#this is probably why people have therapists huh someone to check your math

[brinnanza]

the fact that the genetic lottery rolled sensory processing issues severe enough that just regular chilling hanging out existing in my physical human body can be so overwhelming I am too exhausted to do basic tasks is a real fuckin snake eyes situation there is a lot about autism that I truly love and am genuinely grateful for but ripping all the labels off the sensory knobs and givin em a random spin is not fucking one of them

[study-coffee-chicago]

Stars on your Sleeve (Part 2) [A Jay Halstead Imagine]

A/N: The name of the girl is Y/N (I mostly write my imagines in second person POV...except for the one you guys might see in a few weeks) and cariña is just a nickname/term of endearment in Spanish that means sweetheart. Sorry if anyone got confused about that in part one!

"Dad," you started as you walked into Jay's office after school that day.

It was a Thursday and you had taken the bus from school to the district. It wasn't often that you did this, but you had gotten texts from both your mom and dad telling you that the current case was going to drag on and on tonight, so they wanted you at the district so that you wouldn't be home alone until two or three o'clock in the morning.

"Hi, cariña. How was your day? Learn anything interesting in school?"

"Dad," you groaned. "It's high school, half the stuff they teach me I won't ever use again."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to know about my daughter's day."

"Just can't wait for this week to be over to sleep in."

"You and me both, kid."

"Half the time you work weekends though, Dad," you pointed out.

"Comes with the sergeant title."

"And your sleeping in is like 7:00."

"Point taken. Now, did Mom pack you a few extra snacks or do you need some money for the vending machines?"

"She didn't--"

"Don't even finish that sentence, young lady," Hailey said as she burst into Jay's office. "I packed you a few extra things and you know it. You just want--"

"--Oreos," Jay and Hailey said at the same time.

"Hey, don't blame me! They taste good," you protested. "Anyway, Dad, can I use your laptop to do my homework?"

"Don't you have that school-issued one?"

"That one blocks Netflix."

Jay crossed his arms across his chest. "Homework, huh?"

"I'm just writing a paper. It's not like I'm doing math or reading something."

"What type of paper?" Hailey asked. "Because, I'm pretty sure that if it's a research paper, you need to focus."

"It's a narrative, so I don't need to be constantly focused, Mom."

"Makayla does the same thing," Adam said as he entered the office as well. "Let the kid have the laptop, Jay."

"Thanks, Adam."

"Uh," Jay groaned, "I guess."

"We also have a lead, so you wanna roll out after I give you the info?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. Sorry, Y/N, you need to go into the breakroom now."

"But why can't I stay in here?" you whined. "I want your spinny chair."

"Y/N, this is a case," your mom told you. "You know the rules: no being around the case talk. It's for your own good, we don't want to scar or scare you."

Mom, you know what I've seen, you wanted to tell her, but you knew it would be no use as your parents would never budge on this rule.

"I know, Mom."

Jay pulled his laptop from his desk along with the charger. "Rules?" he probed, holding onto the laptop and charger.

"Dad, I know the rules. Mom, c'mon, tell him."

"It's your dad's laptop, Y/N. I'm not arguing with you or him on this one."

Jay cocked his head to the side. "I'll give you the laptop after you tell me the rules...even though I know you know them."

You sighed. You went through this every time you used his laptop when he was going to be gone. "Only use my account, don't try to login to your account, and do not delete my search history."

"Here you go." He handed you his laptop and charger. "Good luck on your paper. Don't work too hard."

You went into the breakroom and opened the laptop. First, you pulled up Netflix, and then you pulled up your paper. It was your paper for your senior portfolio, which most people were putting off, seeing as you were only a freshman, you didn't need to work on it yet. But, you knew it had to be long, so starting it now would probably be helpful.

The paper was basically a narrative telling a story about each year of school. The stories had to be from two to five pages long, which meant that the paper in its entirety would be between 26 and 65 pages long. But, you didn't mind. It's not like you had to write a boring research paper. You also had to write about your career goals and one wish for your future as well, which would make the paper even longer still.

Seeing as your schooling didn't exactly match up with the American school system until you were around nine and in third grade, you had gotten permission from your teacher to just write about the sections of kindergarten, first, and second grade, as just memories from when you were six, seven, and eight years old.

You'd save the memories of six and seven for later, since you'd have to dig into the part of your brain where you were in the orphanage with your older sister, Illiana.

For now, you just scribbled down a few lines for ideas of when you were eight years old...which was pretty simple since a lot happened in your life that year.

***

"Y/N, we brought you some food if you--"

"Shut up!" Mouse hissed as the rest of the unit clambered up the stairs and into the bullpen. "She's sleeping."

Yes, when Mouse came home he returned to his job as the tech analyst of the Intelligence Unit. And, when Jay became sergeant, he pulled a few strings and got him a huge salary increase.

"I'll pull the car around front," Hailey offered.

"No," Jay whined. "That means I gotta be the bad guy and wake her up."

"Sorry, babe. I call dibs."

"Ew, guys, please keep the lovey-dovey nicknames to home. I don't need to see that," Adam joked.

"Shut up, Ruz."

Hailey swiped the keys from Jay's office and Jay went to wake you up. But, before he did, he saw the laptop, still open to both Netflix and your paper.

There wasn't much in the paper yet, as Jay had expected, only a few bullet points. His name caught his eye below the age 8 section...whatever that meant. He didn't mean to pry (well, really he did), but he closed the laptop without logging you out so that he and Hailey could take a look at it later.

"Y/N, Y/N, wake up."

You were woken up by someone gently shaking your shoulder.

"Quiero dormir, vaya," you whined. That was one thing you always did: reverted back to Spanish when you were tired. At least both Jay and Hailey understood it now because they had learned Spanish...which helped them with parenting because when they were mad at you, they'd talk in Spanish and that's how you know you were in deep shit.

"I know you want to sleep, and I'm not leaving," Jay answered. "But, we're going home so you can sleep in your bed instead of here."

"Mmmm, okay," you mumbled. You rubbed your eyes, but then decided it was too much work to get up, so you just sat up and closed your eyes once again.

"C'mon, cariña. Mom's got the car out front and then all you gotta do is stay awake until we get home, okay?"

"Mmmm," you mumbled and then stood up. He already had your backpack slung over his shoulder and was holding his laptop in the other hand. "Can I skip school tomorrow? I'm tired."

"Not a chance," Jay chuckled. "But, I can drive you to school and we can get you a frappucino on the way there."

"Mom won't be mad?"

"We don't have to tell Mom everything now do we?"

"No, we don't."

***

"What are you doing?" Hailey asked Jay as she slid into bed next to him that night. "Are you seriously checking our daughter's search history this late at night? C'mon Jay, she's a good kid. You won't find anything."

"That's not what I'm looking at. But, now that you mention it, I should probably check that, too."

"Then, what are you reading? Because I know for a fact that your case notes are definitely not as organized as that."

"Wow, Hails, you're so sweet," Jay said sarcastically. "It's Y/N's paper. The rubric was pasted at the top and it looks like she has to write about a memory from each year of her life and her career goals and a wish for the future."

"And you were snooping because...?"

"Because I saw my name. I wanna see what she says about us, Hailey."

"Jay, she loves us, baby. We're her parents. We both know that. You don't need to read her schoolwork to know that."

"Either way, I'm still reading it. Join me if you want, or go to sleep."

"Uh, fine. But if she asks, this was your idea and I will not hesitate to throw you under the bus."

Age 8, they both read to themselves, leaving/running away from orphanage

"God, no matter how many years it's been since she told us what happened, it never fails to break my heart," Hailey said.

Jay wrapped one arm around his wife. "I know, babe. I feel the exact same way."

"Hey, Y/N," the therapist started and you looked up at her. "Do you want to in that room over there and watch some tv while I talk to jay and Hailey? I can even turn on the Spanish movies for you."

"Okay!"

After getting you all set up, she left you in the room with a Spanish children's movie playing while she went to get Jay and Hailey.

"Jay and Hailey?" she asked as she entered the waiting room.

"Dr. Smith," Jay greeted.

"I have something to tell both of you, and Y/N told me it was okay that I tell you. When I asked if she wanted to be the one to tell you this, she said no because she didn't want to make you sad."

They entered the room where you had previously been and Dr. Smith sat in a chair and Jay and Hailey sat on the couch.

"What's this about?" Hailey asked.

"Well, she told me why she ran away from the orphanage."

Jay and Hailey were shocked. You'd been with them for three months and hadn't once mentioned why you ran away and what happened before Jay found you. It wasn't for lack of trying on Hailey and Jay's part, though. They tried. After all, they knew how to talk to child victims. But, they didn't want to push you too hard, and eventually, they just dropped the topic all together because they knew you'd talk about it when you were ready. Apparently, today was the day that you were ready to tell that story.

"And?" Jay pushed. "Why'd she run away?"

"She said that they came for her, the people who you were fighting," Dr. Smith said.

"Los Rebeldes," Jay said, more to Hailey than to anyone else.

"They came for her specifically?" Hailey asked.

"No, they just came to the orphanage. She said that she heard voices--male voices--telling them to get down on the ground and then some shots rang out. Her sister, Illiana, told her to hide and slipped the necklace around her neck. So, she did. She said she closed her eyes really tight and she just laid there, hiding and barely breathing. She said she heard a gunshot and then she heard Illiana scream and she heard squishing noises."

"Oh my God," Hailey gasped.

"You're saying they shot and killed her?" Jay asked, his voice cracking.

"That's what it sounded like, yes."

"How did she get out?"

"She said that she snuck out through a small door in the back of the room. She said it wasn't a real door, but it was a small door that led to the outside, by her description, it sounded about three feet tall and two feet wide."

"The waste doors," Jay muttered.

"The what?" Hailey asked.

"The waste doors...well, that's what we called them on Base anyway. They were these little doors where you could place stuff outside. Sometimes we'd put the packaging of our MRE's there or other crap we didn't need anymore. Not good for the planet, but yeah, that's what we did."

"So, Jay, you're telling me that Y/N essentially snuck out of the orphanage through a trash chute?"

"Well, we used them for waste, which is why we called them waste doors. But, I heard rumors of them being used at orphanages for parents to put their baby in a crib. They'd just open the door and place the baby in the little crib on the other side of the door."

"She moved the crib and snuck out through there?"

"If there was a crib, then she moved it and got out. If not, she just crawled out through there."

"Did she tell you anything about when she left?" Hailey asked Dr. Smith.

"She said that she didn't have much with her, just her teddy bear and that locket. But, she said that she walked for the rest of the day. And, according to her timeline, the soldiers came right after breakfast. She said she was really scared that they were going to find her and so she just kept walking. But then, she found a bit of a forest it sounded like and since it was starting to get dark and cold, she laid down."

"I found her in the middle of the night and she must've been there since sunset. No wonder she was hypothermic."

"We got her her first banana split after that therapy session," Hailey said. "I honestly don't know whether the food was to get her to try something new or to comfort us."

"Yeah, that was a rough night. I didn't even want her to leave my arms," Jay said. "Jay found me and I went home to Chicago," he read aloud. "Man, that night was rough, too. Probably worse than the night where we found out why she left."

"Now, it's crowded here, cariña so stay cerca to us or go mano a mano with me or Hailey, okay?" Jay asked you as the three of you found a parking spot at Navy Pier.

Adam, Kim, Kevin, and Will were all there as well. They had planned to go out and party and go to a bar when Jay returned home, but that changed now that he and Hailey had a kid to take care of, so they had decided to take a trip to Navy Pier.

In the airport, Jay had gotten a huge coffee from Starbucks, seeing as he had barely slept on the way home. Before coming to Navy Pier, you had gone to a place called iHOP where you had gotten some really yummy pancakes, and Adam, Kevin, and Will had made you laugh a lot and Kim spoke Spanish with you.

"What does that word mean?" you asked.

"What word?" Jay asked, looking down at you as he took your hand.

"Cr-crowded," you sounded out slowly.

"Uh, it means there's lots and lots of people."

"Oh, okay. I stay by you."

"So Y/N, what do you like to do?" Will asked you.

"I like reading and play fútbol," you told him.

"Really? Jay loves playing soccer!"

"We played back at the big house in España," you told Will excitedly. "We won and I got lots and lots of goals."

"Looks like you have a pro soccer player on your hands, little brother," Will said to Jay.

"Don't I know it."

"We go on the big thingy you showed me in the little book in the plane?" you asked Jay.

"The Ferris wheel?" You nodded excitedly. "We can do that, but let's walk around first. We might be able to play some games and win you a friend for Osito."

"Really? Osito have a friend?"

"Really," Jay promised.

As you walked down Navy Pier, you were excitedly pointing out every little thing you saw from the ducks and the seagulls to the big yachts floating down the Chicago River.

"Let's go into Garrett's, babe," Hailey suggested when they were inside the big atrium. "Give her a taste of Chicago's world-famous popcorn."

"I think that's a great idea," Jay agreed. "What do you think, cariña? Want to try some popcorn and then we'll get your favorite?"

You tilted your head to the side. "Popcorn? What is that?"

"Palomitas," Kim clarified for you in Spanish. "Hay muchos tipos diferentes de palomitas allí para probar y comprar."

"Oh, okay. Yes, please."

"What did you say to her?" Hailey whispered to Kim.

"Just gave her the Spanish translation of popcorn and then told her that there's a bunch of different types of popcorn that she can try and buy in there. But, you and Jay most definitely have your work cut out for you when it comes to learning Spanish. You're lucky that she's pretty good with English already and that I'm here to help you learn Spanish."

***

"Sleepy, cariña?" Jay asked as he heard you yawn from the backseat.

Hailey was driving and he was holding a big bag of caramel and cheddar popcorn...which Hailey was telling him not to eat all of it because she knew he would. You were in the backseat with your big stuffed bear, whom you had named Osita since she was a girl bear because she had really soft white fur and a pink ribbon tied around her. Jay had won that for you when he played a shooting game. You also had a stuffed duck that Will had won for you when he played a guess the weight game. You named him Pato...which meant duck in Spanish. You had gone on the Ferris wheel and had pointed out all the pretty things in the sky when you were up there. Hailey had never seen Jay so happy as when he was smiling wide at every little thing you pointed out and he tried to explain to you what they were.

"No," you answered as you laid your head against Osita. It was currently 3 pm Chicago time, which made it about 9 pm Spain time.

"Tell you what," Hailey started, "When we get home, we can show you your room, and then we can watch a movie and eat this popcorn. Because, if we don't start eating it soon, Jay will eat it all."

"Jay eat it all if we no eat it too?"

"Jay eats a lot," Hailey joked.

You reached your hand in front of you and towards Jay. "Palomitas please." Jay chuckled and Hailey smiled as he put some popcorn into your little outstretched hand. "Gracias."

"De nada," Jay told you.

"When we watch movie, how I get it?" you asked.

"We get it on the tv," Jay told you.

"No, how I know what they saying?"

Hailey hadn't thought that far ahead when she had suggested watching a movie. "Um," Hailey faltered. "We can make it so it's in Spanish."

"But then you no know what they say," you pointed out.

"We can put words on the bottom of the screen in English for us," Jay suggested. "Then all three of us will know what they're saying. Is that okay?"

"Okay!"

"Hailey," Jay whispered. "What are we gonna watch?"

"She's too old for princesses probably and way too young for action movies...how about Disney Channel movies? We could try High School Musical? That one's pretty good."

"You're kidding Hails. You watched that? Didn't it come out when we were like 20 or 25?"

Hailey held back a laugh. "Yes, it did. But, I babysat a lot of kids in my neighborhood who were around Y/N's age, and we'd always end up watching those Disney Channel originals."

"Okay, whatever you say, babe."

***

"I think I'm gonna bring her to bed," Jay said.

You had fallen asleep halfway through the movie. Before starting it, you had seen your room. It was purple! And, in black letters behind your bed, it said Salon de Y/N, which meant Y/N's room. Jay assumed that Kim had helped Hailey with the spelling and the boys had helped move the furniture into your room. There was also a little basket with a few things they thought you would like, such as a few different colored soccer balls and a bookshelf.

On the bookshelf, Hailey had picked out some books in Spanish that she had found at Barnes and Noble and some short chapter books in English that she used to read as a kid, such as the Nancy Drew series and Little House on the Prairie. She knew that you might need help reading them and might not be able to completely understand them all by yourself yet, but she knew that she and Jay would be there to help you.

"It's 6:00," Hailey protested. "Shouldn't we wake her up and have her stay awake for a few more hours so that her body can adjust?"

"If you're asking an adult like me that, yes, I'd stay awake. But, she's a kid. She needs her sleep. And, I'll probably be up before you anyway, so I can deal with her if she wakes us up at five in the morning."

"Okay super dad," Hailey joked. "Bring her to bed. I'll make us a quick dinner and cover this popcorn so it doesn't get stale. Can't wait for us to go to bed tonight." She winked.

"Hails, as much as I would love to take you up on that, I don't think it's a good idea when it's Y/N's first night. But, I will give you all the cuddles in the world tonight, don't you worry about that."

"As long as you didn't pick up the habit of snoring overseas then I'm all for that, babe."

***

Jay woke up to the sound of soft whimpering. It sounded like it was coming from the hallway but he couldn't be sure. He reached over Hailey and was about to grab her gun from her drawer where he knew that she kept it, but stopped when he remembered that it was probably just you. It wasn't just Jay and Hailey in the house anymore; you were there as well and that's probably where the noise was coming from. And, he didn't want to scare you by holding a gun.

He glanced over at the clock. 3 am. Yeah, sounds about right that you'd be waking up right about now since you'd slept for about nine hours and it was 9 am in Spain right now.

Jay slowly tiptoed out into the hallway, cursing himself that he hadn't left a light on or kept his and Hailey's bedroom door open so you could find them easily.

Jay reached out for the hall light switch and flicked on the lights, causing you to jump. "Hey, hey, it's just me. It's just Jay," he said calmly once he laid eyes on you. You were holding Osito and there were fresh tears running down your cheeks.

Jay never knew the force of an eight-year-old running into him could be so strong as to almost knock him over. You dropped Osito and wrapped your arms around him as if your life depended on it.

"It's okay, it's okay," Jay soothed. "What's wrong, cariña? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I-I no know where I was," you mumbled into his shirt. "Was dark. Think you and Hailey left, so I came to find you."

"Oh, sweetie," Jay started. "I'm sorry. I forgot to turn the light on for you in your room so that you'd know where you are. And, me and Hailey would never leave you."

"You promise?"

"I promise." Your stomach grumbled. "Hungry?" you nodded. "Alright, let's get you a sandwich and then get you back to bed."

"You eat too?" you asked.

"You know, I could go for a sandwich."

***

The next morning, Hailey rolled over to see that Jay wasn't in bed next to her and his side of the bed was cold. Then, she remembered you and walked over to your room and slowly opened the door. You looked up from the Spanish book you were reading and put a finger to your lips.

"Jay sleeping," you told Hailey.

Jay was sitting upright in your bed against the headboard, his thumb holding a place in what looked to be a Nancy Drew book.

"Did Jay read to you last night, huh?" Hailey asked as she walked closer to you and Jay.

"Yeah, he told me that Nancy does what you and Jay do with policia. Then, I sleep again and then I wake up and he sleep again, so I started reading in Spanish."

"I think we should let him sleep a little more while we go finish High School Musical and eat palomitas before Jay eats it all. Does that sound good?"

You nodded eagerly and closed your book. Then, you got out of bed and followed Hailey out of your room. And, after hearing that Jay had read to you and seeing him sleeping upright in your bed so that you'd be able to sleep, she had one more reason why she was truly head over heels for the man she married and got to call her husband.

"Look, Jay. She wrote her birthday in here for age 9," Hailey said as she pointed to the laptop screen.

"God, I don't think I'll forget that day for the rest of my life. It was such a good day."

"You are such a sap when it comes to Y/N."

"Hey! let me be sappy about our daughter, Hailey Anne. She's in high school now, high school. That means she'll be going off to college soon."

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself, sergeant," she joked. "Just keep reading this. It was your idea to snoop through her stuff after all."

"Jay, you got the stuff?" Hailey asked as she was sitting cross-legged on their bedroom floor with wrapping paper, tape, and scissors in front of her.

"Jesus, Hails," Jay laughed, "You make it sound like we're doing a drug deal."

"Well sorry if I want her birthday to go really well. Now, did you get them or not?"

"They're in here." He set a plastic bag down on the bed. He took out three framed pictures and laid them out on the bed. Of course, he made sure that the frames were different shades of purple. "Good?"

Hailey stood up and looked at the pictures. "I never know the CPD's sketch software could work miracles like this, so yeah, I'd say we did good."

Over the past month, everyone in Intelligence had told you that they were testing out a new sketch software to use to try to track down criminals. They let you play with it because they said they wanted to see what it would do...even though they knew what it did, how good it was, and it wasn't new. It was just a ploy to make sure they got your birthday gift right. They had told you to try and input someone's face from memory, someone like your older sister, Illiana.

So, when you had to go to the district for the day with Jay and Hailey, you'd ask to play with that software to work on your sketch. Little did you know, they were printing it out on fancy photo paper and putting it in a frame for your birthday. Jay had also swiped your necklace one day when you had taken it off to go swimming and had taken pictures of what your mom and dad looked like. Then, he and Hailey each took one parent and worked on making their faces through the CPD's sketch software.

"Now what the hell is this?" Jay asked as he held up a big board that Hailey had laying out in front of her as well.

"That, Jay, is so we can stick the back of the frames to it so that we don't have to give the three of them to her separately. Then, she can just take them off from it and place them wherever she wants in her room."

"You're smart. Maybe you should've gone to law school."

"Haha, very funny, Halstead. But then I wouldn't have met you."

"Eh, I beg to differ. You'd probably end up being some prosecution or defense attorney and then I'd have to testify, and after getting yelled at by you on the stand, I'd end up making an ass of myself and ask you out for a drink."

"Is that so?"

"That is very much so."

He walked up to her and grabbed her by the waist and she gave him a peck on the lips. "Hails," Jay whined. "Why'd you phone it in?"

"Because we have presents to wrap. Now, sit your ass down on the carpet and help me."

"Yes ma'am. But, damn, you're really going to be the death of me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

***

"Before we do cake everyone, me and Hailey have one more gift for Y/N," Jay announced by tapping a fork gently against his champagne glass. Yes, the adults were drinking champagne because they were celebrating your first birthday with them as their kid. No, they wouldn't even give you one sip...but you didn't care and you didn't ask.

You had gotten spoiled all day. Will had taken you out for breakfast where you had gotten chocolate chip pancakes with all the toppings. Then, he took you to the sporting goods store where you bought an FC Madrid jersey and to Barnes Noble where you bought a few new books.

Then, when you got home, you were surprised to find everyone from Intelligence there along with some people from Med, and firehouse 51. Emilia, Mouse, and Makayla were there, and your friend, Rosa, whom Emilia had introduced you to earlier in the year at her welcome home party since Rosa was one of Emilia's little cousins.

You had gone outside and played a huge soccer game. And, when you got sick of playing soccer, Emilia busted out a makeup kit she had bought for you. And you, Makayla, Emilia, and Rosa did each other's makeup. While the four of you were doing makeup, a soccer tournament had broken out where Intelligence played Med, and then the winner of that game played Firehouse 51. Intelligence won against Med...mostly due to Jay. But, then they played 51 and they got creamed.

"Here you go, nena," Hailey said as she passed you the gift. Hailey had started calling you nena since Jay had a nickname for you, cariña, which you learned now meant sweetheart in English. So, she decided to call you nena, which meant honey. And, you and Hailey had thought it only fair if you came up with a nickname for Jay. So, the one you decided on was quite fitting in your mind: pecas...which translated to freckles. And, Will, well Will calls you Osa because your favorite animal is a bear. It's probably one of only three words he knows in Spanish next to hola and adios.

The gift was long and hard...like a piece of wood. You slowly opened the gift, wondering what else you could have possibly gotten.

You bit your lip as you finished tearing the paper off and flipped it over. "Mamí, Papí, Illiana," you whispered as you held back tears. "¿Cómo lo hicisteis?" you asked. Seeing as Jay and Hailey had been working very hard on their Spanish for the past nine months, they could understand you and could sometimes explain an English word to you in Spanish if needed.

"We didn't really need to test out the drawing thing," Jay answered. "We just needed a picture of Illiana. And, I got the pictures of your parents from the locket."

At this, you started to cry harder, remembering that day when Jay had to cut your necklace off of you in the back of the Med truck in Spain.

You stood up and hugged both Jay and Hailey at the same time. Now, you had both of your families watching over you: your biological family from in heaven and your parents in the here and now. And, your biological family now had no doubt in their mind up there that you would never, ever forget them.

"You remember what she called us that night?" Hailey asked.

"How could I forget? It was the first night she called us mom and dad. I still remember her exact words when I told her we weren't trying to replace her biological family: Son mi familia en el cielo y en mi corazon, pero vosotros sois mi familia aquí."

"They're my family in heaven and in my heart, but you are my family here."

"Exactly."

"Oh my God!" Hailey laughed. "She wrote sixth-grade: I cheated on a literature test and Mom had to come to pick me up and I got in trouble. And then, Dad went full-on dad-mode."

"No fucking way," Jay laughed as he brought the laptop closer to him and looked for the sixth-grade section. "I can't believe this is what she's going to write about!"

"Well, in her defense, it was the first time we had to ground her and the first time you went full-on, overprotective, my daughter can do no wrong dad-mode."

"Pretty sure the next time I'll do that is when she gets asked to the homecoming dance later this year."

"Jay! You will not! You will not scare the boys away from our daughter!"

"Well, they should be scared!" Jay argued. "We're both cops, babe. We can make their death look like an accident."

"Jay, what you're talking about is murder and I shouldn't have to remind you that that is illegal. If so, I am going to the Ivory Tower tomorrow to get you stripped of your sergeant title."

"Fine, fine. The next time I'll do that is when she gets her driver's license."

"Hey, on the bright side, we wouldn't have to pick her up from the principal's office then," Hailey pointed out. "She could just drive herself home."

"We wouldn't have to figure out which of us should go pick her up like last time?"

"Exactly. And I'm pretty sure she was thankful that it was you and not me who picked her up in sixth grade."

"Miss Halstead," your literature teacher said as she stalked over to you from the other side of the classroom. "Care to tell me what you have under your sleeve?"

"My arm?"

"I don't like being disrespected in my classroom. We both know you have your phone in there. And, lying to me will just make this worse."

"I-I needed it," you stammered, not wanting to have the whole class hear how stupid you were.

"For a test? You know the rules: no cheating. Principal's office, now. Grab your stuff. And, I'll be calling your parents as you walk down there."

You grabbed your backpack and started your walk to the principal's office. It's not like you had a choice...well, you did have a choice. You could've just not used your phone on the test. But, after that last grade you got on that essay and how weirdly worded the questions were, you basically had no choice but to use your phone. It's not like you were using it to look up the answers per se, but you were using it to try and understand the questions because there was no way you were going to ask that teacher.

"Mrs. Halstead, right this way," you heard the office secretary say as they led Hailey to the principal's office. Your phone was sitting on the principal's desk, the tab you had been using to cheat open and you were fiddling with the strings of your hoodie. You had thought about deleting your search history, but knew it wouldn't be of any use because Jay and Hailey would just be able to look it up with whatever police software crap that Intelligence had access to. You knew you'd be in more trouble if you deleted it and they found out that you were lying, so you decided you wouldn't delete it...even though you were regretting that decision as your phone screen stared back at you.

"May I ask why my daughter is in the principal's office when I thought she should be taking a test?" Jay and Hailey knew all about your literature test that day as you had read the book twice to be ready for it.

"That's exactly why she's in here, Mrs. Halstead," the principal told Hailey. "She was trying to cheat on her literature test."

"She wouldn't do that!" Hailey defended you. "She studied so hard!" She looked between both you and the principal, but your gaze stayed trained on the floor.

"Just take a look."

He passed Hailey your phone and she looked at the search history and the timestamps of said history. "Y/N, is this true?"

You nodded. Hailey sighed. "I'm assuming she's suspended?"

"Since this is her first academic infraction, I'm not going to suspend her. She does need to go home for the rest of the school day, though."

"Thank you. C'mon Y/N, let's go."

You hung your head as you left the middle school, Hailey holding your phone and still trying to figure out why you did this. But she knew that one thing was for sure: the minute Jay got home, he would not be happy.

***

"You're kidding me, right?" you heard Jay ask Hailey in the kitchen.

You were currently in your room, but the kitchen was right down the hall, so if you were quiet and focused enough, you could hear their conversation.

"I wish I was, Jay," Hailey said. "Just...here, take a look."

You assumed that Hailey was handing Jay the phone and he was looking at your search history.

Jay took a deep breath and restrained himself from shoving the chair into the kitchen table.

You heard his heavy footsteps coming down the hall and quickly locked your door and then sat back down on your bed.

You heard the doorknob jiggle as Jay tried to open your door.

"Y/N! ¡Abras la puerta inmediatamente!" (Open the door immediately!)

You were in deep shit if he was yelling at you in Spanish.

You didn't move from your bed.

"¡Ábrelo ahora!" (Open it now!)

"¡Estoy viniendo! ¡Calmáse!" (I'm coming! Calm yourself!) You got up from the bed and opened the door.

"Do not ever, ever tell me to calm down ever again! Do you understand me?" Jay asked angrily as he flung open your door after he had unlocked it. You nodded. "Now, I understand that you were caught cheating on a test. Care to explain that to me?"

"Not really," you sighed as you sat on your bed.

"I'm giving you one more chance to explain to me why you chose to cheat. And I suggest you tell me the truth, kid."

You looked up to be met with Hailey standing in the doorway. She nodded to you as if to say you better listen to your dad.

"Well?" he asked as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"I needed to cheat!"

"Nobody needs to cheat!"

"Well, I did!" You dug through your backpack and found the paper you had to write for the class that your teacher failed you on. "Because of this!" You threw the paper on your bed. "And because my teacher is a puta!"

"You do not call your teacher a bitch, young lady!" Jay yelled.

"Jay!" Hailey yelled. "Take the paper, go to our room and read it and calm down!"

"So Mom can tell you to calm down but I can't?"

Jay turned back to you, but Hailey grabbed his arm. "Bedroom Jay. Now." He left the room and Hailey turned to you. "As for you. You're grounded from your phone for the foreseeable future. Sorry, nena. Now, we'll be back to talk to you after we've read whatever it is you threw on your bed."

***

"We read the paper," Jay said as he and Hailey entered your room again fifteen minutes later. "And, I'm sorry for yelling. I know me and your mom are both detectives, but it'd look better if you told us why you cheated instead of leaving us to put the pieces together."

"I'm sorry, I really am. It's just, I failed that paper. And, I worked really hard on it. And, she said it wasn't a real tradition."

The paper topic was to write about a family tradition and you wrote about the Spanish tradition of eating grapes on New Year's Eve. With twelve seconds left of the year, you'd put a grape in your mouth for every second that passed. You'd try to get all twelve grapes in your mouth, but that was really hard. You wrote about the last time you did it with your family and your papí almost got all of them in your mouth while you only got three in your mouth since you were only three years old at the time.

One of the grading criteria for the paper was that it had to be a real tradition.

"She said that it wasn't a real tradition, Dad. She said that because she had never heard of it and that it sounded weird to her, that it wasn't real. So, she failed me. I also put some Spanish words in there, but I put the translations next to it. I thought it would make it more...what's the word? It's kind of like real? Like it'd make it more real to read? You know that word for it?"

"Authentic?" Hailey asked.

"Yeah, that. I thought it'd make it more authentic to read. And, I knew the material of the book. But, the questions were so confusing and I didn't want to ask her to clarify because she's mean."

"So you googled the questions to try to figure out what they were asking?" Hailey asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I really am. I just didn't want you to be disappointed in me and think that I've been here for four years and not know English."

"Oh, cariña." Jay crouched in front of you. "We'd never think that. I promise. And I know Mom would never think that either, right?"

"That's right," Hailey agreed.

"Now, I have to go make a phone call."

"You went off on that teacher, Jay! I don't think I've ever heard you that angry when you weren't in interrogation!" Hailey laughed.

"Well yeah! That teacher's logic and grading criteria were seriously flawed. And, you read that paper. It was really good. As Y/N put it that day, she really was a puta."

Hailey rolled her eyes.

"Wish for the future," Jay read aloud. "I wish that I could figure out why Los Rebeldes came to the orphanage and killed Illiana."

"I think that's enough snooping through her stuff for the day, babe," Hailey said, beginning to feel uncomfortable reading this. "Let's just go to bed."

"Yeah, I'm just gonna take a quick shower and I'll be back, okay? I love you." He gave Hailey a quick peck on the lips and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower.

"I love you, too."

But, Jay barely heard her. He was so lost in thought about how to get answers for you, for his daughter. Hell, he wanted those answers just as bad as you. What kind of sick bastard would come into an orphanage heavily armed and just kill innocent civilians and innocent children?

***

"Mouse," Jay said as he entered the bullpen the next morning, "I need your help with something."

"Jeez, Jay, you're late," Ruzek commented. "Where's Hailey?"

"It's her RDO. And, I promised Y/N a frappuccino because she had to wake up early for school and had to go to bed late last night because we were working a case."

"Does Hailey--"

"No, Adam. Hailey does not know that I gave our fourteen-year-old daughter sugar-laced coffee this morning. And, if you so much as say the words frappuccino, Jay, and Y/N in the same sentence, I will bump you back down to patrol so fast you won't know what hit you."

Jay started to walk towards the tech area where he assumed Mouse would be. His voice carried, so he hoped he'd heard him when he'd said he needed his help.

"Whose idea was it to give Jay all this power?" Adam asked rhetorically. "I think it's going to his head."

"I heard that Ruz!"

"You needed something, Jay?" Mouse asked as he turned around from his laptop and took a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, can you do something off the books for me?"

"You don't even have to ask anymore, man."

"Just need to make sure you don't assign a case number to it."

"I can do that. Now, what do you need?"

Jay pulled out his phone and pulled up a Spanish newspaper article from two weeks ago. He laid the phone in front of Mouse. "This. This is why I need you."

Mouse looked at the phone and back up at Jay with raised eyebrows. "I'm gonna need you to translate that. I don't speak Spanish."

"Says that the guy who killed everyone in the orphanage that Y/N was in is meeting with his lawyer about an appeal. That son of a bitch. And, it's happening on Monday."

"He's meeting with his lawyer on Monday or you'll know if he won the appeal or not on Monday?" Mouse asked.

"He's meeting with his lawyer on Monday."

"And you need me because...?"

"Think you can hack into Spain's maximum-security federal prison system?"

"You cannot be serious."

"I am dead serious, Mouse."

"Why don't you just wait to hear the news?"

Jay sighed and took a seat next to Mouse. "Y/N has to write a paper and was using my laptop. It was this narrative thing for her senior project, so it's due in a few years. But, I'll spare you the details. Y/N had to write what one of her wishes for the future was and she wrote that she wants to know why the guy killed everyone in the orphanage. Not who, because we already know that it was Raúl Rodríguez. She wants to know why."

"That guy's the one who told them to attack the orphanage? The one that killed her sister, right?"

"That's the prick."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. I'd know that if it was my sister or my kid that I'd want to know."

"Thanks, man."

"Video and audio?"

"Yeah. I'm probably gonna get Emilia in on this too to translate."

"Why? Don't you and Hailey speak Spanish?"

"We do, but they're gonna talk really fast and I probably don't know law lingo except for the word lawyer."

"Fair enough. I'll get to work."

***

"Hails, Hails," Jay shook Hailey awake.

"Jay? Why are you home so late?" she asked as she rolled over and opened her eyes. It was almost 11:30 and she had gone to bed half an hour ago...she thought Jay would've been home by 11:00.

"Paperwork," Jay answered honestly. He instantly regretted his decision of waking Hailey up knowing her history of insomnia. "But, I shouldn't have woke you up. I'm sorry, babe."

"No, I'm awake now. What's up?" She sat up in bed and turned on the lamp to see Jay changing out of his clothes and into his pajama pants and an old t-shirt. "You don't have to sleep with a shirt on you know."

Jay smirked. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? But, don't want our daughter to walk in on me shirtless."

"She's spending the night at Rosa's," Hailey informed him.

"In that case..." Jay trailed off and took off his t-shirt along with his pajama pants so that he was just in his boxers. "Better?"

"Much better."

Jay pulled back the covers on his side of the bed and slid in next to his wife. She cuddled into his side and he wrapped an arm around her.

"What'd you want to tell me?" she asked.

"How do you know I wanted to tell you something?"

"You had that look in your eye, Jay Halstead. Now, tell me."

"So persuasive." He rolled his eyes playfully.

"Shut up."

"You love it, though." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "You know how Y/N's biggest wish was to know why Raúl Rodríguez attacked the orphanage?"

"Mhmm," she mumbled.

"Well, I'm gonna find out why."

She pulled away from him. "What? How? You're going to Spain? To interrogate him? You know the CPD doesn't have jurisdiction there even though you were a ranger there, right?"

"Hails, I'm not going overseas to find him. I promise you that."

"Okay." She settled back into his embrace. "Then what are you doing?"

"Having Mouse see if he can hack into the prison system so that I can watch the lawyer talk to him."

"And you're going to be able to understand everything they're saying?"

"No, but Emilia will."

"You called her and told her your plan before you told me?"

"No! The only person who knows is Mouse. I figured I'd call Emilia tomorrow. Like I said, I was just at the district late doing paperwork."

"Okay, I believe you. And, we're not going to have her in the room with us, Y/N that is? We're going to tell her why he did this so she doesn't have to hear it from him?"

"Precisely. Now, am I right in assuming that since Y/N's gone for the night that we can be as loud as we want?"

"You are very much correct in that." Then, he gave her a kiss...and this time, he didn't phone it in at a peck.

***

You were sitting in the breakroom Monday afternoon trying to do some American history homework. There was so much reading involved, but it was okay because you liked history. And, there were pictures in the textbook...it wasn't like you were reading Romeo and Juliet like you had to do in English class.

You knew Emilia was here because she had brought you some fries, much to your mom and dad's dismay since your mom had packed you a few extra snacks. But, Emilia said she had to hold up her reputation as your cool aunt...even if she wasn't related to you whatsoever. And so far, she was holding it up.

You didn't know why she was here, but you assumed it was because Kim was in the field and they needed someone to translate audio. Sometimes Jay would call in Emilia if he knew that she wasn't working to do some translating so he didn't have to deal with calling up a patrolman. You also knew from hearing some of his conversations with Will that Will wanted to ask her out.

And, you hoped she say yes. You wanted Emilia to be your actual aunt. Apparently, she had a thing for doctors according to Jay's side of the phone conversations you'd heard, so you hoped it'd work out if your uncle Will ever got the balls to ask her out.

All of a sudden, Emilia came into Jay's office and he took off running. Hailey saw this and she started following them.

"What?" you asked yourself.

They always would tell you if they had to leave and they'd always be sure to tell you they loved you before they left.

You quietly walked out of the breakroom and towards where you had seen them running to. You assumed they were in the tech area because of the direction they ran in and the fact that whenever Emilia was here, she was most likely in the tech room.

As you got closer, you started hearing Spanish.

Someone talking about an attack...an attack on an orphanage.

A man said it was in the Tabernas Desert.

You peeked your head around the corner to see that on the screen there was a man in a nice suit and someone sitting at a table with handcuffs on.

"Anything we don't already know?" Hailey asked.

"Not that it sounds like right now," Emilia answered. "They're just talking about the orphanage Y/N and Illiana were in and where it was."

So this is the guy who did it. This was the guy--no, the monster--who led the attack that killed your sister.

"The lawyer just asked Rodríguez why he did it," Emilia said.

"And?" Jay asked

"Jay, I need to be able to hear them talk, so shut up."

Jay held his hands up in a sign of surrender.

"The lawyer just asked if it was something personal, something like Rodríguez being an orphan and he didn't have a good experience there so he attacked it, something that would tug at the board of appeals heartstrings essentially." There was a pause as Emilia continued listening. "He said no." She paused again. "Oh my God."

"What?" Jay asked frantically. "Why did that prick kill innocent children?"

"He said he ordered the attack because the orphanage was receiving aid from the US, for things such as food, clothing, and basic necessities."

"Un-fucking-believable." Jay wanted to punch something, but he restrained himself. "So, because our country was helping those who couldn't help themselves, this prick went after them?"

"That's what it sounds like. I'm sorry, Jay."

"Hails, how are we going to tell Y/N?"

"You guys don't have to tell me," you said as you made your presence known. "I heard the whole thing."

Jay sighed. "I'm sorry cariña, really I am. I'm sorry that this happened to you. That you had to find out this way. That this was the reason for what that monster did. I'm sorry."

"Dad read my outline?" you asked, turning to Hailey.

"Yeah, nena, he did. It was just open and you know him, he couldn't stop himself."

"Because he's a detective before he's a sergeant, just like Nancy Drew," you said, bringing it back to the books you'd used to read with your dad every night when you had just come over to the states from Spain and were working on your English.

"This should never have happened," Jay said softly as he walked over to you and brought you into a tight hug. "People that do these kinds of horrific acts shouldn't have the right to be born, much less to live."

"But if that wouldn't have happened you wouldn't have found me. And I wouldn't have found my forever Mom and Dad."

A/N: I wrote over 6.5k words to get this posted today! That's a new personal record for me! Also, my neuroscience class is kicking my butt right now, so if I don't update as frequently, that's why. Hopefully, I'll get one out every week or every two weeks at the latest. Please like/reblog and comment because I love getting feedback and it keeps me motivated to write. If you want to be added to the taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you! 

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e 

[nicb0723]

Find Your Worth

John Wick x Reader

Summary: You meet John in an unconventional way.

Word Count: 10,789

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2

Read Chapter 3

Chapter 4

**

The Continental is the most lavish hotel you’ve ever seen. You’re not even sure it’s a hotel, it might just be a resort if there was a beach outside instead of the city. It’s like you’re on a different planet.

John parks right in front and collects his bag from the trunk while the valet comes around. You feel particularly modest with your small duffel bag and glad that you decided not to bring your backpack like some teenager. At least you’re wearing some of your new clothes, but you still feel out of place. John looks sexy in his slacks and a black button up shirt. He walks with a confidence that you envy and you’re not the only one who can’t keep your eyes off of him.

The massive doors are opened by a hotel employee, and he nods to John as you both walk inside. All you can see is a polished marble floor down a long hallway with high ceilings and gorgeous chandeliers. It’s breathtaking. 

“Hey, I should probably tell you something.” John steers you into a corner and puts his back towards the lobby, so you’re hidden from the room. 

“What? Right now?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just…” He’s crowding your space, towering over you and leaning in close to whisper. “I sorta have a reputation. People will know me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, not knowing what he expects you to do with this information. “Okay?”

“And with you being here… you’ll now be associated with me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” 

He shakes his head, hair falling into his face. “No… I don’t think so.”

You’re still unsure and then a thought dawns on you, making your hands sweat and suddenly you’re extremely hot. “Oh, you’re embarrassed to be seen with me?”

John’s concerned eyes instantly turn to confusion. “What? God, no, not at all. I just meant people might ask you questions. I don’t know how you feel about that.”

“Ah, I think I’ll be okay.” You reassure him and smile. “I’ll just tell them I’m your assassin secretary.”

He chuckles and gives you one last look, studying your eyes before he walks towards the check in counter. You hang back and look more into the lobby, careful to avoid any eye contact that you can feel from everyone. It’s not really any effort though, you’ve gone most of your life looking down at the floor. 

You feel a strong hand on your back and John asks if you’re ready to go upstairs. He does know a lot of people and he gives a nod to practically everyone you pass in the hallway. You sigh some relief in the elevator once you’re both out of sight and give John a small smile. 

“A reputation, huh?”

“Stop.”

“What kind of reputation?”

The elevator dings on the fourth floor and he motions for you to go first. “A scary one.” He tells you on the way to the room and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. 

“Is that what they call you? Scary John Wick?”

“Not exactly.” The door opens and it’s a suite with a living room and kitchenette, and two beds. Well, this is new. John takes the one closest to the door and you put your bag on the other bed. “I hope this is okay, I didn’t know if you would want your own room or not. I probably should have just asked you.”

“This is great, are you kidding? It’s like a vacation!” You’re thrilled because you can’t even remember the last time you were in a hotel. You just wish the reason for being here were different.

John grins, but shakes his head. He starts to unzip his big leather bag and hangs up a dark suit in the closet.  “This is hardly a vacation. But the wedding next month is in the Hamptons, which might be nice. Have you thought about going?”

“Yeah, I thought about it.” You stretch out on the bed and it’s like heaven. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, why not? It could be fun.”

“Don’t sound so excited.” John laughs and tosses a pillow onto your stomach. 

You lift your head and lean your hand on your chin. “Honestly? I will be nervous, but it’s a good kind of nervous. It’s good for me to do things out of my comfort zone.”

He sits on his bed and tilts his head thoughtfully. “Is that what your therapist said?”

“No.” You throw the pillow back to him. “Well, maybe. In a roundabout way. She somehow makes me think doing these things are my own idea.”

“She sounds good. I’m glad you have someone to talk to.” 

“Me too. It’s nice to know I’m not completely crazy.” You pick at a thread on the bottom of your knit sweater absentmindedly as you talk. “Or at least I’m the way I am because of how I grew up. And that there's hope to change.”

John sits forward and leans his elbows on his knees. “You know that you can talk to me too?”

“I might be realizing that.” You want to tell him that he can talk to you too, but you also don’t think it will matter to him. He’ll talk when he’s ready and not a minute before. Plus, you don’t think he has the same trust issues as you do. He definitely has a wall up, but you think it’s for different reasons. You’re both two kinds of crazy. 

He smiles and stands. “I hope so. I have to go see some people about work, and then I’ll have to get ready and leave soon.”

“Okay.” Shut up, don’t ask him a million questions. 

“There’s a card key for you on the desk. Will you be okay here? Order some room service if you want or you can go down to the restaurant. I think there’s a hot tub and pool, but I’m not sure.”

You can’t help but be disappointed. “John, do you know how good a hot tub would feel on your sore muscles?”

He winks at you playfully. “You obviously didn’t see the tub in the bathroom.”

Instantly you’re off the bed and squeal when you see the bathtub with jets. “Best hotel ever!”

You hear John laugh as he closes the door. 

**

A few hours later it’s getting dark and John finally comes back with another duffle bag, except this one is longer.  There’s really only one thing that could go in a bag like that. 

You turn off the TV and sit up on your bed with your legs crossed under you. The towel on top of your head and the fluffy bathrobe must make for a sight, but John just nods in your general direction and doesn’t say anything. You decided when you were soaking that you’re just going to observe tonight and not ask any questions. You really don’t want to distract him and even though the curiosity is getting to you, you keep yourself composed. 

He’s very efficient with getting all his equipment neatly placed on the bed in an order that only he must know. John keeps quiet and it’s like he’s doing math equations in his head, he’s so laser focused. Maybe he’s counting bullets or thinking about where he has to go? You have no idea. You just watch. 

When he steps in the bathroom for a shower you peek at all the guns laid out and you wonder what each of them does and why he needs so many different kinds. There’s also plenty of clips and a few knives too, two holsters that look worn but the leather still shines. The shower turns off and you haul ass back to your bed and look normal. 

Stunning, is the only word that comes to your mind when he comes out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is slicked back and you love that you can see his face, stern and powerful. His beard is shaped and trimmed. You see the appendix scar on his stomach and it’s really not that long, but still very fresh. He quickly pushes a pair of boxers under the towel and drops it to the floor. It’s like you’re not even there and he’s in his own world. You stay completely still to not spoil his train of thought. 

Pants are next, then a thin undershirt, a bulletproof vest, a white button up shirt, a sleek tie, his leather belt, his gun holster around his waist and then the one around his arms, followed by the guns and clips. He puts the knife in his pocket and gets something from his bag. Cufflinks. That’s interesting. The last thing he puts on is his suit jacket. 

It was as if you just watched exotic porn and you wish you could save the last few minutes in your brain forever. 

He looks at you, and suddenly remembers that you’re there. “Hey, I’ll be back soon.” 

You nod and take the towel off your head, letting your wet hair down around your shoulders. It’s like he’s really seeing you for the first time again and he smiles once he notices you’re in a bathrobe. He’s preoccupied though and the smile disappears, but he walks towards you like he’s on autopilot and bends down to kiss your forehead, and then your cheek. 

“Thank you for being here.”

There’s no where you’d rather be.

**

The later it gets the more nervous you feel. What if he doesn’t come back at all? What if he comes back and he’s so hurt you can’t help him? What if he comes back and he doesn’t talk to you? What do you say? What do you do?

You think about all the times he’s had to do this though, without someone to come back to. How he would walk into an empty room and have to process whatever he just went through completely by himself. You think about the kiss on the forehead before he left and how it seemed foreign to him, like having you in the room was something so different than anything he's ever had before. You think about the kiss on the cheek and his words, and how just in those small actions showed how much he appreciates that you’re waiting for him. You’ve seen him be vulnerable before, but never like this. 

The TV is on low and you’re trying to entertain yourself until he gets back. You’re trying not to think too much because the questions in your mind won’t stop. You can’t just google how to take care of an assassin.

The door opens and you feel your heartbeat flutter. You sit up in bed and hold your breath. Suddenly you feel a chill down your spine, the pajama bottoms and thin shirt you’re wearing suddenly not warm enough. 

Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

The lights are low and you click off the TV for silence, leaving only the bedside lamp turned on. He finally enters the room, walking slowly and the first thing you see is bright red all over his clothes. 

Blood. 

Lots of blood. 

He’s in a trance when you get to him and he’s looking over your shoulder as you push his hair out of his face. Your eyes scan his skin. There’s a gash over the bridge of his nose and small cuts along his temple. His hair is matted, but it’s just dirt and sweat.

You start to take off his tie as gently as you can, but you cannot believe the amount of blood soaked through his white shirt. 

“It’s not mine.” 

His voice is deep and it startles you. He’s looking at you now and he’s back with it, you can just tell. 

“What’s not yours?” You’re trying to make your fingers not shake as the tie finally comes loose. 

“The blood. It’s not mine.”

Relief floods your body and you take a breath you’d been holding. “Oh, well. That’s good. Let’s still get you out of this, huh?”

“Okay.”

You smile at him agreeing with you so easily. “Okay.” 

No big deal. He lets you slide the suit jacket off over his arms, but you need his help getting the holsters off of him. They land on the bed and you notice they’re a lot lighter than when he left. He must have used all the bullets and lost the guns because the very full belt is now empty. The shirt is very sticky and disgusting, and you swallow thickly. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

“Are you going to puke?” He’s watching you with interest and seems genuinely concerned with a hint of teasing. 

“Nope, I’m totally fine with this. No problem.” You close your eyes. Does blood smell? You feel like it smells. You’re queasy and sweating. Maybe you’re smelling your own sweat. The blood is such a bright red. From some person. A dead person. Or maybe it’s blood from multiple people. 

You feel strong hands on your arms steer you to sit on the bed as you start to sway. 

“I think I got this.” He tells you and starts to undress himself. 

You feel like a fool. “I’m sorry. I’m useless.”

John smiles as he takes off the shirt. He grabs a garbage bag and puts it in. “Why’d you get near it?”

“I wanted to help.” 

He stops taking off the bulletproof vest, which has about 5 holes in it, to look at you. “You are helping, you know that?”

You peer up at him and sit back on the bed. “I am?”

“Of course. It’s usually very lonely after business is done.”

“Oh. I didn’t think you noticed that I was even here before, not that I blame you.” You watch as he starts to take the vest off again and throw that in the bag too. “You just seemed so focused before you left.”

“I was focused. That doesn’t mean I forgot you were here. The opposite, actually.” He kicks off his shoes and unbuckles his belt, but leaves it on. He does take off his t-shirt though and struggles out of it slowly, obviously hurting. You see the bruises forming all over his chest, where the bullet holes were in the vest. “I kept thinking about you. It was nice. It kept me going.”

You don’t quite know what to say. “As opposed to stopping?”

He shrugs. “I got done a lot faster. I’m going to take a shower.”

“John?”

“Yeah?”

You want to give him a hug, but you feel frozen in place. “Wouldn't you rather soak awhile?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m too tired.”

“Are you hungry? Do you want anything to eat? To drink?”

He stops to think and says, “There should be some bourbon in the fridge.”

“Sure, of course.” 

He says thank you and closes the door to the bathroom behind him. You can hear the water start and finally you can move. What an intense experience. You wonder what he did and who he did it to, where he went and what happened to all of those guns. Are you allowed to ask? 

You think about it while you get a glass and put some ice in it, and then pour a finger’s worth of bourbon. You set it on the table beside his bed and get into your own, pulling the sheets up to your chin and wait. 

The door opens a few minutes later and you close your eyes to give him an illusion of privacy. You’re not sure if he puts on any clothes, but you assume that he does. You hear the bed creak under his weight and he settles. He must grab his drink because the ice clinks against the glass. You only open your eyes once he lets out a soft sigh.

“Are you okay?”

He’s leaning back on the headboard and takes another sip. “Starting to feel better.”

“How’s your appendix scar?”

“Just sore. Doesn’t feel like anything ripped open though.”

“How can you tell?”

He pauses and sets down his drink. “Let’s just say I know where to put sharp objects to make them hurt the most. And I also know what it feels like.”

You hope that John doesn’t see your nose crinkle. Ouch. “Like where?”

John chuckles and shifts to look at you in your bed. “You want an anatomy lesson?”

“Are you a doctor too?”

“Just an assassin.”

You smile, sitting up a little. “Okay, Mr. Wick. I’ll take a lesson.”

He pats the bed. “Come over here.”

It sounds like a move to get you into his bed. “Why?”

“You want to be my secretary or not?”

Sighing loudly, you fling the covers off and crawl over his legs to lay down. “Okay, teach me oh wise assassin.”

He sits up more but scoots a little closer. “Let’s say you’re being attacked, but you have a knife--”

“I’d probably cut myself.”

His eyes meet yours and he has a small smile. “I know, but that’s a lesson for another time.”

“Okay.” You look back to the ceiling. He’s a lot closer than you thought and you can see he’s wearing a soft t-shirt. His hair is slicked back from the shower and the cut on his nose isn’t as bad as you thought now that most of the blood has been washed away. 

“So if you get a chance…” John gently moves your hair away, then his thumb rubs at your temple. “Right here would be good or here.” His finger touches under your eye. 

“Gross. The eyeball?”

“Yep. Or here.” His hand moves to your throat, right at your pulse point. Fingers move to the back of your neck and he presses at the top of your spine. “This is a hard place to get to, but effective.”

“Mmhmm.” You let your eyes close shut. You haven’t been touched by someone else in a long time and it feels so good. You might as well enjoy it. Until he pokes you in the armpit and you let out a squeak. “What the--”

He chuckles and scoots even closer. “There’s actually a large artery in the armpit. Hardly anyone knows about it.”

“Have you ever stabbed anyone in the armpit?”

“Well yeah, I usually just twist their arm until it breaks and then that’s when I’ll do it.”

You gulp. “Right.”

“Anyway, these are obvious but the heart and the lungs.” His fingertips trace down the middle of your chest and you feel goosebumps form on your arms. “The aorta.”

“The aorta.” You repeat softly and let your eyes close again. 

“Yeah.” His voice is rough now and you wonder what he’s thinking. If he’s excited to be touching you like this. “Then there’s the liver.” You feel his palm on the right side of your stomach. Your shirt lifts up from the movement and he pulls it back down for you. “The next one is in the crotch.”

Your eyes fly open and he laughs, his hand sliding down your hip. “It’s called the femoral artery and lethal if you get it right.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Luckily, I wouldn’t know.”

You side eye him. “Yes, luckily.”

“The last one…” He’s leaning over you now and shifting down the bed. “Is behind the knee.”

“Really?”

It tickles and you squirm away, but John quickly moves and grabs at your thigh to keep you close. “That one’s called the popliteal artery. Also difficult but if you’re on the floor, manageable.”

“If I’m on the floor?”

“It happens.”

You stifle a yawn and it’s late, but John doesn’t seem tired. You roll to your side facing him and tuck a pillow under your head. “Well that was a very interesting lesson, Mr. Wick. I feel very informed of all the places to stab a bad guy.”

He takes his hand away and gets comfortable. “Good. There will be a pop quiz tomorrow.”

You grin and bite your lip. “Do I get to use your body as my model?”

“Whatever it takes for you to learn the material.” He finally yawns too and his eyes are growing heavy. You reach over him and turn off the light. He catches your arm when you pull back and it’s as if he knew you were going to get up and get in your own bed. “Stay?”

You don’t say anything and push at the covers so you can lay down. His hand is around your wrist, holding your arm across his stomach.

“Do the bruises hurt?” You smooth your hand over his chest.

“Not enough to have you stop.”

Smiling to yourself in the dark, you can’t help it. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“You’re such a tease.”

You laugh softly and close your eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.” 

He doesn’t let go of your hand.

**

The next morning you wake up to a text alert from your phone across the room. John is dead to the world and he has you trapped between his body and heavy arm. You can’t get up without waking him, but it’s time for the day to start anyway. 

The text is from Carla that there’s someone sick and she’s wondering if you can work the afternoon shift. 

You text her back that you can and you’ll see her later. 

“Just five more minutes,” John mumbles and turns on his stomach. 

You toss your cell phone to the side of the bed and kneel back on the mattress, turning your attention to John’s back. You slowly lift his t-shirt up and he eventually shifts his weight to help. Damn. The bruises are ugly and you can see more down his arms and on his shoulders. It looks incredibly painful, but you suppose it’s better than being covered in his own blood. 

You wish you had some lotion or something. What helps bruises heal? Ice helped the bruise on your foot, but there might be something else. You grab your phone again and google it. Ice, heat and arnica. Well, there’s plenty of ice in the room, that won’t be a problem. 

The mattress is so nice that John doesn’t even stir when you get up. There’re clean towels left and you grab one from the bathroom, filling it with ice and crawl back in bed. You stop and look closely at his tattoos. The wolf and the flames are dotted with bruises, but the hands holding the cross is oddly untouched. 

There are old scars all over, however, and your brow furrows with sympathy, especially when your eyes track over the cross shaped brand in the middle of his back. The sight makes you swallow thickly, you had avoided looking at it before. But now here it is, right in front of you and thoughts jumble in your mind of what it might mean. It’s too much to process and you put the towel on the deepest of a dark red color, waiting for John to wake up.

“What’re you doing?” It comes out muffled, his face pushed against the pillow. 

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Wick. I’m healing your bruises.”

“I’ve never had someone heal my bruises before.”

“Does it feel good?”

He turns over to his side and looks at you sleepily. You fix his unruly bedhead hair and tuck it behind his ears for him. “That feels good.” 

You set the towel on his collarbone, which is currently blue and green. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really. Are you?”

Nodding, you raise his arm to lay over his head. There’s another bruise on the inside of his bicep. You delicately trail your fingers over it. That makes nine bruises total. “Yeah, I’m going to order some oatmeal and fruit.”

“And coffee?”

“Yes, and coffee. And then I’m afraid we have to go. I have to go into work today.”

“Was that the text you got?”

“Yep.” You get up and dial room service, then place your order for a bowl of oatmeal knowing John will surely eat at least half.  There’s a pamphlet on the table with all the hotel services and you take it back to the bed. John has his hands behind his head now, just watching you. “Ohh. You should go to the spa and get a massage.” You tell him, flipping through the pages. “I’ve never had one but I bet it’s amazing. Oh! A facial and a pedicure! Wow. And you can get champaign… so fancy. You should totally spoil yourself.”

“Why would I do all that when I have you to put ice on me?”

“John.” You fold the little plastic book and tap his stomach with it. “I don’t think ice in a towel is the same as a massage.”

He takes it from you and opens it up, squinting at the words. 

“Do you need glasses or something? Readers?” You hide your smile, but his shocked glare makes you laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I like the grey. It’s very distinguished.” You rub at his beard and smile wider when he gets more annoyed.

“Distinguished?” His hand moves to your ribs and his fingers dig in, starting to tickle you.

“And handsome!” You shriek, laughing and squirm away before he gets under your armpit.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

You try to pull his hand away, but he’s too strong. “Handsome! I said you’re very handsome.”

His fingers stop and you lay out on the bed panting, exhausted from laughing so hard. “John, I almost peed my pants.”

He shrugs. “Accidents happen, it’s okay.” He picks up the booklet again and points to a section. “You want me to get a massage? This is the only one I’ll get.”

You’re curious so you pull the book away from him and read Couple’s Massage. You roll your eyes and toss it back on the table. The doorbell rings and someone calls out room service from the other side. The coffee smells amazing and you roll the tray to John who is sitting up in bed, still looking tired. You feel bad for him so you quickly make his coffee the way you know he likes it and bring it to him. He smiles, a silent thank you, and you grab your oatmeal to eat in bed. 

John sips his coffee carefully and closes his eyes. “You should come with me to all my jobs.”

“Why’s that? I was freaked out all night.”

He opens one eye. “You didn’t enjoy the bathtub?”

“I did enjoy the bathtub, but I was thinking of you the entire time.”

He opens both eyes and his eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

You take a bite of kiwi and swallow wrong when you realize what you said. “Not like that. I just started to think about you having to work and it sucked. I wish you could have enjoyed the tub too… in a very platonic way.”

“Hmm.” He sips his coffee some more. “Well, having you here was a morale booster for me.”

“No one has ever stayed with you before?” You think about the tan line that was around his ring finger. You assumed that maybe his partner would have been with him. From the way he was acting before and after leaving, you couldn’t be sure.

“Never, unless you count the doctor stitching me up and then leaving when I’m about to pass out.”

You slowly shake your head. “I don’t count that at all.”

“That’s why this was nice. I don’t usually smile and laugh the morning after work.”

You offer John a spoonful of your oatmeal and he takes it. You don’t know why he always says he isn’t hungry when he usually is. “Well, just tell me when your next assassin assignment is and I’ll clear my calendar for you.”

John swallows quickly. “You would do that?”

“Yeah, of course. But just because the tub is so nice.” You tease and he smiles. 

“I could get you your own room next time. I know you like your space.”

You pause and look at him questionly. “And how do you know that?”

He shrugs and the towel falls off of his collarbone. You move it to the bruise on the side of his ribcage. “I can just tell.”

Well, he’s not wrong but still, you can’t imagine not being close to him on a night like last. “And how would I take care of you if I’m in a separate room?”

“Take care of me? You almost threw up all over me.”

Your mouth gapes open. “That’s not true! I would have been fine. I just needed to sit down for a minute.” Before you fainted. He’s just smirking and nodding. “Uh huh.”

“And this was the first time, I didn’t know what to expect.” You frown and look at him with big eyes. Did you really do a bad job? 

“Hey, I’m just joking. Come here.” He pulls on your arm and you move to sit next time, offering another bite of oatmeal. You feed him a few times before you put the bowl on the bedside table. “You’re the best nurse slash secretary I could ever ask for.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t know anyone else.”

He laughs. “I know a lot of people. I wouldn't want anyone else.”

“Alright fine.” You move to get up and leer at him, eyes tracking up and down his body. “I do know where to stab you, so you should be nice to me.”

“You’re very scary.” 

“Thank you, I know!” You laugh at your own joke and grab some clothes to change into for the day. “So, Mr. Wick, what do you usually do on a day after work? Rest?

“It depends on how I feel. And I have to replenish.” He tilts his chin towards the empty holster on the desk. 

You keep your voice light, not knowing if you should ask. “Did you lose the guns?” 

“Sorta. Had to use one of them to knock a guy out. I ran out of ammo.”

Curiosity is getting to you. “Knock a guy out?”

“Guns can hurt if they hit you in the face.”

You can almost imagine it. John throwing a gun as hard as he can at some guy’s head. “Well, that’s creative.” 

He slowly gets up and puts the towel full of ice on his shoulder. “Should we go soon?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I can catch a ride into town if you want to stay here?”

Shaking his head, John goes into the bathroom and grabs his clothes on the way. “No, it’s fine. I just need to get dressed and I’m ready.” He leaves the door open and you can see him struggling with his shirt. 

“Do you need help?”

He doesn’t say anything and just gives you the shirt instead. You slip it up his arms and over his shoulders, walking around him to button it. He’s staring down at you as your fingertips work across the fabric and buttons. When you’re done, you slide your palms up to his shoulders and before you lose the nerve, you push his hair out of his eyes. You comb his strands through your fingers and then tuck it behind his ears again. 

“There, now you look presentable. I wouldn’t want to damage that reputation.”

It’s very quiet and he’s just watching you, but you can’t bear the thought of making eye contact. Because if you did, you don’t know if you could hold back kissing him. Instead you take a step back and breathe deeply. If John is disappointed or relieved, you’ll never know.

**

You park next to Carla’s car and you’re glad she’s still here.  Sam’s bicycle is also chained to the side of the building and the sight brightens your day.

John dropped you off a little over an hour ago at your apartment. He was fairly quiet on the ride home but it was comfortable. He kept sneaking glances over at you while you pretended not to notice.

“Hey! Thank you SO much!” Carla is working in the back office and she’s very happy to see you. You’re glad that you were able to help out.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, hoping no one is too sick.

“Yes, Sarah has cramps.” She tells you, lowering her voice. “Sam is here for a few hours and he’ll leave after you take your lunch. I really appreciate you coming in, I would have had to come back.”

“It’s no problem. Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you a question. Not about work or anything.”

She points to the chair next to the desk. “Yeah, of course you can. What’s up?”

“Well, I know you’re in the city more than I am and remember I told you about that wedding I’m going to? I need a new dress and I have no idea where to get one.”

A pen taps at her lip as she thinks. “Hmm… there’s so many good places.”

“Yeah?” You had hoped that she’d be able to help you. You have no idea where to start. ”I figured you would know.” 

“Well, plus you need a purse, and shoes. Do you need to get a present?”

Crap. You hadn’t even thought about a present. You’ll have to ask John. “I don’t know about a present right now, but I might need to find something.”

“Okay, I know the perfect place. It’s a little boutique but they have lots of options. How about I go with you? You drive up on your day off and I can take a long lunch.”

Carla is in charge of four other gas stations in the city, overseeing all operations. “Really? You’d be willing to do that?”

“Oh yeah!” She tells you enthusiastically. “I’d love to go with you. I’ll text you the address of the station I’ll be at that day and we can go from there.”

“That’d be so nice. I think I’m off next Friday if that works?”

“It’s perfect. And I’ll take you to my favorite sandwich and coffee place for lunch. You’ll love it!”

All you can do is smile and nod as she’s talking. You can’t remember the last time you had a girlfriend to go shopping with. After a few minutes you excuse yourself and go give Sam a break. When he comes back he talks your ear off about a girl he likes and asks your advice about dating. You have no idea what to tell him, but try your best at answering his questions. 

You can’t help but smile when you give him a simple suggestion. “Just remember to open the car door for her. That’ll make her feel special.” 

**

How are the bruises?

Fine.

You sigh at your phone. It’s been a few days since the hotel and while you haven’t seen John, he’s been texting every day to check in. He’s asked you out to an Italian restaurant that he wants to go to but you’ve been dodging an answer. You want to go, but you don’t want to give him the wrong idea. You don’t want to give yourself any wrong ideas either.

I don’t believe you

A few minutes pass and you decide that you need to get back to buying books for school. The wedding is in two weeks and then school starts right after that, so you want to be ready. Books are expensive though, and so is a new dress, but you can afford it now and that makes you proud. Your nerves have been on fire lately, about the wedding and about the classes you’re taking. You wonder if you can go to campus early, so you can find all the rooms without getting lost. Like a test drive.

An image pops up on your phone and John is in his bathroom, taking a picture of his reflection in the mirror without a shirt. The bruises are purple now, much better than deep red you saw at the hotel. You zoom in to look at his face and you see how he hates taking a selfie by his grumpy expression, but it’s still cute. You look closely at the appendix scar and it looks almost healed, from what you can tell. His hair is soft and he’s wearing jeans low on his hips. It’s a really sexy picture, even if he didn’t mean it to be. 

Just to be fair, you take a selfie and send it back. It’s the first one you’ve sent him. The late evening lighting at your kitchen table is really good right now. You have a pencil stuck in your hair and a tinted gloss on your lips. Your skin looks good against the black tank top you’re wearing and it dawns on you that you’re actually getting a tan. Usually that never happens because you don’t go anywhere except work. You have the next two days off though and can’t wait to get outside while the weather is still warm. 

He calls you immediately. 

“Hi, John. How are you?”

“I would be better if you would let me take you to dinner tonight.”

You smile and push your laptop closed on the table. “I can’t tonight, I have to finish getting my books for class and I wanted to read about orientation.”

“Doesn’t a girl have to eat? I can make something instead.”

“I had a late lunch actually.” You tell him, getting up to clean the kitchen. “Sam likes the girl who works at the Thai place across the street from work, and he makes me get lunch there so he can go pick it up. I’ve had Thai food every day this week.”

“Damnit, Sam.” John mumbles, his tone teasing. “Always getting in my way. I might need to have a little conversion with him.”

“Poor Sam.” Laughing, you start to put dirty dishes in the dishwasher. “You’d scare the crap out of the poor kid.”

“He needs to learn a lesson.” 

“I don’t think--” There’s a knock at your door and you tell John you’ll call him back. You hang up and you’re still grinning when you answer, half thinking John will be on the other side wanting to take you out. Your smile fades when you see that it’s Max.

Fear floods your body, but you stand your ground and you look at him dead in the eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

He smells like cigarette smoke and he looks disheveled, with a dirty black t-shirt and stains on his pants. The baseball cap he has on casts a shadow over his eyes, but when he moves into the light you can see they’re glazed over. And then you smell the alcohol on his breath. “Came to see you.”

“You could have just called.” You tell him sternly, your hands shaking. You tightly grip your cell phone, trying to think how you can call Jimmy. Your mind is blank. You're frozen.

“Didn’t want to call.” He takes a step to come inside, but you block him. 

“You can’t come in.”

He pushes your body easily out of the way. “Don’t remember asking.”

“You need to leave, Max. Now.” Your throat is dry but at least you don’t feel like you’re going to cry. You’re too angry.

The kitchen looks so tiny around his big frame and he takes up practically all the space in your apartment. He’s disgusting and all consuming. He slowly walks around the kitchen island, like he owns the place, stopping at the table and chairs. 

“That’s not very polite. Aren’t you glad to see me after all this time?”

You don’t close the door. Maybe Francis or a neighbor will walk by and be able to help you. Or at least hear you scream. “No, I’m not. I thought you were staying at your mother’s. What happened?”

“Mama don’t like me and my friends no more. Said I needed to get a job n’shit.”

You try a different tactic and walk more into the kitchen, putting your cell phone on the island but it’s hidden from Max’s view by the toaster. You casually look down, like you’re nervously playing with your hands while you find your contacts. “Well, that’s too bad. Why don't you get a job?”

“I got better things to do than work at some shitty gas station like you.”

I’m an assistant manager. You want to say it, but you play the sympathy card. “Yep, it’s so shitty. You would probably hate it. You’re too smart for a job like that.”

He’s leaning on the chair with John’s suit jacket laid over it. Crap. You hadn’t forgotten it was there, but you haven’t given it back to John for no other reason that you liked having something of his at your place. 

“What’s this?” Max takes the suit jacket and lifts it up to look at it. You take advantage of the distraction and call Jimmy, leaving your phone open and on silent. 

“I don’t know.”

His face pinches and his jaw ticks with irritation. “A dumb bitch like you got a boyfriend?”

“What? No.” You laugh shrilly like it’s a ridiculous idea. But is it? You were able to block out a lot of the abuse from Max, but now the doubt and shame are starting to feel familiar. “Look at me. No one would want me.” 

“Yeah, let’s look at ya.” Max throws the jacket on the floor and stumbles across the kitchen. As he comes closer, your courage takes over and you try to make an escape out of the apartment, but he slams the door shut and grabs your arm tightly. “You look different.” His eyes trail up and down your body. It makes your blood run cold. 

“I got my haircut. Hey, do you want some coffee?” You try to pull away, but his grip is painfully solid, and you move to stand in front of your phone so he doesn’t see it.  “I was just going to make some.”

He’s staring at you now, silent. You look over his shoulder and don’t make eye contact, but you try to seem calm. It seems like forever that you’re both standing there, but he finally releases your arm and goes to the fridge. “I need a beer.”

“Yes! Let’s go to the bar! It’ll be good, right? To see everyone?” You desperately want him out of your apartment. Anywhere in public would be better than this. 

He smacks you across the cheek effortlessly, like he’s done so many times in the past. It stings, but it doesn’t surprise you. “And tell them what? I just got out of jail for pushing you ‘round a little bit? Nah, I don’t think so.”

“You’re right Max, I’m so stupid.” You can feel a drop of blood on your cheekbone and it makes your hands turn into fists. 

“Dumb bitch.” He mumbles, turning to get a beer. You take it as your chance and grab your phone before running towards the door again. He’s quick though, he always was, and his height gives him advantage of pushing the door shut. You dunk and try to run to the bathroom instead, but he takes a handful of your hair and pulls, yanking you down to the floor. 

“Stay there.” He points down at you. 

Don’t crumble. You can do this. The palm of your hand is cut and you realize your phone cracked when you fell. It’s broken and useless. You sit on the floor and put your arms around your knees in an attempt to make yourself small.  You feel small but your mind is telling you to get up. It’s a mental battle and you don’t know what to do. 

The door bursts open, breaking the wood frame and Jimmy is there. Jimmy is here and you can hear him yell at Max to get back. You put your forehead on your knees and rock back and forth, trying to tune them out. Jimmy pauses when he gets to you and you peer up at him from the floor. There are tears in your eyes and you're struggling to hold them. Jimmy must decide you look okay and moves closer to Max. You know that you need to stand so you haul yourself up and Max is sitting at your kitchen table, smirking like a douche bag. He’s looking at you, and then past your shoulders when his eyes widen in fear. 

You feel John’s hand on your back, instantly knowing it’s him and you can suddenly breathe. He walks straight to Max and now Jimmy is trying to tell John to stop, but he doesn’t. He punches Max in the throat with a quick jab of his hand. Max chokes and John’s elbow is now flying through the air at the side of Max’s head. He immediatly slumps in the chair, unconscious.

Jimmy sighs loudly and puts his hands on his hips. “Hi, John.”

“Hi, Jimmy.”

“You uh… slipped and tripped?”

John nods, his voice is calm. “Yeah. I slipped and tripped.” His white shirt is dotted with Max’s blood and he’s breathing heavily, like he ran up three flights of stairs. 

“Hi.” You whisper and give a weak wave. “Thank you, both.”

John and Jimmy share a look and John runs to your side. “Let’s get you out of here.” He wraps an arm around you and holds you close to his body, shielding you from having to look at Max. You're trembling and he pulls you closer as you get to the elevator. He doesn’t say anything and you don’t either. It’s almost a state of trance that’s come over you. The farther away you get from the apartment, the more your heartbeat steadies. 

John opens the door to his car and helps you, guiding you gently until he’s satisfied that you’re all the way in and he reaches over your lap for the seatbelt. You stare ahead, mind blank and you can hear his voice, but you have no idea what he’s saying. Finally, you turn to look at him. He’s kneeling on the cement and his hand is on your knee.

“What?”

“I’m going to grab your things.” He explains softly. “You can’t stay there until the door is fixed. Anything you want besides your clothes?”

“Um…” You try to think, processing what’s going on. “My purse. It’s on my desk.” 

“Sure, anything else?”

You look down at John now. His eyes are searching yours, and you wish that you could reassure him that you’re fine. But you can’t. Because it’s not true. “I don’t know.”

“That’s all right. I’ll be right back.” He stands up a little, leaning over you to put the keys in the ignition and turns it so the air comes on.  “I can take you to the hotel if you want or to my house. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, okay? Just think about it.”

You probably nod but you can’t be sure. He closes the door anyway and you watch as he jogs back to the entrance of the building. You take the time you have to yourself and try to calm your nerves. You do some deep breathing. The tears are about to fall, but you suck in some air and close your eyes. 

A few minutes pass and John comes back out with your purple backpack on his shoulder and your purse in his hands. If it wasn’t for such a crappy situation, you’d smile at John carrying all of your stuff. He hands you the purse through the open window and puts your bag in the trunk.

He gets in the car and starts the engine. Then he waits for instruction, not hurrying you to make a decision but patient and kind. 

You know where you want to go, but you don’t want to be a burden either. He could just drop you off at a hotel and then he wouldn’t have to deal with your problems. But that’s not what you want and he probably wouldn’t have offered to go to his house if he didn’t mean it. He would have never mentioned it, right?

“Can we go to your house? If that’s okay.”

He smiles, seeming relieved. “Of course it’s okay.” John pulls out of the parking lot and he lets his hand drop to the middle of the seat. “I’m just gonna leave my hand right here, just in case anyone wants to hold it. No pressure though.”

It’s a sweet gesture and you take his hand, folding his palm over your knee and holding it there. You stare out the window as he drives. The sun is sinking in the sky and all the buildings you pass are nothing but a blur. The adrenaline is making your body tense and all of your muscles hurt. Your head is pounding. 

John only lets go of your hand when he parks the car at his house. He helps you get up slowly and you appreciate that because everything is still a little fuzzy. He leads you into the living room and you sit on the couch. Pooch can sense your mood and puts his head on your lap, looking up at you with big doggie eyes. 

“Pooch, up.” John says and the dog jumps on the couch, laying next to your side. You feel instant comfort and pet him until he starts to fall asleep. 

The garage door is going down and you hear John walking in the hallway, setting your backpack and purse on the coffee table. He disappears again, but comes back shortly carrying a glass of water and a first aid kit. 

He sits next to you and doesn’t say anything, but you know he wants your hand to clean the cut. It’s nothing but a scratch, but you let him look at it anyway. He smooths it with his thumb and dabs some ointment on the irritation. The cut on your cheek is next and he gently moves your hair behind your shoulders. This one stings a little more, and you let out a low hiss. 

His voice is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. “You’re going to have a black eye.” 

“I know.” You figured as much. You’ve had many back in the day to know what one feels like. 

“You have to tell me what else hurts.”

You turn your head, gathering your hair so John can see the back of your scalp. “He pulled my hair. It’s throbbing.”

It must be bad because John murmurs something under his breath and parts your hair so he can see better, his fingers gentle as he moves over your tender skin. “There’s some blood. And some of your hair is missing, but it’s not that noticeable.”

You feel sick. How dare Max do this to you. How could you let this happen again.

“Did he do anything else?”

“No.” You sigh, shoulders slumped in defeat and exhaustion. “I guess not.”

John doesn’t touch you more than he has to and he gets up, quickly coming back with some tylenol and two bags of frozen peas. “One for your eye and one for your head.”

“Thanks.” You take them and use one of the bags as a pillow to rest the back of your head, and press the other one to your swollen cheek. You take the pills and John sits on the coffee table, looking lost. 

“What do you need? What can I do?”

You close your eyes and focus. The cold is burning on your wounds. “What’d Jimmy say?”

“He’ll be over later to take your statement.”

“And Max?”

His voice is low, unwavering. “Back to jail. For now.”

You take a deep breath and blink a few times. Your vision is getting a little better. “I should probably call my therapist.” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“I broke my cell phone. I don’t have her number. I don’t have anything.”

John sits forward and reaches to cup your face, cradling your chin. “We’ll just google her website and find the number. You can use my office. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

You nod and get up slowly, John moving to help you upstairs. He grabs all of your stuff too and Pooch follows closely. You’re not surprised that he puts your bags in his bedroom, doubting he’ll let you out of his sight anytime soon. 

His office is classically decorated, with a dark oak wood desk and a leather chair that you sink into. There’s various paintings on the wall and the last of sunlight is flooding the room. He leans over your shoulder, opening his laptop and you type in Beth’s information, the number to her main line coming on the screen. John hands you his cell phone and you leave a message with his phone number, knowing she’s probably in a session or finishing up for the day. 

While you both wait, John goes to put on a fresh shirt. You curl up in the big leather chair and look at the things on his desk. There’s a calendar and a small globe, some paperwork, and a few books. You pull the chain on the lamp since it’s starting to get dark. 

“I’m going to order dinner.” He tells you, coming back to the room.  “You’re probably not hungry but you might be in a bit.”

“Okay.”

“Do you feel like anything?”

You shrug, not knowing. “Comfort food?”

“That sounds perfect.” 

Pushing his cell phone towards him, you ask if he needs it. 

“No, I have another line downstairs. You’ll be okay up here?”

It’s then the phone rings and you recognize it as Beth’s number. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

He closes the door behind him to give you some privacy. 

You take a deep breath and wish you could fast forward the conversation. Beth gasps a few times when you tell her what happened and you let the tears flow. The image of Max standing in your open doorway is haunting. You don’t dare think of what could have happened if the guys hadn’t showed up. Finally, you finish and you feel completely worn out. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Beth says, sincerely. “And you’re at John’s house now? For a few days?”

“Yeah. I guess. I haven’t really had time to think of anywhere else to go.”

“From the sound of things, I think John is glad to have you there. Do you feel safe now?”

Your fingers travel under your eye and trace the dried blood. “I do.

“Good,” She tells you and her voice turns serious. “Every time you start to think about what Max did, every time you start to play it over in your head… I want you to close your eyes and say to yourself that you’re safe. Can you do that for me?”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Close your eyes. And then say ‘I am safe.’” You do what she wants, but she makes you repeat it three times. She lets that sink in before she asks, “Tell me what else you’re feeling?”

It comes out shaky. “Just that it’s my fault. That I deserved this.”

“Do you think anyone deserves to be abused?”

You close your eyes. “No.”

“Then why would you deserve this treatment?”

“I don’t know.”

Beth takes a minute and then continues, “Look, I know this is hard right now but I need you to think back to when we talked about worth. Remember? You decided that you are worth caring for.”

“Yes.” You remember. It was like something clicked on in your brain, all that time it was on the off switch. 

“It’s okay to forget sometimes, especially after something traumatic. With some self care, you’ll start to remember again. I promise you’ll get through this. I’m glad you called me.”

“Me too. I’ll see you next week?”

“Yes, and if you need anything else in the meantime, please don’t hesitate.”

You hang up and take John’s phone with you to his bedroom. There’s a light on in the hallway and downstairs where you hear the low sound of the TV. You grab your backpack, wanting to change into some sweatpants and you unzip it having no idea what John would have packed for you. 

Your heart skips a beat when you see your pill container right on top. Well, he knows. You could care less right now though and move to your clothes. You recognize them from a pile of clean laundry you hadn’t put away that was on your bed. John must have grabbed it all and stuffed it in the bag. There’s a handful of panties, a bra, and a few t-shirts. No pants. You sigh and put everything back, then go downstairs still wearing your jeans. 

“John?”

“Hey, how’d it go?” John clicks off the TV and sits up.

“Fine, I feel a little better. Thanks for letting me use your phone.” You hand it back to him. “Do you have any shorts or pajama bottoms I can borrow?”

He looks disappointed in himself. “I didn’t pack any? I’m sorry.”

“Stop, it’s not your fault..” You tell him, squeezing his arm. “You got everything else I need.”

“Really?”

You think about your toiletry bag with your soap and shampoo, your mini blow dryer and perfume, but you nod and give him a true smile. “You’re the best.”

“C’mon. I should have something that fits.”

He doesn’t. You have to roll the top of the pants so they’re not so long, and they’re still pretty baggy, but at least they don’t fall off. You go back downstairs and find the kitchen table full of take out food.

“What’s all this?”

John stops and smiles when he sees you’re wearing his clothes. “They fit okay?”

“Yeah, kinda.” You pull up your tank top to show him how many times you had to roll the cloth over and he chuckles.

“I guess that’ll do. Are you hungry?”

There’s macaroni and cheese, chicken, and green peas in containers and it smells amazing. You sit down at the table, trying to gauge your stomach if you’re hungry or it’s still rolling with adrenaline. “The mac and cheese looks good.”

“Yeah? You got it.” John hurries to get a plate and fork for you. You take a few bites before your stomach turns and you begin to pick at your food.

John’s watching you. “You don’t have to eat. I’ll put it in the fridge in case you want it later.”

“I’m sorry,” You tell him. “I’m just tired. When does Jimmy want to talk?”

“In the morning.”

That surprises you and you give John a look.

“It’s true, he said there’s plenty to go on even without your statement for right now. Max can’t drink while on parole so that was enough to hold him.”

You yawn, not being able to hold it in and your eyes become watery with the need to sleep. Nodding, you accept his anwer. 

“Do you want me to take the couch? 

You give John another look, but this one is entirely different. Just in case he doesn’t get it, you simply shake your head. 

He’s finished cleaning up the kitchen and starts to turn the lights off. “If you want to take a shower, I got some stuff that you like in my bathroom.”

You’re going up the stairs and nearly trip. “What?”

“Hold on.” He lets Pooch back in and grabs the bottle of tylenol. He jogs up the stairs and meets you at his bedroom door. You both walk in and he turns on the bathroom light, pointing out the same shampoo and conditioner you have at home. There’s a bottle of perfume near the second sink, a comb, face wash, a toothbrush and a bar of soap. 

You blankly stare at him for an explanation. John blushes and crosses his arms over his chest, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looks down. “I um… I took note of what you had at your apartment when I stayed there.”

You pick up the bottle of perfume. “And these things are here because?”

“I got them a while back, hoping… Anyway, they seemed useful now.”

“John, you would’ve had to go to the beauty store to get this.”

“I did.” He says simply. 

You sigh, not believing how sweet he is. When he hangs a woman’s flannel bathrobe in your size on the back of the door, you tear up. 

“I swear, it’s not weird. I just saw it and thought of you.”

Smiling sadly, the tears drop and you try to push John out of the room so you can shower.

He stops you though and brushes your cheek. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

You nudge him out of the way and he takes a step back. “Then stop being so nice to me.” 

The door closes and you let yourself cry through a shower. You don’t wash your hair because it hurts too much. The cool water is refreshing though and you know you’re probably puffy from crying so much. You think of the bags of frozen peas on your face earlier and feel lucky John still wants you around. What a complete hot mess you are.

Getting dressed, you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. It’s the first time in awhile you haven’t been able to face yourself, but you’re too tired to overthink it. You’ll try again tomorrow. 

John is in bed when you open the door with his usual sleep clothes on and watches with concern as you crawl in beside him.

“How are you feeling?”

You sit up and rub at your temples. “My head hurts.”

John places a warm hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently. A moan escapes you, unconsciously, and instantly some of the tension bleeds out. 

“Can I give you a very platonic back rub?” He asks you innocently. When you peer sideways at him he looks innocent too and you give him a small smile. 

John takes that as a yes and sits up to lean against the headboard. He motions for you to sit in between his spread out legs and while yawning, you drag your heavy limbs and sit with your back towards him. 

His fingers brush through your hair, moving it to the side. “Can I look?” You nod and feel him delicately touch your scalp. “It doesn’t look any worse.” But it doesn’t look any better. You exhale, your shoulders falling forward as he traces along your spine, pressing and pushing at the bones and muscles. When he gets to your neck, his hands move under the straps of your tank top and he rubs in soft circles until you’re able to relax. 

You’re not entirely sure how it happens, but he somehow gets you to lay back against his chest and he presses his lips to your temple. His fingers are sliding up and down your arms, almost tickling but with enough pressure to feel good. He stops suddenly and you feel him wrap his arms around your waist in a hug. You lean your head on his shoulder and exhale, letting yourself be surrounded by John. It feels so good.

You remember about his injuries and feel bad you haven’t even asked how he’s doing. “Am I hurting your chest?”

“No, not at all.”

You laugh softly. “I can’t believe you sent me a selfie.”

He pulls away, pretending to be offended. “I thought you’d like to see the progress of your ice healing.”

“Oh, I wasn’t complaining.”

A few seconds of silence pass and then he says softly, “You sent me one too.” He tightens his hold around you.

“You should delete it. I don’t know what got into me.”

He chuckles and you feel his beard on your forehead. “No way, I’m going to print out a hundred copies and put them all around the house.”

“You do that and I’ll kill you.”

“That’s really mean.”

You smile and turn in his arms, getting more comfortable and using his chest as a pillow. “Thanks for letting me stay with you.”

He shifts in the bed too and lays down the best he can with you on top of him. “Stay as long as you want. Stay forever.”

“That’s very friendly of you, John.”

“We do make really good friends. We take good care of each other.”

You close your eyes and take another deep breath. “That, we agree on.”

TBC Chapter 5

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #13- Swerve Doesn’t Have Any Friends

Okay, let’s go ahead and get this out of the way.

It’s a FUCKING SPORTS BRA AND RUNNING SHORTS ALEX.

And don’t think I don’t see that friggin’ cleavage alien back there. You ain’t slick.

I’m going to make it a law that all comic book artists learn how to draw clothes that don’t vacuum-seal themselves to women’s bodies. Milne gets six months for this infraction alone, and Roche gets a year for the initial bra crime he committed back in Last Stand. Learn how women’s underwear works, you ninnies.

Our issue opens up with Swerve stretching his radio personality muscles.

Oh, Guido Guidi, whisk me away to flights of fancy!

Our artist for this issue is none other than Guido Guidi, ascended from fanwork to deliver us from evil with his near-superhuman ability to emulate other artists’ styles and just make things look really pretty. He was responsible for the mythos pages in the 2012 Annual, AKA the best part. He also filled in on some of the art for Last Stand of the Wreckers, not that I really noticed because he’s just that good.

Swerve lets Blurr know that while it might have looked like the Lost Light had exploded, thus killing everyone onboard back in issue #1, that isn’t actually what happened. I’m glad someone filled in the Cybertronian populace on that.

I was never great at math, but those speech bubbles might be phoning it in a bit.

Swerve says that he’s having a great time on the quest, despite all the hiccups, and we get an explanation for why this long-range communications system hasn’t been seen prior to this point. It’s been broken for a while- most likely due to the quantum jump that started the series off with a bang- but Blaster managed to get it running again. Good job, Blaster. With this little setup for our framing device out of the way, we get into the meat of the story.

Swerve is being nosey about things that weren’t any of his business, happening in a closed off room, when Drift drags him down the hall and hid him away for safety. Swerve doesn’t much appreciate being manhandled, but there’s a method to the madness here.

Drift’s nose has vacated the premises once again, so we’re just going to have to deal with that. And how shapely does one have to be to be known as “the guy with the legs”? I mean, Drift is RIGHT THERE.

Drift uses his own powerful legs to kick down the door to Cyclonus and Tailgate’s room. It turns out that the horrific screaming wasn’t the sound of a murder or sexual relations taking place, but rather that of Cyclonus singing in Old Cybertronian.

My god, he’s completely enamored with this unrepentant murder machine.

We are just all up in Cyclonus’ grill for this panel. Nothing but lips. Was this specified in the script? Because it feels like it might have been specified in the script.

Old Cybertronian, or the Primal Vernacular as some might call it, was last seen in general when Rodimus channeled the will of the trapped Titan all across Tailgate’s chest. It was last seen spoken when we met Vos, the terrible murder gremlin who turns into a gun and uses his face to cause puncture trauma.

Comic books are wild, y’all.

Now that we’ve established that no one’s being killed, Drift goes back to what he was doing earlier, with Swerve deciding to tag along because he’s horrifically lonely. He invites Drift to come room up with him, because I guess if you’re going to sell off your comatose roommate’s bed out from under him, you might as well go for the guy who’s third in command,  is probably one of the hottest guys on the ship, and slices people into chunky salsa if they try anything funny.

Drift politely declines, and awkwardly removes himself from the conversation when Swerve doesn’t take the hint, returning to his sword lesson with Rodimus.

Oh thank god, the obnoxiously pink room is back.

Ultra Magnus bursts into the room, appalled by the actions of his fellow crew members. Some of his concerns are well-placed. Others, well…

Is- is that another friggin’ retainer on those lower teeth? Why does this design choice keep showing up?

So Magnus has imprisoned roughly a third of the ship at this point, and Rodimus suggests he take a chill pill. Magnus doesn’t even know what a chill pill even is, so we’re forced to make use of our most dangerous weapon- the threat of a good time, courtesy of Swerve.

The fact that Ultra Magnus hasn’t reduced Swerve to an oil stain on the floor is genuinely astounding. The guy has zero respect for bureaucracy or proper business management. It has been MONTHS, you dinky little man, get your act together as a business owner.

Swerve takes the bribe, and soon everyone’s shipping off to Hedonia, where the drinks are plentiful and the women… well, most of the Lost Lighters don’t even know what a woman is, so that aspect doesn’t really come into play. Thanks, Furman.

Also, Rung’s back to normal. Don’t worry about it, not a big deal.

Swerve isn’t having much luck on his Roommate Quest, as Tailgate spurns his advances, stating that he’s good kicking it with Cyclonus, mainly because they’re both old as shit.

I see we haven’t quite hit the threshold on the “Cyclonus is allowed to have friends now” meter. Give it a few more issues, I’m sure we’ll get there.

Man, zero for two for Swerve on trying to get a hot roommate. Maybe third time’s a charm?

Rodimus pops into the back of the shuttle to remind everyone that their entire race is more or less despised by the entire galaxy, and to play it safe by using their holomatter avatars.

The revamp by Brainstorm and Rung is truly a blessing, because the avatars in IDW were awful to look at up to this point.

Y’all, that is HOT ROD. Jesus wept.

Getting back to Tailgate’s questionable taste in companionship, Tailgate asks if Swerve and Blurr connected right away. Swerve gives him an affirmative, then starts listing off the guy’s racing stats until Ultra Magnus plops down between the two of them, drawn in by the melodious sound of statistics.

Magnus is having a hard time relaxing, but he’s giving it his best, and I think that’s very commendable of him. It’s hard trying new things.

On the surface of Hedonia, it would appear the B-Movies are having a Pride event in the entertainment district.

Okay, moment of truth- show us those avatars!

Oh thank god, they aren’t totally hideous. Though, isn’t Rewind old as shit? I guess youth is a state of mind. Still, I can’t believe we missed out on silver fox Rewind.

Rung’s line is in response to folks at the time claiming that Rung was a self-insert character, which is interesting, because we’ve already seen what a self-insert looks like when it’s Roberts doing the inserting, and we’ve also seen his Mary Sues.

Rung, while an original character who had appeared in Roberts’ pre-professional works (a single line of text in Eugenesis, where he was a psychiatry play-on-words), he isn’t what I’d consider a Mary Sue. Mary Sues are usually stunningly beautiful, beloved by their peers, insanely talented in ways that no other character is, and typically have some sort of connection to another character that more or less forces them into the story despite not needing to exist.

Mary Sues don’t get their friggin’ heads exploded, or exist in a constantly-forgettable state. Sure, he’s the only therapist we’ve ever seen in the Transformers franchise, but there was kind of a massive need for that sort of character to be created, seeing as all of these sons of guns have PTSD and clinical depression. And, as we’ve seen in previous issues and will continue to see later on, he’s really not even that great at it.

That isn’t to say that he doesn’t have certain traits befitting such a characterization, merely that they don’t add up to equal that sort of whole by issue #13. Transformers (2009)-era Drift is way closer to a true Mary Sue than Rung is.

Anyway, where the hell did Tailgate get to?

They really just let Frodo Baggins in this bar all babybjörned up, huh? Does Tailgate even know what a baby even is at this point? Does he just think he’s a very small person? How much human media has he consumed? We haven’t gotten into the reproductive process for the continuity yet, but fresh Cybertronians aren’t exactly a one-to-one to human infants. Damn it, Roberts, what the fuck am I supposed to make of Babygate?

Whirl’s off in the corner, disguised as a 12-year old girl who’s fucking STRAPPED. Magnus has disappeared, but Rewind locates him pretty easily as Rung makes a comment about Magnus needing to make an appointment with him.

Oh hey, Verity. Been a minute. Careful, ol’ six-eyes over there is leering at you.

The fellas come back to the bar as they truly are, and sit down for a round of drinks. Whirl gets Ultra Magnus a drink that sounds disturbingly like a Cybertronian equivalent to Milk Coke, and we get a little anatomy lesson. Transformers have something called a Fuel Intake Moderation chip, something that keeps them from getting drunk on pretty much the only thing they can consume. Swerve suggests Magnus turn his off so he can have a good time- which I don’t personally agree with, but this is Captain Stick-in-the-Mud we’re talking about here. Magnus gives it a shot.

And that’s a series wrap on Ultra Magnus!

No, the man’s just got no tolerance and has been knocked the hell out by his drink. Things begin devolving. Tailgate is crying. Skids has found out that Whirl didn’t give Magnus Milk Coke at all, but instead the equivalent of liquid cocaine. Swerve is convinced he’s going to prison. Rewind is filming the whole thing.

Nobody actually checks to see if Magnus is actually dead, until Rung gets around to it. Swerve, you’re a doctor by original trade, what the hell are you doing?

The boys sit Magnus at the table to wait out his nap. Hours later, nothing’s changed, except that they’ve started up the nemesis game, and Whirl’s decided he’s going to be rude about monoformers being monoformers. Rung gives a non-answer, because that’s just who he is as a person. Skids names Misfire as his worst enemy, only because he’s still missing a good chunk of memory and can’t remember if he had a worst enemy, but still wants to contribute to the conversation.

Rung, don’t be a dick, he did his best. You were right on top of Fort Max, it was a tricky shot.

Ultra Magnus finally starts waking up, and that’s the point where everyone decides to foot Swerve with the bill for the emotional labor he’s going to have to perform by explaining just what the friggity-frack happened.

Magnus starts laughing, then crying, then offloads his troubles onto Swerve. Magnus feels like he just doesn’t fit in on the Lost Light. He’s just trying to do his job and everyone makes fun of him, or disrespects his authority. He’s trying, he really is, but he’s just not built for post-war life. He’s actually tried to leave his position on the Lost Light, but they just keep pulling him back in.

Probably doesn’t help that Rodimus seems more interested in Drift’s opinion on matters than his own SIC half the time.

Oh no, he’s making digs at the things Swerve’s sensitive about. Where is Rung?

Magnus just wants to be understood, y’know? He’s a fully realized creation. He’s got interests. Like music! And the fact that Swerve is missing his Autobot badge!

This was the point where MTMTE was still bouncing back and forth on whether it wanted to commit to the crotch badge. It was a tumultuous time for everyone, very dark days.

WHERE THE FUCK IS RUNG

Magnus, having had enough of sharing his feelings, takes another sip of his cocaine and slips back into unconsciousness. Swerve admits to his limp body that people don’t actually like him, but rather only stick around because of what he can offer- namely, a good time.

The rest of the Swerve posse comes back, with Cyclones having joined the party. Rung shows off his new model ship, which gets Rewind started on his movie collection. He pulls up the opening ceremony for the Ark 1. Y’know, the Ark 1, that ship that Cyclonus was on that disappeared into the Dead Universe for six million years. The Ark 1 that Tailgate was supposed to be on.

Before we can get started however, someone throws the model at Rewind’s head.

That someone is none other than Cyclonus, who proceeds to fly into a rage, throwing tables and shoving the still-unconscious Ultra Magnus to the floor. My word, what a reaction! What could possibly be setting him off so much? Does he not like being reminded of his fated trip to the stars? Is this a manifestation of trauma from that event?

Who knows? No time for questions, Skids is too busy punching him in the face.

Tailgate intervenes, explaining that because Cyclonus and himself are so goddamn old, the engex Cyclonus consumed is wreaking havoc on his body. He tells the rest of them to go on while he tries to calm Cyclonus down. Interesting that Rewind doesn’t have any sort of input on this, given that he is also super fucking old, but there’s no time for questions! We’ve got to get Ultra Magnus back on the shuttle in the next 20 minutes, or else they’ll be stuck on Hedonia FOREVER.

They start throwing Magnus on the floor repeatedly, trying to get his t-cog to spin up. No dice, however.

It’s 4AM. Do you know where your Domey is? Because Rewind sure as hell doesn’t.

Okay, time for Plan B.

I’m guessing not, Rung. I’m guessing not.

Using Magnus as a trampoline does the trick, and the boys are rewarded with the sight of Magnus’ alt-mode… resting on its roof, upside down. They get him sorted, pile in the cab- Rewind is driving, which leads me to believe he at least has some experience handling a vehicle. Chromedome does turn into a car…

I don’t even know what that sort of activity implies for a Transformer. We won’t go any further down this line of thought.

The boys manage to get Ultra Magnus to the shuttle in time, and all’s well that ends well!

This is about the time that Blaster knocks on the glass at Swerve to wrap things up, seeing as he’s been at this for over nine hours now. There’s one last little aside before we’re done with our story, however, and it involves just what happened in the bar after everyone else left.

Cyclonus calmed down almost immediately after the rest of the guys left, paying for what he broke and inviting Tailgate to have a seat.

Well, I say invite, but it’s really more of an order.

If you’d already figured out at this point that this jumpy little marshmallow was lying about being the biggest badass who ever lived, a gold star for you! It turns out, dear Tailgate has been crafting a fabrication, spinning a yarn, telling a tall tale since Day One on the Lost Light. The story has been feeding us a steady diet of fish the whole time!

Red herring!

Red herring!

Red herring of Tailgate’s own design! Autopedia’s mods are a friggin’ joke.

Tailgate was supposed to be a the Ark 1 launch, but it was because he was on the cleanup crew. Boy’s a sluicer, and his arm SHOULD say "waste disposal”. Through a cunning use of his wits and cold reading, Tailgate faked his way through the dismantling of the bomb on Temptoria. A smart boy, he is, if not a bit self-centered.

Which brings us to why exactly Cyclonus freaked out in the bar: he wasn’t having an episode, but rather faking a reaction to prevent Tailgate’s lie from being exposed. He still thinks that Tailgate should come clean about this whole thing, before things get really messy, but it wouldn’t be an issue of MTMTE without some raw-ass emotions getting thrown about.

Cyclonus, who hasn’t allowed himself to feel anything other than simmering rage or national pride for over six million years, is beginning to feel something for Tailgate.

That feeling is sympathy, and maybe a little pity.

He offers to teach Tailgate a song to help him feel better, because that’s what he does when he has feelings.

And given that Cyclonus seems to sing often enough that Tailgate’s gotten used to the horrific sound, it might be that Cyclonus has feelings a hell of a lot more often than he lets on.

Roberts, how many times are you going to make Tailgate cry? How much pain are you going to subject him to before you’re satisfied?

The scene closes out on the two of them getting their karaoke on in the empty bar, in the god-awful language that is Old Cybertronian. I can only imagine that they get kicked out of the bar pretty quickly after this.

Getting back to the present, Swerve has finally, finally finished his story, closing out with an invitation for Blurr to come visit Swerve’s.

Blaster gets ready to shoot one hell of a voice message at Blurr, but there’s a problem; the number Swerve has isn’t long enough to be a personal hailing frequency.

Yeah, turns out that Tailgate isn’t the only liar on board the Lost Light.

Four million years ago, Swerve met Blurr at a publicity event, got way too friendly with a celebrity, pestered the guy until he gave him a fake number, and has convinced himself that he made a life-long friend to this very day.

Big oof.

Later, back at Swerve’s, Swerve is busy cleaning the glassware when Ultra Magnus comes in, sober and having just gotten out of surgery to fix his fuel tanks. Guess that second sip of Nucleon really wasn’t a good idea.

Swerve tries to tell a lie about what happened the night before, only to have the dawning horror that Magnus remembered the entire night, as he’s presented with a new badge. Swerve, bolstered by the fact that, while Magnus didn’t enjoy the previous evening, he appreciated having company, begins to ask Magnus if he’d want to room with him.

Wow, zero for three! That’s rough, buddy.

Kind of a bummer end to this whole issue, but it was still decently light, tone-wise, for MTMTE. A great deal of fun was had, in between all the mortifying reveals of our characters inner demons.

...Well, shit.

[banditthewriter]

Bucky Barnes’s Soulmate

The second fic as part of my two year anniversary event.

Trope: Timer that counts down to meeting your soulmate.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

There was a pain in your wrist. You woke up in the middle of the night and rolled over to turn on the lamp beside your bed. There was a redness there that you rubbed at over and over in hopes that the pain would go away. Only it didn’t. Instead the pain seemed to spread out as the redness became darker.

Numbers. It was numbers. You ran your fingers over the numbers. Then you got up and went to the desk in your room. On the edge was the calculator you used for your math homework. It took a few tries for you to figure out how to do the math, but you figured out how long you had until you met your soulmate. It wasn’t that long, a few years.

You couldn’t wait.

One thing you learned over the next few years was that it wasn’t normal for the timer to randomly stop. When it first happened, you had cried for hours. Your parents had been confused and had taken you to a soulmate therapist immediately. 

She had been stumped as well.

It was about a month later that it started up again. You had been happy and showed your parents the moment you noticed.

You were too happy to notice the worry on their faces.

This continued for years. The clock would stop for weeks or months and then it would start again. Then one day while you were doing dishes, it stopped again. It only had a few months left and you had barely been able to hide your excitement.

You waited for it to start up again, but it didn’t. Weeks passed, months passed. A year, two, but the clock never ticked.

When a soulmate died, the clock disappeared. You knew this because you had read all of the blogs and all of the research. And when you met your soulmate, the clock stayed at zero. All signs pointed to you still having a soulmate, but that he was somehow… out of time?

It didn’t make sense. Still, you checked the clock all the time in hopes that the seconds would be ticking through again.

Once the years that your clock was stuck, you dated. The first few guys asked about your soulmate, but as you got older, people stopped asking. If you were looking to hook up with someone that wasn’t your soulmate, it was obvious that you didn’t have one. And it felt that way to you most days.

Did your soulmate wonder about you? Did he know why the clocks were stopping? Did he worry that he wouldn’t get to meet you?

Did it matter?

One night while you were waiting for your date to get back to the table with your drinks, you felt something against your wrist. You thought you imagined it since it had been so long, but it was there. You subtly pulled back the sleeve of your shirt and checked.

The seconds were counting down again. You had a soulmate again and being on a date felt wrong. You left before the guy got back with your drinks.

------

“You made the right decision,” your roommate said as she settled down on the couch next to you, a tub of ice cream on the coffee table. “Whoever your soulmate is, whatever reason there is for your clock to stop, you’re one of those people that can’t be in a relationship unless it’s with the one. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I just feel stupid. This guy exists, right? I’m not insane.”

Bella turned to face you, her hands in yours. Your eyes were drawn to her soulmate clock and how it ticked down the seconds. The math said she had another ten years.

“He exists. Look at the world we live in. Thor, the God of Thunder, blasts into New York with Captain America and Iron Man and defeated a shit load of aliens. If there’s any world where a clock could stop but a person still exist, it’s this one.”

You laughed and leaned down on her shoulder.

“Maybe my soulmate is Thor,” you joked as you rubbed a thumb over your clock. “I’d be such a good soulmate for Thor.”

“That’s my girl,” she teased back.

------

The thing with soulmate clocks was that it counted down to a moment, but it couldn’t tell you who exactly in that moment was your soulmate. If you were in a crowd, you may never find that person that was yours. Was it the man that smiled? The girl that bumped into your shoulder? The person whose laugh drew your eye?

Most people avoided crowds on the day. They’d stick to public places with few people. 

Some stayed home to avoid the moment completely. Their clocks would count down to one second and never move unless they ran into the person some other time.

On the day that your clock would run down, you decided to stick to deserted places. Fate would put your soulmate in your path somehow. And as you walked down the empty street, you couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to be faced with your soulmate. After all this time, you could find out why your clock was different.

In one of the alleys, you could hear fighting. You paused and looked around the wall, wondering if you should call 911. There seemed to be three men against one and while normally that meant the one person was overwhelmed, it seemed like the guy was holding his own.

More than that, he was kicking their asses.

Finally the three guys seemed to echo your sentiments because they took off down the alley and towards you. They didn’t even stop, just ran down the street once they were out of the alley. Terrified, you checked your clock but you still had about thirty seconds. It wasn’t any of them.

But that meant…

You turned around to face down the alley at the exact moment the man stepped out of the opening of the alley. He paused under the light, his eyes meeting yours. Your eyes were wide as you looked him over. He had longer hair that was tucked under a ball cap, a jacket and a pair of jeans. Your eyes caught the sight of what looked like a metallic glove on one hand which was a strange choice, but he tugged on a torn glove while you stared.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he turned around and started down the other street. 

The sound of his voice was pleasant, you thought as you turned to face him. And then you realized that he was leaving. Wait a minute.

“Hey, wait!” 

As you started after the man, he tossed a look over his shoulder and took off at a speed that you couldn’t keep up with. Soon he was in the dark and you were alone.

You had met your soulmate. And then he had run away from you.

That wasn’t how you expected your first meeting to go. Most guys waited until after the date to take off.

------

“Did you hear about this guy?” Bella dropped the newspaper on the table where you were eating your cereal. “Some guy is apparently beating the crap out of criminals in the city. They got a sketch of him.”

The sketch was pretty basic, but it made you pause. The cap, the hair curling out from underneath, the eyes… it was your soulmate. So that night wasn’t a one time thing.

“Huh,” you said as you read the article that was with it, “seems he’s pretty consistent in what he goes for.”

He’d saved a girl from being attacked, a family from being carjacked, a guy from being mugged. He saved people.

You circled your spoon through the cereal as a plan formed in your mind. It wasn’t your brightest idea, but you had waited long enough for answers.

------

The street was empty, street lights flickering overhead. You had looked up what areas your soulmate usually worked and had spent the last three nights just walking around. It wasn’t long before someone assumed you were a prostitute if you didn’t get some results soon.

As you thought about it, you heard something behind you. It was footsteps. They sounded purposeful, almost as if they wanted to be heard.

You put your hand in your purse like you were looking for something. You had pepper spray in your fist, just in case your soulmate wasn’t here.

Only when you turned around, you weren’t facing an attacker or a mugger. You were faced with your soulmate. His eyes were narrowed as he looked you over.

“You again,” he said with a shake of his head, his eyes alert as he looked around the street. “Who do you work for?”

“I’m a pharmacist,” you said uncertainly. “I was looking for you.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said gruffly as he walked past you.

You were frustrated but you weren’t about to let your soulmate walk away from you twice. Not without some answers first.

“Hey, are you always this rude or do you just save it for your soulmate?”

He froze and slowly turned to face you. He repeated the word as if he had never heard it before.

“Yeah, soulmate,” you said as you raised your bare wrist, showing your zeroed out clock. “My clock stopped when we met that night. Didn’t… didn’t yours?”

Was it possible for you not to be your soulmate’s soulmate? Maybe you should have done more reading. But the man raised his hand and slowly tugged off his glove.

The metallic material under it wasn’t another glove. It moved too fluidly to be anything other than… his hand. And it probably went up to at least his elbow.

“You don’t have a clock?”

He shook his head before he tugged his glove back on. There was clear hesitation on his face and you wondered who he was that he was so suspicious. What had he done? Something told you it was more than just him beating up criminals.

“It would stop sometimes,” you said as you looked down at the red numbers. “It’d stop for weeks or months. And then it stopped for a few years.”

The man shifted his weight, his eyes widening. You watched as he licked his lips before he stepped a little closer to you.

“Cryogenics. The clocks must not move when someone’s frozen.”

You knew what all of those words meant, but definitely not in that order. You looked at his arm and then his face, your mind reeling as you put it together with news reports you remembered from a while back.

“Oh.” 

Well. It wasn’t Thor, but it was the Winter Soldier. It was good to know you weren’t that far off.

------

“It’d go a lot better if you just stayed still,” you said as you lifted the scissors once more. “I swear I’m not going to make you look like an idiot. You gotta trust me Bucky.”

Bucky stayed stiff in the chair, but he didn’t move. You nodded and finished up what you were doing, making the last few cuts. Then you grabbed the comb and brushed his hair back a bit.

“Okay, let me know if I butchered it,” you said as you handed him a mirror. “You can go to a barber or something if I did a horrible job.”

He looked it over but seemed pleased. He raised his metal hand to touch his hair and then let his hand land on your hip.

It had taken you almost three weeks to get Bucky to even come to your apartment. Then it had taken another month for him to do anything more than just stand in the middle of the room while Bella was at work. Most soulmate courtships went quickly, but Bucky seemed to move slower than that. You didn’t mind.

It gave the two of you time to get to know each other. You talked often, on the phone and in person. He told you about his life before the war, told you about Steve Rogers, told you about the war. His voice would get haunted when he talked about the experiments, about the things he was slowly remembering from being the Winter Soldier. He told you about getting himself back and just wanting to go under the radar.

That was how you got him to agree to a haircut. He would be harder to pick out without his signature longer hair. 

It looked good on him. You raised your hand and ran it through the slightly damp locks, grinning at him as he leaned into it like a cat.

Weeks and months of both of you dancing around the other and now you were comfortable to touch each other like this. It hadn’t gone further but you weren’t in a rush. You had your soulmate and the clock wasn’t ticking anymore. You didn’t have to worry about it freezing one day and wondering when or if you’d ever get this.

You had him in your arms and you had all the time in the world.

X

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[annaktheslightlygay]

Almost - Part 1

It’s odd looking back, how little she remembers. Somehow Beca had made it here, to someplace in the middle of god damn nowhere, coerced to wear a blindfold led through the dark to this room. There was a sense of erie calmness that overtook her body in the car. Yet here, standing on some sort of wooden deck, it was replaced by a need to rip her blindfold off and get the hell out of here. She didn’t, though. “It would ruin the surprise, Beca!” Yeah, okay Chloe. Somehow the both of us didn’t anticipate this though so I’m not sure if this applies, Beca thought. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, waiting.

____

Literally, why was it so hard to get up out of bed? Maybe it was because there was literally no one there to judge her for it. It was not her fault her roommate dropped out the day college started. She thought that they could suffer through it together but it looks like that girl had the right idea: this sucked. There was no one here and no one to talk to. Not that Beca loved talking or anything, but it was nice to know that if she died or something at least someone would wonder if she was ever coming back. All she was really accountable for was keeping her plant alive at this point. And even he– she glanced over at him, drooping in the little pot in the corner of her windowsill– wasn’t looking good. When kids meant they cared about “streaks” these days, I don’t think they meant this. 

This was the fifth day in a row she’d be laying in her dorm room, switching between her Netlfix and Hulu tabs religiously. But hey, at least she wasn’t hungry! Or, more likely, she’d surpassed hunger into the nauseous stage. She winced. That’s not great, even by Beca standards. She was pretty sure that was not recommended. 

It was 4pm. That meant the dining hall wasn’t open with the exception of a few cereal options and rejected pieces of fruit from meals earlier in the day. Still, Beca headed to the elevator and indicated the first floor. Two people– a redhead and a brunette– got in on her long way down from the twelfth floor. Not bad for a building with a thousand people. The less human interaction, the better. 

The food was bad, and but numbing. I mean, she couldn’t expect miracles from a bowl of captain crunch and a questionable banana, but still. Maybe she’d come back later that night. Maybe. That seemed like ages from now. 

As she exited she thought vaguely of the library and of the textbook chapter she had yet to read for tomorrow. God, even just thinking of class was an exhausting thought. And still, she went. Usually. She knew that her dad would get a direct report if she didn’t. So yes, she did show up. But that didn’t mean she had to pay attention or, god forbid, participate. 

Beca turned, deciding against it. A large body stopped her. Well, that was putting it nicely. Fat Amy basically initiated her, knocking most of the air from Beca’s lungs. 

“Dude, watch it.” 

“Yeah well maybe if you weren’t so busy looking lost I wouldn’t have to stop with the sheer force of my cooch.” Fat Amy said. 

“Your what?”

Beca had heard of this girl. She was the one who poured pink hair dye all over some girl’s head after she called her a fat bitch. She must have just been called Amy back then, but the name stuck. Even good-natured professors found themselves calling her that. She was loud, obnoxious, and her Australian accent was so prominent Beca (and others) often wondered if it was even real. Claiming to be a fantastic exotic dancer (with a specialty in mermaid dancing apparently) Fat Amy was never one to miss a party. 

“Here, you look like you could use this, short stuff.” Fat Amy thrust something to Beca’s chest. Before Beca could say a thing, Amy was gone as quickly as she had come. 

Trivia night, huh? More like a situation where Beca would have to pretend to be occupied in her phone and to be social for a night. Still, it was starting in seven minutes, and Beca knew where it was. It beat going to the library and probably would help her case during her weekly check-ins with her therapist. Wow, Beca thought. A new low. Going to a social event so her therapist didn’t think she was lame. 

Beca arrived at Barden’s Lion Den and found a seat just as the game started. Two girls asked if they could share the six-person table Beca occupied, and she obliged. The two girls sat and began discussing the answer to the first question. Dumbly, Beca realized she forgot to grab a card on her way in. There was no way she was going to draw attention to herself. Thank god for the iPhone that saved her in awkward social situations, like this one. She started scrolling, tapping haphazardly if she saw something that caught her eye. The two girls across from her excitedly discussed their answers, growing louder by the second. Beca realized that a third girl had joined them, promptly changing the topic to a party that night, related to the Barden Bellas. 

Beca had heard of them of course– she had a bad habit of reading the posters that were always plastered through the hallways throughout the entire school– and often critiqued them in her mind. You’d be surprised how many administration approved posters there were that seemed to forget that spellcheck existed. Beca remembered the Bellas posters because of the flight attendant like uniforms that all of the girls on the poster sported, grinning from ear to ear. She kind of hated that poster. No people in college should be that happy, she thought. 

Still, Beca heard bits and pieces. 8 pm. Meet at the Barden Lawn, and then head to a secondary location. Show up in green. It kind of sounded more like orders, to Beca. But immediately she did the math: 8pm wasn’t so bad for a Barden activity. Most things around here started at 11pm, at the earliest. And two social events in one week? There was no way Beca’s therapist could write her up or show any concern. This was healthy, and “very, very good, Beca!” She could practically hear Amber smiling. And, there was no invite needed.

Looking back, that had to be the night that she met Chloe. Chloe had to have been there with her, somewhere in the crowd with all the other chattering girls. But back then there was just a bunch of chatting girls that followed their leaders in a pack towards a supposed “secondary location”– a spot across town. Beca tried, like she always did, to make small talk with a few of the other girls on the way. As always, they became much more engaged in their own conversation than they did talking to Beca. So Beca trailed off behind them into the night air.

Notes: In this version, Beca is a little nicer and Chloe is most certainly not. This is a chiller version of the Bellas, and while there are some familiar members, there are also some new additions just to change it up a bit. Slow introduction to lots of drugs and alcohol, because that’s just what I felt like writing about. But let’s be real: you’re here to read about Bechloe, and I’m here to deliver– though I cannot promise that there will not be some angst to get there. With that, enjoy!

[astrozones]

Sanders Behavioral Health, Chapter 3: Patton Will Help!

Angst Incoming

My discord server if you wanna scream at me- Astro’s Zone

my friends are lovingly cyberbullying me into tagging the man himself so uh @thatsthat24 and ope there goes my anxiety, rising up into the heavens. If you do see this I recommend reading from chapter one but im not gonna tag again unless my friends tell me to bc i dont wanna be a bother :|

Three hours.

Three hours until school ended for the day and Patton would go home for 5 minutes before heading to Sanders’.

Until then, he had to brave the school day. Patton was okay at school, but had a nasty habit of not saying no to any request, and his time between classes was spent doing favors for others. His time for lunch was limited, and his weekends were booked full. It took a toll on Patton, but he’d do anything to make others happy!

After all, others’ happiness was more important than his own.

His therapist had disagreed, which is why he was transferred to Sanders Behavioral Health. And at Sanders they said the same. Why couldn’t they understand that Patton wasn’t worthy of being happy? He didn’t do as much as he could, as much as he should , and he was a bad person.

Like that one time he had noticed a kid sitting in the seat beside him, his name was Todd, looking at his paper during a test. Patton had glanced at the teacher before nudging his paper closer to Todd, and filling out the rest. Once he noticed Todd had finished, he turned it in.

But he had gotten some of the answers wrong . Todd had been counting on him but Patton failed him, and now Todd was grounded for getting a mediocre grade.

And it was all Patton’s fault.

He tried to apologize to Todd, but had been shrugged off, Todd saying, “Eh, you don’t need to man. It was my fault for not studying.”

Todd must hate him.

The bell rang, signalling him to rush to his next class. Well, “class”. It was time for lunch.

Patton grabbed his items as quickly as he could, shoving them into his backpack. He felt guilty for zoning out in class, but the teacher was already on her computer and he didn’t want to disturb her. Once he had stuffed today’s worksheet into his bag, he slipped out, last to leave the room.

Patton held the lunch tray in his hands, looking for a place to sit. No one had asked for his lunch time yet, so he expected someone to call out to him, which was what usually happened these periods.

What he wasn’t expecting was to be cornered.

The edge of a table pierced his back as he was suddenly faced with none other than President of the Student Council (and Tennis Team), Vanessa E. Cordill. He had stumbled back, and quickly shoved his tray on the table behind him, knowing how close Vanessa liked to get to people.

“Hey, Pat! I was wondering if you could help us with preparations this weekend for next week’s volleyball game?” She batted her eyelashes at him, stepping impossibly closer.

“I-uh, I’m really sorry Vanessa, but I’m all booked this weekend.”

“Surely you could make time for me, yeah? Aren’t I your favorite?” Vanessa said sweetly. His favorite? He didn’t have a favorite, that would be unfair to the others! Patton, of course, wouldn’t say that to her, lest he hurt her feelings.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t have time! I’m doing a lot of things this weekend and don’t have any room. I barely have time to sleep and-” he was cut off as Vanessa drew a finger down his chest. “W-what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She purred, winking at him. Get off, get off, geT OFF-

“He already said no, Vanessa Cordill.” Came a voice from behind. Turning his head, he saw none other than Logan Danrow seated at the table he had run into. Vanessa backed up a few steps, glaring.

“Logan?” Patton asked, shuffling towards him so he was farther away from her .

“Wait, Pat, you know this prick?” Vanessa spat, very different from the person he had been talking with moments prior. He nodded.

“Well, yeah, we know each other from- er, yeah we know each other.” he stammered out, hands fiddling with his bracelets. It was getting harder to breathe.

“Again, Vanessa, he already said he was busy. You may leave, lest your boyfriend sees you.” Logan stated flatly, gaze returning to his book. Glancing back towards Vanessa, she pulled a small notepad out of her purse and scribbled something on it, handing it to him once she had ripped it out.

“Just in case you change your mind,” Was all she said before turning around and skipping back to her table to hang with her tennis friends.

Logan turned a page as Patton sat down across from him. Logan glanced back up at him in surprise.

“You want to sit here?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you wished to sit with your friends.”

“Aw, but Logan you are one of my friends!” Patton grinned, grabbing his previously abandoned tray. “Plus, it seems no one needs my help, so until they do, I’m here! I do feel guilty, though…”

“What do you feel guilty about? I’m afraid I do not understand.” Logan stated, setting his book down.

“It’s just… I’m sure I could’ve fit Vanessa’s activity somewhere in my schedule…” he bit the inside of his cheek. “If I just cut my study time by an hour I could have fit her in, y’know?” He fiddled with the stem on his apple, breaking it off with a wince. “I probably could still tell her, actually!”

“No,” Logan said when he went to stand up. “You should not cut your study time to help someone who has enough help. Your grades are important. Vanessa will be fine.”

Patton slumped back into his seat, chewing on his lip. “I suppose… I just… I want to help people. They’re counting on me.” he wiped at a tear threatening to fall. Logan tapped his fingers against the table.

“Patton,” he started. “How often do you help people?”

“Not enough,” Patton admitted with a hiccup. “Most of my weekend is booked, but I’m sure I could do more if I moved things around. I’m sorry for invading your time, Logan, I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“Nonsense,” Logan waved his hand through the air. “I wasn’t doing much anyway. You know, most people don’t even do half the things you put yourself up for. Do you spend all your free time for others?” At Patton’s nod, he continued. “I recommend taking a weekend for yourself, at the very least.”

“I don’t know, mayb-”

“HEY PATTON! Can you help us?” a member of the Drama Club, Canin, yelled from across the cafeteria, jogging over to him. “Auditions are coming in a couple weeks and we need help choosing a musical to do!” Canin begged. Patton spared an apologetic glance at Logan before following after Canin.

--

In the final period of the day, the class was told to fill out a worksheet on the periodic table using stations around the room. They were separated into teams of three, Patton’s teammates being Angelica Carter and Skye Johnson. Once they were sent to a station, all three got to work. Well, Skye and Patton did.

Skye was especially smart at science, telling him their dream job was to become an astronomer one day, and to be the first nonbinary person in space. Patton told them that their name was fitting, which caused Skye to burst into giggles.

Angelica, on the other hand, wouldn’t do anything. Once Skye confronted her on it, she claimed that she couldn’t do anything because she didn’t have a pen or pencil.

Just as Patton was about to offer her a pen, he was struck by the memory of himself offering a pen to Virgil on his first day.

Whenever he offered a pen or pencil to others, he almost never got it back, and this was the same situation with Virgil.

Patton had finished filling out his paper, and once he glanced at Virgil the first thing he noticed was the pen in his hands. Patton had wanted so bad to ask for it back, since it was his second-to-last one. But he hadn’t said anything.

And now he was here, feeling guilty that we couldn’t give Angelica a writing utensil. God , this was just not his day, huh? First he couldn’t help Vanessa, then he couldn’t help the Drama Club choose between Little Shop of Horrors and Hairspray, and now didn’t even have a simple pen for Angelica. He was such a failure .

“Maybe the teacher has something?” He offered, Skye returning to the project. Angelica shrugged and walked over to Ms. Alstor.

And even when Angelica had returned, she didn’t help. At all. All Skye did was roll their eyes and mumble under their breath.

Patton didn’t say anything.

All three got an A.

--

Patton arrived late to Sanders’, again . He had gotten caught up once Jasmine Illes, Vice President of the Student Council, tried to convince him to help out with the volleyball event. He had just barely gotten away with his established schedule intact.

He bursted into the lobby, signing in before Katrine, the one in charge of the front desk, let him in while informing him that the group should still be in the check-in room. He rushed in, Virgil and Logan looking up at him when he entered. Roman was spinning around in his chair, but quickly stopped to greet Patton.

“Sorry I’m late! I got caught up because this girl from school, Jasmine, asked me if I could do something with the Student Council on the weekend.” he quickly announced, taking a deep breath soon after. He grabbed a sheet before plopping down in the nearest chair, taking a few moments to catch his breath.

“Jasmine Illes?” Roman asked. “I know her.” Patton raised an eyebrow.

“You go to Fieldrow? Haven’t seen you there.” Patton said, scribbling out answers.

“Oh, yeah, I just… don’t have the opportunity to go there often.” he replied, looking at the ground awkwardly. Patton was about to say something when Virgil spoke up.

“Yeah, I go there, too,” he muttered, Logan piping up in agreement.

“Aw cool! It’s still the beginning of the school year, maybe we could all join a club that meets on the weekends so we can hang out more!” Patton grinned, looking around at the others.

“I’m not very interested in joining clubs,” Logan started. “I would consider it if it were the Science or Math clubs, but neither of them meet on the weekends.”

“And I don’t really… do clubs. At all.” Virgil continued. Patton let out a small ‘aw’ before turning to Roman.

“What ‘bout you, Roman?” he asked, not acknowledging Logan’s small flinch at the bad grammar.

“Well… I suppose I was thinking about joining the Drama Club… I’m just not sure if it’d work with… me” Roman shook his head. “I’ll decide once they pick a musical.”

Virgil snorted, which caused Roman to let out an indignant ‘wha- hey!’.

“Y’know, I don’t know why I didn’t peg you for a theater nerd earlier, Ro’. It makes perfect sense.” was all Virgil said before Becca quieted them down and told them to start sharing their answers.

--

Once inside the therapy’s cafeteria, Patton was confronted by Charlie.

“Hey, Patton! I have a new exposure for you.” she greeted. “You ready?”

“Um, hold on-” Patton flipped through his binder, before landing on the page he wanted. He whipped out his pen, and continued. “Yep!”

“Alright, this one’s pretty simple but fits what we’re working on with you! All you need to do is ask a staff to borrow a pen and not return it by the end of the day.” Patton stared at her with wide eyes. His life seemed to be revolving around pens, recently, wasn’t it?

“Do I… do I get to return them next week? Cause, y’know… it’s Friday.” he asked, fiddling with his bracelets. Charlie shook her head.

“It’s better not to. Because, in the future, if you accidentally steal a pen from someone, we don’t want you to freak out much. So it’s better to fight that feeling by keeping them!” she smiled. “I know you’ll do great, Patton.”

Patton scribbled it down in his binder reluctantly. He really did want to refuse the exposure, but that would make Charlie disappointed in him, which would make her feel bad. And Patton hated making other people feel bad. So, discomfort it was.

--

Patton found himself in front of the two other counselors’, Harley and Ramona’s, office. Peeking through the window he saw that only Harley was present. He knocked on the door before walking in.

“Hey, Patton,” She greeted. “Whatcha need?”

Patton put on his default smile. Act happy, not stressed, he told himself.

“Heyo Harley! I was just wondering if I could borrow a pen?”

--

After 9 minutes, he had cycled through Becca, Katrine, Ramona, and Vicki. He figured it would be pretty stupid of himself to ask Charlie, so he had to start back at the beginning. Oh dear, what am I supposed to say?

He didn’t have much time to mull it over before Virgil skidded to a stop in front of him. He barely had time to greet him before Virgil was huffing out a response.

“Hey… Patton… sorry one second… gotta catch my breath…” he panted. Patton smiled at him.

“M’kay… This is stupid now that I think of it, but I’m just… Exposures really stress me out, and I have this one where I’m supposed to knock on a staff’s door and just… leave before they can open it.” Virgil started, curling into his hoodie.

“What’s the problem?” Patton prompted when Virgil stayed silent.

“It’s just… really anxiety provoking and- ugh y’know what, it really is stupid, I’ll leave-” Patton grabbed his arm before he could run off. Virgil stilled.

“Virgil! It’s not stupid, Sanders’ can take a lot to get used to. Roman was stressed on his first exposure day, too! Now, I know it’s not your first day, but it still counts! It’ll take a bit to get used to, but it helps in the end!” Patton smiled. “Wanna hug?”

“Erm, no thanks, physical contact scares me. But, ah, thank you. That… helped.” Virgil gave him a small, awkward smile. Patton cherished it. “I am a bit confused, though,” he continued. “It’s about Roman. He said something about my first day being his second proper day, and I was wondering how long he’s been here? Sorry if that was confusing.”

“Don’t worry, I know what you meant. Roman’s first day was Monday, and he started exposures on Tuesday, I think. And then on Wednesday, you came!” Virgil nodded at this, seeming satisfied.

“Now go on!” Patton prompted, gesturing to the staff hallway. “You’ll do great!”

--

Patton walked into his house, pulling out his phone almost immedietly. He had a plan.

-

Therapy pals!!

{ Patton }  { Heyo!! I made a group chat for us all !!! }

{ Is everyone excited for the weekend?? I am!! }

| Virgil |  | ah, weekends. my favorite days of the week to hate myself |

{ VIRGIL NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! }

| lmao |

( Logan )  ( My weekends are spent studying, I’m impartial to them. )

[ Roman ]  [ Uhhh youre Logan right? Dont have you saved on my phone yet ]

( *you’re *Don’t )

[ Yup thats Logan ]

( I don’jehgfvurkghds )

| wait what |

[ Holy shit ]

{ Roman, language!!! }

{ And are you okay logan!?!?!? }

[ Santa mierda ]

| what? |

( I apologize, I was walking and a dog ran in front of me, causing me to trip. I am okay. And, Roman, is that Spanish? )

{ OH THANK GOD!!!! }

[ Yea it’s Spanish ]

{ Did you get a picture of the dog???????? }

( I was not aware you spoke another language, Roman. I suppose that makes sense, since you are so bad at English. And no, I did not get a picture of the dog, it ran off rather quickly after I tripped. )

[ HEY ]

{ Aw!! Well at least you’re okay!!! }

| i’m gonna put roman’s spanish thru google translate hold up |

[ Wait no ]

( Please use capital letters, Virgil. Plus, it’s spelled through. )

| ajsjfisdkf |

| patton |

| patton |

{ Oh no!! Is something wrong??? }

| no just uh |

| pls put roman’s spanish thru google translate |

( I cannot believe you. )

{ Alright… }

( Do you exist just to insult the English language? )

[ oh nooo my phones about to die ahhh ]

| nice try roman |

{ ROMAN!!!! Don’t swear, even in other languages! >:( }

[ Hey Virgil, i gotta tell you something ]

[ i hate u ]

| who doesnt |

{ Hate is a strong word, Roman. }

[ i know ]

{ VIRGIL NO!!!!!! I LOVE YOU LIKE A SON!!!!!!!!!!!!! D: }

| did i just get adopted |

( It’s not adoption if it’s not in a legal document. )

{ YES YOU DID MY DARK STRANGE SON!!!!!!! ILY!!!! }

( Oh. )

[ Logan should be the mom ]

[ I’ll be the strange uncle who you only see once a year but might be a government spy ]

( What? )

| nah roman you’re like the kid next door |

[ Thanks..? ]

[ Wait did i just get kicked out of the family ]

( I’m afraid I don’t understand how I could be a mother, not even mentioning how Patton, Virgil, and I could even be a family. )

[ I cant believe i got kicked out of the family ]

{ Don’t worry, it’s a metaphorical family Logan!!! }

[ What did i do to deserve this ]

( But how am I a mother? )

( Is anyone going to respond? )

--

//  Private Conversation between Roman and Virgil  \\

[ I don’t hate you, by the way. ]

[ Like in all seriousness. ]

| lol don’t worry man i got that from the lack of good spelling and no capital letter |

| coz you don’t type like that usually |

[ Oh, good. I was hoping by doing that I wouldn’t come across as serious. ]

| yea |

| so uhhhhhhhh |

| hold on gotta think of somethin to say so this isn’t awkward |

| what musicals do you like? |

[ Congrats Virgil!! You just unlocked an hours long conversation ]

| wait no |

| eh nvm i wasnt doing anything tonight anyway |

[ Kay so im gonna start off with the popular ones ofc! ]

-- --

Patton smiled as he looked over the conversation they all had. Because no matter what happened at therapy, by the end he knew he’d still have his new friends. He giggled to himself, feeling giddy. This was so exciting!

He glanced at the groupchat’s name, which at the moment was simply ‘ Therapy pals!! ’, a spur of the moment decision by Patton. He bit his lip as he thought it over.

Patton changed the name of the group to FamILY!     -

Patton smiled even wider than before. Tomorrow was bound to be a good day.

He was sure of it.

[hypocritehero]

This is my Spooky Santa gift for @heartfulmind! I got a little ahead of myself with this project and wasn’t able to completely finish the fic in time for the deadline;;; But I have scattered scenes written out for later in the timeline!!! I just have to actually string them together into another chapter… @_@;;

(Thanks again @icypyre for putting this event together!)

Title: Transceiver

Ship: Shinsou/Female Background Character

Word Count: 3,351

Chapters: 1/?

The air in the classroom feels heavy. One wouldn’t think these twenty students had just made it into the most prestigious school in the nation with the amount of gloomy faces filling the seats, but the fact of the matter is that a good portion of them had applied for another course entirely.

Is that really all General Education was created for? To hold the overflow of rejected Hero hopefuls?

Tsunagi hopes not. She’s one of the few who didn’t even bother with the Hero Entrance Exam. With a Quirk like hers, she knew she didn’t stand a chance against whatever crazy test UA was sure to cook up- but she didn’t apply for Support or Business either. There’s more ways to help people, to help heroes, than just giving them things to punch harder or promoting their brand.

Like now. The amount of disappointment in the room is enough to suffocate the few sparks of excitement and hope flickering in the dark atmosphere. That just won’t do. There’s no teacher yet, so Tsunagi feels free to go all out.

“HEY!” She slams the oversized door shut behind her and lets out a boisterous greeting. “Why’s it look like a funeral in here?! Did someone die? Am I dead?” She waves her hands in front of her face to check for transparency, then points at the closest occupied desk. “Do I look dead to you?”

The boy looks absolutely baffled by her sudden question. His voice comes out uncertain and high, “Uh- No?”

“There you have it!” Tsunagi places her hands on her hips and surveys the classroom like a Queen looking upon her kingdom. “I’m alive, and I’m pretty sure so are all of you. This isn’t the end of the line, not by far. It’s only the first stop!”

Her sheer volume is starting to gather attention. She waits patiently for the mood to turn over slowly like a wave, muddy thoughts becoming alert in confusion and apprehension. There’s some annoyed looks as well for disturbing the peace, but some sacrifices must be made.

“If you’d given up already, you wouldn’t even be sitting here, right? There’s nothing more stupid than turning around to go home when you’ve already left the house, so you might as well give it your all!” She punctuates her impromptu peptalk with two thumbs up- the ultimate finisher move!

But the disappointment lingers. Tough crowd…

“Couldn’t’ve put it better myself,” a deep, muffled voice remarks from behind. She jolts and spins around with a short yelp. The man standing at the door is tall and intimidating in his deep red cloak and gas mask, but the class breaks out into awed murmurs at the sight of him.

“It’s Snipe!”

“I heard all the teachers here were Pro Heroes but-”

“-our Homeroom teacher is Snipe?!”

“Awesome!”

Just like that, the tide shifts all at once, dismay and irritation erupting into excitement. That more than anything is what impresses Tsunagi the most. So this is the aura of a Pro… She can’t sense anything from him but calm determination- oh, and is that an inkling of amusement?

“That’s right, I’m Snipe. I’ll be your Homeroom teacher from now on.” Snipe takes his place at the front of the class, spurs jingling with every heavy footstep. “General Education might not sound like much, but that doesn’t mean you can slack off. Everyone at this school follows the same motto. I’m sure you all know what that is?”

Tsunagi recognizes a hype call for what it is. She punches her fist into the air, “Plus Ultra! Go beyond!” A few other students even chime in at the end as well, much to her delight.

Snipe tips his cowboy hat towards her, “That’s right, miss. You ought to take your seat now, by the way. Class is in session.”

Oops. What was her assigned seating again? The number totally flew her mind! Everyone else is already sitting though, so it must be the last empty desk there. She jogs over and swiftly slides into her seat, casting a glance to either side of her to check out her neighbors. Two boys; one with an extremely strong jawline, the other with eyebags that could probably hold all his school books.

Jawline’s nerves pop when she makes eye contact and waves, and he jerkily turns to face the front of the class. Cute. Eyebags doesn’t even acknowledge her at all. He’s one of the stubborn few still mired in his own murky emotions. She could tell that from a mile away even without her Quirk. What a sour face!

Snipe is just going over the entrance ceremony lineup and orientation handouts, nothing too important, so she focuses all her attention on Eyebags. Her Quirk is technically a one way street- she can only sense other people’s emotions, not make them feel hers- but she’s sending out pay attention to me vibes as hard as she can think them.

Impressively, he doesn’t even glance at her once, even when they all get up to form a line for the opening ceremony. This one is going to be a tough nut to crack…

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“You kind of remind me of a nutcracker!” Tsunagi places her lunch tray down on the table with a decisive clack. This is a good table; there’s a nice view out the window and everything. She decides to claim it as hers- for now, until she finds a better spot.

“…Excuse me?” Jawline, who was already occupying said table, responds to her comment belatedly. His aura is a little confused, a mixture between shock and affront, like he’s not quite sure how to take her words. That’s normal.

“You know, because of all this.” She gestures to her own decidedly smaller and narrow jaw in explanation. “Is that your Quirk? Do you, like, have a super bite strength? Like an alligator?”

“No…” Jawline answers slowly. “I can make ‘all this’ turn to metal though, so maybe I could crack a nut. Never tried before.”

“Ooh, even better.” Tsunagi snaps her disposable chopsticks and they split down the seams perfectly even. Nice. That’s a good omen, right? “You probably tried out for Hero Course with a Quirk like that, huh? I heard there was robots though. That must have been super tough.”

“Yeah… It was…” Jawline looks down at his tray, his wide mouth downturned into a frown. Woops. Must have still been a sore spot. It is only the second day, after all.

“I’m Kantoshi Tsunagi, by the way!” Tsunagi sticks out her hand across the table like a Western businessman. “I’ve got an empathy quirk, just in case you were wondering.”

“Ah… I’m Agito Koutsuchi.” Agito stares at her hand before taking it hesitantly. They shake and she makes sure to grip firmly to give off a good impression. First impressions are important- at least, that’s what her dad always said. “I’m guessing you didn’t take the practical then?”

“Oh, no way!” She forms an X with her arms and shakes her head. “I don’t even want to be a Hero. At least not like that.”

“Not like that?” 

“Yeah. I want to be a therapist for Heroes! So I figured I should go to a Hero school, right? Get lots of practice ahead of time.” She taps a finger to her temple with a self-satisfied smile. Yeah, she’s pretty much a genius.

“Right.” Agito looks more amused than bemused now, which is always a good thing in her books. His aura is looking a lot warmer. “Are you studying psychology then? I didn’t know we had any classes for that kind of thing.”

“Oh, we don’t.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just, like, kind of winging it?”

“…You’re ‘just kind of winging it’…”

Tsunagi is getting some major ‘judgey’ vibes off this guy. She pouts. “Hey, not everyone has their entire life mapped out as a first year! Sheesh. You’d grind your teeth a lot less if you learned to relax a little. Did you know I can hear you doing it from where I sit?”

“Hey-!”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Why are you staring at me?” It takes three days for Shinsou (she learned Eyebags’ name by sneaking a peak at his handout) to finally crack. During the layover between Math and English he stares back at Tsunagi with dead eyes, no less intense despite the listless boredom permeating his aura. She can’t really sense anything else off him.

Maybe he really is just looking for something to do? She holds his gaze for a long, extended moment of silence. He blinks.

“Aha!” She slaps one hand against the desktop and points at him with the other. “You blinked first!”

“I didn’t think it was a contest,” he says dryly. “Does it really count if I wasn’t looking back until now?”

“It totally does, don’t be a sore loser,” she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. A small jolt of surprise goes through him. Interesting. She leans in closer. “So you noticed? And you didn’t even think to say ‘Hi’ to your Class Prez?”

The title is new, but she’s taking every opportunity possible to flaunt it. Honestly, no one else was really vying for the position… Still, a win is a win!

“…You’re still talking to me,” Shinsou says instead of answering the question. It kind of sounds like he’s talking more to himself than her. “Why?”

Tsunagi raises an eyebrow. “Should I not be?” 

Shinsou rubs at the back of his neck and glances away, his aura fluctuating agitatedly despite the strained smirk on his face. “Heh. If you have to ask that, that probably explains it.”

Okay, the mysterious cool guy bit is already getting on her nerves a little bit. She squints at him with an extended, suspicious hmmmm.

“Do you have like, a contagious disease or something?” He stares at her flatly and she taps her nose before trying again. “Is it your Quirk?” The second guess earns her another emotional jolt, even as his expression persists. Bingo. “It can’t be that bad. What is it?”

Ectoplasm glides into the room just then. Shinsou swiftly turns to face the front again, lips pressed into a thin line.

Wait. Is he really not going to answer?!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tsunagi ends up making a game of it. It’s a good way to kill time between classes- and an excuse to talk to/at her aloof neighbor. Sometimes she even ropes Agito into it for some fresh ideas. He seemed reluctant at first, but as Shinsou seemed to bear their increasingly wild guesses with surprising patience, he’s been really getting into the spirit of the game.

“Do you curse people to die in seven days if you speak more than two sentences at a time?” Agito suggests from across Tsunagi’s desk, leaning on his forearm to see around her.

“Ooh, good one!” Tsunagi snaps her fingers. “But what about when he read that passage out loud for English? It’s been a week since then, and nobody’s died yet.”

“They wouldn’t allow me on campus if I had a Quirk as dangerous as that…” Shinsou mutters without looking up from his notes.

“True… What if it’s a love curse though?” Tsunagi waggles her eyebrows with a lecherous grin. “I could believe that. Are you all cool and jaded from breaking so many hearts because of your Quirk?”

“…Cool?” Shinsou focuses on that out of all the other things that came out of her mouth. He seems surprised. “Me?”

“Uh, yeah? You’re like, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Broody over here. Back me up, Agito!”

“You are kind of broody,” Agito admits in an apologetic tone.

“Huh…”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

UA ends up on the news. Despite having the best security out of every high school in the country, there was a bonafide Villain attack at USJ. Even without having been there, the fact that it happened at all is enough to fill the campus with waves of unease. Trickles of frightened conversation drift by Tsunagi’s desk the next morning as the classroom fills up.

“Damn, and I thought that false alarm at lunch was scary…”

“-was technically off campus, right? They couldn’t get in here… right?”

“They should beef up security or something! That just ain’t right-”

Tsunagi drums her pencil against the desk. Tk-tk-tk. As Class President, there should be something she can do to put everyone at ease, but the situation feels so much bigger than she can handle. It doesn’t help that her own stomach is turning and flipping just remembering those mugshots.

If you see these men, contact your local Heroes as soon as possible… Yeah, no, she’d rather never see another Villain in person in her lifetime, thanks.

“…We should do the buddy system.” She’s just thinking out loud, but her VP glances over at her with interest.

“Buddy system? Isn’t that a little kiddish?” Agito inquires. He doesn’t sound entirely dismissive about it though. Tsunagi points her eraserhead at him.

“They teach it to us as kids because it’s important! If something happens to one of you, there’s still someone else to go get help. It just makes sense.”

“When you put it like that, I guess you’re right…”

Tsunagi nods with satisfaction. “That settles it then. I’ll make an announcement during homeroom. Everyone needs to find a buddy to walk home with from now on. That includes you, too, Mr. Lone Wolf!”

“Pass.”

“You don’t get to pass! This is a Presidential decree!”

“You’re only Class President,” Shinsou points out coolly. “Off campus, you can’t really control what anyone does.”

Well, of course she can’t, but he didn’t have to be so obstinate about it. She puts on her most serious face. “This isn’t a drill, you know. A real Villain attack happened, not a practice exercise. Even Pro Heroes can’t be everywhere at once. If you ever wanted to be a Hero, you should recognize that we all have to do our part to keep each other safe.”

Shinsou goes quiet after that. Tsunagi leaves him to his thoughts and works on hashing out a quick speech with Agito before homeroom starts. She can only lead a horse to water, not make him drink it. Whatever decision he comes to, he’ll have to get there on his own.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The UA Sports Festival is absolutely legendary. It’s hard to believe this is only the turnout for the first years- the stadium is enormous and yet every seat is filled. Tsunagi’s only ever watched it on TV. She never expected to be on the other side of the screen.

Present Mic’s voice was loud enough to rattle her teeth even inside the entry tunnel, but when the Gen Ed students start filing out his enthusiasm dies down considerably. It’s still boisterous, sure, but there’s no pizzaz in the way he lists off rotely, “And following Class B, here come Classes C, D, and E from the department of General Education!”

“Man, they’re treating us like we’re just their foils or something,” Agito complains, not bothering to quiet his displeasure whatsoever. Tsunagi is inclined to agree.

“What a load of…” She swears under her breath. Just because their class wasn’t attacked by Villains doesn’t mean they’re not trying their hardest like everyone else in the Hero Course. She’s seen her peers practicing together in their free time, working out the kinks in their Quirks in the gym, discussing Hero names over lunch-

It just doesn’t feel right to let their efforts get lowkey dismissed like this!

Tsunagi turns to walk backwards, facing the rest of Class C head-on. She claps her hands over her head. “Alright, alright! Everyone, do your best out there! Fight on!” When she turns back around, she catches Shinsou’s eye and winks at him carelessly. “That’s also a Presidential Decree.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

So, Tsunagi didn’t place in the obstacle race, but come on! An empathy Quirk doesn’t really come in handy against ice and robots and tightrope walking. Honestly, it would have taken a miracle to even make it to the finish line.

And yet Shinsou did- within the cutoff even. She’s not quite sure how he did it. It kind of looked like he got some randos to help him?

…That kind of smarts. If he had a team plan to pass, why not get his own class to help?

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“Midoriya! The match just started… and he’s completely frozen?! He’s got a blank look on his face and isn’t moving a muscle!”

Midoriya isn’t only one. The entirety of Class C is stock still in their seats, eyes wide and mouths gaping in shock.

“…Is that…?” Agito turns towards Tsunagi slowly. She looks back at him with a blooming grin, “His Quirk!“ 

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Tsunagi really isn’t sure what’s happening. One minute Shinsou’s opponent was walking out of bounds, a sure win- then there was suddenly an explosion? And now Shinsou is grappling with a member of the Hero Course. It’s all happening so quickly, she’s on the edge of her seat, heart leaping up into her throat as her classmate is suddenly bodily heaved into the air.

"No!” She can’t help but cry out, even though it’s already too late. He hits the ground before she can even take her next breath and she flinches. “No…” It doesn’t feel fair. He came so far!

“Damn, he got got.” Agito sighs from beside her, slumping back into his seat heavily. It’s right then that she realizes her tunnel vision, her awareness of her surroundings slowly returning to her. It’s strange… She’s grown so used to other people’s ambient emotions vying for her attention constantly, it’s not often that she finds herself so completely caught up in a moment that all she can do herself is feel.

Despite Shinsou’s loss, their entire seating section is lit up with pinpricks of bright, sparkling emotions, a bittersweet ocean of disappointment mingled with awe, of so close yet so far! It’s like being surrounded by a sky of stars, shimmering on the edges of her vision, but she still can’t tear her eyes away from Shinsou.

Shinsou, who refused to tell anyone his Quirk. Shinsou, who was surprised that anyone would even talk to him at all. Shinsou, who fought tooth and nail to make it to the final tournament. His wile and determination is absolutely insane, but his heart is so fragile. He’s just a speck of doom and gloom down on the field and she can’t help but remember the first day they met, how deeply his dejection rooted itself in his soul.

Well, that just won’t do.

Tsunagi rushes out of her seat to lean up against the railing. A stampede of footsteps follow in her wake.

“You were so cool, Shinsou!!” She waves her arm to catch his attention, smile broadening when their eyes meet across the distance. He looks surprised to see them all lined up above the exit gate for some reason. She doesn’t let that deter her and gives him her super special double thumbs up. “Nice job!”

Almost as if her words were the opening to a dam, more praise comes rushing in from their gathered classmates. Everyone is calling out as loud as they can so that Shinsou can hear them over the clamoring audience.

“We were on the edges of our seats, dude! For real!”

“You’re like the star of hope for all us Gen Ed kids!”

“You gave the kid who placed in the top 3 from the obstacle race a real run for his money!”

Tsunagi can’t quite pin down the aura Shinsou is giving off right now. Something bright and delicate… a wavering light that shimmers over the vulnerable look on his face like he’s underwater. For such an aloof boy, he looks overwhelmed now, but in a good way.

“Can you hear them, Shinsou-kun?” Her heart feels heavy and full in her chest. She’s just so damn proud of him. She wants him to be proud of himself, too. “You’re amazing!”

She’ll grind that into his fluffy head until it finally sticks, as many times as it takes.

[robmanion]

all the things that could’ve been

For context, there’s a theory roaming around that the hivemind could travel through time and change events before they happened. here’s my idea of how that could have went. Mentions of kissing, so if you aren’t comfortable with that, don’t read or skip that part. Also mention of a panic attack. That’s the most graphic it’ll get. 

I recommend listing to “if i’m being honest” by dodie for the first half of the story and “shrike” by hozier for the second half of this for the full experience. 

                                                     ______

      It had been about four years or so since Paul had taken that new job Mr. Davidson had offered. Well, it would have been four years. But Paul remembers those years so vividly, it came as a surprise when he woke up one morning and everything was different. 

      The year prior had been the worse one he had ever experienced. One mental breakdown over job layoffs, a car crash, and his mother’s funeral led to a mental hospital and caffeine addiction. He didn’t want to sleep (the nightmares were to real), so he drank to stay awake. He’d stay awake, and he’d feel more worn out, so he’d drink more to stay up. The caffeine crash happened, and he needed more to stay away from dreams- the cycle kept going until he collapsed on the subway. Next thing he knew, he had an IV in his arm recovering from extreme sleep deprivation. Of course, once he was out of the ER, his father drove him to the mental unit. He didn’t want to go, but Paul understood why- he needed help. Badly. So, if the next two months had to be spent in a bland white-walled prison, so be it. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, most of the people he met were so sweet and gentle. The only thing that really scared him was the amount of minors in the ward. Those poor children. 

      Once he’d been released, he started to take better care of himself. Got a therapist, moved to a different part of Hatchetfeild, looked for a new job. His old math tutor, Mr. Davidson, offered him a job to help Paul get back on his feet. All he asked for in return was a monthly meeting to check up on his mental health. Seemingly fair enough, so Paul accepted. 

      Paul tried his best to deal with other parts of his life. He’d even tried dating again- something he hadn’t done since high school prom. He’d always felt horrible about himself, about his face, his hair, his body, just a whole mess really. But he needed to get out there sooner or later, right? He started with a girl named Mary (sweet lady, just a bit too narcissistic), but by the god-knows-what-number date, he’d just given up altogether. He liked most of the women, he even flirted with some! But he just couldn’t get over the fact that a month ago he was in a mental hospital. It shouldn’t define him, but it just seemed to loom over everything he did. The only good thing about that place besides the kids were the routines. So, he spoke to his therapist about it, and she said that having a constant thing in life would be extremely helpful. While he was still addicted to caffeine, he felt that he could try and ease his way off it. So, coffee shop it was. 

      He had started off with Starbucks.First, it was an espresso. Next, a simple iced coffee. Then he moved to Iced coffee with creamer. Than to hot coffee.  Than a simple black coffee. Soon, he would be off coffee and down to the weird cappuccino things. 

      He was driving to Starbucks to get his morning coffee when he noticed a sign. Beanie’s. Huh, He’d never heard or seen the place before- must’ve been new. He pulled into their lot, parked, and walked in. He was hit with the smell of muffins and coffee beans. Only, it smelled slightly worse than Starbucks. But honestly, who was he to judge? He walked up to the counter, ready to order. A woman peered from outside a room, and yelled. 

      “EMMA! Costumer!” 

      Paul felt bad. God, if this ‘Emma’ girl was going to get yelled at, maybe he’d go back to Starbucks. Of course, that idea was thrown out the window when he saw her. 

      Paul wasn’t big on beauty. He could appreciate someone’s attractiveness, but he never really seemed to fall for anyone based on that. He had to know them, you know? But when Emma walked out, god he felt his cheeks heat up. She wasn’t supermodel pretty, but she was still breath-taking nonetheless. Sure, her hair was in a messy bun (that wasn’t done to be stylish, if he may have added), bags under her eyes, and looking like she wanted to punch a guy, but she was beautiful. 

      “Welcome to Beanie’s, what can I get you?” Emma asked. Gosh, her voice. Like velvet. Sad, tired velvet, but velvet. 

      “Uh, one black coffee, please,”

                                                ____________

      Paul would be lying if he said that he put up with Beanie’s mediocre coffee for Emma. But what can he say? She was one of the first purely good things to happen to him in a while. Sure, she never recognized him and he always talked super quietly and watched from afar, but it was enough for him. He told his therapist about her, and she said to just ask if she wanted to maybe hang out sometime. Of course, that was insane. He’d have to talk to her about things other than his coffee, and he just wasn’t ready for that. But it had been almost two months, and if Paul didn’t do something now, when would he? 

      So, that faithful day came. He walked into Beanie’s on morning, and paced to the counter. Look normal, Paul. This doesn’t have to be weird. 

      “Welcome to Beanie’s, can I help you?”

       “One black coffee,” He smiled. God he hoped he didn’t look as awkward as he felt. While she made the coffee, he noticed a small tip jar in the corner. He placed a $5 into it; Emma must’ve had superhuman hearing, because she groaned. 

      “Okay, okay! I’ve been brewing up your coffee-” 

      Paul stopped her from singing as soon as the first note hit. She may be attractive, but her singing voice was far from it. “No, no, it’s okay,”

      “Oh, thank you! You know, Nora came back from Coldstone Creamery last weekend and took up the whole singing thing. It’s annoying as hell,” 

      “Sounds like it,” Paul gave a breathy laugh. 

      “I’ve seen you around before, what’s your name?” 

      “Paul,” He extended his hand for a shake. 

      “I’m Emma-” she finishes her sentence while handing Paul his coffee. “-but I’m sure you know that by Nora’s yelling,” 

      At this point, Paul was 100% positive he had a crush on Emma. Okay, crush sounded childish. He had a thing...a fascination...no, no, it was a crush. And god damn it felt nice. To have something positive in his life after so long. 

      “Would you want to get lunch with me sometime?” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could think. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. But to his luck, Emma smiled. 

      “Yeah, actually, but it has to be dinner- my lunch break is only 30 minutes. What about next Friday, 7?” 

      A costumer behind Paul started to curse him out- Paul had forgotten other people existed. Oops. “Yeah, that works. See you then,” 

      “See you then,” 

      When Paul got home that evening, he was ecstatic. He had a date! Maybe it would even be a good one! But he didn’t want to get his hopes up- she looked excited when he asked, but she could be doing it out of pity. After all, he did stare helplessly at her. And if she knew he was there a lot, than maybe she hoped going out with him would just get rid of him. No, stop it, he told himself. If she didn’t want to go out with him, she would’ve said no. He’d just go on the date and see what happens.

     The next morning as he drove to Beanie’s, it occurred to him that he didn’t know where to pick her up. Or how. God, he was stupid. She was probably already on shift, so he decided on asking the moment he got into the shop.

      Of course, this had to be the day Emma was off shift. It was Wednesday, so she was off until 2pm. Of course. Paul sighed as he walked into the coffee shop. The last thing he expected was to bump into the one and only while she walked out.

      “Sorry, I- oh hey! You’re Paul, right?”

      It took a second for Paul to get his footing and voice back, but he smiled awkwardly. “Hey, Emma. Yeah it’s me. I’m actually really glad I ran into you, I have a question,” He and Emma walked over to the ordering counter.

      Finger guns. “Knock yourself out,”

      Paul chuckled before replying. “Can I get your number? I just want to know where to pick you up Friday,” a barista coughed, and he looked over. “One black coffee,”

“Yeah, of course! Here, lemme just-“ she snatched Paul’s phone right out of his hands, and put in her number. “There you go! I’ll send you a photo you can use for my picture so you know it’s me,”

      “Okay. Okay, uh, cool,” He smiled. The barista handed him his coffee, and he put a 10 on the table. “Keep the change,” he looked back at Emma. “Now, I’m going to go to my job,”

      “Why don’t you go over to Starbucks, huh? Coffee here’s shit,”

      Paul looked around the shop, and smiled. It just reminded him of her. “Because, some things are worth it. Like-“ he took a sip of the cup.”-Damn good coffee. And you,”

      She blushed. She fucking blushed. God she was adorable. “Well, thank you,”

                                              _____________

      So came Friday night, and Paul was getting anxious. Emma had said to meet him outside of Beanie’s (’I’m working until 5 Friday’, she said), but it had been then thirty minutes and there was no sign of her. It’s not like he was hiding or anything- he was sitting in his car, smack in front of Beanie’s doors, clear as day. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she blew him off. No, Emma was a nice person, she wouldn’t do that. Would she? But, just as Paul was starting to have a freak out, Emma pushed open the front doors and looked around. Thank god. She saw Paul and waved, walking to his car; he rolled down a window. 

      “I was starting to think you’d ditched me,” He laughed. 

      “Me, leaving you? Never,” She laughed back and got into the passenger seat. “So, where to, posh boy?” 

      “Posh boy?”

      “I dunno, you just look posh,” 

      Paul looked at himself; he was just wearing a nice polo and jeans. It’s not like he was wearing a suit or anything. “Oh, well thank you. You’re looking nice yourself,” That was true- she was wearing a nice pair of jeans with a blouse. 

      “Why thank you,” She imitated a British accent and failed horribly. 

      “You’re welcome, m’dam,” Paul replied with an equally bad accent. She giggled. “We’re just heading to a Mexican place. You like Mexican, right?” He returned to his normal voice. 

      “Of course! Who doesn’t?”

      “Alright, let’s go then!” 

      The ride to the restaurant was much more scenic than Paul expected. The highway was way to backed up to even move, so Emma suggested they take a back route. Paul didn’t know the way, so they ended up switching spots. Emma typed in the restaurant's name into the GPS, and off they went. Paul looked out the passenger window to find they were driving next to an apple orchard- god was it pretty. The budding flowers and ripe looking apples that hung from the trees made Paul practically taste the apples in his mouth, The smell of apple cider in the distance made him swoon. If there was one thing that could always remind him of childhood, it was the smell of apple cider- how his grandmother used to pick him up from school in the fall and make him apple pie and apple cider, and feed it to hi until he was stuffed. Those were the days. 

      “What are you smilin’ so hard about?” Emma asked. 

      “Nothing really, just it smells amazing,”

      “Alright,” He could feel her gaze on his face every now and again for the rest of the ride.

       Once they arrived back at the restaurant, Emma pulled into the parking lot, and jumped out of the car. Paul soon followed, and when they both got the doors of the restaurant, Emma smirked and opened the door for Paul. “Ladies first,” 

      “Very funny,” Paul said sarcastically, but smiled. 

      The restaurant wasn’t fancy, but it was on of those places that you probably shouldn’t wear a t-shirt to. The lighting was dim enough to eat in but still feel like you were eating at some five-star place. The food smelled amazing as they both walked past the kitchen, following the host to their table. They sat down, and took a good look at their menus before Emma cleared her throat to speak up. “You know, I saw you staring at me the past two months,” 

      Paul was taken aback. Shit. “What?” 

      “Yeah, you kept staring at me. You’d stay in Beanie’s and drink your coffee. It’s not hard to tell when someone's eyeballing you, just so you know.” She saw Paul’s face, and laughed. He must’ve looked stupid. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. I mean, I found it creepy at first, but you were always so flustered when you ordered, so I knew it wasn’t like you were stalking me,” 

      Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t think you’d even notice me,” 

      “With a face like yours? It’s hard not to!” She gave a breathy laugh before continuing. “But then you asked me out and honestly, I was super exited. You seemed...sweet.” 

      “Well? Am I what you expected?” 

      “No,” Paul was about to frown, but then he smiled. “You’re so much more,” 

      The food was fantastic. Emma had gotten the chicken taquitos, and Paul ordered the beef tacos. Safe to say, it took a while to make, but they passed the time by staking the salt and pepper shakers from the tables around them (Paul noted later that taking them while people were eating wasn’t the best idea, but honestly it was so much fun that he didn’t care). Then their food came, and they laughed because they had so many shakers. Eventually they put them back. While they ate, they talked about family, their jobs, and then their pasts eventually came into the discussion.

      “So, what’s your trauma?” Emma asked after a mouthful of taquito. 

      “Hm?” 

      “Come on, we’ve all got something. Spill,” 

      God, was she ready for that so quickly? Was he even ready for that? He’d never told anyone at the office (minus Bill, but Bill was his best friend) about his past, so how was he to tell a woman he doesn’t even know? “Uh, I just went through a rough patch,” 

      Emma seemed to catch on that he didn’t want to talk about, and didn’t push. “Ah- I get that.” It sounded like she wanted to say something, but she stopped herself. She probably realized it was a bit early for trauma talk. Thank god. 

      By the time they’d finished eating, the sun was just about done setting. Paul drove her home this time, and the winding back roads and stoplight gave him time to think. He was starting to fall for Emma. He knew his heart was moving too fast, that it was all too much, but he didn’t care. She was everything he’d ever wanted and more. He couldn’t risk loosing her. Paul looked over at her- her head leaning against the glass, eyes closed, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. She really looked like an angel. Paul didn’t believe in God all that much- he’d grown up in church, but he never believed God made time for everyone. Now, he was starting to believe it. 

      When the GPS told him he’d arrived at Emma’s place, he parked and shook her gently. “Emma, we’re here,” 

      She groaned. “Okay, okay,” She opened her eyes. “I wasn’t sleeping, but god I wish I was,”

      Paul pretended to be offended. “ Am I that boring?” 

      She gave a small laugh. Paul got out of the car, and opened her door for her. She gave a thank you. “You can come up with me for a bit, if you want.” Was Paul going to say no? Of course not. He followed her up the complex until they reached her floor. She dug the front door’s key from her pocket, and unlocked it. The place was nice for an apartment. A small couch, with a tall lamp in the corner. The kitchen was decent enough, and it looked like it had been recently cleaned. The smell of lavender took over his senses, and he exhaled sharply. “Come ‘ere,” Emma motioned with her hand, to which Paul followed- he hadn’t realized she’d starting walking ahead of him. He followed her into her bedroom. It was a nice light shade of gray with a purple accent wall. Quilts everywhere, her bed looked more like a giant pillow than a mattress with a headboard. A small table that acted as a dresser sat in the corner, along with a small bookshelf. While he was looking around the room, Emma had put on a record because of course she had a record player on her nightstand. He recognized the artist- Hozier. His voice acted as an anchor to the real world when Emma walked up to Paul and kissed him. 

      The kiss was soft- not to hard, more like she was testing the waters. Her lips tasted like coconut. Must’ve been chap-stick; or who knows, maybe she really just tasted that sweet. He’d been so lost in her, he didn’t notice he was kissing back. He didn’t notice his arms wrapping around her waist, her hands in his short hair. He didn’t notice that she turned them around, and that they were moving backward. It wasn’t until his back hit her bed, with her kissing him more deeply on top of him did he snap out of his trance. He didn’t want this. Well, he did, but not this quick. Not on the first date. He felt like.. he didn’t know why, but it just didn’t feel right. 

      “Emma?” He whispered, doing his best to pull away from the kiss. 

      “Yeah?” She asked, her voice breathy. Paul looked away; he felt so fucking stupid. He’s a guy- he’s supposed to want to fuck her on the first date. But he didn’t want to fuck her- not yet. And that seemed like such a degrading term- fucking someone. He wanted to love her, make her feel like she was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. But not yet. Not this early. His thoughts must’ve been planting themselves on his face, because she pulled back. “Paul, what’s wrong?” Her voice sounded like honey, and Paul hated to do this to her. 

      “I’m...I’m not ready. I do want to, you know..just, not now,” He did his best to explain. She nodded. 

      “Of course. i don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to. Do you just want to lay here? We can keep going without the sex, if that’s what you want,” 

      Paul wondered how he managed to find a woman like Emma. “Yeah, that’s fine,” 

      They curled up together on Emma’s bed, sharing a couple of kisses her and there until they both fell asleep to the distant sounds of traffic and Hozier. 

      The next morning, Paul woke up to the sunlight hitting his face. He didn’t even want to open his eyes at first- the sun and the warmth wrapped around him made him feel like a cat. A lazy cat that didn’t want to move, even though the day had started long beforehand; even though the cat knew it needed to eat, that it needed to get some fresh air, it wouldn’t move for the world, as it was right where it needed to be- Paul was just like that cat. But, he couldn’t get his way, could he? He opened his eyes, and smiled. He was in Emma’s room. She was tangled up with him; their legs intertwined, her head leaning on his chest, his head leaning on top of hers. She looked at peace. 

      Paul’s back pocket started to buzz, and Paul gave a quiet groan. God, he couldn’t get one morning of silence, could he? He gently moved one of his hands off of Emma’s back. and slowly reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Mr. Davidson, it read. He picked up. 

      “Hello?” He whispered. 

      There was chatter behind Mr. Davidson’s voice. Was he at the office? No, it was Saturday- he was probably at Starbucks or something. “Paul, where are you? You missed our monthly meeting,” 

      Fuck. “What time is it?” 

      “About 11,” 

      “I’m so sorry, sir. I, um..I had a date, and-”

      Paul could practically see the smile on Mr. Davidson’s face. “No worries, Paul. And you don’t need to call me sir, remember? You know me. I’ll move the meeting until Monday,” 

      “Than you, Nathan,” 

      “Paul, I’m glad you’re back on your feet. You deserve it after the year you’ve had,” 

      “Thanks,” Paul bid a quick goodbye, and ended the call. By the time he’d turned his phone off, Emma was starting to stir. 

      “Morning,” She muttered. Her hair was a mess, and it was so adorable. 

      “Good morning,” 

      This is perfect, she’s perfect, Paul thought. I’m going to marry her. 

                                            _______________

      It had been three and a half years, and Paul had never been more happy. He and Emma had been in a relationship since the first date. Emma had moved into Paul’s larger apartment. They got a cat together, and then things settled down. Paul had gotten to know everyone at the office to be one first name basis with everyone. He, Ted, and Bill went out of guys night every month. Emma kept up her job at Beanie’s while she got through community college. She given Paul her pot farm proposal, and Paul laughed. When he found out she wasn’t kidding, he helped her get a medical marijuana selling license. They worked on logos together, and honestly Paul did his best to support Emma no matter what. 

      Not that their relationship was perfect. When Paul’s department faced possible layoffs, it sent him into a frenzy. He couldn’t be unemployed again, living like that was hell. When Mr. Davidson called Paul into his office, Paul snapped. He started having a horrible panic attack, and the office ended up calling for an ambulance in fear of his safety. Emma, of course, was Paul’s emergency contact (along with his father), and they both ended up at the office in under a half an hour. They both talked while the first respondents calmed Paul down- Emma and his father weren’t allowed near him while he was still on edge. To this day, Paul regrets that was the way Emma met his dad. After that whole ordeal, Emma made him talk about his past. She said she needed to know, because if she needed to help on moments notice, it was important to know those things. So, Paul told her about how when they’d gone on their first date, he’d been out of a mental hospital for two months. How he’d had a mental breakdown when he lost his first job, and even thought about suicide at one point. He explained that’s why he freaked out when Mr. Davidson called him into his office. Emma understood completely- she told him about her sister’s death, and how her parents never really talked to her that much after the death, because in their grief-stricken state, they blamed her for her sister’s death. That night, both of them cried, holding one another until they wore themselves out to sleep. 

      But through all their ups and downs, they never lost sight of what they loved about each other. And now that three and a half years had past, Paul knew. He wanted to marry Emma Perkins. He wanted to share her last name, or for her to have his. He wanted to be with her until he died. They both already wanted this- marriage would just make it official to everyone else. 

      “I’m going to propose to Emma,” Paul blurted at Guy’s Night. 

      “What?” Bill asked. 

      “About time,” Ted scoffed. 

      “I have a ring picked out and everything. i just don’t know when,” 

      “You know, I proposed to Vanessa when we were having sex,” Bill commented awkwardly. “But she said yes,”

      “Look where that got you,” Ted pointed out. 

      “Not what I meant, Ted,” Bill shot back. “Look, Paul, all I’m saying is whenever feels like the best time, even if it’s weird, go for it,” 

      “Just not during sex, that’s just stupid,” Ted laughed. Bill glared at him, and Ted nudged him. “All in good tidings, Bill,” 

      “Thanks guys,” Paul smiled.

      Turns out, the right time was on a Saturday night, while they watched Dateline on their couch. She was wearing his sweater, and the cat was on her lap, and she was so perfect. Paul couldn’t think of a better time to ask the woman he loved to marry him. 

      “Emma?” 

      “Yeah, Paul?”

      Here goes nothing, he thought. “Em, I love you. And honestly, you supported me at my best, and helped me up through my worst; and I like to think I’ve done the same for you. You helped me become the man I am today, and..and everything you do reminds me every day why I’m so thankful God led me to you,” 

      “Paul, what are you doing?” Emma asked. She gasped when he got up from the couch and onto once knee. 

      “This is a little bit awkward because I don’t have the ring with me,” Paul laughed, “But Emma Lauren Perkins, would you marry me?” 

      Emma put her hands over her mouth, and started to laugh. She let go, and she was smiling so wide. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes!” She jumped of the couch (the cat hissing and running away) and into Paul’s arms. “Of course!” 

      Paul kissed her, and she kissed back. They were getting married. 

                                           _______________

      Paul’s been waiting for three and a half years for this day, but even in his dreams did he picture hoe beautiful Emma would be walking down the aisle. 

      They couldn’t afford much- they worked minimal wage jobs, and even with help from Paul’s father, they couldn’t afford a big venue. So, they decided on a small reception on the beach in Rhode Island. The boat ride and drive from Hatchetfeild to the beach was about 2 hours. Once they got there, they unpacked their stuff at the hotel room. They didn’t plan on having much of a honeymoon, just at the same beach they were to marry in for a week or so. But that was enough for them. 

      When the day finally came, Paul was a bubble of nerves. The wedding would take place in a small park, with the first dance and after party actually being on the beach (no one wanted to see Emma trip on her face because of sand on their wedding day (as funny has Paul and Emma seemed to think it would be, they decided against it). 

      So, there stood Paul, waiting at the end of the aisle. Emma’s friends and relatives on one side, Paul’s father and coworkers on the other. Bill offered to marry them, since Emma was atheist and priests were fucking expensive. The bridesmaids and Paul’s mates walked hand in hand down the aisle. Mr. Davidson and his wife walked down next, and Nathan winked at Paul as he passed. Finally, Paul saw Emma walk down the aisle with his father, and he lost his breath. The white dress complimented the rose flower crown that she and him were proud to say she made herself, and with her hair in a loose bun, she looked more like an angel than he’d ever seen her. When she got to the from of the alter, Paul nearly broke tradition and kissed her right then and there- but he had to hold back. The both smiled at each other while Bill went through the motions. 

      “Paul Matthews, you may now recite your vows,” Bill said. 

      Paul took a deep breath. “Can I just say how nervous I am?” The crowd laughed. “No, really!” He looked over at her. “Emma, when i met you, i was a mess. I didn’t think I was going to get better, that nothing in life mattered You came to me at the hardest point in my life, and you embraced it. You were always so gentle and patient with me, and that really meant the world to me. When I met you, the world just got so much brighter. The smells, the brightness, the colors, everything just just better. And times got hard for us, but I’m so thankful that you stuck through it all. You mean the world to me. I love you so much,” 

      Emma laughed an wiped away a couple of tears as Bill spoke up again. “Emma Perkins, you may recite you vows,” 

      “God damn, Paul, you’re a sap,” She muttered, laughing again. “Paul, I didn’t think I was worthy of love before I met you. I used to think that I’d always have to change myself for love, because that’s all I grew up knowing what love was. And frankly, I didn’t want that. The you stumbled into my life, and I realized I didn’t have to change a thing to love someone wholeheartedly. You taught me to love myself, and I hope I’ve done the same for you. Paul, I love you more than words can describe, and I hope you’ll be right there next to me for whatever the hell life wants to throw at us,” 

      “Paul and Emma Matthews, by the power rested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” 

      Emma beat Paul do it, dipping him and kissing like there was no tomorrow. 

      The rest of the reception was on the beach, and everyone had a wonderful time. Emma and Paul’s first dance was to Hozier’s Shrike, in honor of their first date. After that, a playlist of random 80s music and rave music blasted from the speakers, and everyone jumped and danced like there was no tomorrow. Even Emma’s biology teacher, Dr. Hidgens, was dancing. It went on for another three hours of so, until midnight hit, and everyone bid goodbye to the wedding. Now, all that was left was leftover cake, Emma and Paul, and the crashing waves. 

      “Emma Mathews?” Paul asked as he sat next to her. 

      “Yes, Paul Matthews?” 

      “Can we just fall asleep here? I want to remember this moment,” 

      “Of course,” Emma smiled, and they both laid down. Emma head on Paul chest, Paul holding Emma’s hand. “I love you, Em,” 

      “I love you too,” 

      They both drifted off to the sound of the waves and seagull cries. 

                                               ____________ 

      Beep, beep, beep. 

      The alarm clock woke Paul up. Which was strange, because unless he suddenly remembered to set an alarm, his alarm clock shouldn’t be ringing. He rolled himself out of bed, looking out the window. That was a hell of a storm last night- the power transformer almost blew out. Thank god he still had running water, because he hadn’t showered all weekend (not getting out of bed does that to a person). He walked over to the bathroom, and doused some water on his face. that’s when he noticed the ring. It was a wedding ring. The hell, Paul thought. He’d not married, he doesn’t even have a girlfriend. He took it off, and threw it into the trashcan. 

      He could hear his next door neighbor singing in the shower. He never sang. Odd. Who knows, maybe it was a good day for him- for what it was worth, Paul thought his voice was lovely. He turned on the radio to listen to while he made some toast. Today is March 24, 2018, Donna said. 

      Paul had a pang of deja vu. He felt like he was supposed to do something important today. He looked around his room, then shrugged. Everything seemed normal. Expect the wedding ring. After a moment of thought, he brushed the thought of. He was drunk last night, maybe he just got married it Bill by mistake.

Paul finished up his morning routine, and locked his apartment up. Maybe he’d stop but Beanie’s again- there was a cute barista there, and who knows, maybe he would ask her out.

[esseastri]

Megan Reads Oathbringer (part 3)

Didn’t even stop for food; that part was just getting so long.

Part Three encompasses pages 144-240 (previous parts)

I promise I’m not going to stop each liveblog part every time I get to a Shallan chapter. I promise. 

OH MY GOSH I’M LAUGHING SO HARD I CAN’t BREATHE

SHALLAN ASSUMING THE KNOCK ON HER DOOR IS PALONA NAD ADOLIN WALKS IN

1. ADOLIN BROUGHT HER DINNER WHAT A SWEETIE

2. SHE’S IN HER FRIKKIN NIGHTGOWN

3. HE ALMOS DROPS HER DINNER BECAUSE OH NO HER SAFEHAND

I’M DYING THIS IS FRIKKIN HILARIOUS I LOVE ADOLIN SO MUCH I LOVE ADOLIN AND SHALLAN TOGETHER THIS IS TOO FUNNY

“In my defense, you did invite me in!” SHOUTING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A GRINNING FOOL I LOVE THEM??

“Back of your left thigh, eh? What’s a girl gotta do to sneak a glimpse of that?” SAYS THE WOMAN WHO JUST FREAKED OUT AND WRAPPED HER SAFEHAND IN THREE LAYERS OF CLOTH WHILE BLUSHING FURIOUSLY TWO SECONDS AGO OMG THESE NERDS

He’s so genuine in how much he likes her. hello, fronds, I LOVE THEM

“Your ego doesn’t count as a separate individual, Shallan.” GOD BLESS

Pattern + math jokes = Good

The fact that both Pattern and Syl have been “studying” um...mating. is REALLY HILARIOUS

otp: NO MATING

THAT’S THE CUTEST KISS EVER I’M GIGGLING THIS IS DELIGHTFUL

Did you guys know that Kaladin is A Good?

what a good.

also, I’m worried about the parshmen. That’s not stormform--I’m assuming workform or nimbleform??--so...the storm gave them the ability to change forms again, I’m guessing? But they don’t know what to do with them. And it didn’t force them into stormform, which is why they didn’t attack, but...what does this mean?

Adolin!!! you nerd!!! he’s so excited about training her to fight!! omg “I brought the Blade guards, lemme go grab them RIGHT NOW” THIS NERD

“I can die. They will send you another to bond.” BBY NOOOOOOOO

Someone hug Pattern, please

Also hug Shallan?? maybe? girl, panic attacks SUCK I know how you feel, just breathe, babe, just breathe...

girl really needs to Deal with some shit. Get her a therapist, someone

Adolin is a good and patient boy who is genuine and wonderful, and I love him.

...whoops, I totally forgot about the Honorblade. heh

The fact that Dalinar is hiding the honorblade in the sewer pipes is delightful to me.

I miss Bridge Four.

Though this new guy from Bridge Thirteen seems chill. and funny.

except I don’t trust him? do we know him? are we sure he is who he says he is?

I’m concern

Dalinar stripping to his waist to wrestle people is hilarious to me?

OH. I didn’t realize the Thrill was an Alethi-only thing. huh. that’s still...it’s still bad, but idk if it’s worse that it’s only Alethi or better that it’s not spread to everyone.

they use terms of endearment and the term of endearment is gemheart I’m dying that’s too adorable

that was...a very interesting conversation about tradition and religion and how the two tie together. I’m particularly interested in the idea that “just because it’s tradition doesn’t mean it’s worthy; just because it’s old doesn’t mean it’s right.” I feel like there are a lot of real-world applications to that sentiment that could do with exploring...

ooohhhhhh snap OOHHHHHHH DALINAR USING STORMLIGHT THE FIRST TIME OOOOHHH

oh, Adhesion, of course. I’m genuinely curious to see what his other one does. Tension, isn’t it? How does that work hmmmmmmmmm gimme magic system answers aahh

AAAHH WHAT

EVI

WHAT

HE REMEMBERS!!!!

is it ‘cause the Stormlight “healed” his memories? Stormlight magic cancels out other magic--Nightwatcher magiOH OH MY GOD THAT’S WHY LIFT IS AGING ISN’T IT? SHE ASKED THE NIGHTWATCHER TO NOT GET OLDER BUT THE STORMLIGHT MAYBE ERASED THAT MAGIC?? MAYBE?? I FEEL LIKE THIS IS A THEORY THAT IS HIGHLY PLAUSIBLE SO I’M STICKING WITH IT.

gaahh parshendi kiddos aahh no they’re cute this is A Lot

nnnnnnnnngggggg Kaladin thinking about his escape attempts aaaaAAAAAHHHHH

“That had been his most successful escape attempt. It had lasted five days.” AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH I’m

He’s so. strong. He’s come so far. He suffered so much I just. AAAHHH

aahh, Kaladin’s first instinct when Syl is ignoring him is “oh god, I messed up something’s wrong with the bond” and that momentary panic is SO MUCH HE’S SO MUCH I’M

....parshman radiant? or?

but it’s yellow

so how is it Voidspren? unless the black sphere isn’t voidspren...

...........Odium’s champion is golden. maybe.

hm.

HHHMMM.

KALADIN IS SO GOOD

HE’S SUCH A GOOD

Mmmmmmmmmm Shallan attempting to do alcohol is. really second-hand embarrassment-y.

I’m very uncomfortable.

someone stop her

I feel like Shallan keeps rolling 2s on her Investigation checks, but then 18s on her Charisma checks to back it up. She’s the worst at this, but she’s convincing anyway.

Also, I looooove that Stormlight clears up alcohol, it’s the best.

EW SHALLAN WTF

WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

AAHH WHAT THE. GAAAHH YOU CAN HEAL YOUR HAND BUT HE CAN’T HEAL HIS UGH OH GOD WHY

okay

welp. good to know that everyone is scared of the Ghostbloods....

also maybe she shouldn’t just be spreading that association around quite so freely....

mmmm okay wth. what is the copycat murderer. some kind of illusionist, if they can pretend to be someone else so fully that even the ring impression is there....hmmmmm......

ALSO I FORGOT BUT A LIL BIT AGO, Shallan said something about not ever being able to actually fake being these people until she’d lived their lives or lived among them or smthn, and part of me is like AH GOOD SHE IS LEARNING and part of me is like “congrats on the stunning realization that darkeyes are people too” *rolls eyes*

But no, seriously, I’m glad she’s realizing these things, and at least beginning to understand that she’s coming from a place of hardcore privilege and is starting to understand what that means for her.

God, the fact that Ialai and Sadeas used to ply their political prowess and manipulation powers to get people to fight Dalinar so they could eliminate people without the use of assassins is just like....yeah, OF COURSE the betrayal in Way of Kings went down like it did. That was CLASSIC, that was something they’d probably talked about doing to other people back when they were all friends. That’s exactly the sort of scheme that Sadeas would probably have encouraged Gavilar to pull on any of the highprinces who were refusing to fall in line. And it’s just so...frustrating that Dalinar never, ever thought that those machinations could have fallen on him and his. It’s right there, right there, all along--Sadeas is the crafty one. And Dalinar trusted him anyway, and I’m. Upset.

I’m really glad that we don’t have to worry about him in the present day, but also like. We haven’t heard from Ialai at all this book. Wth is she planning.

Dalinar “Just Wandering Through a Highstorm Looking for My Lost Knife” Kholin really, really needs to chill.

“brought him to life like nothing else but battle” tbh that’s...weirdly romantic. In a creepy punk!Dalinar kind of way.

Listen, the pining for Navani here just makes the ridiculously long delays honor!Dalinar imposed on himself so ridiculous?? like? he loves her SO MUCH AND HE RESISTED SO USELESSLY FOR SO LONG

Just let yourself be happy, my dude. sigh.

THOUGH HE DID AND THEY ARE NOW AND IT’S GREAT AND I’M SO HAPPY

god, Sadeas and Ialai just...sitting on each other. is great.

UGH they loved each other a lot and they were so well-matched, and tbh I’m actually a little sad for her? that he’s dead now? idk how I feel about that.

Also, the number of times that Sadeas has said, “Oh, Dalinar,” in an exasperated and fond tone is just... bi Sadeas confirmed? idk, I don’t really want him in the bi camp. but I’m getting the feeling he belongs here.

EW DALINAR, PLEASE.

DON’T USE THE KNIFE YOU JUST STABBED SOMEONE WITH TO EAT YOUR DINNER. I DON’T CARE THAT YOU WASHED IT OFF IN YOUR WINE EEWW

“He wasn’t going to drink the wine he’d washed the blood into. He wasn’t a barbarian.” Maybe not, but he’s certainly the most Extra son of a gun I’ve ever encountered in a novel. This is wild.

Also, I’m concerned, tbh, about how his relationship with Evi is going to go down. She’s a soft, left-handed baby. Let her live.

OOOHH THE PARSHMEN ARE STARTING TO HEAR THE RHYTHMS!!! they’re real Listeners now!

Kaladin “I’m Mad that I Care About People AGAIN” Stormblessed

what a good human being

I love that every time he comes across of group of people larger than one he’s like “ah! I must teach them how to shelter and fight and protect themselves! but I don’t care about them! Of course I don’t care!! I just want them to be safe and happy and free! it’s not like I CARE about them!”

this boy is the best boy and I will fite you if you say otherwise

Adolin having “messy in just the right way” hair is DELIGHTFUL and I love that Shallan thinks it’s “cute”.

I’m genuinely disappointed to find out that women on Roshar still have periods.

That’s bullshit.

Petition for anyone with Regrowth to go around healing every woman of her cramps on a regular basis, ‘cause that’s TERRIBLE.

#otp: no mating

“When my father explained that good relationships required investment, I don’t think this is what he meant.” Who knew Adolin was good at puns!!?

Adolin cares so much about his soldiers and about soldiers in general, HE’S SO GOOD WHAT A GOOD AAHH

“You sound like your father.” “Nothing wrong with that.” A GOOD, BEAUTIFUL BOY WHO I LOVE VERY MUCH.

OHHH SHIT

WELP

THAT’S. UNEXPECTED BUT ALSO NOT???

Ialai with the Ghostbloods. That. makes a certain amount of sense in that they are both manipulators to the extreme and also EVIL. OMG THIS IS WILD

god, I adore that Rosharans call all birds chickens, it’s. so. good.

but also Mraize with a parrot: why this.

I’m sooooo worried about Adolin investigating...himself. sort of. I just. so worried.

Adolin going OFF ON Ialai HECK YE BOY GET IT

any time he talks about his mom I get emotional, though. how hard must it have been to lose her, and then to...never talk about her? because Dalinar couldn’t remember and didn’t talk about it? THE BOYS ARE SO STRONG AND I LOVE THEM

but also, like. get rekt, Ialai.

I’m. concerned. About the Ghostbloods. my dude, if you really, honestly think you can control the Voidbringers once they fully level up to Voidbringers, you’ve got another thing coming. Isn’t that the whole point of this!? They were bound to parshman form because they COULDN’T be controlled otherwise? What makes him think he and his organization are stronger and more powerful/capable than the Heralds?

Overconfident evil people are. frustrating.

I mean. I shouldn’t be surprised that Ialai is working with Amaram. and I’m. not really. surprised. but I did just hiss at the book when his name appeared.

God, I hate Amaram. Soooo much.

WHY is he here. Why isn’t he dead yet. Why haven’t we killed him yet. ARGH

mmmmmm why did three separate caravans go missing, and please tell me Kaladin isn’t going to get distracted by an investigation into that.....

(I mean, of course he is, but)

strange intelligent golden glow spren is VERY DISCONCERTING. #yikes.

This book is so dense and so intense and SO GOOD. I remember hitting this point of Words of Radiance and being like “eh, not as good as WoK” but like this one!!!! Just keeps! going!! in all these amazing ways!!! this book is so just...WOW.

[kuriboo]

Fairy’s Hand Mirror

(also available on ao3 @ tatersalad5001, consider this post-gx and between seasons 1 and 2 of vrains)

Skye glanced down at the phone in her hand, which still hadn't made a noise or shown anything on its screen since she last looked down at it ten seconds ago.

Still nothing. She was starting to get antsy.

As a distraction, she glanced down at what she held in her other hand. The store she was standing outside of didn't just sell cards for dueling, it sold other games and accessories for those games as well. It was a smaller store, but she was always amazed by its variety. As well as its warmth. Everyone who worked there was always welcoming, and happy to help look for even specific cards. Maybe it was just good customer service. But it still felt like they really cared, and Skye found herself continuing to find excuses to continue going back.

The person working there today had probably spent around five minutes trying to help her track down the Link Monster section of the individual cards for sale, since it was so small. Link Monsters didn't seem to be in high demand there. The guy seemed like he'd gotten lost in the store somehow at least twice, but she still felt bad about how long it took. Even if it seemed like it had been worth it in the end when she found what she was looking for: Trickstar Foxglove Witch. Her newest Trickstar smiled up at her now. Behind the witch, an unopened card pack rested in Skye's hand, along with a receipt. She'd asked for a pack from one of the newest booster packs, which called itself Flames of Destruction, on a whim. What she got would be a surprise. And it'd be fun to find out what she got, but she'd resolved not to open it until she got home.

That had probably been...sixteen minutes ago, if her math was right. It probably was, she already double-checked.

Before she could decide to triple-check, however, Skye noticed the store's door open out of the corner of her eye.

Someone was exiting the store. He was definitely older than her; it seemed like he was about the same age as the guy who was working there right now. His red jacket and the purple shirt he was wearing under it looked out of place on him. That might've been because they looked a bit big on him. Maybe he was borrowing them. Maybe it was all he had at the moment, she was really in any place to judge. Between the red jacket and his spiky black hair, though, she couldn't help making a mental comparison to Shadow the Hedgehog. That look probably wasn't what he'd been looking for.

Okay, don't be weird, Skye. Don't just stare at people going in and out of the store. She checked her phone again. Still nothing. She looked up and around the parking lot. No one was entering.

Now the person who just left the store was looking at her. He'd probably noticed her staring at him. Or maybe she had just been standing her for too long, and he was going to tell her to get a move on. She didn't remember rules on things like that anymore. Where was--

"Hey, I promise I'm not trying to be like, creepy or anything." The guy held his hands up in front of him as he walked towards Skye. Well, she hadn't thought he was being a creep before, but now she was definitely trying to figure out if he was or not. Not her favorite start to a conversation. "But you have a ride home or something, right?" As he continued talking, he pointed his thumb back towards the store. "He just wanted to make sure. Said you've been standing out here on your own for awhile."

Oh, the game shop employee. She'd forgotten that he could definitely see her standing out here. "I do. My brother should be back soon, he dropped me off because he had to go to the bathroom."

She and Akira were out and about because Akira'd had some errands he needed to run, even on a day off. He'd insisted on driving himself, since he figured if he didn't drive once in awhile, sooner or later he'd forget how to completely. Since they were in the area, Skye had asked him if they could stop here, and Akira was happy to accommodate, but in a case of bad timing, her brother had had to go to the bathroom right when they stopped at the shop, and of course there wasn't a bathroom here. He'd had find one somewhere else.

Even if Skye wasn't really needed for the errands, even if she hadn't needed to actually get anything while they were out, Skye was still happy to ride along with her brother since she could. Akira was back to being in charge of security for Link Vrains. Vrains was in a maintenance period, but Akira was still as busy as ever. She rarely got to see him. She missed being a family. Before they stopped at the game shop, they'd been talking about life, talking about different places they'd passed on the road, joking about all of it... It wasn't like Akira wasn't making an effort, life just gave them so few opportunities to hang out like this.

She'd wanted to take advantage of it. Find a reason to tag along.

Red jacket guy followed Skye's gaze down to the cards she was holding, the ones she just bought. "So, you duel?"

"...I don't know."

The words came out before she even thought about them. She'd been judging this guy's choice of words just seconds before, but she wasn't doing much better. He probably didn't care. He hadn't been asking for a lead in conversation to all her personal problems. He was just trying to be nice, make sure she was getting home okay, probably was curious why she'd been there at all. He certainly wasn't her therapist or anything.

"You don't know, huh?" He frowned at that, but he didn't seem annoyed. Contemplative, but not annoyed. "You're buying cards, but you're not sure whether to call yourself a duelist?"

For a moment, she boiled with anger. How dare this stranger judge her uncertainty? He didn't know her, had no idea what she'd been through or why she was questioning herself now. Then, the moment passed. She gave herself a second to think about her kneejerk reaction and cooled down. She'd felt that anger every time her brother tried to convince her to be safe about what she did in Vrains, to stay away from Speed Duels, or fighting Playmaker or the Knights of Hanoi. And, in the end, he'd been right. She hadn't been able to handle it. She lost her duels and Hanoi had nearly taken everything from her. A single person made her question herself and the same uncertainty she still felt had cost her more than just a duel.

This person was right to judge her, because a true duelist wouldn't let hesitation cloud their thoughts like this.

"I've been a duelist," she said. "I thought I was. Even when it felt like no one believed in me, I figured living without taking risks wasn't really living. I wanted to live my own life. It went well for long enough that I started to get a bit cocky. The past couple of months, I've realized, maybe I'm not as good of a duelist as I thought I was. Or maybe there's a lot more people out there who are better than me than I thought. I charged into the most important duels I've ever dueled in and I lost. I don't know if I should keep going. I don't know if I'm cut out to be a duelist or not."

"You're lost, then. It's okay to be lost. I've definitely been there."

She glanced at him. His expression hadn’t changed.

”I’ve been molded into the path of a duelist for as long as I can remember. I thought I was the best, it’s what I was trained to be. Turns out I wasn’t. I lost some duels, people gave up on me. I was free to do whatever I wanted. But by then, I had no idea what I wanted to do, or who I wanted to be.”

”What did you do?” Skye asked.

”Turns out I surrounded myself with some pretty good friends.” He rolled his eyes. “Or, they surrounded me all on their own. I didn’t really want them around. But they helped me figure it out. So! Listen up, because you’re about to get some free advice from The Chazz!” He flashed her a smile. “Even The Chazz couldn’t do it on his own. So expecting yourself to figure out what you want to do without help is a losing battle. Find some good friends. Open up to them, ask them for help, and they’ll do their best to help and support you until you figure it out together. No one deserves to be on their own.”

Friends... Who did Skye have that she could consider a friend?

As Blue Angel, she had her fans, but they didn’t count. They didn’t really know her, and she certainly didn’t know them. She’d worked together with Go and Playmaker. But they’d be impossible to contact now, anyway. And they probably didn’t even count, either. Playmaker for sure didn’t seem interested in anything like that. So, outside of Vrains, then.

There was her brother. He was so busy, this wasn’t the kind of thing she wanted to bother him with. ...Maybe she should, though. He worked hard to make sure they could live comfortably and that she could live a happy life. He wanted her to be happy. If she wasn’t, wouldn’t he try to do what he could to help? She should at least try. She owed Akira that much.

Ghost Gal... She was more Akira’s friend than anything. Skye never really talked to Ghost Gal before. But Ghost Gal had helped Akira when Skye was in trouble. Maybe that counted for something. She could always try. The worst Ghost Gal could do was ignore her or turn her down.

She had the duel club, too. She didn’t go out of her way to try to make friends at school. Most people didn’t really want to be friends, they just wanted something from her. But she still joined the duel club, and still went to almost every meeting. Most of the members seemed okay. The duel disks her brother had gotten for everyone, they’d never asked for them. She and Akira just wanted to do something nice for them. She wasn’t sure if she considered them friends, though. Some of them were pretty weird. Like Shima, constantly talking about how much he liked Playmaker and getting in everyone’s space even when they didn’t want him to. And Yusaku... Yusaku was definitely weird. But he’d found her and had her taken to the hospital when she’d been trapped in Vrains. Where did that put them? He liked to stick to himself most of the time. He didn’t seem interested in being friends.

Well... She had her brother at least. That was a start.

”Thank you,” she said. “I can at least give it a try.”

”Right. It’s not easy, so don’t be too hard on yourself. Not everyone’s as lucky as The Chazz.” Red jacket guy shrugged. “Anyway, I should get going, but your ride should be here soon, right? Good luck.���

”Thank you.” Skye nodded. I’ll do my best.”

He left. It was still a few minutes before Akira came back, apologizing several times about how long he’d been gone. Skye insisted just as many times that it wa fine, so he should stop worrying about it.

It wasn’t until she was in the car and they were driving away that Skye realized she’d just been talking to Chazz Princeton, one of the more popular professional duelists at the moment because of his dueling strategies. And he’d been pretty nice. Nicer than he made himself seem sometimes on camera, anyway.

And he’d been in a similar position to her. Despite the way he talked and acted, like he didn’t need anyone but himself, he’d had friends to count on. He hadn’t been alone.

Maybe Skye could afford to open up a little and srop trying to take on the world by herself.