but she didn't get the chance to as they came to a door and Allura stopped walking.

“This is the Serenity Garden. It was designed by my mother to aid with my training when I was young. I find it helps me center myself whenever I need to focus and that makes it perfect for what needs done today,” she explained.

“So, it's for meditation?” Shiro guessed.

Allura nodded and opened the door.

The Serenity Garden lived up to its name, though it looked nothing like what Shiro expected it to. He'd imagined a literal garden full of green, growing things, but instead, there were white walls made of a stone that bore some resemblance to the material used in the rest of the castle, but far more water-resistant as it had to withstand the constant flow of a fountain, which sent water cascading down three of the walls of the room. It gathered in a shallow pool that ran the length of the walls and extended no more than a foot from the base of them.

The lights were embedded into the walls and refracted through the water to create an effect that made Shiro feel as though they were underwater. He held up his hand as he stepped inside and watched it play across his skin with some fascination.

“We should get comfortable. It's hard to say how long this will take,” Allura suggested, gesturing toward the pile of large, squishy pillows in the center of the room.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆

They didn't stay in the dining room for very long after Shiro and Allura left. Lance had barely paid attention to what was said between the time the pair left to the rest of them getting up, but as he tried to follow Keith and Katla, who he assumed were going back to the holo-deck, Keith stopped him and gestured toward Hunk.

“Weren't you listening? Hunk wants your help looking over the shuttles down in the hangar while we go with Coran to check on that teludav thing,” Keith said.

“I didn't agree to that!” Lance yelped.

“We know. We volunteered you to go while you were daydreaming,” Keith said, making a sort of 'go on' gesture. “It'll be fine, Lance. We'll see you in a few vargas.”

Lance's jaw dropped as Katla and Keith walked away, leaving him completely alone with Hunk. It felt like he was waking into a nightmare and he didn't know how to get out of it.

He didn't know the first thing about Altean shuttles! It wasn't like they had any back home and even if they did, he still doubted that he would know anything about them. That honor would be reserved for those with the skills to properly understand how to fly and make repairs to them.

And besides that, he wanted nothing to do with the other Alteans.

Lance knew he was supposed to be trying to get along with them and he didn't want to disappoint Shiro, but he just couldn't bring himself to try.

He didn't want to get along with them.

He didn't want to like them.

And if not for the fact that knowing which shuttles were in working condition would benefit him, Lance would have gone back to his room and locked the door. Was it childish? Sure. But ultimately it would be better than losing his temper and screwing everything up.

Lance counted himself lucky when he saw that there were only three shuttles in the hangar. They were significantly smaller than the Red Lion and were also bulky, which led him to assume that they were solely for transport rather than defending the castle. He could be wrong. It could always be a case of appearances being deceiving, they just didn't look maneuverable to him.

“Alright, let's pop one of these open and see what we're doing with!” Hunk said enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together.

Lance silently followed him to the first shuttle and watched with mild interest as Hunk opened the access plate that protected the engine. He couldn't make heads or tails of any of the wires or tubes or other components that were inside, so instead, he paid more attention to Hunk and tried to judge what state it was in based on the expressions on his face.

“Looks like some stress damage along this support beam. It never got fixed after the last time it flew, so we'll have to replace that. Also looks like the cooling system will need flushed, but I kind of expected that. All of them will need a good thorough cleaning,” Hunk said, swiping a finger across the surface of one of the tubes. “And, of course, everything will need to be recharged. The crystals will be so drained that we'll be lucky if any of them have the smallest amount of power left for Allura to spark. We may need to find a Balmera, though I'd hate to set off without any of these working, even if we have all of the Lions.”

Lance wondered if he was supposed to respond.

Hunk hummed as he leaned in deeper, trying to see a little farther back. “I'll need a scanner to give it a proper check up. Could you grab it for me? It's the smallest device with the orange handle hanging on that wall over there.”

Lance turned his attention to the wall Hunk gestured at. There were all kinds of tools hanging on pegs, but he easily spotted a small one with its handle entirely wrapped in orange. He retrieved it and took it back to Hunk, who thanked him with a beaming smile.

“I always like to look it over myself first to see what I can spot, then I use the scanner to catch what I've missed or can't see from this angle,” Hunk explained as he turned it on and pointed it into the engine. “It probably sounds like I'm making more work for myself, but this is about testing myself and the scanner. If there's something obvious that I've missed then that means I need to work on my skills. If the scanner misses something that I noticed, then it needs to be re-calibrated.”

Lance made a sort of agreeing sound just because it seemed like the right thing to do.

Hunk turned on the scanner and waited a few ticks before launching a set of discs from the top of it. They hovered in the air and beeped as they lit up blue before zipping into the compartment to take readings.

Hunk turned the scanner so that Lance could see the screen as well. “See? It picked up on the stress damage I mentioned, but there are also hairline fractures along that same piece.”

Once the scanner was through with its evaluation, Hunk printed out a list of repairs that needed done and stuck it to the side of the shuttle right next to the engine panel. “Coran will want to take a look before we start any major repairs. This is his area of expertise, after all. All I can do right now is remove the power crystal and take it to Allura. Did I already say she'd be able to recharge them? Her strongest gift is Spirit, so she can use her own energy to refuel these small crystals.”

They moved onto the next one, which was alright aside from a bit of dust and another crystal in need of power. Hunk slapped a label on it anyway and then there was only one shuttle left to examine.

Lance started to make his way over to it, but only got a few steps before he realized Hunk wasn't following him. He slowed to a stop and looked back to see the other Altean was bent over the housing chamber for the crystal and carefully disconnecting it. Lance stifled a groan and instead crossed his arms over his chest.

“You know, there's something that's been bothering me,” Hunk said conversationally. “I can't explain what it is, exactly. It's more of a feeling.” He yanked the crystal free from its compartment and held it out towards Lance. “Come here and hold this for me?”

Lance hesitantly walked forward and took it from Hunk. It was a pretty thing, roughly the size of his fist and shaped sort of like an obelisk with a wider and broken base. As he looked at it, he started to see a soft glow in the center.

“I kept thinking about that first night when I gave you and Katla the crystal that powered your device, even though it shouldn't have been able to. But no matter how many times I went through that memory, something wasn't adding up,” Hunk said quietly.

When Lance tore his gaze away from the crystal in his hands, it was to find Hunk watching him with a sad look in his eyes.

“Lance, only an Altean has the ability to recharge these crystals once they're removed from the Balmera.”

Lance's stomach swooped unpleasantly. He took a step back in alarm as his heart-rate accelerated, his words catching in his throat along with his breath as panic began to take hold.

“It's true, isn't it? You're Altean?” Hunk asked, his voice cracking. “We're not the last ones?”

“No.”

Hunk took a step forward. “Lance, it's okay. You don't need to hide who you are. You're safe here!”

Lance shook his head and shoved the crystal against Hunk's chest, barely giving him time to grab it before he let go. “No, you're wrong,” he said before turning on his heel and fleeing the hangar, leaving Hunk even more confused than before.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆

Keith was pretty sure that Lance was going to try and smother both him and Katla in their sleep after the stunt they pulled. He couldn't bring himself to feel too apologetic about it, since splitting up any other way would mean that he would have to be apart from Katla and he still didn't trust the Alteans enough to leave her alone with them. (Not that Katla couldn't take care of herself – she was trained by Shiro, after all.)

And since she was interested in learning more about something called a teludav, Keith was going along with her.

“This is so cool!” Katla enthused as Coran opened the door for them. “Keith, we're the first people in ten-thousand years who have the opportunity to learn how Alteans used to travel across vast expanses of space in a short amount of time! This is technology that even Slav hasn't figured out and he's been working towards this for decaphoebs!”

Keith smiled fondly as she continued to ramble on about how it was theorized to work. Even Coran chuckled in amusement at some of the ideas that had been proposed over the years.

“I think you'll find that it is both more simple and infinitely more complicated than any of that,” Coran said as the door slid open. “May I present to you: the teludav chamber!”

It was a smaller room than Keith expected, with consoles to the left and right along the walls. Directly across from the entrance was a circular opening that led into a long tube lined with odd-looking discs.

“Amazing,” Katla breathed in soft awe. “How does it all work? Do you put those discs into your ships and that's how you travel?”

Coran shook his head. “Each and every one of those lenses is precisely where it needs to be. Their placement is carefully calculated down to the very last detail so that the teludav works with the optimal power needed to create wormholes.”

“Like the one that brought us here?” Keith asked.

Coran looked a little startled by the question. “You came here by wormhole? I suppose if there was residual power left over...” He shook his head. “Yes, I imagine that it's exactly like the one that brought you here.”

Keith glanced over at Katla, who was practically vibrating, she was so excited. “So, what do you need us to do? I mean, we've never encountered tech like this, so how can we help?”

“It's quite simple, really. Our job tonight is to clean each and every one of those lenses and make sure there are no cracks or chips in them. That way, once we're ready to lift off and leave Arus, the castle will be in tip-top shape and ready to fly wherever we need!”

Wait.

Fly?

Katla reacted to what Coran was saying a split second before Keith could.

“This castle is a ship!?”

As Katla began to ask a whole round of new questions, Keith mentally crossed off going back to the holo-deck on his list of plans for the day. There was zero chance of convincing Katla to train when there was even more new technology for her to explore than they'd initially thought and he was going to be by her side every step of the way.

[snowdice]

Is There Anything Left of Patton? (Part 8 of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton, Virgil & Patton

Characters: Patton, Logan, Virgil, Roman

Summary: 

Is there anything left of Patton?

...

Patton would like to know.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Patton is a zombie, Angst, two paragraphs of fairly light gore, sickness, character death (in a way)

Look I am very proud of this part. Really proud. I’ve been chomping at the bit to post it.

Thanks to @kieraelieson for betaing

This is the eighth part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

“Food You’ll Never Eat”

“Things You’ll Never Do”

“There Are Things That Are Lost”

“There Are Things That Are Missing”

“And There is a Question”

(If you are using a screen reader, please read this on AO3 which I have linked here. There is a part of this chapter that would mess with a screen reader. So, I have an edited copy that is the same with a briefer description of that part.)

Patton booted up his 60s and 70s playlist on his phone and paused to listen for a few seconds, hoping it would put a little pep in his step. He’d gotten up about an hour later than he usually did with the beginnings of a major headache, but he was hoping he could ignore it and push through. He didn’t bother to boot up his laptop, instead just going through and responding to the most pressing work emails on his phone. His eyes were already straining after that short task, so he closed them and let the phone fall to his chest, trying to focus on the music still coming through the speakers.

He woke up 5 hours later. The headache had not abated, in fact, it had only grown worse. He coughed, hoping the tickle in his throat was just from it being dry and he wasn’t getting sick. He and Lo had plans for the weekend.

The plan had been to do most of the chores today so their weekend would be free; it was half of the reason he was working from home today, but he might have to do an abridged list. The vacuuming and dusting could wait a bit yet and Logan and he could tag team the dishes from this morning when they cleaned up after dinner. Laundry had to be done today if he wanted something to wear tomorrow, but that wasn’t too hard of a task. He also should probably water the plants, especially the one by the armchair; it looked a little dry. Then, he should cook something for dinner before Logan got home. His head throbbed. Maybe just something simple.

He gritted his teeth and sat up. It’s easy, Patton, he told himself, water the plants, do the laundry, cook. It was a short list. He could do it.

Okay.

Gather the laundry. Patton had left two of his cardigans strewn about the living room and dining room, so he picked those up on his way to get the laundry from the bathroom upstairs. He put everything into a basket before heading to the laundry room and starting the first load.

Water the plants. He grabbed a pitcher and filled it with water. He started making the rounds but got distracted by one of the Beatle songs that started playing. He was reminded of what he was supposed to be doing when the washing machine buzzed.

Switch the laundry. He took the laundry in the washer and put it in the dryer before adding another load. Then he went back into the living room.

Finish watering the plants. Had he watered the plant in the corner? He couldn’t remember, but even if he had, the plant had been a bit neglected so watering it twice shouldn’t hurt. He watered the plant and then sat down on the couch again.

His headache was getting worse.

He needed to cook something for dinner.

Something really simple then. The washing machine buzzed again while he was thinking about what to make.

Laundry. He grabbed the first load out of the dryer and switched the others. He tossed one of his cardigans on the couch. He figured he’d probably want it later since he’d started to go through phases of hot and cold in the last 30 minutes or so. He stared at the laundry and managed to fold a couple of the important pieces before deciding that was enough for the moment.

Cook. He walked into the kitchen and stumbled when the headache suddenly increased. Black spiderwebs spread out over his vision and he fell, hitting his head on the countertop. He gasped in surprise and pain as he crumpled onto the floor, holding his head. He felt hot all over and cold at the same time suddenly. The cough returned, shaking him completely. He tasted blood.

This was not normal.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and wasn’t sure if he was having trouble reading the numbers because of whatever was wrong with him or because of the panicked tears building in his eyes. He managed to dial 911 with shaky fingers. He wasn’t sure how he was able to so calmly wait for the operator to answer and then explain what was happening to the best of his abilities. He gave his address and told her he was in the kitchen.

He made the mistake of trying to get back to his feet and sit in one of the kitchen chairs while he waited for the ambulance to arrive. He did manage to make it to his feet, but then everything went black.

He woke briefly to strangers touching him. He did not like it. Paramedics, his brain supplied. He tried to tramp down the overwhelming instinct to struggle against the restraints on him. He’d been strapped to a gurney he assumed, and there was something boxing in his neck. A woman’s face lent over him.

“Hey, there,” she said. “Patton, right? Try not to move,” she requested, as he was being wheeled out of his front door toward the ambulance. “It’ll be fine.” Ironic last words to hear before you die. Ironic last words to say before you die too.

The other paramedic, a man that had been wheeling Patton out of his house, looked up at something behind the woman with a confused, pinched expression. Then, the woman screamed. Blood and bits of flesh splattered all over Patton. The other paramedic screamed too a moment later as the person or thing that had attacked turned its attention on him, dropping the woman’s dead body so it slumped against the gurney and Patton for a moment before sliding slowly down, leaving the feeling of wet, warm blood against Patton’s front and side.

Patton was never touched by the person who had attacked. After all, what would be the point of the virus targeting him when he’d already been infected the day before.

He died 10 minutes later.

…

Sort of.

He awoke (in a way) sometime later. Though, it is perhaps strange to say he woke as his eyes had not been closed and he was somewhat aware that his body had been moving for a long time before then. There was something around his middle and out out out raged at the back of his skull, but that is not what had woken him. No, what had woken him was a much too warm touch on his cold face and the harsh black tingling feeling that crawled like ants up his throat to settle between his teeth.

Patton did not like that feeling. He tried to yank away from it both physically and mentally. Physically there was not far to go as he was still strapped down, but mentally he jerked hard on that foreign desire pulling at him and it retreated a bit. For all the hissing wildness of the urge and his own fractured brittleness of consciousness, it was easy to rein in the instinct and make it freeze in place. Like Patton was a dying tree and it was a balloon whose string got caught in his branches.

The soft touch on his face retreated and what Patton recognized as words were said though none of them settled in Patton’s head enough for him to make sense of them. Soon he felt more touch near where he was restrained. He felt himself squirm without meaning or wanting to. Soon enough, he was free and like a puppet on a string, his body sat up. Then…

Touch. Touch, touch, touch.

It was not something Patton chose to do, in fact he was flickering in and out so much, he didn’t think he could have done it if he’d tried, but his hands were reaching for the warm thing in front of him and grabbing at it. Yet, the touch was soft; that was okay, Patton decided.

After a moment, Patton got soft touches in return, warm hands on his face and careful hands pushing Patton’s own away a bit. There were more words, quick things that left no impressions. Eventually, he was pulled forward with his whole front against the warmth and his mouth was pressed up against something hard and bony like someone’s wrist. He turned his head away a bit displeased with the feel of the thing over his mouth, but he allowed the warmth against most of his front to say. Safe, he thought. Whatever the warmth and soft touches were, they were safe. Safe enough that, while he made sure to keep a good mental grip on the bad instincts still wiggling in his head, he felt like it was okay to fade into nothing once again. He thought he could hear crying as he went.

For a long time after that, he was nothing more than a ghost haunting his own flesh. He barely existed, but for the brief moments he flickered into consciousness to shove the prickling instinct inching in his mouth and throat firmly away.

Other than that, the aching out out out caused by the constant restraints keeping him tethered to the wall, mostly kept him from thinking. He’d tune in sometimes when Soft Touch came to talk to him, but quickly faded away knowing he was safe. Perhaps he did not like the things that held him down, but he knew it was okay. He was okay and that was enough.

Then, suddenly, there was a voice. Soft Touch came with a voice too which always settled familiarly around him, but he was used to it enough that he never paid it much mind. This voice was different though. It had a certain candidness to it and was a bit lower. At the beginning it often rumbled a bit like a growl, but over time it started to soften around the edges, growing kind. It spoke to him a lot and the newness pulled Patton into trying to listen to it more sometimes when he was slightly awake.

One time, after the kind voice had visited and left and visited many times, it suddenly came closer. Things were pressed against him and he did not like that and tried to pull away as much as he could, but then they stopped. Kind Voice spoke from right in front of him for a long time and Patton tried to listen.

“Garden.”

He thought he liked that word. He wasn’t sure why.

He faded back to sleep with that word in his head.

Things were new but not new then as he was taken somewhere different and allowed to be there a lot of the time. The new place was familiar, but he had trouble clinging to why. It was easier to flicker in every so often when he was not tied down, just to see. Couch. Chair. Picture. Table. Plate. They weren’t really thoughts, just acknowledgments of things and a slight feeling of familiarity whenever he woke. They drifted away rather quickly.

Eventually, random things would drag him momentarily into consciousnesses with a real almost thought.

A piece of paper: I need to send that birthday card.

A dropped piece of cheese on the floor: I really should sweep up soon.

A spoon: No, I do NOT want the tomatoes.

The plant.

Plant?

But nothing really kept him there for long.

Armchair. Good. Soft. There was a clinking from the kitchen and Patton got to his feet, intrigued by whatever had made that, but something tugged him back when he got a couple of feet away. He turned on the thing in agitation, but then stopped short when his eyes landed on the plant in the corner.

Water the plants. It’s easy Patton. Water the plants. Did he water the plant in the corner? Water the plant. Why was he tied to his armchair? Plant.

Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant. Plant.

A sound, words, snapped him out of the looping. Then there was a smarting of pain and a crash. Then. Get. He bit back the bad instinct as he heard Kind Voice making displeased sounds under him.

Eventually things settled, the plant gone from his mind.

For a while.

Patton jerked back into consciousness abruptly as the bad instinct flared up more intensely than it ever had before. Prey, it seemed to say, and it is asleep. It is vulnerable.

Patton pulled back so hard on the instinct that he almost choked on it, and it dissolved away in his hands. It faded away completely for the first time in forever.

Patton came to with one arm outstretched and a knee on the bed. After a moment of just being there, he completed the motion he hadn’t started and softly touched the sleeping face in front of him with careful fingertips.

Logan.

Exhausted, he crumpled into their bed and was asleep in a matter of seconds.

Patton eventually started to linger nearer to the surface sometimes. He was not quite there, but at the same time something was there. If that thing was Patton, he wasn’t quite sure. It was a strange bridge between the nothing that was usually there and Patton. When there were distractions around, people moving and talking and touching him, he found himself slipping away in the confusion, but when all was quiet, and he was left along with nothing but fractures of thoughts…

His feet stumbled down the steps in the dark. Need to. Have to. Something. Something. Something.

Plant.

Water the plant.

It did not matter that the plant was no longer there, swept up after its pot was broken weeks before.

It was okay. It didn’t have to be there for Patton to pour water where it once was. Patton wasn’t really there either, after all.

There was a sweater on the back of the couch.

Do the laundry.

He took the sweater to the laundry room and put it in the washer. He pushed the button and was unconcerned when it didn’t make a sound.

…

Had he watered the plant?

Night.

Water the plant.

Laundry in the washer goes into the dryer.

Plant. Where is the plant?

…

Water the plant.

Get the laundry out of the dryer. Too tired to fold. It’s okay, he’ll be cold soon anyway. He’ll just put it down here on the couch... side table... chair.

Wait… whose hoodie is this?

Water the plant.

Again and again and again and again. Like a broken record: round and round. Sometimes he could almost figure out the puzzle before the pieces slipped away.

Patton had been upstairs, his mind drifting to the laundry, but the laundry basket wasn’t where it was supposed to be. He’d been staring at the place it should have been in the bathroom for hours, contemplating the empty space, when there was a loud bang from downstairs. Soon after, there were loud voices, a couple of which he did not recognize. He faded into the background a bit as he was drawn to the noises on instinct.

He didn’t stir again until one of the new voices spoke directly to him.

“Is there anyone alive in there?” a man Patton did not recognize asked. He looked angry and spiteful, but Patton was always good at seeing people’s emotions for what they really were. He was scared. He was scared of Patton, Patton somehow knew, and Patton had never liked people being scared of him. He expected Patton to hurt him, but Patton knew he wouldn’t even when he wasn’t really him anymore. Even if it took up what was left of himself to make it be so. Patton blinked to clear the fogginess at the edge of his vision and looked at the man in front of him.

Is there anyone alive in there?

Yes.

“Yes,” Patton said. Then, he was gone again.

Want to read more? Click below!

And There is an Answer

[carnistirs]

retrouvailles

↳ @taangweek 2020 Day 4: Future

This one could go for past as well, but I’m dropping this today because the setting’s technically in the future. Here’s 7k+ words of Aang and Toph being soulmates.  

Read it on ao3 or under the cut

retrouvailles {French} the happiness you feel upon reuniting with someone after you've been apart for a long time

‘

“Are you alright, miss?” a voice asks, soft in the clamor of the snack aisle—

It’s violent, the way Toph’s ripped away from her little daydream, and her body’s still flinching as her eyes and ears slowly readjust to the people around her. There are no flying bisons and wingled lemurs here because they don’t exist, because she’s in a goddamn grocery store.

She tiredly lifts her gaze up – all the way up – to an angelic figure leaning over her, what with the lovely features and the bright light brimming around his shaved head. He’s all broad shoulders and lithe muscles and effulgent tattoos, and even though he looks like an incredibly kind person, something about him sets her teeth on edge. Like she should know him by now even if she’s never met this man in her life.

“Was I blocking you,” she replies, unable to help the flatness of her voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Toph moves to walk around him, oddly reluctant.

“No, wait—” the guy blurts out, panicked, his nimble fingers reaching out to curl lightly around her shoulder blade—

And they say it’s like nothing else matters, that touching your soulmate for the first time is like sating a hunger you never knew you had.

She’s always thought that was a fat load of bullshit – what, you meet the stranger that’s supposed to be your other half and it’s happily ever after just like that? – but here she is, a hypocrite to her own thoughts.

Toph hones in on the warmth that’s molded around the curve of her shoulder, feeling a far too pleasant burn smear its way down her spine. She leans away from the stranger by a few inches, just to test it their limits, but fuck, it hurts. She’s met him for a total of three minutes and the sensation of not touching him already leaves her with an ache she can’t even begin to understand.

He makes a hurt noise in his throat when she leans away, jarred by the abruptness of their separation. His hands follow after her, touching the points of her elbows this time, and Toph feels the tremor in his hands, hears the quickness in his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, tightening his fingers around her skin. “I know we don’t know each other, but—”

“This is so stupid,” Toph groans, but she’s slipping a palm over his wrist thoughtlessly, touching the thrum of his pulse. “Why a fucking Walmart of all places?”

Her soulmate’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Why not a Walmart?”

Because it’s the lamest place ever, she wants to say, but then she catches his smile and she stutters to a stop. She gazes at his pretty grey eyes and knows them, has seen them in multiple lifetimes.

(It’s you reverbrates in the space of her chest that used to be hollow, that used to be a void tundra.)

There’s a soulmark on her forearm now – long, golden vines with leaves that twist into the complimentary ones wrapped around his own skin, and the longer they touch, the more intertwined their vines become. It’s both thrilling and unsettling since, so far, Toph’s lived through twenty years of her life with a bare forearm.  

“So,” Toph ends up mumbling, because she knows where this is going to lead and because someone has to eventually, “your place or mine?”

‘

“Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?”

“I don’t see why not.”

‘

Her soulmate’s name is Aang, a vegan pacifist whose happiness seems endless, and the while he’s chirping to her about his life like an excited hummingbird, she finds it harder to fathom why the fates specifically chose him for her.

“I’m talking way too much about myself,” he chuckles in embarrassment, pink dusting over his cheeks.

Shrugs. “I asked.”

Aang’s curled up with her on his couch – his apartment had been closer -  idly playing with one of her hands. Their tea sits on the coffee table, cold and forgotten, but she’s too stupidly inebriated with the feeling of his hands on her own to care. Toph doesn’t mind the constant touching, surprisingly. It feels so much better than anything else, and there’s this still moment where they watch his vines crawl from his fingers over to hers.

“What about you?” He’s close enough for his cheek to brush her shoulder. “Tell me about yourself? Pretty please?”

“I’m an art student,” she grins back, unwittingly, at his enthusiasm. “I go to BSSU.”

He positively beams at this. “I go there too! Why is it that I’ve never seen you around campus before?

“Different curriculum maybe?

Toph feels the heat of his gaze wandering everywhere, stiffening slightly only when it drops to the puckered skin on her right leg. “Is there a story behind this?” she hears him ask quietly, his fingers hovering over the scar, but not quite touching it.

“You’re going to think I’m fucking crazy.”

“Try me.” Aang’s isn’t sporting that bright smile anymore, but his face has softened completely. “If you want, that is. You don’t have to tell me.”

It’s strange and new and terrifying, but he’s a gentle breeze in their bond, surrounding her without suffocating her, smoothing over the points of her body that are maybe a little too rough, a little too jagged.

“Well, there’s this forest near the house I grew up in,” Toph starts, drumming her fingers along his soulmark. “I walked through it so many times that I practically memorized it. I really thought I could navigate myself through the forest blind, so I put on a blindfold—”

(The darkness doesn’t welcome her, not the way she wants it to.

Her bare feet press into the earth and she doesn’t feel the vibrations of the earth moving around her, doesn’t hear the songs of squirrels skittering up the old trees, of worms writhing in the dirt. She feels disconnected from everything, small and insignificant.

She carefully glides along the flat surface of the boulders, but misses her next step, falls down and keeps falling—)

“Anyway, now I have a permanent reminder of how much of a dumbass I was,” she says, half bemused, half self-depreciating.

But Aang opens his arms, his face silently pleading, and she hesitates a little. Her soulmate is a stranger wrapped in odd, familiar skin and when they’re pressed together, it’s like they’re speaking an old, sacred language only their bones know.

They should be in bed right now like most soulmate couples their age – or at least kissing, maybe - but she supposes she’ll fail at that too amongst other things.

So, Toph leans in, biting back a satisified hum when his arms coil around her shoulders. He smells like clean laundry and a hint of cinnamon, and when he sighs in content, she feels her muscles relax.

“I like to stand on the edges of high places,” Aang noses against her hair, probably unaware that’s he’s doing it too. “My friends can’t stand it when I do it, but I can’t help it. I never have the urge to actually jump,” he adds in a small laugh, “but I like to imagine that there would be a way for me to somehow catch myself if I do. Then I remember that it’s not possible and I feel this...incredible loss.”

An unexplainable loss you never had in the first place. Yeah, she gets it.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” His eyes languidly trail after the uplifted bend of her mouth. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

There’s an anxious spike of hope blooming in the pit of Toph’s stomach and it’s not coming from her. She doesn't exactly know how she knows this either, but it's all Aang she's feeling.

It’s coming from him.  

Which is ridiculous because Toph shouldn’t be able to feel him like that. Soulmates don’t work like that. There’s soulmarks and the constant need to be close, but not this invasion of other people’s emotions—

“Yeah, sure,” she says.

Everything is okay. Everything is fine.

Get a fucking grip.

‘

“Some bonds only need an hour of touching and they’re okay for the whole week,” she says at the threshold of his front door, lingering. “Maybe we’re like that? I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

“O-Okay,” Aang stutters, brows furrowed, looking like he really wants to follow after her like an imprinted duckling.

Toph lets go of his hand then and the sharp sting she feels should have been taken as a warning. She takes a step back though, forcing herself to play dumb to his white fingers clenched around the door frame and the sudden pallor of his face.

Her fingers tingle in a particularly awful way as she waves goodbye to him and the discomfort is rudimentary, really. It’s nothing she can’t handle, considering she’s had worse done to her skin.

She makes it as far as the turn of the hallway, right when Aang’s out of her view.

Pain grips at her right arm and the numbness flares outward, careening her into the wall. She can’t fucking breathe because it feels like her lungs are being scraped out by a rusty spoon, like her ribs are being branded by hot iron—

Aang barrels into her at a frightening speed and they go teetering to the floor, but he curls his body around hers protectively, possessively, breaking her fall. He’s mouthing something frantic against the hollow of her throat, but she can’t hear it because she’s too overwhelmed by the sensation of his pain pressing down on top of hers.

Whatever she’d felt earlier is vaulting back tenfold and it’s so strange to feel her own emotions looped back to her through a feedback that’s experienced through him. She feels him desperately wanting to take away the unseen hurt throbbing in her while trying to compress his own down and, gods, this isn’t normal.

“Um,” Toph whispers, her voice trembling with her body as she clings to him. “Okay, that was a dumb idea. I’m sorry—”

“Maybe you should stay with me for a couple of days—”

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “We have school. How are we going to do—”

“There’s an exemption form we could fill out online. It’s for soulmates who have recently bonded. It’ll get us out of classes, just – please, please don’t leave.”

“I don’t have extra clothes on me or a toothb—”

“You can borrow my clothes. You’ll drown in them because you’re so tiny,” Aang laughs, hoarse, sliding shaking fingers into her unbound hair. “And I have an extra toothbrush you can use. We’ll figure it out, Toph, please.”

What the fuck, what the fuck—

“Alright.” She closes her eyes, surrendering herself to raw instinct by sticking her nose to the skin underneath his jaw. “I’ll stay.”

‘

“Choose well. A sky bison is a companion for life.”

He’s holding an apple in his hands and his legs are jittery – like it’s impossible for him to stay still. The baby bisons are circling their mother in the air and his breath catches because he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

There’s a small bison just a few feet away, looking like it’s waiting for him. It appears to be the runt of the litter, but that’s okay because he’s the smallest in his class too. If it accepts him, then perhaps they can grow together.

Biting his lip, he carefully approaches the small bison and offers the apple to it.

It – no, the bison is a he – sniffs the fruit along with his extended hand before opening his mouth expectantly.

He tosses the apple in and allows himself to pet the bison on the nose while the latter chews. He doesn’t expect the bison to nuzzle into his touch with a pleased rumble, but the creature does anyway, leaning too far in until he loses his balance and falls on his rear end. The bison licks at the whole of his face, pulling happy giggles from his mouth and he knows, then and there, that he’s found the one.

“I guess this means we’ll always be together,” he smiles wide, hands rubbing on either side of the creature’s muzzle—

‘

Toph blinks awake to find herself plastered to Aang’s back with both of her arms snaked around his chest. One of his hands is clasped in hers, their fingers twined, and she has a leg thrown over his hip as if she’s slept with him like this their whole lives.

His bedroom is small and simple, but there’s a slight airiness to it that reminds her of the temple in her dreams – or not dreams, apparently. She sees this temple in the sky in quick flashes while she’s awake too, and if they don’t show her in the company of monks, then it’s always with that six-legged bison.

“I can hear you thinking,” Aang mumbles sleepily.

She presses her face to his shoulder. “Shit, did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, you waking up actually yanked me out of sleep too.” Gently tightens his fingers around hers, reassures her that he’s not upset. “It’s not a big deal. What’s bothering you?”  

I think I’m seeing your memories from a past life never quite leaves Toph’s mouth.

“Nah, it’s nothing.”

And maybe that’s the wrong thing to say because Aang just turns in her hold and exhales into her neck, slipping his arms around her waist. His fingers tease the hem of a shirt that’s too big on her and he asks in a hushed tone if it’s okay. Toph nods, her skin shivering in loose delight once his palm slides underneath the shirt to splay itself flat against the small of her back.

The moonlight peeking through the curtains shows her one side of his face – the argent in his eyes, the fan of his inky lashes, the indent of his cheekbone. Objectively, he’s stunning, so she could have done a whole lot worse.  

“You know I can tell you’re lying, right?” The corner of Aang’s mouth lifts, amused. “I can feelthat something’s wrong.”

“Can we just—” Opens her mouth and shuts it, frustrated inside. He rubs his thumb in calming circles against Toph’s skin and she still doesn’t know if she likes how one touch can clear her muddled thoughts just like that. “Can we just pretend that we don’t have some weird telepathic-empathic thing between us? Just for tonight at least? Fuck, it’s a lot to unpack on the first day.”

His hurt is muffled, but it’s there and she feels it her chest, taking root. “You think it’s weird?” he whispers, sounding like an open wound.

“Doesn’t this freak you out?”

“Yes, of course it does.”

But underneath the blanket of her own emotions, she senses fear for this bond. Fear at the thought of Toph rejecting him so quickly. She tightens her leg over his hip instinctively, telling him no, she’s not rejecting him. She doesn’t think that’s even possible at this point.  

He presses a smile into her clavicle, relieved. “Do you remember dinner? When you were groaning after taking the first few bites of the pasta?”

Toph blushes. “Don’t make fun of me! I didn’t know artichoke sauce was even thing!” Or so delicious. “I was caught off guard, okay?”

“You were happy eating what I made for you and I felt that happiness,” Aang says, so soft. “It felt beautiful. You felt beautiful, Toph.”

(And I’d give you the whole world to keep you happy forever, he sings into her veins even if he doesn’t realize it yet, even if he’s just as scared and lost as she is.)

What an optimstic fool he is. “I might drive you nuts,” Toph throws back instead.

“Oh, I know you will.”

She pinches Aang’s side, cackling at his high-pitched shriek even when the sharpness of her index finger and thumb on his skin echoes against her own.

‘

“Where the hell have you been!”

“Chill, Sparky,” is Toph’s lazy response as she waltzes into her apartment, leading Aang in by their tangled fingers. “I texted you.”

“‘Be back in a week, dude’ doesn’t give me much to go by. A fucking week? You could have been dead for all I knew!”

“Stop projecting your sibling issues onto me. I’m here, aren’t I? Besides, when you found Sokka and Suki, the three of you didn’t leave your room for more than a week, you dirty hyprocrite!”

“At least you knew where I was the whole—” Zuko abruptly closes his mouth, his gaze darting to the towering man at Toph’s heels. “Aang? Wait, how do you two know each other?”

Toph lifts both their arms, showing him the fresh knitted vines gleaming on their skin. “He’s my soulmate. How do you two know each other?”

“I know Sokka and Sukki,” Aang chimes in cheerfully. “Wow, what a small world, huh?”

“How’d you two—”

“Anyway,” she interrupts brashly, not in the mood to retell their romantic, fateful meeting at Walmart, “Aang’s gonna be staying here for a week and then I’ll go back to his place for another week, and so on and blah blah. At least until the bond settles. You get it. Let us know when dinner’s ready,” she adds, practically yanking at Aang until they’re both confined in her bedroom.

Aang taps the end of her nose. “That was mean.”

“Please,” Toph makes a point of rolling her eyes. “Zuko barely said a word to me after touching the other two. They burst into the apartment like a fucking hurricane, almost doing it right there in our living room. So fucking rude.”  

‘

She’s in the shower when she suddenly feels absolute terror choking at her, nearly making her slip on the tiles.

Toph barely wraps herself up in a towel before she’s barging out of the bathroom, extremely thankful that her room’s close by. Aang’s on the floor, back leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, quivering fingers curled around one of her older sketchbooks. Aang blindly reaches for her when she approaches, pulling her down onto his lap and burying half of his face into her shoulder blade.

“Is my art that terrifying?” Toph tries to joke, but he doesn’t even smile.

The drawing had been done in charcoal, dark and blurry around the edges, and she almost doesn’t remember drawing it. There’s an enormous centipede thing crawling out of a cave, its legs reaching out to take, to steal. The only colors on the sketch are the red lips and the grey eye markings of the Noh mask it’s wearing on its face, but she’s not sure if that makes it better or worse.  

Aang’s voice is a quiet, little thing when he asks, “Where did you see this creature?”

(“My old friend, the Avatar,” the monster utters in a serpentine hiss. “It’s been a long time.”

“You know me?”

“How could I forget you? One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me,” it accuses, the white mask flickering into the face of an older man with a mustache and a long beard, “maybe eight or nine hundred years ago.”

“I didn’t know that.” It’s difficult, keeping his emotions out of both his face and voice. “Why did he – or I – try to kill you?”

The thing changes again – a beautiful woman this time, with long brown hair and familiar, sad eyes.  

“Oh, it was something about stealing the face of someone you loved.”)

“A nightmare, I think,” Toph answers carefully. “Actually, you know what—”

She rips the page out of the sketchbook and crumples it tightly in her first. It feels like an ugly omen against her palm, riddled with malice and sadism, and she chucks it into her trash can.  

“You didn’t have to do that. That was your work,” Aang murmurs, his guilt gnawing at her.

“It was a creepy-ass drawing. I don’t know what I was thinking when I drew that.” Pause. “I have better stuff on my desktop if you want to look.”

He kisses her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “I hope the creatures on there are less frightening.”

“Don’t be such a wuss. Wanna see what a badgermole looks like?”

‘

After their soulbond settles, they’ve learned that they can get through the day by themselves relatively alright as long as there was skin-to-skin contact for at least an hour beforehand. It no longer hurts to be away from Aang, but it is uncomfortable as fuck, like an itch burning inside that’s screaming at her to scratch it until it’s bloody and raw.

Which is fine.

So ridiculously fine.

The lecture is a drone in the back of Toph’s mind as she doodles along the corner of her notebook page to take her mind off the itch. The mintiness of the gum she’s snacking on ebbs away suddenly, turning into something vastly different.

She chews again, tasting raspberries, fruit juice, bananas, and...almond milk?

Aang is waiting for her outside the door when her class ends and as soon as he sees her, his entire face lights up like the sun. His content rolls over Toph in a soothing whisper and she subconsciously mimics his smile, her body humming with want.

In spite of the protesting noise she makes, Aang scoops her up in his arms until her feet are dangling above the ground. He nuzzles his cheek to hers, his breath warm against the ridge of her ear, and he twirls them once because he can’t help himself. She hisses at him to put her down, but it doesn’t really bother her as it normally would with literally anyone else.  

“Did you have a smoothie?” Toph asks.

“Yeah.” He keeps his hands pasted to her hips, his eyes bright with excitement. “I tasted the gum you were chewing earlier.”

“I want to say that I’m surprised, but am I really at this point?”

A deep chuckle as he cups her face in his palms. “Don’t be so glum. Think of all the possibilities! What if you’re really hungry, but you don’t have time to get food because you’re taking a test or something? I could eat something and you’d be able to taste it.”

“Oh, yeah, super cool. What if you’re hungry and I decide to get a hamburger?”

He blinks, his grin faltering. “I’m vegan, Toph. You know that—”

“You’re not actually eating it – you’re only getting a taste. Like you said, all the possibilities. You ever want to try a steak? Or a milkshake with actual milk?”

Toph bites back a smile, doing a poor job of concealing how much she really enjoys it when he gets all flustered.

‘

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“You drunk already?” Sokka passes a bemused glance at her. “I don’t remember you being that much of a lightweight.”

It’s warm in the bar – she can tell by the slight flush on Sokka’s cheeks that has nothing to do with being intoxicated – but Toph still burrows her nose deeper into the wool scarf coiled around her neck, still tightens her coat around her. Aang may be on the other side of the city, but he’s somewhere outdoors, somewhere cold, and the alcohol isn’t making her any warmer.

Aang doesn’t do well in colder weather, but he’s having fun with his friends even if he’s getting the both of them sick. She can feel him missing her, missing the press of her fingers on his skin even though they’d seen each other hours ago.  

“You have two soulmates,” Toph grumbles. “The idea of past lives shouldn’t be that fucking implausible.”

His shoulder gently bumps against hers. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset—”

“Okay, okay, let’s start over,” Sokka smiles at her, completely genuine and not at all mocking. “Why do you suddenly believe in reincarnation?”

“I have these dreams,” she says, her brows knitting together as she curls her hands tighter around her glass. “Well, I used to think they were dreams, but then I’d see something while I’m awake. They’re always about Aang in this completely different life and it’s like I’m a passenger in his body, just going through the motions.”  

“And you think these things are actually his memories from a past life.”  

Toph exhales quietly, the lines of her body losing their tautness. She feels mildly less insane now that someone’s acknowledged it for her.

“They feel too real to just be my imagination. It’s always him in the same timeline.”

Sokka hums, thoughtful. “Maybe they are his memories, Toph. Who knows? Soulbonds can’t be explained, but people accept them anyway. For what it’s worth, I believe you.”

“If this is you making fun of me, I swear to—”

“No, I really mean it! Like, if I didn’t end up with Suki and Zuko – or either of them – in a previous life and reincarnation’s just a thing that’s giving me a second chance to actually be with them, then that’s pretty cool. Fate’s doing me a solid.”

“Second chances,” Toph muses, more to herself than anything.

“Yeah, why not?” He downs the rest of his glass. “On a side note, what else are you feeling from Aang since the bond started? Something tells me you guys are...not normal.”

Toph starts to respond, but then she hunches over the counter, shoulders shaking. It slams into her out of nowhere and she has to clamp both her hands over her mouth to muffle the uncontrollable laughter. She’s yanked further and further into Aang’s joy, feeling it so keenly that the corners of her eyes begin to prickle with tears.

“What is happening,” Sokka blurts, alarmed and concerned. “Are you having a stroke—”

“One of Aang’s friends did something stupid and funny,” she hiccups out in short breaths, still guffawing. “It might – it might have been Bumi.”

Sokka gawks at her, frozen in place. He then orders another round of drinks for the both of them.

‘

Monk Gyatso lies against the wall, just bones and dust, and the omniscient rage of a thousand lives sinks down on him—

‘

The weight of his grief completely buries Toph, so much that she collapses in a public restroom. Her fingers scrabble at the tiles beneath her, desperate to clutch onto something, anything, as the memory consumes her. Something vibrates in her pocket for a long, long time, but she’s too busy screaming soundlessly into her palm to notice.

Panic slips into Toph, making her blood run cold, and the longer she ignores her phone, the more frenetic her soulmate feels—

“Toph?” is his voice on the other line, wildly frantic, when she finally answers the call. “Did someone hurt you? What’s wrong, where are—”

“I—” Her breath comes out in harsh pants. “It’s o-okay. You don’t need to come.”

Rustling, like Aang’s already preparing to step out. “No, no, that’s not what it feels like,” he argues softly, and now there’s pain in his voice because she won’t let him come to her, won’t let him take care of her—

Her chest squeezes tighter, aching. “I slipped. I’m, uh, good now.”

“Toph, please.” His voice breaks and she screws her eyes shut, tasting saltwater in her mouth. “Please let me come to you. Tell me where you are.”

So she whispers back that she’s at the tea shop near their school, the one owned by Zuko’s uncle.

Aang rushes into the women’s restroom ten minutes later – a feat in itself, considering the usual commute is twice that amount – and she’s never wanted him to see her like this, hunched under one of the sinks and sobbing over a memory that isn’t even hers.

He sucks in a sharp breath like Toph’s pain cleaves him. His eyes are red-rimmed and she can’t even look at him because she’s so sorry. She’s sorry that he’s lost his people, sorry that he’s lost his home, sorry that he’s lost his entire culture.

The way he stalks over to her is noiseless, ghostlike even, and then he’s plucking up all the bird bones of Toph’s body, folding himself around her and concealing her from the rest of the world. It makes her cry harder, if anything, to the point where she’s dry-heaving against his chest, but it helps when she pushes her hands under his shirt to touch the tight skin around his hips.

She tells him everything. That he was raised by Air Nomads in another life. That he was something called the Avatar. That they lived in a world where people could manipulate the elements as they pleased.

That they lived during a long, long war.

“You controlled the element of air first,” Toph rasps out later, when it finally doesn’t feel like her lungs are going to give out on every inhale. “You and Appa got caught in this storm, and then you did something that left you frozen at the bottom of an ocean. Katara and Sokka found you, but when you came back to the Southern Air Temple, everyone was dead and it had only felt like you left days ago, but a fucking century passed—”

To his credit, Aang doesn’t once ask who Appa is or what the Southern Air Temple is supposed to be. His heart beats faster and his skin jolts at the familiarity of her words, but he holds her still.

“Breathe, T,” he says, rocking her, sweeping her dark hair away from her neck so that he can kiss the small space behind her ear.

She does. Inhales for four seconds, exhales for six—

It’s a breathing technique that Monk Gyatso had taught Aang. Had taught her.

Their soulmarks cling to each other distressingly, her aurelian leaves and vines overlapping his.

“Do you ever dream of me?” Toph asks, calmer.

“I have many daydreams about you.” And that’s mischief slanted against her nape, rounded out by his mouth. He’s soft and playful now, making her sink further into his embrace. “When your memories come to me, I don’t actually see anything.”

Tries not to be too disappointed. “Oh.”

“No,” Aang smudges a smile against the corner of her mouth, gently thumbing a tear-stained cheek. “You were blind in your last life, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t see. You didn’t need to. You felt these vibrations in the earth and it allowed you to see and hear things no one else could. You were the greatest earthbender that ever lived.”

“She sounds way cooler than me.”

He tips her face up. “You’re just as cool as she is,” Aang breathes, and there’s a brush of lips against hers, slow and sweet. “Just as beautiful.”

(I found you again, her soul thrums out, the loudest it’s ever been inside her.)

Toph twists in his arms, chasing after his mouth. It’s almost too much and not enough at the same time, tasting his honeyed delight and feeling it mingle with her own. His hands shove themselves up her sweater to frame the space of her back as he parts his mouth, allowing her to—

“Gee, it looks like you guys are fine in here,” comes a monotonous drawl that has them breaking apart, sputtering. “And here I was, worried for no apparent reason.”

“Mai!” Aang practically yells, his ears turning beet red. “When did you – why are—”

The other girl waves a dismissive hand. “Toph and I were going over work. What was supposed to be a five-minute restroom break turned into a forty-minute one,” she adds pointedly, raising a brow.  

“Sorry,” Toph says sheepishly. “I had a thing. Like a panic attack or whatever. It’s gone now, so no biggie.”

Aang, severely disagreeing with her on that last statement, wraps her up tighter in his arms.

“We’ll continue tomorrow,” Mai says then, and it may just be Toph’s imagination, but she thinks she sees the former’s face soften a bit. “Get some rest.”  

After Mai leaves, Aang plays with her loose hair. “We should probably leave too.”  

“Yeah.”

But Toph’s leaning in, pausing only a few inches away from his lips and grinning when he automatically closes the distance. She feels that buzzing of happiness again and whether it’s his or hers, it doesn’t matter.

‘

Aang’s shoulders are still quivering as he drops shaky, open-mouthed kisses along the crease of her hip. He’s been pulled apart to pieces, beautifully and painstakingly, and the remnants of bliss still drumming within him makes it slow to put those pieces back together.

She only knows because she feels the exact same way. She feels everything.

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else.” His voice is wrecked and his lips are so kiss-swollen, but he’s still this hopelessly exotic thing sprawled between her legs. There’s an indelible glaze to his to expression that makes him look so thoroughly fucked, and when he rests his chin on her stomach and looks up at her with soft, needy eyes, something inside her chest just melts.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Toph husks out with a laugh.

“Yeah, why didn’t we,” he murmurs back, still loopy, nosing the skin around her navel.  

Toph strokes her fingers along the arrow inked on his head, pulling a quiet mewl from him. The arrow tattoos on his body are the same design, the same placement – just the wrong shade of blue. These lines are darker than the ones she sees in his memories.

Maybe the effervesent, illuminating blue that once marked Aang as an airbendering master doesn’t exist in this world.

“Can you skip your classes tomorrow?” he asks.

“Why?”

His answer is a trail of wet kisses up the flat stretch of her belly. “Because I want to keep doing this.”

“Really.” Toph plays off as nonchalant, even when her heart skips a beat. “You want to render us incapable of walking by the time we’re done?”

“Toph, I don’t think I’m able to walk now,” Aang chuckles, before looking up at her from beneath his lashes, coy. “But I still want you in my bed whether we’re having sex or not. I just want you.”

His want reverbrates in the apex of Toph’s thighs and she wishes she can be as open as he is. She wants him in her bed forever, but the words become stifled in her throat, never leaving her mouth. He smiles at her though, tender and adoring, like he knows what she’s trying to say.  

She rolls them over, straddling his hips. Gratification seeps into her at the way his pupils dilate, at the way he takes her in breathlessly.

‘

He’s upset – so very, very upset – and she doesn’t know why.

Toph feels it two blocks away from his apartment and it spurs her to walk faster, to the point where she’s running.

After letting herself in, she finds Aang leaning over the kitchen counter, the stiff lines of his back obvious through his thin shirt. She leans her back against the counter and presses her elbow to the nimble fingers constricted around dark granite.

“What’s up, grumpy?”

Her soulmate breathes out noisily, his shoulders bunching forward like he’s trying to make himself much smaller than he is. He doesn’t turn to face her, doesn’t immediately trap her in his arms like he usually would after a long day apart. He leans against her though, heavy, part of him trying to disappear into the pale abyss of her skin.

“We weren’t married to each other,” Aang whispers, horrified. “I was married to someone else. A non-bender, I think. I don’t recognize her voice.”

And there’s really no point in getting angry with Aang or this mystery woman because the past is the past, but jealousy festers anyway, scratching at her bones. She tries to taper down it to keep him from feeling it, but he flinches, looking even more miserable than before.

She tries for apathy then: “So? It was in the past – a past we’re only barely starting to get details from.”

“But I was still seeing you. I had kids with this woman, but I was still sneaking around with you—”

“Okay, so I was a side chick. Whatever, that’s fine—”

“It’s not fine,” a muscle in his jaw jumps, “none of this was fine. I’m seeing this from your persepective, remember? You weren’t okay with this.”

“Why does it fucking matter?” Toph spits, a small part of her regretting it when Aang’s mouth pinches into a thin line. “Maybe we never got together. Maybe sex on the the side was our only option. Whatever the fuck we did in that lifetime, it’s got nothing to do with what we have in this one!”

(“She’s beautiful,” he murmurs, gazing down at the newborn. “Did you decide on a name?”  

“Suyin’s kind of pretty. Has a nice ring to it.”

Tightly swallows. “Toph, is she – is she mine?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman in bed mumbles. “It’s not your problem.”

“But—”

“I’m not repeating myself, Twinkletoes. And she doesn’t belong to anyone but me.”)

Then Aang grazes her side with feather-light hands, silently asking for permission. She’s still bristling in her skin, but he makes the frustration and shame go away with just a brush of his palms on her body.

She wants to stay mad at him, wants to stew in silence all by herself, but she physically can’t, not when he’s already made a home for himself in the space of her ribs.

Toph pulls him in with an incoherent grumble, binding her arms around his torso to anchor him back to earth because he feels like he’s going to float away. He shivers against her, mouthing soft apologies against the column of neck as he clings onto her. Even on her tiptoes, her head barely reaches his chin, but she leans on them anyway because she doesn’t want him breaking his neck trying to bury himself in hers.

“Maybe I leave my wife when our kids are older,” he says, his teeth scraping over her shoulder. “I leave her for you.”

“You really think that happened?”

“Yes,” comes Aang’s response, but even that sounds a little unsure. Like he desperately wants it to be true. The uncertainity makes him press into her until there’s no visible space left between them. “Why wouldn’t I do that for you? We’re soulmates. I don’t believe in any lifetime where you’re not always by my side.”

Toph rolls her eyes. “You’re such an embarassing idiot sometimes.”

Aang smiles, his tongue flicking against her jawline. Heat simmers at the pit of Toph’s stomach, rising languidly, and his hands are at the back of her thighs. “I need you,” he sighs, catching her mouth with his.

“I know, you dumb airhead.”  

She quickly finds herself hoisted onto the counter before she’s tipping her head back, letting him unbutton her flannel and kiss his way down—

‘

“Don’t worry,” Katara says. “We’ll find you a teacher. There are plenty of amazing earthbenders out there.”

There’s a deep wrongness in him as he stares back at Gaoling. Like he’s making a mistake by just giving up and leaving—

“Not like her.”

After he climbs onto Appa with reluctance, he doesn’t immediately lift the reins. Sometimes, there are rewards to being patient, to sitting still and letting the winds carry their answers to you. When he listens to the currents around him, he catches a flurry of hurried footsteps headed in their direction.

Delicate hope grows in his chest.

“Toph!” Happiness etches itself onto his face, wide and open, when the small girl runs out of the forest. “What are you doing here?”

“My dad changed his mind. He said I was free to travel the world.”

It’s a bold-faced lie.

But when Toph smiles, something inside his own stomach flutters wildly—

‘

“Are you alright, miss?” a voice asks, waking her, his mouth lightly tracing the curve of her ear.

“Fuck off,” Toph mumbles, still face down on the table, in spite of her fingers reaching out to rest along the nape of his neck. The taste of coffee – the strong kind – lingers on her tongue. “M’ tired. Why’d you drink coffee? And a goddamn red eye at that.”  

Aang tugs at her hair teasingly. “Because I almost fell asleep while driving over here to get you.”

“Ugh, you’re going to keep me up all night.”

“I can think of a few things we could do to pass the time,” Aang smirks, nuzzling his nose along her cheekbone. “Or, well, one specific thing actually—”

Toph snorts. “Dork.”

He snatches her up, fingers digging into her side as he drags her onto his lap. Peals of laughter escape her while he tickles her relentlessly, so much that the harder she laughs, the more she feels him eventually shaking with laughter too, amplifying the sensation. One of the campus librarians shushes them sharply and she feels Aang hiding his face into her throat to escape the blame.

“What’s that?” he inquiries out of nowhere then, reaching for something on the table—

“No snooping!” Toph hisses without any real heat, swatting his hand out of the way to shove the tiny book into her backpack.

It’s a flipbook that she’s still working on, showing Aang peacefully bending all four elements. She had originally wanted to illustrate him kicking Ozai’s ass, but she doubts he would like the violence of it, so she’d gone with this instead.

Aang perks up in excitement. “Is it for me? My birthday’s in a couple of weeks, you know.”

Rolls her eyes. “Just wait and find out, Twinkletoes.”

She stands up in an attempt to gather her things, but as soon as she does, the feeling of a thousand pins pricking at her legs washes over.

“Your legs are numb,” Aang glances over with both bemusement and sympathy, on the verge of discomfort himself. “Here, I’ll carry you.”

“Nah, let’s just wait—”

But Aang pulls her arms over his shoulders, picking Toph up until she’s literally hanging onto his back, before he grabs her backpack. She hates being picked up in any manner, but it’s a losing battle with a cheerfully persistant soulmate like him. She yanks on the lobes of his ears, but he just grins, hitching her body higher.

“Yip-yip,” Toph says.

“Do I look like a flying bison to you?”

“You’re right, that was a terrible comparison,” she replies. “Appa is obviously a hundred times better than you.”

Aang makes an affronted noise, but Toph rests her head on his shoulder blade and kisses the elegant line of his neck, placating him. The brisk air hits her face once he walks out of the library and Toph tucks her face harder into his skin.  

“I had a dream that you were looking for someone to teach you earthbending,” she whispers, wistful and smug. “You wouldn’t settle for anyone but me. Said I was the best out of all of them.”

“There’s no one else like you,” Aang replies easily, thumbing nonsensical patterns under her thighs.

He’d said that in his past life as well.

“Hey, Aang?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think we ended up together.” Because the snippets of his memories where he’s an adult are a lot sadder, filled with such hurt and longing. “I think we might have crashed and burned.”

Aang breath falters in her ear and he grips her harder, refusing to lose her to their past failures, to whatever broke them.

“We’ll do better this time, T.”

‘

(And they do.)

‘ [end notes: 

BSSU = Ba Sing Se University

To clarify, what's normal for soulmates in this universe - (1) soulmarks appear as soon as soulmates touch each other (2) the need to be touching - the limits of this can vary with every soulmate bond, it all just depends.

As you can see with Aang and Toph, they obviously have a lot more going on with the XD

I hope this wasn't too confusing with the way Toph was receiving Aang's memories. Anything in italics was her seeing a memory. If anything was in parenthesis, that meant that Toph experienced the memory before the present time. Let me know if the italicized text isn’t showing like it does on the ao3 link. Tumblr’s being shitty for some reason. 

If this was all confusing anyway, go ahead and yell at me]

[trouvelle]

Blockers

Fandom: Detective Conan Pairing: Shinichi/Ran (and HeiKaiShin friendship) Rating: G Genre/Tags: Humor, implied smut Summary: Heiji and Kaito are forces of evil.

•

Ran pushes Shinichi into the wall, her lips pressed onto his. Their tongues are twisting together and Shinichi breaks apart for a moment to pull off his shirt. In an instant Ran’s hot lips are on his again and he fumbles for his belt buckle. Her hands are roaming over his body and she only pauses to help him take it off faster. She moans against his lips and throws her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Suddenly the door is flung open and they are blinded by a bright sight. Shinichi pulls away, curses tumbling out of his mouth. He looks up to see a smiling Kaito holding a magician’s hat with a bunny peeking out from it, as well as an equally grinning Heiji beside him, the latter holding a trumpet with what looks suspiciously like a ferret hanging out of its bell. They were both wearing party hats and colorful streamers for some reason. And—what are those shapes painted on the faces?

“Oops! Bye!” They say quickly, and slam the door shut.

“What the hell just—”

Well there’s no coming back from that.

•

Shinichi eyes Ran, who is making her way down the hallway out of her lecture hall. She just got out from her last class of the day.

He slowly weaves his way in between bodies of students who were filing out from their own classes, and he’s getting closer and closer. He’s almost there when suddenly someone grabs his arm and turns him around. Shinichi gets ready to apologize when he sees,

“Kuroba.” He says flatly.

“What are you doing here?” Kaito asks suspiciously. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” 

Shinichi pulls his arm away. “‘I’m done for the day. I’m gonna go to be with Ran now, actually.” He turns around to relocate his girlfriend.

Just then, Shinichi feels a long arm draping around his neck from the other side, swinging his body around. “What is this, are we hanging out?” comes Heiji’s voice, sounding too merry for some reason. “Well I’ve got some time to spare!”

“Get off of me, I’m going with Ran—”

“Oh, Neechan is here too?” Heiji’s grinning at Shinichi like it’s no big deal. “She’s right there!” Kaito says helpfully, pointing at Ran who is already at the end of the long hallway.

“Wait—“ Shinichi tries, but Heiji is already calling out to Ran. “NEECHAN! OVER HERE!”

Shinichi’s head is empty of any excuses he can use.

It’s going to be a long day.

•

A long week, it turns out.

It’s now Thursday and Ran curls up against Shinichi, exhausted. She has been studying all day for an upcoming test, so she’s completely tired out both mentally and physically.

“Had a tiring day?” Shinichi asks softly into her hair and she nods against his chest.

Ran yawns, and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him closer.

“Take a nap, okay?” He says, “I’ll wake you up once it’s dinner time.”

Ran doesn’t answer and begins dozing off immediately, but the silence is shattered by a loud yodel.

“KUDO!!” cries Heiji loudly as he barrels into Shinichi’s room, “It’s bro night!” Before he can protest, he’s ripped away from Ran, whose eyes crack open from the loss of heat. He’s dragged away into the living room where Kaito is already present.

He tries to run away but Heiji holds him down firmly. He wistfully glances at the other boy for help. But the glint in Kaito’s eyes mirrors Heiji’s.

“Ow, what the—“

“WRESTLING TIME!” Kaito yells, throwing himself onto the pile that is Shinichi and Heiji.

Shinichi can’t even escape.

It’s gonna be a long night.

•

“Let’s go out today,” Ran whispers to Shinichi, “It’s nice outside.”

He nods and swiftly grabs his coat, ready to go out. This is one of their rare weekends where there are no looming threats of tests and homework due on monday and he wants to spend it fully with Ran.

They quietly leave the apartment, excited to finally go on a date outside. When they successfully make it outside into the chilly winds without any obstacles, they sigh in relief.

“I’m so glad. If Hattori or Kuroba had—“

“KUDO!” A voice screams. Shinichi’s eyes widen in fright.

He just knows who it is. He feels like he shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. Shinichi turns around to confirm his suspicion and sees his friend, standing a few blocks away. Wow, Hattori Heiji and his notoriously loud voice.

“Run,” he says desperately to Ran, “Pretend you didn’t hear him!”

They start to break off into a sprint when suddenly Kaito appears in front of them. Shinichi barrels into him, unable to brake in time.

“Shit! Sorry!” Shinichi says, jumping off.

“It’s okay! Hattori and I thought you didn’t hear us so we tried to catch you!” The tone in Kaito’s voice is unmistakable.

Just then, Heiji catches up to them, with a grin so bright like the sun that hasn’t shown itself for the past few days.

Shinichi doesn’t even try to hide his scowl. Heiji and Kaito don't notice.

•

“We need to talk,” Shinichi says, eyes glaring daggers. Heiji and Kaito look at him expectantly. When Shinichi falters at their bright expressions, Ran rubs a reassuring hand down his back. He sighs.

“Whaddup, Kudo?” Heiji asks.

“Ran and I want some time together. But you guys have been kind of in our space. So please, please leave us alone.” Shinichi looks up to see his friends smirking.

“What?”

“You could have just told us from the start,” Kaito says with a sneer, getting up, “Let’s go.”

Speechless would’ve been the understatement of the century.

“Shinichi? Did something happen between you and them?” Ran asks, looking at the empty space where Heiji and Kaito were. 

While Shinichi was downright annoyed less than five minutes ago, now he’s simply confused as hell. “I didn’t do anythi—oh.” Realization hits him.

“What did you do?” Ran asks in concern, patiently and sweetly. 

“... what we did, actually.” Shinichi is sporting a light blush at this point. “Remember our date night two weeks ago? We went to that restaurant and you were wearing that gorgeous pink dress?”

Yes, Ran remembers that night.

It was a beautiful night with a beautiful dinner, with an even more beautiful girlfriend, and Shinichi couldn’t keep his hands to himself throughout the whole night. Once they got back to his apartment and the door was shut behind them, they stumbled through the dimly lit living room and dining room on their way to Shinichi’s bedroom, too caught up in their kisses. They didn’t even see where they were going until they knocked over a big bowl of soup that was sitting on the counter, effectively spilling the contents all over.

There weren’t any kitchen towels nearby (it was laundry day, and one should not let Kuroba Kaito do laundry because he will forget to get them from the laundry room). And they had just run out of tissue papers and table napkins (and one should not let Hattori Heiji run to the store by himself because he will be distracted by anything in the store and forget what he’s supposed to get).

Head still spinning from their heat-hazed kiss, Shinichi grabbed the nearest piece of fabric, which coincidentally was one of two white towels on the couch, to absorb the spilled soup. He had to prevent their entire apartment from smelling like meat and vegetables. Ran also grabbed the other towel so they could finish the job as quickly as possible and get back down to business.

Halfway through wiping the soup, Shinichi realized that the white fabric they used were Kaito’s. His favorite white coat and pants. Shinichi remembers Kaito saying something about doing a show tomorrow or something.

“These are Kuroba’s.” He said abruptly. But he didn’t find much in him to care. Not with how Ran looks right now, bending down with her cleavage visible like that. 

Ran, however, looked at him in alarm and rushed to put the white coat and pants away. “What about that one?” She pointed at a heap of black fabric on the coffee table. Maybe it was dark blue, but they couldn’t be certain because it was kind of dark. She did not waste much time and ran to get it. Whatever kind of cloth it’s made of, it’s not very good at absorbing the spilled soup too. But well, they have an even more pressing matter to get back to.

And then Heiji’s voice came floating through Shinichi’s mind, something about his Kendo tournament tomorrow or something. Crap. 

“These are Hattori’s.” Shinichi announced unceremoniously. However, one glance at Ran—whose neckline was now crooked and dipped too much downwards that she was showing even more—and he decided that they can take care of this later. Too many problems, but only one that they have to appease very urgently right now.

“We can wash them later,” Ran had said, offering them a very effective solution. They can come back out and take care of the dirty garments later. They’d be clean in no time, and both Heiji and Kaito wouldn’t even notice by the time they need them tomorrow.

Somewhere between cuddling in their post-orgasmic haze and falling asleep next to each other’s body heat, they never did go back out to take care of the rest of the problem outside.

Ran blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Wow, they really mean it when they say revenge.”

They only said it to him, not Ran though. And he had thought that they’d be too busy with their own school works and everything else to come for him. Well, Kaito, he can believe. But he never expected Heiji—his best friend, his wingman!—to actually do this to him too. Heiji, of all people, has the most experience is getting cockblocked. 

“Wow.” echoes Ran.

“I know. Those little shits.”

[ithehellisbucky]

Prompt List

Send ‘em in!

1. “I love you.” “I know.”

2. “I would die for you, but more importantly I would live for you.”

3. “If we both want to make it out of here alive I strongly suggest you put down the spatula.”

4. “I love you isn’t always enough.”

5. “Hahahah- oh my god we fucked up.”

6. “God you’re stupid- kiss me.”

7. “I regret nothing besides all of my life choices.”

8. “You will learn to fear the name Babycakes.”

9. “I can’t wait for them to kill you, I’m going to film it on Instagram live.”

10. “It’s just you, me, and all of our past traumas, what could go wrong... Ah yes, I hear it now.”

11. “You’re my Westly and I’m your mother-fucking Buttercup!!!”

12. “Nothing much, just a friendly witch burning. What about you?”

13. “I love your stupid face... I’m just kidding, your face isn’t stupid, it’s perfect, I’m so so so sorry.”

14. “Holy fuck is that an alpaca?”

15. “You made all of my dreams come true, except for meeting Beyonce. Oh my god is Beyonce here?”

16. “I’m sorry I loved you too much.”

17. “Death, destruction, then waffles.”

18. “I hated you so much that it turned to love instead.”

19. “I think I’m ready. No, I know I’m ready. I’m finally ready.”

20. “And that is how I died.”

21. “It was all a dream.”

22. “I know that not everyone gets to have a happy ending. But I really want to be one of the few that gets one. And I want it with you.”

23. “My only crime was loving you too much... And maybe arson.”

24. “I’m not going to leave. Everyone else may have left, but I’m not going to. Ever.”

25. “All I want is too be deeply loved by someone above everything else, is that too much to ask.”

26. “Fuck you.” “Gladly.”

27. “We drank ten cups of coffee then cried for four hours straight. So, the norm.”

28. “Who is dead?!”

29. “You’re in my chair.” “Well you’re in my heart.”

30. “I loved you so much that it ruined my life. Luckily for you I hated my life before I met you.”

31. “Shut the front door! Then lock it so robbers can’t get in.”

32. “Nothing could make me hate you.”

33. “I did something.” “Let me get my shovel.” “No seriously, we’re going to need a shovel.”

34. “I would murder, like, everyone for you.”

35. “I find it so cute that you think I’m joking.”

36. “I’m so fucking tired of giving 100 percent while your scraping the bottom of the barrel with 30.”

37. “Let me cry, don’t try to help by telling me to stop, and don’t try to calm me down. Just let me cry.”

38. “I wish I could apologize, but I can’t and I won’t.”

39. “Do you want to yell or scream? Because I don’t. I just want to be with you.”

40. “We can cry and smile. We don’t have to pick one, we can do both.”

41. “You’re sorry for yelling. I know it’s hard for you to apologize, so I’m doing it for you. I know you want to say it, but I know you can’t.”

42. “You can’t change your past, but you can make sure that the future is nothing like it.”

43. “All I want is to wake up in your arms. Tomorrow might not be the same, but this is what I want today.”

44. “Dammit you and your moral code.”

45. “Let’s lie and pretend we’re busy.”

46. “I love you, so just stop apologizing.”

47. “You’re going to be happy. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. I promise.”

48. “They don’t love you like I love you. No one could ever love you as much as I do.”

49. “I love you. No buts, no ifs, just love.”

50. “I have never been happier. Thank you, so much, for helping me be happy.

51. “Tell me the fucking truth!”

52. “You know the feeling when your watching a movie and you know in that moment that everything's going to be okay? I think that moment is right now.”

53. “I don’t want to have a baby. I want to have a fire-breathing monster who will crush my enemies for me.”

54. “WHY IS THERE SO MUCH BLOOD?!”

55. “Don’t panic, but everything is going wrong and I’m dying.”

56. “Every time I look at you I can’t breath. When your standing next to the sun all of your breath goes away.”

57. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

58. “I’m so fucking tired of being alone. I’ve always been alone, and for the first time in my life I’m not- thanks to you.”

59. “When I’m around you laying in bed is more exhilarating than jumping off a cliff.”

60. “It’s not fair how happy you make me.”

61. “I’m ready.”

62. “I can’t not love you. And trust me, I’ve tried.”

63. “Love me.”

64. “Ugh, fine we can stop the wedding!” “My Best Friends Wedding style?” “No... The Princess Diaries 2: A Royal Engagement style.”

65. “I would watch 12 straight hours of Keeping Up With the Kardashians for you, that’s how much I love you.”

66. “And in that moment that’s when I knew that I would never love anyone as mu-”  “Are you fucking monologuing?”

67. “I have never been more attracted to you.”

68. “No, no, no, maybe? No. No.”

69. “You could rip my heart out and it wouldn’t matter- I would still love you just as much.”

70. “I want to slow dance in my living room with you.”

71. “This is cheesy. This is so cheesy. You make me cheesy.”

72. “You aren’t my world. You aren’t my sun. You aren’t my life. You are my everything.”

73. “I would die without you. No seriously, I’m pretty bad at most things. Have you seen me try to do laundry? A complete and total shitshow.”

74. “Besides my soul-crushing depression and incredibly pessimistic view of life I’d say I’m doing okay.”

75. “It’s you. It will always be you.”

76. “Without you I’m a polluted sky, green and brown, and ruining everything. With you I’m an Aurora Borealis.”

77. “For you my love, anything.”

78. “Babbling brook motherfucker.”

79. “Tik tok motherfucker.”

80. “How could you hate me, I’m the only person whose ever loved you.”

81. “How the hell are you simultaneously the worst and best person in the world?”

82. “Everything means nothing if I can’t have you.”

83. “How am I supposed to breath around you.”

84. “When you love someone enough you can look around all of their problems. You figure shit out; and we’re going to figure this shit out. Together.”

85. “What?” “What?”

86. “It’s valentine’s day, so we should watch Notting Hill or Titanic, or something romantic.” “Inglourious Bastards is on Netflix.” “Fuck love, let’s watch Brad Pitt kill some Nazis.”

87. “Boop.”

88. “This is such a bad idea... Let’s do it.”

89. “Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool.”

90. “I’ve made a horrible mistake but you’re going to love it.”

91. “I’m pregnant,”

92. “You don’t have to smile if you don’t want to, just let me know you’re going to be okay.”

93. “You look like hell.” “Thanks Heather, I just got back.”

94. “No.”

95. “Will you marry me?”

96. “I’m not crying you are.”

97. “Ugh, shut up and let me love you!”

98. “Forever looks a lot more beautiful with you by my side.”

99. “This is some Christopher Nolan level apeshit.”

100. “I have always loved you, and I’m never going to stop.”

Ask Box

[ziaxkawaii]

Cute toothy grin (Kirishima x Reader)

Pairing: Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: Cursing.

Summary: Kirishima gets turned into a toddler.

~Your relationship with Kirishima has been more interesting and wonderful than you could begin to explain.

~The two of you were the: Cutesy smile couple, for the obvious reason that you two seemed to shine like the sun when you two smiled in each others company or even when you were separated.

~Your partner since the beginning of UA, was always so caring and a loving boyfriend when you hung out, and was always there when you needed him the most. 

~Of course you happily returned the favor when he himself needed some affection.

~Today turned out to be one of those days where you need to be with him at all times. At least for today.

~You and Kirishima worked at the same agency for hero-work study, and as much as it sounded that it was intentional, it wasn’t. It was a happy little surprise when you two found out that you both would be working together for the Pro-hero Fat Gum.

~For the past month, everything was going smoothly. Nothing too crazy happened and only couple of incident were bad enough to cause you minor injuries, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

~That changed however when you, Kirishima and Tamaki also known as Suneater, were chasing down two villains. One of them had a quirk that made their hair grow as long as they wished and they could control it like some octopus tentacles.

~You had no idea what kind of quirk the other one had but it was soon found out when Kirishima slipped and got hit by it. Unfortunately the villain got away but the good news was Tamaki managed to apprehend the hair-tentacle villain. Still you and Tamaki were upset for the failure.

~You were about to inform, that it could have ended much worse, but a sound of slight sniffling and ruffling of clothes caught your and Tamaki's attention.

~You turned around and swore on the spot that you were dreaming.

~On the other side of the rooftop sat a little teary eyed toddler in a far too large hero costume for his frame and with a completely different hair color than before. a Pretty coal black.

~”Ei-Eijiro?!!...” You exclaimed. Immediately picking up the child version of him along with the costume. You exchanged worried looks with Tamaki who didn’t seem to know what to say.

~Once you got back to the agency and told Fat Gum what happened. He too was a bit surprised to say the least. He said he would look into the villain and told you, Kirishima would be excused from doing any herowork until he turned back to normal.

~You really didn’t attract much attention on the sidewalk, but when you reached the school grounds, you started to get some interesting looks from the other students. Wondering whose child you were carrying or why he was there in the first place.

~Kirishima didn’t like all the attention so he buried his head in you shoulder to hide away while muttering something incoherent.

~You spoke with Aizawa, who didn’t really change his expression when he saw Kirishima's state. Only telling you that if he didn’t change back by the end of the week end, they had to figure something out.

~You bowed and quickly made your way to the class 1-A dorms.

~As soon as you stepped inside the building, you had the attention of the entire class that was in the common room. Some girls were squealing while some other people were generally confused.

~”Oh my, who’s this this little fella?~” Mina was the first at your side, trying to get a good look at Kirishima who was still hiding his face.

~“Are they your younger sibling?” Ochaco asked next to you. You laughed nervously.

~”No he’s not. He is actually Kirishima.” The whole class screamed in surprise. By now Kirishima lifted his head to look at the many faces surrounding him. At least he didn’t seem scared anymore.

~After briefly explaining what happened during your work study, everybody seemed to understand the situation. While your explanation, Momo had offered to make some suitable clothes for Kirishima when she noticed he was bare, now he was peeking behind every cough as if expecting something to be there, while you and your classmates were sitting and talking in the living room.

~”So we have no idea how long he’ll be like this?” Kaminari asked as he instinctively rubbed Kirishima’s head in a brotherly way from his seat. Kirishima tries to push his hands away while laughing wildly. 

~”Stop! No, not the hair!” He whined smiling.

~”Huh… So he has been like that since childhood.” Muttered Sero.

~”But everything aside, what are we supposed to do? Babysit him for the weekend?” Ojiro jumped into the conversation.

~”I wouldn’t mind taking care of him.” You admitted and you took the turn to run your fingers through Kirishima's black locks when he was tugging on your pants, demanding attention.

~”That settles it then, but don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it.” Tsuyu informed you and you nodded, picking up your boyfriend and placing him on your lap.

~”I’ll keep that in mind.”

~~~

~You panted heavily as you rested on the common room couch. Just as your ‘babysitting’ started, Kirishima wanted play a game. You of course compiled, as you couldn’t say no to his adorable shark grin and eyes that twinkled like stars were in them. 

~After playing tag for what felt like hours, you were tired and Eijiro on the other hand didn’t seem faced at all. Apparently children have infinite energy.

~”Let’s play hide and seek!”

~”What?!” You immediately lifted your head and scanned your surroundings. Kirishima was nowhere in sight. Panic rose within your chest.

~“Where did he go?!” You exclaimed looking around once more to make sure you weren’t mistaken. Shit… He could be literally anywhere. In the basement, outside since the back door was open at the moment or even in someone's dorm room. Why do kids have to be so damn fast on their feet?

~”The hell you’re crying here about!?” Yelled a familiar voice that belonged to the one and only explosive blond. You and Bakugou weren’t best friends per say, but you do talk to each other here and there since you were: ‘not as bad as the other extras’ in his book.

~”I’m afraid I have lost my partner in a game of hide and seek, but the open front and back doors at this hour are not helping the case.”

~”Why are you so worked up over nothing? Shitty-hair can handle himself just fine until you find him.”

~”He literally hurt himself twice with his own quirk in the past hour! Plus he managed to spill water all over himself and the rug while taking a sip.” You said. Referring how clumsy he is in this toddler form. 

~Bakugou was present when that incident happened. His idiotic friend was drinking a glass of water but for some reason decided to dip his head and glass far too back and the drink spilled all over his face, clothes and the rug. Kids are stupid and there’s no telling what he could do next.

~As much as he would’ve liked to already be sleeping, he couldn’t leave Kirishima in trouble at this state. He was still a friend. (Although bakugou continues to deny their friendship). ”Damn it..., fine. I’ll look outside, you’ll look inside. Clear?”

~”Crystal.” You replied and already headed off to check the laundry room. When you were a child, that was the best hiding place for you so it seemed like a good start. You opened the door to laundry room and made a quick search.

~”Not here.” You continued to the next place. The baths.

~Now, you definitely aren’t going in the boys baths. You just need some outside help. Fortunately, Tokoyami was about to enter the baths but you called his name and stopped him in his tracks.

~”Hey, Tokoyami. I seem to have lost Eijiro, so can you please help me look if he’s in the baths?” You inquired, slightly embarrassed since you had to admit your failure to more people.

~”I’ll take a look then.” He said and walked in. After a few minutes of standing in the hallway, You heard Tokayami’s voice shout.

~”He is not here (y/n)!”

~”Oh, okay thank you!” You called and went to check the girls baths for good measure. Not there either.

~There weren’t really any good places in the dorms to hide, so it was getting kind of ridiculous that you still haven't found him after checking the emergency stairs, the second, third and fourth floor. You even checked his own room but he wasn’t there, and now you were getting even more anxious.

~”It’s fine, Either me or Bakugou, will find him sooner or later.” You calmed yourself. You walked to fifth and also the last floor, if Eijiro wasn’t here you don’t know what you would do.

~You took a few steps into the hallway and spotted something on the ground. Bending down you picked it up. It was a band-aid, more specifically the same kind you used to patch Kirishima up when he got hurt today.

~”He has at least been here.” You said to yourself. Then a sudden conclusion hit you. Your dorm room was on this floor…. could he be? You walked to your room door and pulled the handle. Just as you pulled it open, something from inside jumped on you and you stumbled back. 

~”You found me (y/n)!” The black haired toddler cheered. You were still shocked from his sudden jump on you, but you brought your arms around him and pulled him close.

~”Eijiro! You scared me, please don’t leave so suddenly! I was worried.” You hugged him tighter. Eijiro seemed to begun to understand his mistake.

~”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….” He apologized, but then let out a deep yawn.

~”Oh, you must be tired. We should get you to bed.” You said and instinctively picked him up, now you started to question the sleeping arrangements. Can you just take him to his room to sleep or are you supposed to sleep next to him as a form of security?

~You got your answer quickly when Kirishima wrapped his tiny arms around you like a vice, with no intention of letting go. You sighed and walked into your room and attempted to lower him down onto your bed.

~”Eijiro. Come on, I have to change.” You whispered while gently tugging his hands. He let go with a whine and cuddled up with your comforter. You swiftly changed out of your school uniform that you, for some reason still wore the whole day, and into a tank top and shorts.

~You crawled into your bed and as by instinct, Kirishima was instantly hugging you again. The image of him being flushed to your chest while your arm was protectively around him, made you smile.

~Usually it was the other way around, but you sure as hell aren’t complaining. He was so cute afterall!

~You pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and let yourself fall into a peaceful slumber.

~~~

~You felt warm. A little bit too warm, but you felt comfortable nonetheless. The sun peeked through your curtains as it obnoxiously shined in your eye. You figured it was a great time to wake up, but a massive weight on your body stopped you.

~You looked down and realized it was your boyfriends body that held you down. He had turned back to his normal form and his hair was the usual crimson red. Dyed or not, it was perfect in your eyes no matter what.

~His head nestled on your shoulder while his other arm held your waist firmly. It would have been cute…. if he wasn’t completely bare… Now you definitely felt like you were on fire as you blushed profusely.

~Whatever was out there had been merciful and hid Kirishima's ass under sheets, but you could see everything else. You unintentionally shreaked and fell off the bed, the noise you were making woke the sleeping boy up.

~”What’s wrong?” He asked tiredly rubbing his eyes.

~”P- P-Put some clothes on!” You turned around when he went to get up.

~”Huh..?” He took a look of himself and also blushed immediately, it only worsened when he remembered last days events.

~I-I’m so sorry for everything!!!” He apologized profusely, attempting to cover himself up with his hands. Oh, how embarrassed he was.

~”There were no clothes for you to wear in my room. I’ll go get some from your’s.” You announced, and got up to leave. But turned around before you stepped outside.

~”And about yesterday, don’t be sorry.” You called. “You’re just so cute with that smile of yours, so you're forgiven.” You winked bashfully and left, leaving Kirishima to fall on your bed, red faced.

[venusparker]

a staring problem ✿ p.p (part one)

prompt: peter parker is not exactly a subtle person, especially not with the way he’s been looking at you lately. and of course, it doesn’t particularly help much that he went ahead and kissed you.

• requested by anon ↴

one where peter and reader r bffs n they're in a scenario and he kisses her and she says she has to go or something/someone interrupts them/snaps them out of it and then she leaves and hes confused why he kissed his bff. They forget about it go back to being bffs but than like a month or so later they’re in the same scenario or position n it reminds him of the kiss and he cant stop thinking bout it and how he wants to kiss her again. and him or reader says 'this seems familiar' and fluff pursues)

warnings: nothing but fluff and cursing fuckers get ready

•••

Peter Parker finds it all too easy to become distracted.

He knows he shouldn’t, that junior year is the year that really truly matters the most out of all four years of high school, that the furthest thing from his mind should be everything but school and his work and his college applications. He knows that he should think things through and not let his mind wander too far, or too close to home, how studying will ultimately take his mind off all of the things he’s been wanting to forget — Tony is a name he’s thought less and less about, but somehow that makes everything hurt all the more — but he can’t.

Peter also finds that you happen to be the perfect distraction.

He doesn’t know when he started feeling this way, with all the cheesiness and the butterflies, and the wanting to impress you — he’s felt all those things before but not with you, not with his best friend, someone’s whose already seen every gross and ugly side of him, and someone who knows that sometimes he reuses day old socks — c’mon [Y/N], what’s a day gon’ do? — when he forgets to do his laundry during the weekend. He’s felt nervous and sweaty when talking to pretty girls in the past, but that never included you; you being the one who usually pushed girls in his direction, trying to help him flirt and get out more, you being someone who knew how hard it was for him to balance Spider-Man and all the horrors of a teenage dating life, so you labeled yourself his wingwoman, since Ned was already his Guy in the Chair.

He’s definitely not supposed to feel this way about you, but he has. He does. He can’t specifically pinpoint when, or how, or why now — but it’s there and his emotions seem more uncontrollable than ever. And you’re very, very distracting.

You’re bouncing your knee as you do your AP Chemistry homework, wanting to rip up the packet of worksheets in frustration as you sit in the Parkers’ new apartment (all courtesy of the Blip), still not used to sitting in this oak desk instead of the old mahogany one, of Peter’s room being so much smaller than you were originally used to. Peter’s staring. You’re not blind, and you’re certainly not dumb enough to not take note of the fact that he’s been completely zoned out when he was the one who was supposed to be helping you understand the newest lesson. And you know Peter. Which meant he wasn’t exactly subtle — so his stare seems to burn right into you.

“Listen, dork, are you going to help me or am I going to have to fake sick tomorrow so I can have an extra day to do this shit?” You ask him, spinning around in your chair, facing him as he loses his composure.

Peter breathes out, annoyed, but also embarrassed. He’s trying not to blush as he rolls his eyes, rolling up the sleeves of his plaid shirt as he walks towards you and stands over you, hovering slightly, gazing at the problem. He knew he should’ve looked away, he was staring way too long, God, you probably thought he was a creep — this sucked. He didn’t even know what he really felt, or even if he did feel anything, or if he was just that desperate for a distraction.

“What’s up with you?”

He coughs a reply; a mumble of sorts as the rasp creeps up. “Nothing. I. . .just. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, I need help because my mom is coming in like less than ten minutes and I know the minute I get home, I’m gonna take a nap and try to finish this in home room instead.”

“Ok,” Peter said, but then he shut his mouth. Wrong answer — but in his defense, he was still. . .gathering himself. He wanted to seem normal. Which, he was. He was just confused? No, that’s not what he was looking for — pensive? He had to tear his eyes away from you to focus on his calloused hands.

He did sneak a tiny glance — quick, almost like a simple blink in your direction before he turned away.

Damn. He really liked that top on you.

“Are you okay?” You put down your pencil — really, any excuse to stop doing work that was due was taken as quick as possible — and looked up at him from the chair.

He backed away and nodded, gulping nervously, which made you severely doubt his previous nod of affirmation. No one gulps nervously if they’re okay.

You got up and walked towards him, staring at him curiously. “Is it a Spider-Man thing? Or is May getting on your case because you’ve been leaving your socks and lotion out again—”

He cringes, then blushes, then cringes harder. That certainly shattered his daze. “Jesus, why do you have to say things like that?”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Cause it’s funny. Cause it’s you.” You poke his shoulder. “Come on, what’s up? Fair warning, if it’s depressing, I might cry.”

He rolls his eyes this time and sits down on the bed, leaning back on his arms. You follow and on the floor by his bed, propping yourself up on his leg, arching a brow. He can’t help but notice that you looked really pretty from that angle.

“How do you know that you like someone?” Peter asks. The words are rushed and quick and very high pitched, exactly how he talks when he’s nervous. He clears his throat directly after, like he wishes he swallowed his words instead.

A part of you deflates.

Peter likes someone?

You wondered who. It could’ve been anyone, really. He had a habit of liking people suddenly and randomly, no matter how long he had known them. It was endearing, in a way, how his crushes would appear and stick for months at a time before he got over them (the moping was horrible, though, and you and May were postigive that he breaks his own heart), but a lot of the time, it was a chore to keep up with. Ned was amazing for somehow managing Peter’s love interests — and dealing with Peter when he claimed that no one paid attention to him.

You wondered if it was MJ.

It was probably MJ.

They were cute together, and they got along really well, and Peter had a thing for her a couple months ago that he swore he had gotten over. Maybe he hadn’t gotten over after all — even though he specifically said the words I swear, that’s done with, I really liked her, but maybe things just don’t work out so I’m over it, I’m over it.

Still, you liked giving him advice. He was sort of an idiot, dense if you will, when it came to these kinds of things. Academically he soared, but with relationships it was like he needed help taking his first steps. And who was always around to assist him?

You’d like to give yourself a pat on the back.

“Well,” you start, trying to think of a possible answer that made sense. You hoisted yourself up on the bed so you were across from him, your knees touching his. “I mean. When I like someone, I think about them a lot. Even when I don’t want to. Or, I want to see them as much as possible, even if it means taking a longer way to class just in case I bump into them. I might just be desperate, but yeah.”

“But what if you know them already? And you don’t have to do all that stuff?” He pesters, and he wishes Ned wasn’t grounded. Ned would be great at this—er, sort of. “What if they just distract you? That doesn’t necessarily mean you like them.”

You furrow your brows. You made a mental note to later force Ned to tell you who Peter liked if you didn’t find out on your own while you were here. You were sure that you could make Peter say who he had in mind himself, but your mother was coming and you wanted to find out today. Part of it was generally curiosity and a willingness to help. The other half — the bigger one — was just because you were nosy.

“That’s true. Just cause they’re a distraction doesn’t mean you like them, they could just be a distraction and that’s that. But I think it depends. Like how they distract you, when, why. Like if you’re bored and they’re doing something entertaining or they’re just nice to look at, then you could just be distracted. But —”

You cut yourself off. You’re not sure why, but suddenly you feel shy, embarrassed, even though you don’t really feel shy around Peter. Your face feels hot because you know Peter is looking at you like you’re crazy, upset and patience running thin when you stopped yourself. You were warming up, ears probably red underneath your strands of hair, and you glanced down and away, hoping that he wouldn’t notice.

Was it a crime to be afraid to reveal too much?

Peter wanted an answer. “But what? Come on.”

He wants to know what you have to say, especially because you always do this; you constantly give him love advice while never finishing when something hits too close to home. He hated it because it made him feel like he was being left out of something he thought he should’ve known by now, and it wasn’t fair that you always knew his latest infatuations while barely sparing a word about any of yours.

Come to think of it, the last time Peter heard you talk about someone you liked was freshman year, and ever since, you had stopped mentioning names.

His heart jumped.

“Fine, shut up. Can you let me breathe? Damn.” You give him a look, sticking out your tongue and he returns it, giving you an annoyed expression.

You want to shove him, but maybe not in the face. Peter had a nice face, so you couldn’t harm that, lest you rid the world — and your eyes — someone nice to look at when you should’ve been doing homework. Still, a shove would have rightfully knocked him down a few pegs. You sigh, continuing, sheepishly.

“I was going to say that, well, if you just happen to look at them, then they’re just something to keep your mind off of something else. But, if, let’s say, you’re in calculus, right? And you really, really need to know the lesson and problem on the board to understand future problems or problems on the test, but you can’t help but keep glancing over, or staring, or somehow you always find yourself looking at them even though you need to focus on something else — you might like them. If you’re trying to focus but you know that they sit behind you or next to you, and suddenly you sneak a peek? You have a problem, my friend.”

You bite your lip, praying it doesn’t seem all too much like this is your own relay of personal experiences. You also hope that he doesn’t think much of you choosing calculus, which is one of the only classes you have together this year.

“A problem?” He repeats, scratching the nape of his neck.

He didn’t necessarily think it was a problem. Well, it was kind of creepy how often his eyes drifted to you when he should’ve been paying attention to Mr. Harrington, or when you left the lunch table to get in line because the cafeteria was selling French toast sticks and he would subconsciously watch you walk away.

Okay, yeah. Maybe he did have a problem.

“Yup. A problem. Now,” you pause for dramatic effect that Peter does not appreciate, “who is it?”

He answers too fast, and he wants to smack himself when he does. “No one! It’s-it’s nothing! I don’t even know if I like them yet. I haven’t, like, kissed them or done anything or even really thought about them that much.”

“Peter, come on! You can tell me.” You move closer to him, readjusting your legs so you can sit comfortably. “You’ll know if you like somebody. Most people have a clue by now.”

“But I don’t know.”

“Yes you do! If you have to ask if you like someone, you probably already know the answer and just don’t want to admit it.”

“I don’t know, okay?! I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Peter’s heart quickens in his chest. He has to refrain from placing his hand over it, as though he’s afraid it might leap out of his chest, like the ending of Alien. That’d be horrific.

“How do you not?” You challenge, getting up in his face, acting smug. It was a best friend’s duty, after all, to be annoying — especially if your best friend was Peter Parker.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” He tells you, but it’s nothing you haven’t heard from his mouth before.

You could definitely be more annoying than you were being right now.

“Tell me! Tell me! Please, Peter? It’s not like I’ll tell anyone and I’ll help you out and—”

You’re moving towards him, trying to up the irritating factor by trying to lay on him, using all your weight and pressing into him so he starts trying to push you off. He groans, clearly unamused, but that’s all the more motivation to keep going.

The pleas keep escaping your lips as you climb him like a child, too caught up in the action to notice much of anything else.

“Um,” Peter says, and you stop. The word leaves his mouth quickly. His eyes are slightly wide, but he’s trying to pretend that they aren’t. Even though you see right through him, most of the time.

You hadn’t noticed how close you two had gotten. Your noses weren’t exactly touching, but a little farther and you could’ve gotten there. You were close enough to notice the flecks of hazel in his eyes, and the rim of gold, something you’d probably take a picture of for your required photography elective (Peter only promised to take it if you took it with him), if you only had a camera. Your eyes trail his face before you stop yourself and lift your head back slightly.

“I’m. . .” You feel like you’re choking on your words. They come out so soft, as a whisper, and they’re trailing, like you can’t finish. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. That’s weird. This is weird.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassures you, but neither of you make any effort to move away from each other, and he doesn’t exactly want to. His breathing is shaky, and he knows you hear it.

“It is?” You don’t move back — just frozen, so close to his face. Did he always have that scar there? And you could’ve sworn he had less freckles. “It’s. . .okay?”

Your own words confuse you, but he shakes his head, swallowing.

“Yeah.” Peter lets out a breathy reply, staring at you.

He moves forward like someone else had pushed him, and he kisses you, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. You feel his lips — they’re soft, but a little chapped on the corners, and they taste like a mixture of that caramel coffee flavor he always likes to drink and the spare lip balm you let him borrow — as they press against yours, a small peck, a light graze, and then Peter pulls away. You kiss him back, you know that much. For that minuscule moment, you kissed Peter Parker back.

You two stare at each other. Silent, motionless, stiff.

Then he kisses you again.

This time it’s longer, but still nervous. It’s awkward and weird, but enjoyable at the same time — enjoyable because it’s you, it’s you, it’s you, and Peter has never thought about kissing you, not really, and now that he has, now that he actually was, he knew he would have trouble even kicking the memory out of his mind. You kiss him back kind of hard because you don’t know how to trek into this new territory, how to walk safely without stubbing toe, but he kisses you, he kisses you — Peter is kissing you.

And then he’s not.

Both of you hear it. The footsteps, May’s footsteps to be specific, and you jump so far apart from one another that you’re off the bed and on your feet. The blush on both of you is enough to give a grounded Ned secondhand embarrassment (Peter may have had Spidey-senses, but Ned’s Best Friend Sixth Sense was probably pinging right now), and you collect your things — that damn AP Chem homework, the bane of your existence — shoving them into your bag.

Did that happen? Did that just happen, for real? Did you kiss Peter Parker on his dumb mouth and enjoy it?

Fuck. Well, technically he kissed you.

By the time May throws open Peter’s bedroom door, an action all were used to by now, you’re packed up and ready to go, not even looking at the boy less than five feet away from you. To be fair, it’s not like he’s exactly looking at you either. Not anymore.

You two are looking at everything, but each other. 

“I think your mom is outside, [Y/N]. She buzzed on the wrong apartment because our buttons are all kind of funky. Should be getting fixed by Tuesday, though, so that’s fun! Mechanic guy that my friend Chelsea used to date offered to do it for free,” May rambles endearingly, and it’s almost enough to make you feel less flustered by the past five minutes.

Almost. 

“Thanks, May! I’ll get going then.” You walk up to the doorway to give her a hug and turn around. You’re not sure what to do about Peter. “Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, Pete. Bye.”

“Uh, what? Oh, bye.” Peter gives you a casual wave, despite the fact that he’s unable to meet your eyes. May sends him a look, having perhaps an entire conversation with him just via her eyes (she had always been gifted at that), before walking you out of the apartment.

Peter listens intently on his bed as May’s voice rings through the small apartment, how she asked you questions about the usual: homework, school, your family — and you and May had always bonded over a similar taste in stupid reality television. You hated it so much that you became obsessed with it, and May loved catching up with you over episodes of random shows you would happen to stumble upon. He endures several minutes of finding out spoilers to something he didn’t really care about until he heard you say a final goodbye and May shutting the door.

He sighed in relief, but he knew what was coming. May. May — as lovable and amazing as she was — was very, very gossipy. Not that she had many people to gossip with, though she had a large number of friends, but she liked knowing even the most intimate details of Peter’s life. It wasn’t bad, but that just meant he had a hard time lying to her.

She came back in the room, loose pants swinging against her legs as she opened his bedroom door, the strictly Eye Conversation now becoming one that could be said out loud.

“Peter.”

“Yes, May?”

She was expectant, but smiling. It was a knowing smile and Peter hated it — even though he was trying not to blush or smile either.

“Well. What the hell was that?”

•••

i’ll start working on part 2 y’all!!! hope u enjoyed part one tho. and thank u to the anon who sent this request it’s rlly cute

[missdaviswrites]

Fic Writer Intro--MissDavis

I just got back from @ficwritersretreat2019, where we talked about ways to support and promote other fic writers. One idea was to write introductory posts for ourselves, then reblog each others’ posts to spread the word to all our followers. Below I have tagged the other writers who went to this year’s retreat, but even if you’ve never been, feel free to introduce yourself and your own writing. If you tag me, I'll reblog your post, too! 

I’m MissDavis and I've been writing BBC Sherlock fic since shortly after s3. Most of my work is Johnlock with some occasional Johnlockary thrown in for good measure. Here’s the link to all of my writing. If you’re looking for something specific, here’s a breakdown by ship and length, along with summaries from AO3:

Johnlock:

Long fics (50-100+K):

Breakable rated E After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of the Breakable Not Broken series.

Full Court Press  rated E College basketball AU: Sherlock is the team’s best shooter. John is the team’s best ball-handler.

Side Effects rated E WIP, currently 10/17 chapters now complete! Sequel to Breakable. Life is a lot better for Sherlock and John than it was a year ago. Yes, John still can't walk and Sherlock is still on antidepressants, but they're married now, and almost everything else is back to their version of normal. They have a dog. Sherlock's solving cases again. But when Moriarty learns of their marriage, he escapes from prison and takes it upon himself to make their lives miserable. Is Sherlock really up to the challenge of catching a criminal whose only goal is to make sure that he and John don't live happily ever after?

Mid-length fics (10-35K):

Chaperones  rated T "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?“

Christmas With You rated T Watch Sherlock, John and Rosie over the years as they celebrate the season as only they can.

Welcome Christmas  rated T Join John and Sherlock at Baker Street as they celebrate Rosie's first Christmas and beyond. From Rosie crawling around the flat as they tiptoe around each other en route to their first kiss, to a happy retirement with a young grandson who wants to be just like Grandad and Papa, this fic shows how Sherlock and John celebrate Christmas together through the years.

Breaking Christmas rated M Join me in some established relationship Johnlock as I attempt to make Sherlock and John participate in some Seasonal Fucking Cheer. Ficlets that are part of the Breakable Not Broken series.

So This Is Christmas rated T Sherlock, John and Rosie celebrate the Christmas season with the rest of their family. It's not always perfect, but they all do their best. Most of the time. AKA the Christmas ficlets that include Eurus.

Clutter-Free rated E 5 times John made Sherlock clean up the flat and one time he didn’t have to.

Short fics (2K-9K):

The Librarians of Baker Street  rated E Sherlock is a cataloguer who's forced to work the reference desk once a week. Which he hates. Or at least, he used to hate it, until the library hired a new reference librarian. Guess who?

Just a Touch rated E John has trouble falling asleep these days. There’s one thing he can do that always seems to help, but he’s stuck in this hotel room with Sherlock and doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. How will he ever find relief and a good night’s sleep?

If You Lead Me rated M Enough time has passed since Mary’s death that John is finally ready to start a new relationship. With Sherlock, he hopes. But given Sherlock’s stated aversion to romantic entanglements, John is a bit worried about being rejected, and doesn’t know how to proceed. Fortunately, there’s someone who can help him along.

Sherlock Is Actually a Cat Person rated E John brings home a kitten. Sherlock is not okay with it.

The Last Time Alone rated E But it wasn’t enough, not for John. He needed more. He needed someone to hold besides a child, and someone to kiss on the lips and not just the top of the head. He needed sly looks across the dinner table and to know if he put Rosie to bed early he might emerge from her room to find a candle lit and dessert served just for two.

The One Where No One Proposes rated G Sherlock inherits his parents’ wedding rings. It’s ridiculous that they mean something to him. He doesn’t plan to do anything with them. Sentiment.

Equal Footing  rated E Sherlock had certainly never shown any interest in women’s footwear, or in seeing John appear as anything but fully male. But five extra inches—that opened up all sorts of interesting possibilities.

Very short fics (under 2K):

Dirty Laundry rated E If they got far enough along, John knew he would stop noticing the steady clanking thump of the washer, but so far he’d been unable to keep himself from being distracted.

A Boyfriend in Need rated G John's in medical school now, but it's Sherlock who's taking care of him today. A sequel to Full Court Press.

Rosie and the Rainbows rated M Sherlock isn’t exactly opposed to Rosie joining the Girl Guides, but he doesn’t really see the appeal, either. It ends up being much worse than he imagined.

To a Better Year than Last rated G After the life-altering events of the last twelve months, John is more than ready for the new year to begin. Short sequel to Breakable, from John's POV.

Training  rated G Sherlock had terrible running form; they would have to work on that later. For now, John just ran, happy that for once Sherlock was the one chasing after him.

Honey Bee rated G Rosie gets stung by a bee. It’s not a big deal, except that it is.

He Sees You When You're Sleeping rated T Sherlock and John return to the Holmes’ family home for Christmas to find that Mummy has redecorated.

Wrong Disc rated G Two years later and DVDs that Mary made before she died are still showing up every now and then. Thankfully.

The Cute One  rated G "This post says that whenever there are three people, there must be one who's the clever one, one who's the cool one, and one who's the cute one.” Rosie looked from John to Sherlock and back again. “So which of us is which?”

Better  rated G Sometimes the world just calls for a bit of comfort. A 221B ficlet.

Let's Go on a Family Holiday (& Then Not Leave the Room) rated T Sherlock looked up, noting that John’s bare chest lacked the glossy sheen of suncream that he had been anticipating. A 221B ficlet

Johnlockary

Could Be Fun 36K words, rated E This is the first fic I started writing when I got into the Sherlock fandom. John, Sherlock and Mary embark on a new stage of their relationship. Nine chapters of smut and snark, canon-compliant through series 3.

The Life We Choose 16K words, rated M Based on the "30 Days of Sherlock Challenge,” a series of ficlets from the points of view of Sherlock, John, Mary, and, of course, Alice Watson: I have three parents. Some of my friends have three, too, or even four, but none of them has three who all live together, which makes me the luckiest out of all my friends.

Imagine the Christmas Dinners 15K words, rated M A series of Christmas-themed ficlets, featuring Sherlock, John and Mary over the years, with appearances by Baby Watson, Mummy Holmes, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

Better Off Together 9K words, WIP, now complete at 16K! Rated M What if everyone lived happily ever after? Yes, I’m still writing this, maybe 1 or 2 chapters left to go!

An Afternoon Interruption 7K words, rated E Still the only John/Sherlock/Mary/Sally fic on AO3!

The Clothes You Once Wore  4K words, rated E Mary took a deep breath and conceded to herself that maybe she did want to put on the assassin outfit and tie him to the bed and have her way with him. Maybe Sherlock had just known it before she did. Possibly my favorite short fic I’ve written.

Got You Pegged 2K words, rated E Sherlock could think of six different ways they could make it fit using common household items he had in the flat, but he didn’t think he could wait that long.

The Space Between 2K words, rated E This one is really more Johnlock than Johnlockary. Written as part of the Come At Once 24-hour porn challenge.

Safe Not Sound   2K words, rated E "Oh, come on. I'm willing to put up with all this 'gun safety' nonsense you and John are insisting on, the least you could do is give me what I want in return."

Brand New Day 1500 words, rated T Breakfast, babies, and three people trying to do their best.

While You Were Sleeping  1K words, rated E “We—” Mary started and Sherlock pressed his fingers a bit harder against her leg. She inhaled. “He’ll wake up.”

Storage Space  695 words, rated M Sherlock has his own space at John and Mary’s house now. The first fic I ever posted!

Bed rated T It’s a bit tight, but they all fit. A 221B ficlet.

Other Ships or Ship-free

All We Have  5K words, rated T, Gen. My angsty, pre-series 4 interpretation of what might have happened to a third Holmes brother.

One Night, Twenty Weeks 4K words, rated E, Mary/Molly. Mary has a problem. Molly helps her out.

Actually, the Baby Sits on You 3K words, rated G, Gen. Sherlock watches the Watsons’ baby for the first time.

Tea for Three 2K words, rated E, Mrs. Hudson/Mrs. Holmes/Mr. Holmes. Mrs. Hudson had been with many men over the years—older, younger, single, divorced, married and seeing her on the side either secretly or openly—but this was the first time she had ever been with a man while his wife lay right beside them.

Tiny Little Pieces 1594 words, rated G, John/Mary. They watched to the end of the DVD; Sherlock smiled and winked at them and John flicked off the screen again. “So. That’s Sherlock.” He gave her a smile that was even more forced than the one Sherlock had just displayed. “It’s funny. I’d almost forgotten what he sounded like.”

Not in the Job Description 1,505 words, rated E, Sherlock/Sally. The case has Sherlock stumped, and John’s not around to help him focus. Someone has to step up and help him clear his mind.

Once He Is Gone 1K words, rated T, Gen. John is fine at Sherlock’s funeral. Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s been to funerals for so many of his friends. Why would Sherlock’s be any different?

When Mary Met Sally 766 words, rated G, Gen. Sally stops by Baker Street with a case but finds out that Sherlock isn’t home.

Kick  Gen, rated G. Mary is pregnant, John’s not speaking to her, and Sherlock’s still in hospital. A 221B ficlet.

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

Tagging: @hubblegleeflower @pipmer @pippn-frodo @totallysilvergirl @daringlydomestic @prettyrealisticjohnlockfanart @cumberqueer @addictedstilltheaddict @disaronnus @weneedtotalkaboutsherlock @quantum-sparrow @blogstandbygo @amindamazed @fearlessdiva930 @onwallsiwrite

and tagging *anyone* else who wants to share--really, feel free to promote your fic!

[carol-effing-danvers]

where we grew up

this is part two of the series “run long, roam far, return soon” part one: “knock me the fuck out (i dare ya, babe)” (cont.) (fin.) part three: “push me, pull you” 

(click here if you’d prefer to read this in AO3′s format)

Steve assures her that he’s done all the right things, followed all the right procedures. He’s calm, he looks…not relaxed because no one could possibly be relaxed in this situation, but he looks like someone who is collected and has control of the situation.

But Robin knows him, and she can see in his eyes that some piece of him has quietly died – maybe not forever, but this day has wounded him deeply.

So, she tells him he’s got this and when their lunchbreak is over, she goes back to the high school building and immediately goes to the main office. Impatiently, she dials and waits for someone to answer, anxiously hugging herself with one arm.

“This is the 11th Hour,” El answers in her best ‘customer service’ voice. “I’m Jane. How can I help you today?”

“I need you…” Robin sighs, closes her eyes, and puts a hand over her face. “Is Hargrove there with you?”

“Yeah, Robbie, hold on.”

There’s a clattering in the background before Billy’s gruff tone says “Buckley. What’s up?”

“You…you need to pick up Steve from work, today.”

“Car break down? Didn’t sound like it was in bad shape, last I heard,” Billy observes cautiously.

“No, Billy,” she says with quiet pain. “He’s-he might be there late. But he’s going to need you, when it’s finished.”

“Okay, Rob, you need to back up here. What’s going on?”

“Steve had to call CPS, Billy,” she whispers, “One of his kids came in with belt marks all over him, and while the school nurse was looking him over, Steve brought his older sister up and started asking her some questions, and he and the nurse realized very quickly that someone has been beating her around, too.”

Billy’s stomach drops. “But they’re-they’re five year olds,” he says numbly. “Little kindergarteners…”

“Yeah.” It’s amazing how much pain and anguish can be packed into a single word. “They are.”

He is, at this very moment, imagining anyone attempting to do that to his sweet little Lulu and the blind fury that left him for so long suddenly comes back with a fiery vengeance. “What kind of monster beats a five year old with a belt?!”

But the thing is…he-he knows. He was raised by that same kind of monster – Neil Hargrove absolutely beat Billy with a belt, more than once throughout his childhood.  He has no idea how Robin is managing her side of this conversation so calmly.

“Their mom is an addict, and it seems she doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to how her boyfriend treats her kids. Steve mentioned a couple of times throughout the year that he’d noticed both of them looking a little…unkept, but Rosie is a single mom and times are hard, so he gave her the benefit of a doubt,” Robin says grimly. “Turns out, they were looking unkept because the sister was the one trying to do the laundry and making sure they both got a bath and she wasn’t always so great at it. Not surprising, since she’s only nine.”

Swallowing past the sick feeling in his guts, Billy asks “Okay, so what do you need me to do?”

“I need you to be there when he lets himself freak out. He was acting super calm when I saw him because he has to finish class and wait with them until CPS can contact their aunt, but I’ve known him for a decade – the moment a child doesn’t need him, he’s gonna fucking lose it, Hargrove, and I know you’re the person he wants the most right now.”

Billy’s eyes go wide. “I’ll be there.”

“I know.”

Even with Robin's helpful warning, Billy doesn't really know what to expect when he walks down the Grade K hall. There are no children left in the classrooms here - school let out twenty minutes ago and these kids are too little for extracurricular activities.

He is expecting what he sees in Steve’s classroom least of all.

Steve and the other kindergarten teacher, Melanie Dohr, have rooms that mirror each other – boxy spaces slightly wider than they are long, with a doorway at one end that faces the children’s cubby stations, except that Melanie’s desk and chairs are to the left of the classroom door and Steve’s are to the right. At the very end of this room is a little sofa and an open space where they do story time and nap time and when he leans his head in to check on Steve, this is where he is sitting.

Squished right up against him on that sofa is a little girl with brown hair in two long braids. She’s a little girl, but she’s still too old to be someone Steve teaches. As Steve reads aloud, one arm around her, she listens intently as she leans into his side, a tissue clutched in her fist that she holds near her mouth as she silently cries. She’s heartbreaking and what’s worse – Billy actually recognizes her.

“Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel, in spite of – or perhaps because of – their dissimilarity...”

This is Marcy Roberts, Martin’s big sister. He’s seen her many times, because Marcy walks her brother down to the kindergarten hall every morning before she goes back to Mrs. Webster in the third grade hall.

On their very first date, Billy had overheard Steve having a talk with Martin outside the classroom when he hit a classmate who called him names, and it reminded Billy so vividly of himself it was nearly painful. Of course Martin was the boy who’d taken a beating with a belt. He didn’t know why he hadn’t guessed it was Martin in the first place.

Silently, Billy makes his way into the room – he knows when Marcy spots him, because the fourth-grader immediately becomes tenser and tries to shrink into Steve’s side, her big blue eyes watching him wearily. Steve’s arm tightens around her, eyes briefly flicking upward before he serenely continues with his reading.

Old Billy would’ve been furious that Steve was deliberately choosing to ignore him – Old Billy was furious when Steve ignored him. New Billy slowly crept his way around to Steve’s desk while being watched by a little girl, settling back into the teacher’s chair and trying to look as innocent and nonthreatening as possible.

He wouldn’t consider himself a natural with kids, not like Steve was, and he’s definitely never had to interact with a child whose been treated…well, the way he’d been treated, he supposed. Lulu has never been afraid of him, but she also doesn’t really know any better. Uncle Billy is Uncle Billy, and he’s always been Uncle Billy in her eyes. And Justin is a worthless father, but he’s never actively tried to cause his daughter physical pain or mental anguish – though his complete disregard for her existence could hardly be called any better.

Steve is beloved by all of his students, of course, but for Marcy, he may literally be the only adult that she trusts. Marcy and Martin need him and that will hold his entire focus until they can be settled.

For a while, Billy wonders what happened to Martin, and then realizes that he probably had to stay in the nurse’s office. He knows from hard experience that sitting was likely painful and difficult at the moment if Martin got the belt. With any luck, the nurse has given him a light sedative, something to put him to sleep or even just make him a little more comfortable.

When Marcy’s focus is no longer dedicated to waiting for Billy to suddenly attack her, he takes the time to really look at her. Has she always been so small and thin? Is he only really noticing this now because he has some idea of what her home life is like? There’s a wrapping of gauze around her right forearm hinting that Marcy didn’t entirely escape the mercies laid upon Martin. Her hair – brown to her younger brother’s toe-headed blonde – is looking a bit unkempt and her clothes aren’t dirty but they are also certainly not new and Billy knows he wouldn’t have noticed any of this if Robin hadn’t already told him that their mother has been neglecting them.

But Steve had noticed.

Steve has been noticing, maybe the entire year, probably watching with helpless dismay as Marcy and Martin’s condition deteriorated right before his eyes as their home situation got more and more unhappy. Billy wonders what finally led him to the proof he needed to get CPS involved.

In hindsight, Billy now realizes that more than one of his own teachers had tried to get him to open up to them about the way Neil treated him at home, but he had been a scared and angry child and in early childhood, he hadn’t understood what they were asking for. And later on, he hadn’t trusted any adult enough to do that, until he’d become a sullen and violent teenager that everybody wanted to write off instead of an energetic and overeager child.

Marcy is still half hiding against Steve’s side, listening to him read – or maybe just letting the sound of his voice wash over her the way Billy is doing. Her hand is up near her face, fingers reflexively curling but she doesn’t actually put any of her fingers in her mouth. It’s not normal, is it, for a nine year old to still have the urge to suck her thumb?  

He loses track of time, letting the murmur of Steve’s voice soothe him into something like a doze, though his eyes are still open, when there is suddenly a knock on the classroom doorframe. A slim blonde woman with a briefcase wearing a navy blue pantsuit stood in the hall, standing beside a brunette woman with her hair cut into a short bob. “Hello, you must be Marcy!” the blonde says, just a little too bright to be entirely natural. “I’m Mrs. Rhodes, but you can call me Vicki.”

“Uh…okay,” Marcy says nervously, still glued to Steve’s side.

Steve gives Vicki a very charming smile – though now that Billy knows him so well, he can see that it’s a bit insincere. “Can I talk to Marcy for a just a second? Nurse Downing’s office is just down the hall and to the right if you’d like to check in on Martin. He might still be asleep, though.”

“Alright!” Vicki said, though the brunette looked like thrilled about this, she followed her back down the hall to the nurse’s office.

As soon as the woman’s footsteps had dwindled down the hall, Steve gave Marcy the worn down copy of Anne of Green Gables. “Keep that with you,” he tells her quietly. “It has my address and phone number inside. I think your Aunt Rachel will take good care of you, but if someone hurts you again, if you don’t feel safe, or if you just want to talk to me, call me, okay? Even if it’s really late at night, even if it’s not a school day, even if it’s the middle of summer, alright, Marcy? Any time you want to talk to me, call me. Alright?”

“Okay.” Marcy repeats, louder this time but with a wobble in her chin. She clutches the book to her chest like a shield, fingers tightening on the spine now that she knew the truth of its importance.

She surged forward, embracing Steve desperately, which he returns before plucking up her faded purple bookbag. “Let’s go find Mrs. Rhodes and Aunt Rachel. We’ll see how Martin is doing.”

---

The hand off was just as hard as he knew it would be. Martin was emotional and weepy, throwing something like tantrum – or Steve would’ve called it a tantrum if he didn’t know how scared and confused and traumatized he was – but Helen handled it pretty well and managed to calm him down. Marcy practically had a panic attack as they were leaving but Steve could almost see her reminding herself to be the responsible big sister.

Fuck.

Steve has to remind himself for the hundredth time that the state won’t let a single man with his history and his salary have one child, never mind two. No matter how much he loves them. No matter how torn up he is to watch them leave.

Rachel will do a good job, he tells himself firmly. Truthfully, Rachel couldn’t do much worse to them then her younger sister already had. Even after his gentle question of Marcy – something Vicki and Rachel will probably follow up on in more depth later – Steve isn’t exactly sure when Rosie checked out on her job as a mother. What little Marcy had admitted to, beyond the evidence directly on her and Martin’s bodies, left him believing that the real problem had been that Rosie was never checked in.

Rachel had looked unhappy with the development of this whole situation – unhappy, but not at all surprised. Steve thinks that maybe Rachel has long harbored some suspicions of her own.

Steve walks back to his classroom like a sleepwalker. He feels drained, like some kind of vampire has been sucking on his neck all afternoon.

Billy leaning against a corner of the hall, waiting for Steve to return. His eyes, so stark and vividly blue, remind him painfully of Martin and Marcy. Reminds him of a hospital bed, and a monster made of a mountain of corpses and carnage. Reminds him of the way Billy had looked against the starched white linens, and how for the longest time, that was the last image Steve ever had of him.

Deep in himself, he feels sick down to his soul. With time and practice, he’s gotten the hang of dealing with other people’s pain, but Steve has never quite gotten the knack of looking directly at his own. His voice crawls from his throat, falsely bright and without any warmth. “Picked a wild time to surprise me.”

“Wasn’t a surprise,” Billy grunted, watching him closely. The way he always seemed to be watching him. The way, Steve now realizes, the way Billy literally always had watched him. “Buckley asked me to take you back home.”

“I don’t know why,” Steve says, frowning at his desk as he idly tidies up before reaching to shut the lights off. “You don’t have to. I can drive, it’s not like I’m impaired or something.”  

“Humor me,” Billy replies shortly, in a way that tells Steve he won’t be taking ‘no’ for an answer. Not that he ever really takes ‘no’ for an answer. Steve finds it both aggravating and charming, and he knows that combination is going to get him into some serious trouble one day.

Steve shrugs, though even that’s half-hearted. “Fine, I guess.”

Maybe Billy and Robin are right – he doesn’t really remember the drive back to his apartment and he’s sure that he opened the door at some point, but Steve finds himself in the kitchen, just…staring at the cabinets, and he can’t quite recall how he got here. Standing there, with no Billy in sight.

“Billy?!” His voice cracks, his voice going shrill with the same panic that’s making his palms sweat.

“What, what’s wrong?!” Billy shouts from the bedroom. His bedroom. Their bedroom? “Stevie?”

“I-nothing.” Relief suddenly makes his legs so weak that he nearly just collapses right down to the ugly linoleum floor. “Nothing!”

Come back. Come back and hold me and don’t leave me – not now and not ever. Tell you love me and tell me you’re okay. Tell me everything is gonna be okay.

Steve slid down the side of fridge and on to the floor, breathing deeply in and out.

Back when they first began living together, Robin had very quickly caught on to the fact that sometimes Steve was…not okay, so she made him get some time with an anxiety specialist – paid for by the US government, because part of the cause of this condition was a secret interdimensional hole under the town that occasionally produced violent alien entities that killed and ate people, which Steve and Robin were both not allowed to talk about with the outside world. They taught him breathing exercises, meditation techniques for moments like this one.

When he can get his legs beneath him again, Steve hauls himself off of the ground and searches around for the cast iron skillet. They have the ingredients for cornbread around here somewhere.

It will probably still taste like sawdust to him, but the activity will occupy his mind, at least for a little while.

He feels bad that he can’t pretend cheerfulness, even to Billy. Beyond the aching numbness that has penetrated into his very bones, Steve’s anxiety is shrieking at him, telling him that if he keeps acting this way, Billy will leave. A voice in his head that sounds like Robin warns him that his inability to give a shit about even that isn’t a good sign.

They eat dinner, and Steve tries to answer like a normal person would, but he can tell by the way Billy doesn’t quite meet his eyes that he’s not doing a good job. A much less helpful and comforting voice – one that sounds more like his mother or his father – tells him not to be so sensitive. To stop overreacting.

That other voice, his Robin/common sense/better angel voice, won’t shut up. Won’t leave him alone. Tell him. If you don’t tell him, you’re always gonna feel like shit about this. Tell him, dingus.

In the end, it’s Billy himself that breaks that final barrier on his silence.

---

Billy knows how to solve this – or at least he knew how Henry solved this when he found Billy wandering around fucking Silver Lake in the rain. But he doesn’t really want to put Steve in a bath of ice cold water and pour whiskey down his throat until he gags. Lost white boy. Hey, lost white boy! Why you walkin’ round lookin’ like somebody whipped yo dog? Huh?

He never did give him a real answer. What could he have possibly said?

Part of the problem is that if Billy didn’t know him so well, Steve would seem almost normal. But he seems a little extra vacant throughout dinner, while watching television, even while brushing his teeth. Like somebody replaced his boyfriend with a friggin’ Stepford Wife or something.

As gently as he can, Billy removes the remote from Steve’s nearly limp fingers. Steve barely blinks at him – though it would usually garner at least an indignant squawk from him. He tries to think of a way to say it diplomatically. Fail, because he’s Billy Hargrove and he has no diplomacy – and says: “Are you going to talk to me about this or do I have to torture it out of you?”

He’s entirely joking, but Billy flinches when Steve absently replies, “I doubt you’ll have any better luck than the Russians,” blinks, and then says: “What?”

Swallowing down his queasiness – Max has passionately defended Steve’s bravery at Starcourt before he ever even returned to Hawkins – he sweeps back the bangs hanging into his eyes. “Your kids,” he says, still clumsily attempting gentleness. “Do you want to talk about that? What happened?”

Steve smiles weakly, giving Billy a hug that held maybe a tenth of the strength he normally possesses. “No,” he whispers, face hidden away against Billy’s neck. “No, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Billy swallows again, wondering why he feels so disappointed. He doesn’t really want to hear the grisly details – he’s probably got firsthand knowledge of most of it already – but at the same time, it feels like part of Steve doesn’t fully trust him. Though that idea should sound ridiculous, an insecure part of himself – mostly the part that still remembers his dad calling him a fuck-up all the time – wonder if Steve is actually as serious about them as Billy is.

Because Billy is like…insanely serious about them. A hundred times more serious than a heart attack, serious.

If a single pastor in Indiana woulda let him, Billy would put a ring on the long white second finger of Steve’s left hand tomorrow. That’s how serious he is. They’ve been together less than a month, but a part of him has belonged to Steve, with Steve, for more than ten years now.

Beyond even his own paranoia and insecurity though, is just…plain old worry.

He’s pretty much always known that Steve has a heart of hold, but it’s starting to look like maybe this day has hammered it to pieces. He watches Steve brush his teeth mechanically, unaccompanied by any of his usual chatter, moving like someone twice their age.

At bedtime, they usually trade off being the big spoon and little spoon, but this time, Billy stays facing Steve, gently strokes his cheek. A part of him feels a flair of love and hope when Steve leans into the touch. “Take it easy, heartbreaker,” he whispers, sweeping back Steve’s bangs again. “I’ve got your back tonight.”

The streetlights outside spread across their bed in a warm orange glow, allowing Billy to watch Steve blinking in a heartsick daze. Faintly, Billy hears him say “He was just crying. Just crying the whole morning, and I couldn’t understand why. By the time I took him to the nurse’s office, I-I think I already knew.”

Steve is the one crying now – crying and hangin’ on to Billy like he’ll disappear.

Billy’s just stunned, stunned and heartbroken by how utterly devastating this has been for Steve. He’s speechless, and the only thing he can do is hang on and be here for him. So he does.

---

The next morning is one in which Steve is allowed to sleep in, both because it’s Saturday and also because it seems that Billy has already gotten up to feed Angie for him. Normally she wakes him up whether his alarm goes off or not. He felt the mattress move just before dawn, but Billy is in bed with him now, wrapped around Steve’s back. He’s got a lowkey headache from all the crying – or trying not to cry – that he did yesterday, but he feels calmer about the world today. Marcy and Martin are safe, and Rachel will make sure they stay that way. Billy is here.

Relaxing back into the pillows, Steve finds Billy’s hand resting against his belly and laces their fingers together. He can tell that he’s already awake – his fingers squeeze back at his own too readily.

“I thought about you,” he admits quietly, tracing over Billy’s knuckles – rougher than his own, belonging to fingers shorter and thicker than his own. “The head nurse probably thought that I was going crazy. He was just…staring at me, on the bed. And I kept thinking about the last time I’d seen you before you left town.”

“What happened to me…it’s all in the past,” Billy says simply, and the ways his arms tighten around Steve’s body is comforting but the words don’t soothe him.

It’s all in the past.

But it wasn’t. Not for Steve.

“I use to wonder where you were,” he whispers, lifting Billy’s fingers to trace his lips over the scars on those knuckles. “No…not wonder. I use to worry. About you – where you were, what had happened to you.”

And now that the words had were finally coming out, Steve couldn’t hold anything back. “I’d worry myself sick, because the last two times I’d seen you-” He chokes, surprised anew that even with Billy right beside him, those images held just as much power over him as they had before. “-the last times I’d seen you, you were dying or you were-you looked so hurt and lost…”

“I’d wonder if you were even still alive – were you okay? I used to have these-these really vivid night terrors about that night in the mall…” He closes his eyes and swallows past the hard lump sitting in his throat. “Robin made me see a doctor, it got so bad – she didn’t know the specifics, but she did know that it wasn’t getting better.”

And for ten years, he hadn’t been able to say the name of his crush out loud, like there was a terrible curse placed on Steve. He laughs weakly. “I-I remember nearly fainting when El sad she’d seen you at Max’s wedding, and you looked well. You were happier. Calmer. It seemed so silly after that – though I still wondered what happened to you.”

“That’s not silly at all,” Billy murmurs, and he sounds thought, squeezing Steve around the middle and warming him right through. “Was I okay? I wasn’t. Not for what felt like a long, long time.”

To Steve’s surprise, Billy hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder and continues speaking. “After I tried going back to my mom’s – I was kinda homeless. I mean, I had the truck, but I’d just got out of the hospital and I could barely sleep for more than an hour or two at a time and every little noise made me wanna crawl outta my skin. I didn’t really notice much back then, but I’m sure anybody who walked down the street crossed to the opposite side when they saw me coming toward them.”

“This guy – this random black dude named Henry found me walking around Silver Lake, just wandering around by myself in the rain. I’m still surprised nobody called the cops on me. Anyway, Henry took me back to his apartment, poured whiskey in me until I gagged and threw a bucket of ice water over my head.” Billy chuckles slightly. “Miguel was so mad at him for that.”

“Miguel?” Steve repeats in a whisper, terrified that Billy will stop talking.

“Yeah, Henry’s boyfriend, Miguel. He was a nurse. I called them Harold and Maude just because it drove him crazy. They, um,” Billy took a deep breath in, held it, then exhaled hot air down Steve’s neck. He shivers and Billy cuddles closer, Steve’s heart thump, thump, thumping for him. “They were part of the group of volunteers who like…took care of people with AIDS. A lot of their families just kind of…abandoned them.”

Thrown them away, Steve thought, heart sinking. Just like Billy’s mother had (repeatedly) done to him.

Quietly, Billy says “For my first couple years, that’s what I was doing. Helping Henry and Miguel and the other volunteers. Looking back on it, they probably thought I’d lost someone to it. Most of us had, it seemed to be everywhere.”

He’s silent for so long that maybe Steve thinks that this is it, these tantalizing hints are all he will get of Billy’s past for right now, and Steve continues obviously stroking at his knuckles. He aches at the idea of Billy, still injured and hurting from the rejection of his mother, wandering through California all alone, until a good Samaritan was kind enough to take care of him.

Then Billy says, “Sometimes, I wished…I wished that had it.”

And Steve can’t breathe, he can’t move, he can’t think. With five short words, Billy had wrecked his whole thinking brain. “You…that you had…”

“Yeah,” Billy says, very softly. “I didn’t want to die, I didn’t even want to be sick. But HIV was a concept Henry and Miguel would’ve known how to understand. I know that they saw the bandages, that first night, and the scars later on. I think I spent the first year there wishing that I were sick instead, just so that I would be able to tell someone what had happened to me.”

Steve can’t stand doing this without seeing Billy anymore and rolls to face him. “You shouldn’t have had to do that by yourself,” he says, nose trailing down Billy’s neck. “Nobody should have to do something like that by themselves.”

Willing his anxious stomach to settle, he adds “I hate that you went through that and that you were in such obvious pain that a literal stranger could see it. I hate that it took meeting two complete strangers for someone to finally care about when you were hurting. But more than anything, I hate that I wasn’t there for you when you needed someone.”

Billy’s freckles show in the morning sun, and the light makes his eyes bluer. He leans into the touch as Steve holds his cheeks in both palms. And what he says next makes Steve love him just that little bit more: “Maybe not. But I used to be a little boy, just like Martin Roberts. And you were there when he needed you, when Marcy needed you.” Softly, painfully gently, Billy kisses his mouth. “Because of you, Martin doesn’t have to grow up into me someday.”

Steve caresses down Billy’s cheeks with his thumbs, palms tickled by all the bristle. He whispers, “I don’t see growing into you as a bad thing, Billy.”

Billy huffs out a laugh, long eyelashes falling to his cheeks. Just the lightest of flushes touching the tips of his ears. “You were there, y’know.”

“Hm?” Steve murmurs dreamily, caught in the spell of those freckles and lashes.

“Every pair of big brown eyes were your eyes. Every lanky brunette with a sweet smile was you. I saw you everywhere I went. Trust me, even if you didn’t know it – you were there, heartbreaker.” His eyes devour Steve’s face, gaze lingering at the curve of his lips. “You're here with me right now."

When Steve cuddles closer, he rests his head right above the scars that mark the place where the Mindflayer pierced his chest. He has never been more owned, more possessed by anything than the feeling of his bare hand on Billy's chest. "Wild horses couldn't drag me off."

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Your Tears in My Dreams (DamiJon) Part : 2/2

Rating : General Audiences 

Summary :

His best friend always has that smile. Bright and refreshing like a can of cold soda on a hot and humid summer. But one day, when they were walking down the halls to class. Jon stopped, and for once in Damian life, he saw Jon cried. —- Dick cleared his throat, his darting eyes finally landed on his jade eyes, “Why do you want to know now?” “Curiosity,” Damian shrugged, “I’ve never seen him cried before, that was the only time he did and I forgot why he did.” “You think it’s your fault?” “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Inspired by this beautiful art of Jon crying and Damian not knowing what to do by @glitter-dc

Read on AO3

Click Keep Reading to read on Tumblr.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Word count : 6k

Four days of tedious meetings with Wayne Enterprise later, Damian has finally done his duty as the League of Al-Ghul’s representation.

Now, he’s on the front gate of Kent’s farm and walking down the dirt path to the front door. The house is a typical American farmhouse. Everything is the same except the rows of potted plants on the front porch and the different paint of the house. It used to be deep blue color, now it’s creamy yellow. The wooden fences were painted blue, and now the paints mostly chipped away.

From the pathway, Damian can see the sunflower field behind the house. It looks identical as he remembered only shorter and smaller in his eyes now. It stretches from the far left starting from a barn and to the far right. There used to be two horses in that barn where Jon and he would ride a brown mare named Macey, and sometimes the white stallion Jackie.

The Kent’s farmhouse was supposed to be their vacation house. Damian had come here for summer vacation to spend time in nature and play around with Jon. His happy memories here were running into the sunflower field, playing chase. Riding on top of the tractors while Mr. Kent drives. Picnics under their favorite ginormous oak tree, while working on their summer homework. Helping Mrs. Kent hangs the laundry and playing hide and seek between the sheets.

It was a place where he allowed himself to be a child.

The front door opens before Damian gets to reach the porch. A beaming smile from a woman whose face barely changes greets him.

“Damian! It’s been so long.” The woman steps out to the front porch, with her pink apron over a checkered red dress and folded sleeves on her arms that open to greet him.

Her black hair is long now, they’re blown by the breeze and sway like the sunflower field behind her humble house.

Damian speed walks across the path and hugs her. She wraps her arms around him tightly. Though he’s taller than her now, he still feels like that small and fragile boy under her motherly arms.

“Hello to you too Lois, you’ve been well?”

“I am,” She lets go and opens the door, “Come inside, have you eaten lunch?”

“I have.”

“Coffee or tea then? Maybe a little snack? I’m baking my apple pie since I know you’re coming.”

“Lois, you shouldn’t have, I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“None of that! It’s been too long since I last saw you, you never even visit.” Lois then stopped and looks at Damian from top to bottom. “You’ve grown into such a looker!” she slaps Damian’s arm playfully.

“Thank you,” Damian flustered.

Damian walks into the house after her. The open kitchen is on the left, while the sofa and tv in on the right, just like he remembered. There’s barely any changes around. The floor plan and decoration are still at the same place, even the pictures by the walls are the same arrangement. There are only a few furniture changed to something new.

“Is Clark home?”

“No, he’s at work, but he’s coming home early today if you’d like to stay and say hi.”

“I’ll do that, thank you for welcoming me.”

“Oh don’t be so uptight! I take it you’re not here only to see us, are you?” Lois smiles lightly, warm and bright, like her son’s.

“No, I’m here to ask about Jon.”

Her pale pink lips parted and she steps back a little, “Oh? You are?” Lois is noticeably stupefied.

“Yes. I believe I might’ve said something upsetting to Jon ten years ago.”

“Upsetting? Were you fighting?”

“No, we never fight,” Despite Damian always rejecting Jon’s friendship at first, the fight was always one-sided.

“But that day, I made him cry, and I can’t remember what I said or did,” Damian admits, taking a deep breath and looks up to meet Lois’s eyes.

Her smile is no more, but her eyes warm and welcoming, giving him her full attention.

“I was wondering if he ever told you why he cried. If he told you something I’ve said?”

Lois sighed and put his hand of Damian’s arm, rubbing with her thumb.

“Wait here,” She said before walking down the halls and disappears into Jon’s room, then returns with a book in hand.

“He never told me that he cried in front of you, but I believe the answer you seek is in here,” she hands him a book with mixed patterns on the cover. It looks like a diary, and it’s definitely not a diary they exchange to each other, because Damian had never seen this one before.

“Is it okay for me to read something so private?”

“You needed it, and he’ll understand. I think he’ll even thank me.” Lois winks.

His hands hesitated, before finally taking it from Lois’ hands, “Thank you. Where’s Jon?”

“Under the oak tree behind the house.”

“Ah, our tree,” Damian cracks a smile, he misses that spot, “I’ll go see him.”

Lois clenches his hands on top of her chest, long lashes flutter before she reaches out and lands her hand on his shoulder. “Alright,” she stated weakly, as if unsure, “Alright, don’t stay out too late now!” she says clearer and smiles.

Damian spares a curl of a smile, and can only nod gratefully to her before walking out the door.

With the book in hand, Damian stops by the steps down the porch. He sits there and read the diary first before going around the house.

It felt like trespassing someone’s private life. They usually read each other’s diaries but Jon doesn’t give him this one himself.

After pondering for a few minutes, in the end, his curiosity wins. The book contains his goal and reason for going out of his way to come here. And if Lois, who knows her son the most, gave this to him to read, means that it’s really okay. He opens the cover and read the first page.

‘January 1st, 2010

My dearest diary,

From now on, we only have each other, it’ll be one of my new year resolutions. First, I can’t give you to Damian anymore, because--’

Damian looks away, already regretting reading that part. Whatever Jon writes here, he doesn’t want Damian to know, and he has to honor that. Damian just needs to know what happened on 17th November 2010.

The diary starts at the first Januar. Jon always has a new resolution every year and as suspected of most people, forgot it in mid-January. This has got to be the only one Jon followed through

Not wanting to probe any more than he needed to, Damian flips the pages and only looks for the dates. Then he finally found it, at least he thought he does. The dates jump, further and further towards the end of the year. The entry Damian looked for is the first one in two months.

November 18th, 2010

I did something stupid yesterday. I can’t believe I cried in front of Damian, and I can’t stop for the love of. I thought I’m getting better at hiding it, but at that moment everything just burst out and I’m not in control anymore. Damian told me he’s going back when he graduates high school. That’s two years away in his fancy smart class in his even fancier and more prestigious high school his mom made him enroll. I’m already busting my ass to get to the same high school, but I don’t think I can graduate the same time as Damian. As much as I HATE to admit it, I’m just not as smart as Damian!

Can’t he just hit the breaks or something? I know he’s smart, but it’s like he’s rushing to get out of my face or something.

No, Damian never wanted to leave. His mother had demanded his return as quickly as possible, that’s why he was rushing.

I was already tearing up when he says he’ll be leaving... I had hoped we can get into the same university, I thought I had more time. But then he told me he had no choice, He was bound to return and continue his family’ weird tradition of making him do these things they already set him to do. Then he told me about a fiancee that was chosen for him. He started talking about something else but I didn’t listen, because I was already bursting in tears.

I know it’s still too soon for marriage talks, we’re 15! He’s 15! But then it’s just so sudden. Damian just accepts it as it is... He’ll go with it. It’s one of those weird lists his mom made him do, but he wants to do it, and I hate that I can’t blame anyone. It just hits me hard and bad that Damian is not someone like me or someone that can never like me.

It was so embarrassing. He thought it was his fault, but I don’t know... I was just crying because

Diary, I’m so thankful that you’ll never judge me. I can say anything I want and you’ll accept me. If only I can ask you something... to tell me if I’m wrong or not, whether or not I should give up. I’m afraid, but just accepting it as it is so lonely... I don’t feel like going to school. I’m not ready to see him yet. I don’t think I can remain calm seeing him again. There are just so many things I’m sad about but  I can’t tell him about it, and you can’t do anything but listen. It’s not enough!

I just wanted to have a chance

Should I just go for it? And consequences be damned? I’m just sick of feeling hidden like this. I can’t lie well.

I’m afraid of telling my parents... the pastor always told us that

I just feel like a weirdo, like I’m broken. I’d hate it if Dami thinks I’m sick too and starts avoiding me like I’m a virus I’d rather

What am I going to do? I don’t want anything to change with Dami I just can’t and I’m lost I don’t know how

Diary, will I ever be ready?

When the time comes for me to attend his wedding, can I bear the pain of seeing someone I love marry another?

Damian stopped breathing, and re-read the last sentences. Then re-read the whole entry. And each time he reads them, something chokes him. It’s hard to hold onto the book when there’s no strength left on his hands. He exhaled a shaky breath and looks away from the letters on his lap.

He knows he promised not to read any more than what he needed. Damian already got the answer he seeks, but the next entry is the last one. Lois did give him the whole book, and Damian turns that reason for his justification.

‘January 1st, 2011

Damian used to tease me for having new years resolution. Well tough luck on him! I kept this diary from him for a year as a resolution, and I did it!

As for this year's resolution, it’s going to be harder. But I need to do this... I just need to.

I’ll confess to Damian, but I don’t think I can ever say it without incoherently stutter and sobbing and shaking like a newborn fawn taking its first step. Because this is, in a way, a first step for me... He’s going to be the first one to know, after my parents of course.

I’ve never been so sure. I’ve talked about it with my parents, and I’ve never felt so grateful to have them in my life than at that moment. I love them for not avoiding me or even worse, putting me on a camp like I’ve seen on the internet. Their love for me is so limitless that I finally have the courage to at least... confess in some way, but I’m still really scared though.

There’s where you came in handy diary. I’m going to give you to him, and he’s going to read everything I’ve been hiding from him. How it all started, all my fears, and the things I’ve been hiding, and my secret feelings for him. How I started to fall in love with him.

Oh god, my hands are sweating now and I can’t even hold the pen right. I realized now that Damian is going to read this...

I guess I’m no longer addressing this to ‘Diary’. This is for you Damian.

I love you. If you read from the first entry, you’ll know how it started, and I know it’s kinda dumb haha. But I really do love you. Sometimes too much that it hurts and I can’t sleep at night. Whenever I see you, I imagine a future where I’ll get to see your smiling face beside me for the rest of my life. I want to hold your hand like we did when we’re kids and doesn’t know any better. I want to kiss your cheek again like I did before everyone decided it’s too weird for two grown boys to kiss each other. I just want to love you and be with you.

I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, I just hoped you won't see me differently, or avoid me. It’s okay if you reject me, or stay away from me for a few weeks maybe, I just hoped we can stay friends. Even though we won't be more than friends, I’ll take what you offer. No matter what, I’ll be your best friend, and nothing can change that but you.

I’m probably too nervous to see you. So, put this on my backpack for a no, and put it on my locker for a yes.

Feel free to write in a reply. I’ll be waiting.’

Damian chuckles that soon turns into a full wet laugh. He closed the book, with a content smile on his face, now he’s ready to meet Jon.

He walks around the back of the house.

The sunflowers are taken care of now since the Kents moved in here. Once, between the dense bright green stems that soars tall to the sky and sunflowers facing the sun, he was short enough to hide in it.

The dirt pathway that splits the field in the middle leads to a big oak tree at the end of the lane. It rooted right at the feet of the knolls that still counted as Kent’s property. It’s never changing from he last saw it as if stuck in time, or the years that passed is nothing but a blink for the ancient tree. It has the same branches, and the same leaves as Damian remembered.

In the summer break, when it was too hot to stay indoors, he and Jon would sit under that tree’s shadow with cold beverages and Lois’ apple pie with ice cream on top. Talking about nonsense, or drawing, or playing with dirt, stick, and stones. It was all nonsensical for Damian who always taught to be an adult at an early age, but he enjoys letting himself do unproductive fun with Jon and not be ridiculed. Then at night, they would climb to the top of the knoll and camp there, roasting marshmallows and watched the stars.

In this farm, that time, he was a child. He was having fun.

Under the tall oak tree, the lights that passed its many branches and leaves would land on his face, as he laid there beside Jon. Often, he would look to his side, dark hair laid to frame his pale face that blotched with hints of pink, the way his face reflected the sunlight, he looked like an angel.  His blue irises reflect lights like diamonds and a smile that outshines the sun. Jon was beautiful.

Stepping into the shadow of the mighty tree, Damian felt his heart drops to the soft pasture on his feet. The breath he exhaled shakes and he puts all his strength to hold onto Jon’s diary.

“Hello, Jon,” Damian whispered under his breath.

Despite the pain, Damian couldn’t even express a tinge of it. It’s really been too long since he last visits this place.

On the trimmed grass, Damian kneels in front of Jon’s headstone. The upright monument bevels from the five-centimeter base that’s surrounded in wildflowers. A design of light grey granite with gold linings and Jon’s name in white. A mound and flowers carved at the top and the headstone reaching just below Damian’s chest.

His name is looking towards the fields where they spent their childhood. It’s a perfect place filled with memory for Jon to rest. Where he’ll get sun, stars, nature, and family always by his side.

The day is bright and sunny without any clouds in the sky, and the sun shines on the petals of the sunflowers. They are all looking up to the sun, bringing out their golden hue.

“Is this why you came to my dreams? To make me come here and give you my reply?” Damian asked to the nothingness, and no one answers.

But Damian gave what Jon wanted anyway.

“Since I was born, I was given purposes, duties, a place to fill and expectations to meet. I have the name, and resources to get there. Most people approach to have that benefit from me, and I’ll only tend to them who I can also benefit from. You are someone who asks nothing of me but my company. Not my name, not my position, not my privileges, not my responsibilities, not my resources, just me. Everything I own, borrowed or owed from my family and ancestors, but you? You’ve been mine the moment you held my hand when you thought I wouldn’t notice. When you kissed my cheek before you’re too ashamed to be seen by others.”

The afternoon sun was too dazzling, and his vision starts to blur. So, Damian closes his eyes, and his knees gave up, making him sit instead.

“If you had asked for my love, I would’ve given it to you in a heartbeat.” Damian sighed, and all the strength in his body left with his breath. “I would’ve stayed here forever if you wanted me to, but when you left, it’s painful to stay. So I ran away from this place.”

The lights getting too bright, he’s starting to lose his balance. His head lulled from side to side, he suddenly feels tired. He scoots forward a bit and lay down on the grass beside Jon. Looking up to the veined branches and tiny dense leaves. A few lights breached through, they look like dots, shining bright light stars. Jon and Damian used to pretend they’re constellation made for them.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited, I couldn’t... I was scared too.”

He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but when the lights return, he is no longer at the back of Kent’s farm under the oak tree.

It was the school's hallway. They’re in their middle school uniform, the bell just rang so there were no kids around. They talked as they were going to their separate classes.

One thing had led to another, and Jon asked, “Hey Dami? Where’re you planning to go for university?”

“We haven't even finished middle school yet.”

“Humor me! Just wanna know.”

“My mother chose that for me already, probably somewhere in Brittain.”

“Wh-what? That far?” Jon was for the lack of a better word, caught off guard like it’s so far from what he expected.

“Yes, I don’t have control over that.”

“But why? I thought your mom lets you do stuff on your own now.”

Damian laughed out loud, “Hell would freeze before that happens. Al-Ghuls forge their children as the previous generation sees fit. It was done for my mother by my grandfather, and it is done for me by her. Soon, with the fiancee of her choice, I will have a child on my own and forge them.”

“Fi-fiancee?”

“Yes, I’ve met her. She’s older than me by four years. We’ll marry when I have come of age and established a position in the League of Al-Ghuls, and you, of course, without a doubt will be my best man. There’s a list of accomplishment of what I need to do the moment I was born. The Al-Ghul family line is prestigious, and I can’t say I’m pressured when I can execute every expectation perfectly without a struggle. But, I’m pushing my mother’s patience for staying here until high school. So I have to meet her demands for university no-”

Damian realized after a few steps of his own that Jon didn’t follow. When he turned around, Jon had tears pouring cats and dogs from his sky orbs of blue. Hand clenched into a shaking fist, Jon pursed his lips and looks at Damian as if one of them just died.

Never in their years of friendship did Damian ever made Jon cry, not even when Damian had pushed Jon away before.

Seeing Jon cry as if the world falls apart, Damian didn’t know what to say. He wanted to apologize but he didn’t know what he did wrong. So, Damian did what he can do. They skipped class for the first time, and slip into the empty gymnasium. When they’re alone there, they sit by the bleachers and Damian put his arms around his shoulder as long as he cried.

There are so many things Damian wanted to ask, say, and do that are different.

He wanted to say, “Tell me what’s wrong.” His replayed memory let the word be said.

Little 15-year-old Jon looks at him, “No, Dami... I’m just afraid.”

“You claimed to know me but you don't! I don’t want to lose you too!” Damian exclaimed. His words echo meaninglessly to the imagery that long passed.

Jon said nothing. He had said nothing for a long time back then, just crying on his shoulder as Damian foolishly keeps silent.

A bright light flashed across his eyes and everything is white. When color returns, Jon is no longer in his arms.

He was in the school hallway, he remembered this feeling of dread cooking in his gut that tells him to turn around and leave, but he wanted to see Jon more. To confront him about why he cried after his restlessness finally able to break his apathy.

It was their first day of school in 2011 after the new year holiday. Damian remembered it like it just happened yesterday. He was –despite his disdain of breaking the rules- running down the halls because he woke up late. Alfred had thought he was sick and let him be, but what happened was, Damian couldn’t sleep because he’s nervous about asking Jon why he cried. It bothered him until Damian finally felt that enough is enough. He needed to talk to Jon about it, and he psyched himself to do it until 3 am.

While he was running to his class, he heard a loud bang from the end of the hall. Children were screaming as the continuous sound of what Damian had identified as gunshots, fired repeatedly like a machine gun.

Damian had just arrived, he’s near the exit and he easily turned around ran out of the building.

There’re a lot of kids following him to run outside in a panic and on their phones, Damian did that too. And the first one he called was Jon, who doesn’t pick up. Then he tried Clark, who fell on voice mail, and then he tried Lois who finally picked up.

“Lois? Where’s Jon? There’s a shooting happening, don’t come!”

“Oh, Oh dear God.., I already drop him to school.”

Damian blanked out, and the next thing he did was run back into the school building the same way he came out. Jon had AP Science for the first period, and Damian ran towards that class without a second thought.

There’s laughter growing closer down the hall mixed with pleading and cries. Quickly, before the voice grew too close, Damian hid on the janitor’s closet with the louvered door.

He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears when the weight of the situation finally settled on him. There’s a killer on the loose, and they had guns. From the shots that fired, and the sudden silence, there’s a possibility that someone could’ve already...

Damian heard screaming growing closer and running steps.

From the space between the parallel bars on the door, Damian peeked out to the halls, seeing a couple of school's running and pass. But before they could disappear from Damian’s eyesight, shots fired, and red dots appear on their back before they fell flat on the floor.

A boy giggled maniacally and ran pass the hall holding an assault rifle. The boy was a senior, someone from Damian’s class. The gunshots continue, followed by children screaming, but it’s further now. Damian’s fear of his life redirected to his fear of Jon’s life. Once again, he tried calling Jon’s phone as he steps out of the closet. The gunshots were far away now, and the school was awfully quiet.

At long last, he finally heard Jon’s ringtone.

Damian ran as quick as he can, towards the voice of the ringtone that was far away from the gunshot.

When he finally reached Jon’s class, which was empty, he sighed in relieve.

They had an emergency exit plan in case of disasters happened. Damian followed the sign that hung from the ceiling and follows the pathway to the exit. The more he ran, the more body he found. His eyes darted around the barely developed bodies lies lifeless on their own of pool of blood spilled on the white tiles.

Damian tried calling Jon’s phone again.

He heard his ring tone. A melancholic piano and a voice singing gently with his smooth voice. Damian sought that familiar melody in the dead silence of the hallway.

It was Jon’s favorite song, one among many on the CD they often play on a portable cd player when they go camping. The song calmed him, makes him focused as his feet stepped over the bodies in the halls. On accident, His feet stepped on blood once too many times in his horror. Reciting the lyrics helped himself from breaking down.

“I-I'll find repose in new ways though I haven't slept in two days, cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone. But drenched in van-n-nilla twilight, I'll sit on the front porch all night. Waist deep in thought because when I think of you I don't feel so alone. I don't feel so alone...”

The song was finally loud and clear. He made a turn to the left, and the exit is right at the end of that hall. Some bodies laid right before they reach it, those were people who didn’t make it.

Vanilla twilight is still playing, and he knows where it’s from. A dim light shines through front trousers pocket in one of the body laying down the halls.

Damian hangs up, and the light goes out too.

What was he hoping for when Damian walks closer to that body? The black-haired boy looks away from him as if sparing him, giving him a chance to look away. But Damian persists, walking towards the body that laid still on the floor with two growing red spots on his chest. Kneeling beside the body, right on the pool of red, with trembling hands, Damian slowly held his face and turns it to face him.

The skin was still warm to the touch, and the face that he adores with its soft features doesn’t even move the tiniest muscle. A few strands of his soft curls stick on his face. A pair of unmoving eyes stared back at Damian, a haunting sight how empty they were.

Every drop of blood in Damian’s body turns cold. His hands trembled as he held Jon’s face. A light came into view from the end of the hall right in front of him. He saw Jon’s pupils constrict when the lights hits.

“Jon?” Damian called, rubbing his face gently, but Jon still didn’t move at all.

The next thing he knew he was lifted by the stomach and a lot of grown-ups yelling and running from the light.

Whatever their face looks like, it’s blurry. Whatever they said, it’s wispy. What’s clear as day is Jon’s eyes on him as Damian was taken away.

“Wait!” He heard himself say, “Don’t take me away, let me stay here. Jon!” No one heard him.

He was a light tween and in shock, he barely put up a fight. His hands reached out to Jon, but the man that carried him ignored his plea.

It was the last time Damian ever saw Jon.

Damian didn’t even walk up to his casket on the funeral home, he doesn’t want to see Jon with his eyes closed.

After he finished middle school, he left to Saudi Arabia, continuing the task his mother planned for him ever since he was in her stomach. It served as Damian’s goal, a distraction, something to occupy his mind.

Years passed and he’s married to his work more than he is to his wife. To be fair, so is she. He rarely stays long in Gotham. Only a day or two for business trips, and he left as soon as he can. Then it became a habit to avoid ever coming to Gotham.

Damian was raised like an heir, but Jon makes him feel human, a kid, a teenager. The first person that ever make him feels like, well, a regular person. He got a taste of family and love. Jon taught him that it’s not shameful to be vulnerable. For the first time, Damian felt happy. Not accomplishment after succeeding a task. Not relieve when he doesn’t make a mistake. Just pure happiness.

There’s nothing left in this city if Jon is not here.

That is, until the dreams of him crying, like he’s trying to take him back here.

Damian had felt numb since Jon left. He doesn’t let himself remember the bad or the end, only the good.

He doesn’t let himself misses Jon.

But he did. Every single day since that day there has been a whole in the shape of him in Damian’s chest. And every day since that day, Damian had gotten better at ignoring it.

Even so, the past still caught up with him. Damian still can’t forget, and he can’t pretend it didn’t happen anymore.

Damian wakes up sobbing, crouching in a fetal position towards Jon’s grave. His tears flow like rivers on a rainy day. Tucked his head on his knees, Damian hugs himself as he cried out his chest over his loss after ten years of keeping it in his tight lidded heart

A hand landed on his back, and slowly, Damian looks up and see Lois with a slight curl on her lips and sad doe eyes.

“Did you ever said goodbye?”

“I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to let him go.” Damian croaks.

Lois pulls his arms up and caught him in a hug. Damian quick to latch on too, holding onto her back. Her long fingers rub the top of Damian’s head in slow languid movement. Rocking him slightly side to side.

“I think you’re here for a reason,” Lois comforts, “Why else would you come after ten years without looking back?”

Damian looks over her shoulder, to the fields of sunflowers that faces west, to the glow that starts to orange.

“The dreams. I dreamt of him crying. I just... wanted to say I’m sorry for making him cry.”

“But my son died.”

“Not to me,” Damian persists, and immediately realized what he just said, “I never... It all happened so quickly. I saw him the day before, I was here with you and Clark and Jon to see fireworks, and the next day he... I just can’t... I’m not ready to let him go just yet, Lois I can’t--”

“I know, Damian. Believe me, I know how it felt... But you’ve met now, you’re here.” Lois keeps rubbing his back.

“Do... Do you think he brought me here?”

Lois chuckled, and it puts a weak smile on Damian too. “He wanted you to know how he felt, he wanted you to mourn him, and he knows the only one that can bring you to do that, is himself.”

Jon’s crying in his memory had brought him here. Maybe the sudden reminder is not a coincidence. The sunset grows dark, and after taking a deep slow breath, Damian closed his eyes. His mind takes him back to the last scene of his dream.

The memory didn’t change, nor was it a mere dream. He can’t forget the last day he saw Jon like it’s a cursed blessing.

But now, with his eyes closed and Lois familiar smell to Jon’s, he remembers that moment even clearer and with more details.

A police officer was the one that carried Damian out of the hallways filled with dead kids. Paramedics run in from the opposite way of where he was taken. One of them kneels beside Jon’s body, while his eyes are still at him, shining like the lake under the blue sky, like how Jon always sees him. The paramedic pressed their fingers on Jon’s neck and started to press the wounds. Jon’s eyelids twitched like a dying flutter of butterfly wings still trying to fly. And Damian sees that, sees that Jon is still alive as he was taken.

Do you know why I always smiled, Damian? He heard Jon says, but his lips don’t move.

In their last moment together, even as they’re being separated, they get to see each other one last time. With the last energy he had, though it was weak and faint, Jon was smiling at him.

Because I was with you.

Damian breathes in as he opens his eyes to meet the sunset again, and tears roll down to Lois’ shoulder. Was he imagining his voice? Somehow, for whatever the answer is, Damian accepts it.

“Lois, he was alive.”

“He was critical when the paramedics found him, there’s nothing they can do,” Lois corrected, her voice cracks, “And I’m glad you’re the last thing he sees.”

Slowly, she retracts just enough to hold Damian’s face and wipes his wet cheeks with her thumbs. She looked just like Jon. His look of compassion, feminine nose and those earnest blue eyes, all he got from her.

“What am I going to do now?” Damian faltered.

“You’re going to cry your heart out until it’s satisfied, and then, you move on.”

Damian bites his lips, and eyes pooled with a new wave of tears, “I don’t want to forget him.”

“I’m not telling you to. Moving on is not forgetting. It’s coming to terms with loss, and when you remember him, it won’t hurt as much. It’s going to be a long process, especially when you never even started. But you’re welcome to come and talk to him, or just to visit me and Clark. You’re not alone, we’re going to be fine.”

What Lois said is just still too hard to accept, but the one who weeps the most was her when she drove to the school right after Damian’s call and sees Jon’s body in a bag. If she can do it, maybe it’s worth a try for Damian.

“Thank you, Lois... Can you leave me with him for a bit, please?”

“Of course sweetheart,” She complied, patting Damian on the back before she stands up and leaves.

Damian takes his attention to the knoll behind him. It’s lush from the bottom to the top. When he looks up, the gaps between leaves and branches no longer glares with light like stars since the sun is setting. The sunflower fields are dense and healthy, and the pasture around them is lush, pillowy and green. It’s a pretty sight, one that’ll never be the same.

Damian looks down to the placard on Jon’s headstone.

“Thank you for telling me,” Damian traces the name Jonathan Samuel Kent on the placard. “Thank you for bringing me here,” his fingers move down to the year, 1995 – 2011.

“My life was a script. I never mind it, but when I saw you, smiling without a care in the world, made me feel that happiness too. For a short moment, my mind went, oh, this is not so bad, maybe I wanted this. I see you, and I see and felt... freedom, that I can choose you instead of what’s chosen for me. I found happiness with you... but you left before I get to say it, before I even knew what that feeling meant.”

His tears roll down again, even after the storm he shed, somehow he still have another coming. This is the most he cried in all his life. Ten years worth of sorrow and despair. There’s going to be more of these in the future, he’ll have a hard time sleeping, and he’ll cry whenever he re-read his diary, or see their picture on his old room.

Yet somehow, Damian finds himself cracking a smile as he looks down to Jon’s grave. When he remembers Jon crying in his dreams, he doesn’t feel guilty anymore. Even though he knows Jon cried because of him, evidently, it was no one’s fault.

Jon cried because he loved him.

“I’ve loved you too, Jonathan Kent.”

[marvelousworldgeek-blog]

Texting Strangers

Author: Kennedy

Characters: Fem!Reader and…?

Story: Y/N, who’s going through a rough patch, texts a random number in search of a friend.

Rated PG-13 for language, mention of drinking

Warnings: Reader is going through a rough patch, but I tried to keep it on the lighter side. Also, use of language.  

“Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart?”

The lilting voice of The King floated in through the open window as Y/N sat at her desk, staring at the blank screen in front of her. There was plenty of work to be done, sure. But what was the point now. She hated her job, her coworkers, the tiny cubicles, the sound the water cooler made every time an air bubble floated up. And here she was on a Saturday working from home to try and finish whatever dry, boring project her boss had saddled her with, knowing that Y/N was the only person who would actually get it done. Nevermind that Marc had ten years of experience on her two, or that it was actually Kayla’s department that was in charge of this particular project. Or the fact that Y/N was still technically an intern.

“Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare? Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?”

And to throw a cherry on top of this hate-my-life sundae, today marked the official six month anniversary of Jeremy moving out. Break ups were always tough, of course. But things could have certainly been easier if he hadn’t literally picked up and left in the middle of the night. It seemed as though the past year had been one big non-stop “fuck you”. Work? Terrible. Relationship? Long-dead. Family? Radio silence. Friends? Moved away. Apartment? Actually starting to feel like a cave.

Y/N glanced around the room at the stack of empty takeout boxes, the pile of paperwork, the week-old laundry. Motivating oneself to clean up seemed an immense task when the overwhelming feeling in life was ‘why bother?’

“Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?”

The sad song was just too ironic to handle at that moment. Her neighbor across the courtyard was a huge Elvis fan, and listened to old records nearly every night. For the most part it was nice to have the soft music as a background when she was home, but tonight it was a glib reminder of how lonely she actually was.

“This is bullshit,” Y/N muttered to herself and closed the laptop.

It was saturday night and she wasn’t about to stay at home and mope her way through another weekend. No sir. And so with all the energy and false confidence she could muster, Y/N grabbed an outfit out of the closet, threw on some makeup, and headed out on the town.

…

Okay, so maybe the nightclub scene wasn’t what she was after. Thirty minutes to get in, twenty waiting for a drink, then a whole lot of sitting around on garrish plush furniture waiting for someone to walk over and strike up a conversation. The closest she came was two drunk girls telling her they liked her shoes before stumbling off into the sweaty fray. And now this overpriced, watered-down drink was going straight to her bladder.

Y/N set the now empty cup on a table and headed off for the line to the bathrooms. Surprisingly, she only had to wait for two people before she got in and locked herself into a stall. The walls were as high as the ceiling and provided a satisfying amount of privacy. Behind the safety of four walls, Y/N finally had a chance to breathe. And once again the stress of the past months settled in, despite the cheap liquor pumping through her bloodstream. She leaned her head against the wall next to her and sighed, tracing the faded graffiti.

“Satisfaction guaranteed. Call now!” and a number scrawled below, along with a doodle of a stick figure with a ‘censored’ bar over its lower half. Giggling to herself, Y/N snapped a picture and tucked her phone back into her purse. With a defeated groan she clicked back out to the sinks.

“Oh my GOD, couch girl!”

The shrill voice cut through the bathroom, and Y/N (along with everyone else) turned to glance at its owner.

“Come here, come here,” the blonde girl from earlier gripped Y/N’s hand and dragged her out into the club again, “Come dance!”

And then the evening descended into a blur.

…

Y/N woke to the bright morning sun pouring through the window of her own bedroom. Her head was pounding, her feet ached, and her stomach felt sour. Last night had turned into a long, drawn out drunken dance fest with her two new friends (whose names and numbers she had never managed to get), and in the cold light of day Y/N vowed to never try and drink her woes away again.

After much groaning, she managed to shuffle to the kitchen and set the hot water on, all the while cursing her past self. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed her phone and checked the screen. One unread text.

“Dammit,” she groaned.

Work never stops. Reluctantly, she opened the message.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, feel free to drop me a line again.”

An unknown number, great. Y/N scrolled back up through the rest of the conversation. And was surprised to find several hours worth of back-and-forth with the mystery person. Somehow, in her intoxicated state, she had poured out her heart to a complete stranger, telling them all about the stress and sadness and heartache over her life. In turn, they had offered support and humor, and if she hadn’t known better she would have assumed this was a conversation between close friends.

“What the-”

Y/N recalled the number from the wall of the club bathroom. In a panic, she checked the photos on her phone. But the number didn’t match the one she had texted. At least not exactly. Somewhere during her night out she had attempted to text this mystery man but instead had hit up some poor clueless stranger and had a long drawn-out conversation over the course of the evening.

With an exasperated sigh, Y/N tossed her phone on the counter and retired to the couch in defeat.

…

“You look really tired,” Kayla’s brunette locks appeared above the edge of Y/N’s cubicle.

Y/N nodded; “It was a long weekend.”

“Did you finish the projection project?”

“I put it on his desk this morning.”

“Ah man,” Kayla sighed. “I was hoping I could hand it in to him. I have some, um, stuff I had to go over.”

“Like taking all the credit?” Y/N thought to herself.

“Oh well, I’ll get the next one. Thanks!”

Then she bounced away, heels clicking loudly against the floor.

Y/N leaned her forehead against the desk and groaned.

“Fuuuck…”

Her phone buzzed and Y/N sat up, rubbing her temple, and pressed the notification.

“Hope they aren’t giving you too much crap today.”

Y/N frowned; it was the stranger from the night before.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

It was only a moment before they replied; “You mentioned you might say that!”

“Ha ha sounds about right. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“A friend.”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered to herself, frowning. “Is this being cute? Or shady…”

“A friend with a name?”

“I thought you said we weren’t doing names?”

“Of course drunk me would say that,” Y/N thought.

“Okay friend. Tell me a little about yourself.”

“I’m a member of a secret organization who kept me in a lab for the first part of my life in order to mold me into a super weapon. Now I spend my free time saving the world.”

“You’re funny.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Y/N smiled to herself; “Okay ‘friend’ I’ll leave it be for now. You’re a superhero.”

“Really just a run-of-the-mill hero.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll take your word for it.”

“If you didn’t have to do your job, what would you want to be?”

The question caught Y/N off guard; she hadn’t thought about it in so long. She had been fully focused on getting through school, then getting a job that could get her out of her parents  house and on her own. She hadn’t thought about what she actually wanted to be.

“Um, idk”

“That’s not good.”

“I have a job. That’s what really matters,” she paused, then added, “Do you like your job?”

“I love it.”

“You’re lucky.”

“What do you like to do?”

Y/N sat for a few minutes and considered this.

Another text came through: “???”

Finally she typed, “I love to cook. I actually took a bunch of cooking and culinary arts classes in school. But I would hate being a chef. The hours are outrageous and it gets stuffy in the kitchen.”

“What about a food truck? You could make your own hours, drive to different places every day, you could even travel.”

Y/N actually laughed aloud to herself. She had never considered cooking for a living. She had worked as a waitress when she was in highschool and the kitchen staff were always miserable and overworked. Not to mention kind of mean. She had written off cooking for a living right then and there.

“I’d never thought of that.”

“What is your favorite thing to cook?”

“Breakfast food and baked goods, mostly.”

“That is perfect food truck food!”

“I suppose it is…”

“You should check this out,” they replied, then sent a link to an article titled ‘Considering Opening a Food Truck? Read these fifteen true stories from other chefs who did the exact same thing!’

“I’ll check it out, thanks!” Y/N name typed back, still smiling to herself.

“Hey friend, can I text you tomorrow? I have to go save some kids from a bus on fire.”

“Of course. Be safe, Superman!”

“Hm, nah. Call me ‘Batman’.”

“Okay, be safe Batman.”

“Read that article; I’ll ask you about it tomorrow!”

Y/N chuckled as she pressed save contact and typed ‘Batman’ into the name.

To be continued... 

[writings-of-dumpy]

A Cinderella Story

Summary: Suck my dick, I love Disney and Stiles so HERE WE ARE. This is literally just Cinderella but with Teen Wolf and Disney characters. I’m really taking creative licensing with this one, whew. A special thank you to my one and only best friend for life for reading this and telling me that I’m not stupid!!!

Tags: @mindingmyownbusiness

~*~

PROLOGUE

Once upon a time in a far away land, there was a tiny kingdom ruled by the beloved King Noah and his Queen Melissa and their son, Prince Mieczyslaw. Their people were made up of an eclectic society of witches, fairies, and humans. For the most part, the three groups coexisted peacefully, but there were some who took advantage of the humans’ lack of magical power.

Up on the highest hill in the kingdom was a large mansion that belonged to one of the kingdom’s wealthier physicians and his daughter, Ella. The two lived comfortably, but Deaton knew his daughter longed for a mother. Shortly after Ella’s sixth birthday, he married a woman named Winifred who had two daughters—Malia and Allison—who were just Ella’s age. Tragically, Deaton passed away not long after his marriage, and Winifred’s true intentions were revealed. She and her daughters were witches who believed that humans should be subservient to them in spite of the rulers of the kingdom being human. Since the death of her father, Ella has lived in servitude to her stepmother and stepsisters and endured years of abuse and neglect while doing her best to keep hope in her heart.

 CHAPTER 1

“Ella! Ella, come here!” Winifred called from the other room.

“Yes, stepmother?” Ella responded once she entered the room.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Winifred barked and pointed to the pile of laundry that had fallen from the shelf onto the floor. “Do you not recall the great care and dignity that our garments must be treated with?!”

Ella rushed to pick up the mess at her stepmother’s feet. “I’m sorry stepmother. They were on the shelf before, they must have—”

“No excuses! I expect them to be cleaned and folded properly before we retire for the night. While you’re at it, the main hall needs to be cleaned,” Winifred commanded.

“Right away, stepmother,” Ella said and carried the clothes to the laundry room, which was essentially a shed of sorts. With a sigh, she began to wash their clothes and hummed to herself. In spite of all of this, Ella was having a reasonably good day. She got a decent night’s sleep and dreamed she could fly the night before, she awoke to a beautiful sunrise, and even managed to read a chapter of one of her father’s books before needing to make breakfast for her stepfamily.

A familiar twinkling sound rang in Ella’s ear and she smiled. Next to her flew one of her fairy friends. The small yellow ball of light was detailed with a tiny humanoid figure that wore a gold dress and had brown hair with sparkling wings.

“Hi Belle, how are you today?” she greeted. Belle chimed with a flap of her wings and waved happily, then pointed to the clothes with a worried look on her small face.

“Didn’t you wash these yesterday?” she asked. Ella chuckled and smiled.

“I know, but Winifred wants them washed again,” Ella said to her fairy friend. Belle huffed and flew to the window and chimed a little louder. Four fairies flew in through the open window of the shed and circled around Ella. Each fairy emitted a different color of light—blue, green, red, and teal. The blue fairy’s name was Cindy and she wore a blue gown and had blonde hair, the green fairy’s name was Ariel and she wore an emerald gown with red hair, the red fairy’s name was Snow and her gown was blue and yellow and her hair was black and she often had a small red bow, and the teal fairy’s name was Jasmine and her dress was teal and gold and her hair was black and long.

“Sometimes I think she does this on purpose, you know,” Ariel said.

Ella sighed and shrugged. “Well, that doesn’t matter.”

“I think we should turn those mean old witches into toadstools!” Snow said with a huff.

“You know we can’t do that. Even though we really want to,” Jasmine reasoned.

“Well, at least let us help you,” Cindy offered.

Ella was touched by their words. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to help me. Besides, it’s my duty to do these things. It’s what father would want.”

“Your father would want you to be happy and not a servant!” Belle exclaimed.

Ella sighed and shook her head. “They have their reasons. Besides, it’s not all bad.”

“Name ONE thing you like about living here. Go on, I’ll wait,” Snow said and sat down in the air as if there were an invisible stool.

Ella thought for a moment—what did she enjoy? She felt her face fall and she knew her friends were right. She had often convinced herself that there were reasons behind her stepmother’s cruelty, but the excuses were running thin and empty. She could, however, cut her stepsisters some slack—they weren’t nearly as cruel to her and had been, at times, pleasant. Ella understood that their mother was the one telling them horrible things about Ella and other humans, and she had noticed that Malia and Allison didn’t always agree with their mother. They usually just kept their distance from Ella and didn’t cause more grief for her.

“Ella!” her stepsister Malia’s voice called.

“Oh now what do they want…” Cindy sighed out.

Ella placed the garment out to dry and sighed, then left the shed with a wave to her friends and re entered the house to find out what her stepsister needed.

“Yes, Malia?” Ella said as she entered the study where she found both of her stepsisters using their magic to brew potions and levitate objects.

“We need more herbs. I made a list for you—can you get them?” Malia asked while handing Ella a small piece of parchment.

“Of course. I’ll leave immediately. Is there anything else I can get for you?” Ella offered.

“No, we’re good. Just the herbs is fine,” Allison said from her seat a few feet away from them. Ella nodded and left the room. She smiled softly to herself because gathering ingredients was one of her favorite things to do, and the day was beautiful. In better spirits, Ella grabbed a basket big enough for the moderate list and her shawl, then walked towards the town.

~

“Again, Stiles?” Scott said in an exacerbated tone.

“Just a few hours, okay? Come on, I know you can do it—you’re such a good liar!” the prince convinced his steward.

Scott sighed. “Fine. But I’m not responsible for the outcome of this meeting that you are supposed to attend!”

“You’re the best, I knew I could count on you!” Stiles said and nearly skipped away with joy. Prince Mieczyslaw had donned somewhat of a disguise using Scott’s clothes. He had plans to go into town and experience the kingdom like he wasn’t a royal and he had hoped that with his change in clothes, he wouldn’t be recognized. The castle wasn’t too far from the village, so Stiles arrived with plenty of time to spare before nightfall. The buzz of the town was everything Stiles had hoped it would be and he was delighted to find that nobody stopped and stared at him—he blended in perfectly with his people.

He happened upon a fruit stand and decided that he’d pick up an apple to munch on as he explored the town he rarely visited. The royal family wasn’t completely disconnected with its people, but they were quite busy so their trips to visit were usually only monthly.

“That’s two silver pieces,” the merchant asked of Stiles.

“How about a gold one? Keep the change,” Stiles said and winked at the merchant, whose eyes widened.

“Thank you very much, sir!” the man said and pocketed the coin with a bright smile. Stiles smiled back and took a bite from the fruit and absentmindedly chewed on it as he looked at the buildings and people surrounding him.

Suddenly, he felt himself run into someone while he was looking up and their basket fell with various jars spilling out and they stumbled to the ground.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Stiles apologized and knelt to help the person. His hand found theirs and he felt a few callouses on the palms of soft hands. He made eye contact with he woman he had just run into and found her to be perhaps the most beautiful he’d seen. Her face was slightly dirty, but her looks shone through nevertheless.

“Oh, that’s okay, it happens,” she said sweetly to him with a smile. He smiled back and helped her gather her belongings back in the basket she was carrying.

“Still… I want to make it up to you,” Stiles said and helped her to her feet. He saw her cheeks turn a light shade of pink at his offer and she shook her head.

“I couldn’t possibly ask anything of a nobleman,” she said with a bashful look.

“N-Nobleman..? What makes you think that of me?” Stiles said with a lump in his throat and panic beginning to rise.

“Well… your clothes are so clean and nice. And that fabric is fairy-made, correct?” she asked. Stiles admired her knowledge.

“I.. I’m not sure,” Stiles responded honestly. “I suppose that doesn’t bode well for my case either.”

She chuckled. “I suppose not.”

Stiles smiled. “What’s your name?”

She eyed him quizzically. “Why should I give you my name when you have yet to offer yours, sir?”

Stiles’ cheeks heated up and he let out a breath. “Forgive me, I seem to have lost all of my senses in the presence of a beautiful woman. I’m Stiles.”

She blushed and bit her lip slightly. “It’s a pleasure to bump into you, Stiles. My name is—”

Horns were sounded loudly enough for the entire village to hear and all attention was turned to behind Stiles. He recognized the horns as coming from the royals and knew an announcement was to follow. He turned with the rest of the crowd in mild irritation and saw Scott standing on a podium with a scroll.

“To the beloved subjects of King Noah and Queen Melissa: The prince, as you may know, is to turn twenty at the end of this week and he is giving a masquerade ball to celebrate!” Scott announced.

“What,” Stiles said lowly to himself in disbelief.

“As such, my order of His Majesty, every eligible maid in the kingdom is to attend,” Scott continued.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” Stiles muttered and was so infuriated that he missed the rest of Scott’s announcement, but thought he maybe heard the words “bride” and “wedding.” After the date and time were announced for two days from now, Scott and the guard left the podium and headed back to the castle. Stiles was so distracted by the announcement that he almost forgot to turn around and finish his conversation with the woman he had run into. The town seemed to have twice as many people milling about now, and he couldn’t see where she was and assumed that she walked away from him. Stiles sighed sadly to himself and headed back to the kingdom to confront his father.