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princecupcakee · 5 years ago

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Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,320

Chapter: 3/8

Past Chapters: Chapter 1 (AO3), Chapter 2 (AO3)

Next Chapters: Chapter 4 (AO3)

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 3: Richie Tozier At The Movies, Eddie Kaspbrak With His Thoughts & Richie Tozier With His Guitar

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster , @s-s-georgie , @mikeuris , @gazebobullshit , @that-weird-girls-blog , @tozierking , @thoughtfullyyoungduck , @s-onora , @bellarosewrites , @lermanslogan , @ambitiousskychild , @ghostnebula , @vanillaredvelvet ,

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 3

Richie Tozier At The Movies

After bringing Eddie home that morning he set out for his next vinyl-date (the name was a work in progress) before going to his sister’s house. He tried to have his head in it, he did, but all throughout the car ride, he couldn’t think straight. He wondered how Eddie was, what he was doing on his day off. He couldn't think of anything even when he had already gotten there. He needed to focus, he wanted to, but he couldn’t stop his head from floating into the clouds.

So when he walked into the movie theatre, he knew he should’ve just stayed home. Alex looked amazing and Richie knew that, but that didn’t really help. They’d picked a new action movie that was heard to have a song from the record in its soundtrack. By that time, he had dropped over 30 records on the local subway, have gotten multiple emails from music lovers like himself, and gone on quite a few dates already. A few memorable ones were Will, a man from Hawkins getting over a lost love, had talked a little too much about said lost love. The two decided to stay as friends. After that was a date with Theo, a New Yorker in search of a painting and person. Similar to Will, in search of his lost love, they’ve decided to stay friends as well. Now, Alex, a writer from New York City who moved to LA two years ago in search of new love, had messaged him after he dropped, ‘Appetite For Destruction.’

“Hi! Richie, yeah?” Alex smiled at him, holding a bowl of popcorn and two drinks. Richie nodded as politely as he could as he thought, ‘why doesn’t Eddie have the same accent?’ “Cool,” Alex hummed, “lets go?” “Sure.”

Richie was glad they went to the movies. It was dark and loud, and your excuse to not pay attention to your date is staring intensely at the screen to look like your focused on it. So, for ninety long minutes, he plotted about the easiest ways to get out of this date. ‘I have a dentist’s appointment’ sounded a bit too rude and overdone to him, ‘I have to take care of my niece and nephew’ was true, but sounded pretty useless. From the 90 minutes, he was able to think up nothing.

“That was a nice movie,” Alex began, smiling at Richie. “Yeah, it really was,” Richie smiled, “but, uh, see, I gotta run." “sure,” Alex waved, slightly annoyed. Richie turned around didn’t look back.

Richie sat in the backseat of his car, staring at its ceiling. He started this to find love, to move on from what happened with Connor, and breathe. But now its seems like a waste of time to him. He can’t even focus on a date without just leaving to sit around in his car. And for what reason? He didn’t even know. He’s getting all of the chances that he didn't get but he’s just throwing them away. He’s just leaving and wasting. Maybe he just doesn’t get that chance. Maybe he just shouldn’t.

He checks his phone for the time and squishes to the front of the car. He didn’t need the stereo, he needs something going for him, no matter how deafening. Drumming a steady beat on to the steering wheel, “Robert’s got a quick hand.” Finishing the first verse, he turns his keys and drives out of the space. “All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,” he swayed his head side to side slightly driving over to Annie’s house.

Eddie Kaspbrak With His Thoughts

Eddie laid down on his bed checking the large, fancy clock hanging above his head, 2:30 PM. After the magnificent sunrise he witnessed with one, handsome, charming, funny, surprisingly smart Richie Tozier, he went home. Richie winked and said ‘wait’ after he brought Eddie back, and of course, that sent the shorter of the two in a bit of a craze.

He’d never felt this. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. It was strong and wouldn’t let him breathe and made his heart explode. When he laughed, when he sang, when he smiled, Eddie couldn’t keep his mind off Richie. It wasn’t like this with Myra. How could it have been? She was there, to keep him alive, not let him live. ~ “Eddie-bear, have you taken your pills yet? You know, you’re mother called me last week, reminding me that you have a seafood allergy, why did you never tell me about that? I’m your wife, Eddie. I’m supposed to know these things about you! What if you ate something that made you sick? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, Eddie! Do you want that? Do you want me to be in pain?” ~ But with Richie everything seemed, brighter. He never said anything Myra did, he never forced Eddie to do something he never wanted to do, he never put words into Eddie’s mouth. ‘It’s clearly too early though, I mean four days? Can you fall in love in four days?’ Eddie dropped his urge to Google that, not wanting to get up (or be disappointed if no, you couldn’t fall in love in four days.) He was never strong. Physically, emotionally, he had always lost. He was never brave. He was the one that sat on the sidelines, afraid to see what’ll happen. Afraid to listen to what he wants. Was that because of his mother, or Myra, or him? He never really wanted to find out.

Sonia was controlling, she watched Eddie’s every move, didn’t let him do anything. Sonia introduced the two, and Eddie thought he had to fall in love. When Eddie married Myra, he thought that maybe he would be slightly freer. He was very visibly wrong. She wasn’t any different from his mother. After 15 years of being married, he realized hoe abusive his mother was, how he didn’t want that marriage anymore, and how more appealing men are to women. He told Myra the night he filed their divorce, all she did was leave the room. She left the room to call his mother. ~ “Don’t you just love her, Eddie? She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s responsible, and she knows how to take care of you! You were such a mischievous child back then, when you played with that stuttering friend of yours, he was such a bad influence on you. Isn’t he… queer? I can’t even say the word. Disgusting. You shouldn’t have been friends with him, Eddie. Are you still friends with him? You must get him out of your life immediately, Eddie! I don’t want my Eddie-bear being like him.” ~ But what if he was in love? What if he was in love with a man? A man he’d only known for four days? Eddie sighed, fighting back tears. He didn’t need this. He shouldn’t be doing this.

He walked out of his room, feeling as if he can’t breathe there. But this is Los Angeles. This isn’t home. He walked down the long hallways heading down the stairs back to the library. Why had he come here? He didn’t know either or, he did, just didn’t want to say it. Eddie took a vinyl from the bottom of the shelf, ‘Never Trust A Happy Song’ in a small font above ‘Grouplove.’ He didn’t know any songs on it, but he figured anything would be better than being trapped in silence with his own memories.

He tried to mimic Richie’s moves from before, failing quite a few times. He winced at the loud sound of what seemed to be the end of a song. ‘Take me to your best friend's house, roll around this roundabout, oh yeah,’ played in the- Eddie really needed to Google what that thing was, ‘can you fall in love in four days?’ Rang in his head once again, forcing him to put his phone down and take a seat in the large chair before him.

He wondered what Richie was doing, why’d he had asked him to ‘wait’ and then leave. He wondered if maybe Richie had fallen in love before. If maybe Richie felt how he did. He wasn’t supposed to, that was sure, but he wanted to. He wanted to know the feeling of loving and being loved, maybe he had, maybe Myra was the feeling of loving and being loved. Or maybe it was Richie. Eddie wouldn’t know. He had hoped it would be Richie though. That made him smile, nothing like what he had gone through with Myra.

But it was also his fault. It may have done him good but it was still wrong. He may have needed it but that still wasn’t acceptable. He did do it. He wasn’t being responsible, he wasn’t being right. He did owe Myra something for what he did. He could’ve done it simpler, and not ruin his marriage in the most unnecessary way there was. He had to go to that bar, that night. ‘Somethings are too good to pass’ he tried to make a good excuse, but he knew it wouldn’t have worked. He was right.

But he didn’t owe Myra his life or his heart, he owed her an apology, a divorce, and something that would have been better for both of them. And what was better for both of them was leaving. It wasn’t exactly leaving New York, it was just leaving, no longer in each other’s lives and forget. Forgetting has always been much easier than actually facing your problems. Forgetting left things there, not having to see them anymore and not thinking. Forgetting meant, even for a little while, nothing can be any worse.

‘Don’t take me tongue tied, don’t wave no goodbye,’ He’d never heard this song before, but something about it made him feel like he did. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, something about it would make him feel like he knew himself, too.

Richie Tozier With His Guitar

He rang the doorbell, running to the side of the porch to not be seen. He crouched below the window and as if on cue, a little girl pushed the curtains away and looked out the window. “I know thats, you Richie!” A little girl said, opening her front door. “Aw, how’d you know that Maddie?” He said, ruffling her hair. “Mommy said you were coming,” she said putting her hands on her hips. “Just you and Walter today?” “Yup!” “Alright, go get your brother, I’ll be in the living room. Your mom’s gonna be calling any second now,” he said as he watched Maddison walk up the stairs and call her brother.

Richie walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch, moving the guitar from his back to the floor. Just as he predicted, his sister rang the phone, “I’m already here Annie. They’re getting their guitars, we’re playing stuff today.” “Thanks, Rich. I owe you,” she sighed gratefully over the phone. “No problem. I missed these goblins anyway.” “Okay, thank you so much, I have to go. Mom’s gonna be there soon. Oh and tell Walter to help Maddie with her painting, she gets really unhappy when he doesn’t and-“ “I know this already, go.” “Thank you, Richie.” “Your my sister, its my job,” Richie laughed and put the phone down.

“We’re here!” Maddison smiled, brother in tow. “Hi uncle Richie,” Walter said softly, sitting by Richie’s feet with knees against his chest.

He was two years older than Maddison, the same age gap him and Annica had. Maddie was five while Walter was seven. The two were fairly opposite, Walter preferring to keep to himself while Maddie was outgoing and social. Outside of her sister, he raised them. Annie was a good mother, but being a single one, she didn’t have it any easy either. Her husband died less than three years ago from an accident. Thats why he came over more and took care of her kids more. It didn’t help that the whole problem with Connor rose in the time of this and him having a responsibility to not fuck up kids left him out of it for a while. Until he was just angry, he never took it out on anyone, that he made sure of, but he was just angry at love. Maddie and Walter were a help though, it made him forget. Forgetting is much easier than confronting, its like painting over graffiti like it was never there.

“What are we playing today?” Maddie asked, leaning her head to the side exaggeratedly. “What’s a song you guys want?” Richie asked looking back and forth between the two. Walter stood up, walking to the small shelf that sat by the TV. He walked back with a cassette tape in hand. A paper was stuck on to the tape, and in small letters and font, ‘Tongue Tied - Grouplove’ written on it. Richie smiled kindly at him, “How do you know this song?” He simply shrugged and urged him to take the tape. “Lets play it then,” Richie nodded while picking up his guitar. Walter held breath to say something, Richie having to give him permission before he did. “I already know the beginning. C-could you teach me the middle?” “Which part?” “After the second chorus.” “Sure. Anyone wanna sing?” “Can I sing with you? Like, you're gonna sing and I’m gonna sing too, both of us sing!” Maddie said excitedly with big hand gestures (Richie wondered if part of that was his doing. He assumed that it probably was.) Richie nodded, “one two three four,” G. “Don’t take me tongue tied,” G. Then, C. “let’s stay up all night,” He sang with Maddie. “I'll get real high.” Richie sang as Maddie shook her head. Despite Richie’s smile, a dark room, broken glass, smoke, tears, screaming, flood his head. ‘Fuck! Can’t I do anything right?’ He cried that night. “Slumber party, pillow fight,” The two sung in harmony again, “My eyes and your eyes, Like Peter Pan up in the sky,” Maddie sang bringing her hand up above her head to mimic Peter Pan flying. Walter and Richie laughed. “My best friend's house tonight,” Richie sang. ‘Stan? You there? Look, I-I need a place to stay. I’ll tell you about it when I’m there. Yeah… yeah, Th-thanks.’ “Let's bump the beats till beddy-bye,” Richie smiled, despite fighting back tears. ‘Connor. Connor. Connor.’ He thought. “Don’t take me tongue tied,” Richie sang. ‘Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.’ He thought, the tears behind his eyes, drying away, “Don't wave no goodbye.”

By the time they had sung three songs, Maggie and Wentworth were already at the door. He said his goodbyes and walked back to his car. Hearing the first song back again in his head, his breathing sped. He threw his head back and whispered to himself, “Breathe, Richie. breathe.” He thought about how uncomfortable and disgusted Connor looked when he got down on one knee. He remembered how Connor screamed at him, how Connor mocked him for thinking that he actually loved Richie the way Richie did for him. ‘Please.’ ~ “What? What the fuck?” Richie thought he was just surprised. “Dude, gross. I wouldn’t marry a man. That’s fucking gross. Look, man. I have a girlfriend, we aren’t fucking together. Thats so fucking weird.” “but I- I thought-“ “Thought what? That we were together? Fucking gross. Get out.” ~ Richie turned on his stereo. Anything is better than this. He didn’t need to cry, he didn’t need to listen to whatever the fuck was going on in his head. He doesn’t need to stay, he can leave.’ Please, don't let me down,’ the radio played loudly. Richie thought it was weird, songs like these weren’t on the radio, but he sang along anyway. “Please, don't let me down, You better come around,” he softly sang against the loud radio. He never liked his voice much. He used it for comedy, for words he didn’t want to say. He didn’t know how to describe it, but he felt as if he just shouldn’t sing, he sounded better doing impressions anyway. Although some people like it, like Walter and Maddie, he wondered if Eddie liked it too. “You save yourself, I'll save myself each time around,” he sang louder, trying to catch what his voice sounded like. ~ “Stan? You there? Look, I-I need a place to stay. I’ll tell you about it when I’m there.” “You can always stay here Richie. Don’t worry,” Stan sounded like he already knew. Richie guessed everybody saw it coming. “Yeah… yeah, Th-thanks.’ Richie tried not to break into tears. ~ He was going to go drive to Eddie. He was horrified, but he was gonna go to Eddie. As much as he would hate to admit it, he needed him. Needing Eddie to love him, thats debatable but needing for Eddie to be around him, he knew he really did need it. He hoped maybe Eddie needed him too. “You save yourself, I'll save you too next time around,” he sang. When Eddie smiled up at him he didn’t know if he could breathe. It was never like this with Connor. With Connor he always wondered who the woman that left their apartment was, with Connor, he always got shouted at and argued with. With Eddie, he smiled, his heart raced, his stomach churned and it was never like it was with Connor. “I'm not around, I haven't been here for a while,” he sang, the electric feeling coursing through his veins.

“You know I'll never be back now,” He shouldn’t break his own heart. Connor’s gone. He’s not coming back, and Richie’s thankful for that. With Connor gone, maybe someone else will stay. Maybe Eddie will. Richie smiled at the thought of it.

He ignored the nagging feeling of possibly not being loved back— again.

#reddie #reddie fic #it #it chap one #it chap two #remembering sunday + the book ninja au

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lonestarbabe · 5 years ago

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Holding Out For A Hero

Chapter 7: Paralyzed (AO3)

T.K.

T.K.’s day didn’t start well. When he woke up at eight am because of his phone vibrating against his nightstand, he knew that he was getting up on the wrong side of the bed. He had every intention of not answering, but when he saw that it was mom, he picked up right away. This conversation will end one of two ways: she’ll lie about looking forward to my show tonight or she’ll make an excuse why she can’t come to the show tonight.

“Mom?” T.K. asked in case he’d somehow misread the caller ID. She didn’t usually call him. She was more of an email person. He’d tried to get her to convert to text, but she said that she already had to send emails for business anyway so it was easier to use one platform. She was one of the few women in America who didn’t want to text him; yet, she was the one who he wanted to text him the most.

“Hi, honey,” she said, and her apologetic tone made T.K.’s heart sink. It’s happening again. Not even my own mom wants to see me. She’d do anything in her power to avoid me because I’m an awful son who she got stuck with.

“When is your flight coming in?” he asked, a hint of wishful thinking in his voice. I’m such a fool. I should know better than to hope. Hope only leads to heartbreak.

“About that…” her voice was sad and slow. It had been that way since 9/11, at least to T.K. She sounded more normal at work functions. It made T.K. wonder what was wrong with him. Why am I the one who my mom can’t stand?

“You’re not coming,” T.K. confirmed, and he wondered whether she didn’t want to come because of a bout of depression or because she wasn’t interested in his career.

He imagined the way she was probably biting her lip and giving him that look she always gave him as a child and she told him that he couldn’t have something that he wanted. He didn’t expect much from her anymore.

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I just have a work thing that I can’t miss.” A work thing usually didn’t mean she actually had a work thing. When she had actual work things, she was always more specific. She loved talking about her job, so when she avoided talking about it, T.K. knew that she was overcompensating for lying.

She always did this, and he let her because she was a grown woman, and he was a grown man. They both had lives of their own, and if their lives didn’t align, that’s just how it would have to be. He’d learned to deal with it, but the sting never went away. He felt it each time she rejected his attempts at having a relationship with her. He couldn’t help but think about how unfair it was that he lost his dad and that he had also lost his mother too. She used to dote on him when he was little. She cheered him on in his kindergarten play. She made him costumes for Halloween. She did everything a mom should do and more, and then she stopped doing all that. She ditched whatever mom duties she could get away with.

After 9/11, he’d spent the whole summer with his dad’s parents, and she’d barely called him. He’d cry until he was sick on those balmy nights because he missed his family, and his whole world felt unsteady. His mom said it was good for him to get out of the city for a while, but even though it had been attacked, the city still comforted T.K. Wounded or not, it was still his home, and his mom was in it, and it made T.K. terrified to not be able to see that she was okay. He followed her around for an entire month after he’d returned home. He’d cry each day when she’d go for work. When school started, he’d go to the nurse’s office and beg one of the nurses to call his mother to pick him up. Eventually, she stopped showing up, so the nurses would give him some soda and crackers until he’d calmed down enough to go back to class.

Whenever his mom went anywhere, he worried that she would never come back. Her brow would furrow as threw another fit and begged her not to go. “I have to go to work, honey,” she would say, tired and lost without Owen. “Please, don’t make a big deal of this.” But T.K. was too scared not to throw a fit. If she never left, he never had to worry about her coming back.

Maybe I exhausted her too much then. I was too clingy, and she got tired of me being around. Maybe that’s why she needs so much space.

“It’s fine.” This was all fine. He wasn’t a kid, so he didn’t need his mom there, and she’d been to plenty of shows before. It wasn’t like she was missing anything that special. But she told me that she would be there. T.K. had been looking forward to seeing her all week. They didn’t get a lot of time to talk, and he’d imagined how nice it would be to have her around for a few hours. He’d gotten his hopes up, something that he should have known better than to do because when you get your hopes up, you can only ever be disappointed.

“Are you sure? Maybe I can catch a later flight and see you after your show.”

“No, it’s okay.” He wasn’t going to make her come if she didn’t want to. “I’ll be tired, and there’s no point flying out just for one night.”

He wanted her to protest and say that it would be a bother to fly out to see him for a few hours, but he heard her sigh in relief. “We’ll get together another time.”

“Any stop on tour I can get you tickets for. I’ll pay for accommodations too.” I’d do anything in my power to get her to a show, but no amount of cajoling will sway her.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. I know how boys your age like to go out and have fun. I wouldn’t want to ruin that.” If she knew anything, she would know that he only liked to “go out and have fun” when he wanted to forget. It wasn’t something he did for recreation. It was a need. Something he had to do to get out of his head. Before he could answer, she said, “Well, I better go.”

“Yeah, me too.” Got to go wallow a while.

“I love you.” Those words sounded different when they were an apology.

T.K. held back a sigh. “I love you too.” T.K. hung up, and he plopped back in bed. He wished he could go back to sleep and never wake up. Maybe his mom would actually show up at his funeral. Nothing draws a crowd quite like the final show.

Carlos

Carlos’ day started with his air conditioning breaking. He was woken by a huge clunk, an in his drowsy state, it took him fifteen minutes to realize that the noise had come from the vent in his living room. The air conditioning sputtered and then came to a halt. Carlos was surrounded by an uncomfortable silence. He’d gotten used to the sound of the air conditioning always being on, and the quiet had always put him on high alert because when things were too quiet, that’s when he With his limited knowledge, he tried to get the air conditioning to work, but the couple of youtube videos he watched and the wikihow hadn’t gotten him very far.

He was sweating with the exertion of a job not done when the doorbell rang. Carlos groaned. Who is bothering me this early? His first instinct was to think T.K., but it was 9 am, and T.K. didn’t get up that early if he didn’t have to. It was a show day, though, and everything is different on show day. T.K. sometimes had too much energy to sleep in on show day. It has to be T.K., Carlos assured himself because he hadn’t had the time to make a relationship with anyone else. There’d been a one night stand when he’d first arrived for the job, but that hadn’t been satisfying, and he hadn’t had the care to hook up with any guys since. I have my hands full with protecting T.K.

Certain that it was T.K. dropping in to visit him, as T.K. did from time to time when he was bored and needed entertainment, he didn’t even look through the peephole to see who was at the door. As a former police officer and a bodyguard, he should have known better, but he was hot and tired, making it hard to think straight.

He swung the door open, “Hey,” and the sight of the willowy blonde woman in front of him nearly knocked Carlos off his feet. “Emma? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t wait for him to ask her inside. She brushed past him and sat on the couch, patting the cushion beside her like she owned the place. “We need to talk.” Emma had always been bold, and she had always expected the world to bend to her will. Until everything with Taylor happened and there was nothing she could do to make the situation better.

“It’s been a long time.” Carlos wasn’t sure why she had popped up now. There were plenty of times when he still lived in Austin that she could have come for a visit. He chose to sit in the chair next to the couch, leaving more room between him and Emma. They had never been that close. They had only ever known each other because of Taylor. Even then, they hadn’t been more than acquaintances.

“Michelle’s still looking for her sister.” Emma’s hate for Michelle was probably a big reason why she and Carlos had never become more than two people forced to spend time together.

“She’ll never stop, and you wouldn’t either if it was someone important to you who was missing.” For all her faults, Emma was loyal to the people she loved. She’d do anything for them, which was probably why she’d come all the way to LA to see Carlos. “You’re here for your brother.”

“I’ll never forgive her for dragging you into that whole thing.” Emma hadn’t been so concerned about Carlos. It was more like she had been concerned about what the Iris situation had done to Taylor because of Carlos. “That was the beginning of the end. If you’d never gotten fired—”

“Emma, stop. That’s not what happened. Things were tumultuous before that. Me getting fired didn’t make Taylor do what he did.”

“Michelle makes things worse. She pokes at the fire until it explodes.” More than that, Michelle was a healer, and she did whatever she could to help people. She could become obsessive, but so could Carlos, which was why they got along so well. They both were dedicated to get what they want and protect people from suffering.

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s my friend, and I offered to help.” It was true that he’d offered his help only after Michelle had begged him to do something, but he had loved Iris too, so he didn’t need much convincing. He wanted to know what happened to her nearly as much as Michelle. “I would have done it for any friend who needed me.”

“She ruined your career.” His career had been ruined for reasons much more complicated than going against orders, but it wasn’t something he’d ever talked much about. What would be the point? Carlos knew that if he had been a white, straight man that his superiors would have let his transgressions slide, but he wasn’t, so one strike and he was out. They’d been glad to get rid of him. Austin was liberal, but there was still bigotry and corruption in its systems. Other officers could commit cold-blooded murder while he’d tried to find a lost life and had been punished for it.

“I was the one who investigated a case I was told to drop.” He had been a young cop, so he’d had no business acting like a detective.

“We all know it was Michelle’s idea.” Emma acted like Carlos was just a puppy who had no autonomy. I make my own decisions. I may let other people influence me, but no one can force me to do something I don’t want or something that I don’t believe in.

“That doesn’t matter,” which was true. Carlos took responsibility for his actions. He couldn’t excuse away what he’d done just because someone else had suggested it. He didn’t even regret his actions. “What are you here for Emma?”

“Taylor isn’t doing well. I want you to come to Austin and visit him. I think it would lift his spirits.”

“I think that would send the wrong message.” He wouldn’t want to get Taylor’s hopes up when he had no intention of being part of his life again.

“You’re the love of his life,” Emma looked desperate, and he felt for her, but he couldn’t help her.

“That’s exactly why it would send the wrong message because he’s not mine. Not anymore.” Carlos wasn’t sure that he ever loved Taylor as deeply as Taylor loved him. Carlos had cared for Taylor, but their relationship was unbalanced.

“You can fake it for just a little while. He’s going crazy without you.”

“He broke up with me, not the other way around,” which had allowed Carlos to get away from Texas and start bodyguarding in LA. It was a blessing in disguise, even if he didn’t consciously realize it then.

“You weren’t going to stay with him.” That was probably true, even though Carlos would never admit it. Their relationship had been too much, and it wasn’t going to survive everything else. Carlos had needed to get away from Taylor for his own sanity, so he’d been relieved when Taylor had ended it first.

“I was never given the chance.” With everything that had happened between them, there was no reason to think that they would have been able to keep going.

Emma crossed her arms and gave him a disbelieving look. “I’m not here to argue about your intentions or what might have happened. All I want is for you to talk to him. He’s been depressed.”

“Listen, Emma. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, but I can’t be responsible for his mental health.” Not anymore. I need to protect my own mental health. I can’t save anyone by destroying myself.

“Whatever happened to your hero complex?” Emma’s voice was cold, and he knew that she was trying to get a rise out of him. She knew how Carlos was, and she knew how to put his head in a bad place. He didn’t have time for this.

“We were toxic together, Emma. Why would you want us back in the same room?” I can’t let Taylor back in. I get lost in Taylor’s bubble, and I can’t let that happen again.

“Because I want Taylor to stay alive. I’m worried what he’s going to do to himself.”

“He’s in jail. There’s not much I can do to help him.”

“It’s your fault that he’s in there.” As much as Carlos knew that Taylor’s actions weren’t his fault, he still felt guilty about everything that happened. He wondered if he made different choices that things might’ve been different. I couldn’t help Taylor when he needed me the most. I let him down, and the damage that has been done can never be erased.

“He got himself there. I had nothing to do with it,” but the anxious, doubtful feeling in Carlos’ chest made him wonder if he was only fooling himself. Even when he’d said his goodbyes to Emma and ushered her away from his life, he knew that his bad mood wouldn’t lift easily.

T.K.

The feeling of disappointment and rejection lingered as he went about his day, and he knew that he needed to snap out of it because he wasn’t going to be able to perform if he had a rain cloud over his head for the whole damn show. He’d been resisting the temptation since the morning. He’d done pretty well, reminding himself that he needed to keep his shit together, but the more he tried to avoid doing something stupid, the more he imagined doing that stupid thing. The only way to stop thinking about doing drugs was to do drugs. I don’t want to have to think anymore.

It was only 3 pm, but he knew that he wasn’t going to get through this day without a little something extra. If he took something now, he’d be okay for his show at seven. Mellower. Happier. Hopefully. He’d be able to stop thinking so much about how he was unloved by and unimportant to his own mother and anyone else who has had the displeasure of knowing me. The only people who like me are the ones who don’t know that much about me. My fans think I’m great, but they don’t know that I only ever ruin things. The world would be better off with me in it, but here I am. Still here. Still suffering. Still a fuck up.

Before he could think better of it, he swallowed an upper, as covertly as he could, because he’d sworn off narcotics. At least for a while. He’d been pretty good about being sober, facing the world with a clarity that made him feel like he was a ball bouncing two inches from a cliff. Most of the time, but sometimes he just couldn’t stand it. His body itched to be filled. When it came to oxy, it was more than just a psychological itch. It was a physical need. It made him sick to not have it, which was why he was trying to replace with the party drugs that didn’t leave him feeling like shit when he didn’t have them. Nothing was as good as oxy, though, but E was pretty good. It was something, and it would keep his brain from spiraling too much. I really want an oxy. What if I just have one? One was one too many, he knew. If he gave in, he’d keep giving in. He had some control of himself with the stimulants, at least he liked to think that he did, but when it came to oxycodone, he had no resistance.

The restless feeling in the pit of T.K.’s stomach didn’t go away right away, but as the drug hit his bloodstream, his brain started to feel like cotton balls. I need to find Carlos and tell him how good I feel right now. He wanted to share his happiness. Because I like Carlos so much. I want to be someone who he could like back, but that’s not who I am. Too much has happened for me to be anything more than a nuisance. I’m awful, but he’s still so good to me. He treats me with dignity even if I don’t deserve it. He has such a nice smile too. He’s handsome. He’s strong. He’s brave. He’d make a really good hero. If only he could save me.

It took him fifteen minutes to find Carlos around the venue. T.K. had searched everywhere, and there weren’t a lot of places that Carlos could be, but T.K. kept getting distracted. His thoughts were fragmented, but he was too high to care. When he finally saw Carlos, he felt accomplished, and when Carlos saw T.K., he grinned. T.K. beamed back, feeling so happy to be the object of Carlos’ attention, even if just for a moment. I never want him to look away. T.K. had feelings for Carlos that he would never address when he was sober.

T.K. couldn’t help but throw his arm around Carlos’ shoulder. I want to be close to him. I don’t feel close to people often. The feel of Carlos’ sturdy body under T.K.’s arm made T.K. forget all the gapping distance in his life. “You’re so nice, Carlos. You always make sure I’m okay, and you make me laugh when everything seems unfunny.” I love him so much. “I never have to worry when I’m near you. I always hate it when you go away. I hate it when anyone goes away.”

“What are you talking about?” Carlos said distractedly, paying closer attention to the security briefing he was reading than T.K. He didn’t notice the glossiness in T.K.’s eyes or how he was clearly having a mental breakdown muted by a pill that made everything feel good even though life was so gray. Maybe it’s better that way.

“I just really like you because you don’t act like I’m the gum on the bottom of your shoe. I’m, like, the gum in your mouth. You know, a fresh piece of gum that you actually enjoy. Not the gum after an hour when it tastes like nothing and makes your jaw hurt. You make me feel like the five seconds of delight you get from bubblegum.” It was as close to a love confession as T.K. could come. He didn’t even know if what he was feeling was love or admiration. Whatever it was, he didn’t want Carlos to leave him. He’d be devastated when he did because he will. Sooner or later everyone leaves.

Carlos looked up, seeming concerned, and T.K. shrunk in on himself. Maybe he can look away just this once. I don’t want him to see me like this— high, crazy, broken. T.K. felt a sudden pang of shame. He wished he could vanish and take back the words that he’d said to Carlos. They’re too honest. Too insane. I shouldn’t fall in love, or admiration, so fast. I barely know anything about him other than that he’s nice to me. It’s pathetic to love someone just because they don’t treat you like shit.

Carlos

Carlos narrowed his eyes, looking T.K. over, and now that he was paying attention, he could tell that something was very wrong, and it made him sick to think that T.K. was not okay. This is not good. T.K. is not okay. He has a show tonight, and I should have noticed that something was off sooner. It’s my job to protect him, and I can’t do that when he’s so set on hurting himself. “You’re high,” Carlos stated. There was no questioning or doubt in his tone. This was not what Carlos wanted to deal with when he came to work. He was already reeling from his visit with Emma, and now T.K. was on a path of self-destruction, and Carlos didn’t know how to deal with it. How am I supposed to help him? How do I keep him safe from himself?

“I’m not,” T.K. refuted, and his voice sounded weak. “Please, Carlos, you have to believe me. I know I’m acting weird but…” he trailed off, excuses failing to be fabricated. I knew he wasn’t going to get better overnight. This shouldn’t have caught me off guard. I should be better prepared for this. I should know what to say, but I don’t. I just want to shake him and hope that sense settles into his brain and slaughters all the mental illness. That’s not how it works, though. I am powerless. All I can do is stand here and hope that he’s okay. Just like I did with Taylor. I couldn’t control Taylor just like I can’t control T.K. If it were any other client other than T.K., Carlos wouldn’t have felt so strongly. T.K. hit all the right buttons that made Carlos want to shield him from all bad things in the world. I have feelings for him, unprofessional ones, and I’m worried that I have them because of Taylor. T.K.’s so different from Taylor, but he’s just the same in all the wrong ways.

“Don’t lie to me,” Carlos shouted. T.K. bit his lip, and Carlos could see the hesitance on his face. “Lying to me is only going to make me angrier,” and Carlos knew that he needed to hold in his temper. He could feel all the feelings of this day bubbling up and threatening to burst from his body in a slimy, filthy goo of past and present worries culminating into one nasty monster. He tried to keep his tone down, but he was being as loud as he could be without drawing attention to them. He needed T.K. to know that this situation was serious. It wasn’t something Carlos was going to ignore the next day when T.K. had sobered up and was acting normal again.

“Fine, I am. I’m high. What’s it to you? You’re my bodyguard. Not my mom or even my manager.” I care, dumbass, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t form those words on his tongue between all the anxiety and fear that were forming words of their own.

“Why can’t you get it through your thick skull that I am here to keep you safe, and if you’re high, I can’t do that. You making it impossible to do my job, T.K. I didn’t sign up to care what you do in your personal life, but I am getting paid to keep you safe. If you’re going to mess up your life, at least do it on your own time, and don’t drag me into it. I like this job, and I want to keep it.” I like you, and I want to keep you.

T.K. froze, looking startled, and he looked like he was going to try to return a nasty remark, but his mouth opened, and then it closed again. I’m such a jerk. T.K. looked like he might cry, and Carlos couldn’t blame him. Carlos had long ago trained himself not to cry when the hot bubbles of sadness, fear, and frustration pricked at his eyes, but when he was alone, he cried a lot, letting the feeling vacate his body like soda from a shaken bottle.

Carlos couldn’t take the silence so he continued on his tirade. “You have so many people rooting for you, but then you go and do things like this. You can’t keep doing the same old things and expect that the people around you aren’t going to be impacted. You’re entitled to your feelings, but everyone else has feelings too, and you never seem to consider those.”

“That’s not how it is,” T.K. tried to argue, but Carlos was already fired up, and he couldn’t be reasoned with.

“It is, T.K. You hurt other people with your actions, and I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, but you’re unhappy, and you’re dragging everyone down with you. I don’t want to be unhappy.” I’ve worked too hard to get away from my unhappiness to go back.

T.K.

“Stop yelling at me,” T.K. said because he couldn’t take the way Carlos’ words made him feel. Every insecurity T.K. had about being too selfish, too needy, and a waste of space was amping up, and the cloudy happiness of his high was clearing with Carlos’ words, but he was still high enough that the pain of what Carlos was saying wouldn’t strike him until later when his show was over and he had time to think without the assistance of Ecstasy. When he sobered up, Carlos’ words would hurt more than T.K. would ever admit. I must pretend like things don’t hurt because denial is a substance nearly as strong as a pill.

“You’re fucking up your life. You have a show, and you can’t just go around popping pills when you have a job to do.” I’m just a job to him. I am the gum on the bottom of his shoe, after all. I’m the unsatisfying bubble gum that has lost all its flavor. I can’t believe I thought he might care. He’s no different than anyone else. He doesn’t know me. He just follows me around and sees most of my life, but he doesn’t care to look at me more than he has to. I’m just a junkie who is useless and ruins everyone’s life.

“Not for like three and a half hours,” which was a bad excuse considering that once T.K. took a drug, his whole day was set up to be unproductive. He couldn’t get his head screwed back on once he went down the addiction rabbit hole.

“You need to stop this shit.” T.K. hated being lectured. The person who had a right to lecture him was dead, and he didn’t want to care about what anyone else thought. Still caught up on my dead dad.

“It’s not that easy.” Trying to be sober was one of the hardest things that T.K. had ever done. It wasn’t like he could just decide to stop and be done with it. It took time and too much effort. Being mentally healthy required the energy that being mentally ill had taken.

Carlos’ face softened. “I know it’s not, but you still need to try. You can’t keep acting like you’re invincible. This could kill you.” T.K. logically knew that Carlos’ hard words were because he was worried, but that didn’t stop the thoughts of inadequacy from clumping in his head like a blood clot.

“I know that.”

“But you don’t take this seriously.” He couldn’t take anything too seriously without having to do self-analysis that he wasn’t ready to do.

“I do. I went to the therapist that you and Judd wanted me to see.” That was technically a lie, but Carlos doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, but are you putting the work in, T.K.? Are you trying to do better? Or are you going through the motions?”

“This is my first relapse. It’s not even oxy. There’s no need to freak out.”

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

“What did you take?” T.K. didn’t see how it mattered because it’s not like he could do anything about it now.

“Who cares?” No one should. There’s no reason to care about someone like me.

Carlos gritted his teeth. “I care.” It made him feel like a loser, but hearing the words, “I care,” did something to T.K. It melted some of the rage and stubbornness he was feeling, and it made him want to confess everything to Carlos. To be vulnerable. But only for a second.

“Ecstasy.” He hadn’t premeditated taking it, but he had kept a stash of it just in case. So, maybe it had been more planned than I realized.

“That isn’t good for you either.” That’s the whole point! I like destruction. I like being wasted. I like wasting my life. Maybe my misery will end sooner this way.

“I don’t fucking care.” I care, but I can’t let myself care. Caring only brings pain, and I’ve had enough pain in my life. People have had it worse than me without ruining their lives, and I can’t understand how they do it. I’m not strong enough to be like them. I’m weak, and I’m a loser charading to the world as someone who matters. But I don’t matter, and no matter how many hit songs I have, I never will because no one will ever know the real me.

T.K. felt a surge of rage fill him, and he didn’t know what to do with it. It was going to consume him, and before he could think better of it, T.K. punched the wall, and with the drugs, he didn’t feel the strong as much as he might've, but he could see spots of blood on his knuckles where the skin had been peeled off. Carlos’ eyes grew wide, and without saying anything, he dragged T.K. into the bathroom and sat him down on the closed toilet seat.

Carlos

The day had gone from annoying to horrendous, and it seemed to keep getting worse. I shouldn’t have yelled at him. I’m such an asshole. He’s an addict. I can’t expect that he’ll get instantly better. I know how addiction works, and I know how hard it can be to stop using a substance. Carlos hated seeing T.K. go through this. It never got easier to see someone important to you struggling.“Are you okay?”

Carlos exhaled. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have blown up at you.”

“It’s not,” T.K. refuted. “I took drugs before you yelled at me, so pretty sure it’s my fault.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have taken my feelings out on you. I had a hard morning.” He felt like the worst person alive for yelling at T.K. Carlos knew that the drug use wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it could have been avoided if he had been more careful with his words. He should have sensed that T.K. was spiraling before it had gotten to the point that it had, but he had been so caught up in his own shit that he’d not done his job. I need to start acting more like a professional. I should have never lashed out at a client. I’d resign if I didn’t think that T.K. would drive any other bodyguard away. He needs me here, and I need him to be alive.

“Are you okay?” Carlos looked exhausted, he knew, but everyone who was part of the tour got exhausted. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, dude.”

Carlos ran a comforting hand through T.K.’s hair, but he quickly pulled it away because it didn’t make him feel like he was just T.K’s friend. “I’m okay.” He’d been having a lot of nightmares lately, but it wouldn’t be professional to say so. Like any of this is professional anymore. I’ve crossed so many lines. I’ve gotten too close. I’m compromised, but I can’t walk away. “I’m more worried about what happened with you today. Do you need to talk about your relapse.”

T.K. shook his head, looking down at his hands instead of Carlos. “No. I’d rather not talk about that.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“You already apologized. What I did wasn’t because of you. I was having a bad day, so wasn’t something you did to set me off. That was the final straw I guess.”

“I’m just saying that you shouldn’t, like, feel guilty about it or anything, and you can’t treat me like glass just because I might slip up.”

“I’ll do better T.K.”

“I’m an addict. You don’t need to do better. I need to do better.”

“Okay,” Carlos said, and he didn’t look convinced.

“You know that moment when you take a bath and dip your head underwater and the world is muted. You still hear sound, but it’s so distant that you can detach it from yourself, and in that moment, it feels like you can finally breathe, but obviously, if you stayed under there, you’d drown. So, you come back up only to crave wanting to be in the water again, even if it kills you.” Carlos didn’t know that feeling, not that exact one, but he knew what it felt like to have your head dipping underwater and bobbing back up when you never know when you’ll be able to breathe and when you’ll have to hold your breath. That feeling lingered. It followed him no matter where he went, and it could be suffocating, but it was never life-threatening.

Carlos nodded sympathetically, “Sometimes drowning feels like a noble pursuit rather than a death mission.”

T.K. sighed. “Yeah, and sometimes a death mission feels like a noble pursuit.”

#holding out for a hero #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #911 lone star au #Elise Writes #my writing #my fics #911 lone star fics #tarlos fic #wip

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ao3feed-peterstiles · 6 years ago

Text

Warning: Contents Are Under Pressure

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2WN5cg9

by Shey

Stiles was getting too old for this shit. He was only 24, and his back ached, his legs ached, and if he was being honest, his dick ached. He was pretty sure one more email request from the entitled bastard down the hall was going to make his head explode. His ping-pong ball brain kept ricocheting back to the toy box under his bed, the brand-new bottle of pricey lube in his nightstand drawer, and his blissfully empty apartment. An empty apartment that he was now doubting he would see on this side of midnight.

Recent NYU grad and new law clerk Stiles Stilinski is overworked, over-stressed, and underpaid. He’s suffering from a terrible case of no time to jerk-off, and has a boss who doesn’t know the meaning of personal space. If he doesn’t get some quality time with his right hand, and soon, he’s probably going to get himself fired, or evicted.

Unfortunately, his roommate keeps getting in the way of his plans, and it turns out his boss is just plain trouble with a capital T.

Words: 3484, Chapters: 1/6, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Lydia Martin

Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Additional Tags: Aged-Up Character(s), AU -Office, Panic Attacks, ADHD, Anxiety, legal Stiles, In more ways than one, Law Clerk Stiles, stiles is 24, everyone is legal, Threesome, no infidelity, Good Peter Hale, as much as Peter can be good, Manipulative Peter Hale, I don’t want to give too much away in the tags, check the notes at the end if you are worried, A little angst, A little h/c, Touch-Starved, dom/sub elements, Sub Stiles, Rough Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex, everyone consents, Toys, Mastrabation, Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, face fucking, Begging, Spanking, Bondage, Orgasm Delay, Edging, Subspace, PWP that got away from me and became Plot + Porn, I wanted it to be PWP but it’s really not, this was self-indulgent fun, thank god for patient beta readers!

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2WN5cg9

#ao3feed #fanfic #steter #peterstiles

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littleogreboii · 6 years ago

Text

MIRACULOUS DAZE: 1

DAZE

Summary: Felix Agreste has been a shut in since the death of his best friend Bridgette Cheng and the disappearance of his brother Adrien Agreste. His only company is the AI, Ladybug, that downloaded itself onto his computer a year ago. However, there might be more to it than meets the eye, and his foster siblings, Nathaniel, Lila and Rose, might know more than him about the events that are happening. And what the 'Heat Haze' is. (Kagerou Project AU)

Warning: Suicide, Major Character Death, Swearing, and Depression

Particular Cover I like for this

English Lyrics: Jubyphonic and Annapantsu

AO3

1 2

Concrete beating up and down

In a dream, fell awake, hazy days were never ending

Templates follow all around

Same old days, but we just didn't know

High tempo and rhythm flies

Not enough, try again, when'll tragedy end?

Wouldn't say that we're done just yet

So don't cry on the floor anymore

Felix awoke with a start. His hands were trembling. He felt hazy. His dream had felt important, but he couldn’t remember it for the life of him. Sighing, he reasoned that dreams couldn’t hold such a meaning. Yet, the colour red lingered in his mind. It flowed, accompanied by moonlight black. A ribbon or maybe a scarf. He couldn’t tell. He shook his head, sliding his legs off the bed.

“Bad dream again?” A voice called out and he looked up to see his computer screen. It was too bright, way too bright.

He ignored the question, knowing she knew the answer by now. “What the fuck? Did you turn the brightness up?”

She grinned. “Master, how kind of you to notice! I thought that it would help wake you up!”

“More like give me a pounding headache.” He muttered to himself, before squinting at her. “Turn it down.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” She mock saluted, as the brightness returned to normal. He relaxed slightly as he found it instantly easier to look at her. Her hair was similar to that of his dream, but his instinct told him it wasn’t her he was dreaming about. He didn’t dare to voice his thoughts either, suspecting that she would tease him if he did so.

Ladybug, as she called herself, had appeared in his life about a year ago. He had accidentally opened an email and she had instantly infiltrated all his tech like a virus. However, he imagined that a virus would be less annoying. She had moments where she would be pleasant like when they played video games together, on the rare occasion she didn’t cheat, or when she’d compliment a design he made, but most of the time, she was a pest. She would wake him up at random times in the night, suddenly take control of his computer interrupting his work, and more. He had no idea where she’d originally originated from, but he couldn’t get rid of her. He’d tried everything, even getting his father to replace the broadband at one point, but she’d simply came back. And each time she’d come back she’d been pissed off. He erased all his data on a game once. He spent a month just trying to get back up to the point he’d been at.

Initially, he had found the girl attractive, but there was only so far looks could take her. She had her hair tied in two pigtails and she wore a red mask with black spots. It was complete with a red bodysuit with black spots. She almost looked like a superhero, but with how she terrorised him, she was more like a supervillain.

“So, what will you be doing today?” Ladybug cut him out of his thoughts. “Will you be working on that design or playing a game? Oh, we could have a mario kart match! Or maybe you’ll got outside? You know get some sunlight. You could use some vitamin D.”

Felix laughed. “You know that’s not gonna happen.” He slipped onto his chair, rolling over to the computer. He hadn’t left his house in two years. He only left his room to eat dinner and shower. His father couldn’t complain about his behaviour either as he spent the majority of his time locked up in his office. He’s pretty sure it’s been over a month since they last saw each other. The only person he really sees is Nathalie. He doesn’t even really see his younger siblings. Rose might have been in recently to ensure he was still alive, but he couldn’t be sure. The three of them had moved out last year. He didn’t know where. It wasn’t like he’d be visiting them.

It’s not like he’d leave the house. After all, there was nothing out there for him.

C'mon, batten down your eyes

Don't know where to turn?

Without you, there's nowhere to go

And I dream too big to live a lie so why

should I move forward?

Marinette didn’t know where else to go. The world was so wide, yet it was the first time she was seeing it in this way. It felt strange when she first woke up to see everything through a screen, relying on cameras to see outside. Initially, she’d wanted to find Adrien. She didn’t know what she’d do when she found him, but she longed to see his grin as he recited a terrible joke. However, despite having the entire internet at her disposal, she couldn’t find him. It stressed her to no end because the last she’d seen of him, he’d collapsed. She had no way of finding out whether he was alive. It was like he’d just disappeared. There was no hospital records and no death records. He’d simply disappeared. Gone without a trace.

Her next option was her cousin, Bridgette. They’d grown close in recent months and she was the last person she’d seen before she collapsed and became whatever she was now, so maybe she knew something. It was an ideal option as from there Bridgette would be able to let her parents know she was ok. However, this idea fell through too. Bridgette had committed suicide. Apparently, it was the same day Marinette had collapsed. It shocked her to find out. She had seen her only a few minutes beforehand and to find out that Bridgette had been heading towards her death hurt. She could have saved her. They could have saved each other.

Instead, Marinette was stuck in this form. Trapped in technology. A few months ago, this would have been a dream, but right now, she’d give anything to be back with her friends. Friends. That was a strange word. The Marinette from a few months ago hated the idea of having to socialise, but now, she’d give anything to hear a pun from Adrien or to listen to Bridgette gush over Felix.

That’s when it hit her. Felix. Sure, she didn’t particularly get on with Felix. Who did, to be honest? But, he was all she had currently. If Felix was alive, he’d definitely be trackable. After all, the boy practically lived on his computer. It annoyed her to no end when she had found out. While she’d been there struggling to get a D, he’d been easily achieving A+’s. However now, it was her saving grace. She found him, hiding herself in an email and praying that he was stupid enough to open it.

Sure enough, he did and she exploded into life. Yet, when she was the bags under his eyes and his pale skin, she wasn’t so sure she’d made the right choice. It seemed like he needed more help than she did at the moment.

“Who are you?” His voice was hoarse, almost as if he’d been crying. It was only strengthened by the sight of the around around his eyes.

She made a quick decision. “I’m Ladybug! You’re personal AI!”

“Thanks. I don’t want one.” He immediately responded. “Now begone.” He attempted to drag her into the bin.

“No can do, mister!” She tutted. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me!”

C'mon, throw up both your hands

Zeros all around

We didn't solve a thing but gather again

Ready to go...

Hey, are you still there...caught in the haze?

Juleka knew it was coming again. She knew that they were heading towards a ‘bad end’. She longed to turn them away from it, reset the timeline while it was still early, but there was a part of her that prayed this was finally the ‘good end’. She didn’t want to see her friends hurt anymore, but she didn’t want to continue on alone. She didn’t want to let him win, so for now she’d grin and bear. She’d wait for her to show up again.

For now, she continued to sit in her house, far away from humanity. Her blindfold remained intact as she fretted about whether this might be the time where she ends up hurting Rose. The very thought is nauseating, but it lingers nonetheless. Shaking her head, she tried to refocus. She picked up her book and read it. She’d long since memorised the words, but she was a sucker for a happy ending. She hoped this time she’d be able to achieve it in reality as well.

She longed for the ‘good end’.

Let's "play"

I'm screaming 'til you hear me say

Let's "save"

I'm fighting every single day

Grab a hand so warm you said to take

I can't forget it anyway

Nino hated this day. August 14th. He felt trapped. A time loop he was unable to leave. She would die again today, no matter how he tried to save her. He’d take her towards the subway today. Maybe, they’d successfully be able to board a train today and stay safe. It was a pointless ambition. She’d died every previous August 14th. It wasn’t like this one would be any different. He could still remember every time. He could still hear every scream. The haze would mock him. It would laugh at him as it said “what you see is exactly what you’re gonna get” and like every other time, he wouldn’t understand it. Nino knew Alya was unaware of the time loop. Every time, he pulled her along with her, she would question him, demanding answers. He didn’t have time to answer her. He had to keep moving if he hoped to save her.

He just wanted to keep the warmth in her hands.

Let's "daze"

My heart's a beat that never fades

Let's "change"

You'll never cry alone the same

All the "lonely days" that you dyed from gray

Because it's you, I’ll put those memories on hold

Lila wouldn’t tell them. She couldn’t. She doubted they would believe her by this point. She’d hid behind so many lies by this point, even she wasn’t sure what the truth was. Even her tears didn’t feel real, but it didn’t matter. The others would never see behind the masked. She would keep playing her role until the very last curtain call, even though it was agonising to do so. It was her role to play though and she was nothing if not persistent. She’d persist even after everyone knew it was all a lie. It was the only way she knew how to live and it was far too late to take it all back by this point.

No, she would never be anything but a liar. Completely alone.

Encore ringing loud and proud,

We go round and around through the streets of broken pavement

Hold hands as we run along - I’ll make sure that I never let go.

Break out, standing tall and strong

Never rest, never stop, cause our cue will soon come!

It’s the day we’ve been waiting for

So find all that you’ve wanted to say!

Alya wasn’t dumb. She knew what Nino was doing, but it would only hurt him more if he knew that she could remember every death. Yet she knew there was no point trying to stop him, so she would allow him to keep holding her hand. She ran behind him, never by his side, and allowed death to take her when it came. Every time it came.

Every August 14th, she would allow it to occur. She would let him drag her down each street, without rest. One day, she hoped he would simply sit and enjoy her company. She prayed he’d be honest and say the words he wants to say to her. She wants to hear them from his mouth. She already knows them, but just once, she wants to hear them from his lips.

But for now, she’ll keep dying for him.

C’mon, give me both your hands,

When we meet, I’m certain

Our meeting was in fate's plan

Just like shadow, filled with pain

The world looks nearly the same

“Frustrations” fill the air, “weakness” echos behind

Worthlessness can sum up both in one line

Ready to fly beyond these grey skies

Whadda’ya say?

Rose ran through the forest, desperate to get away from the noise. They wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t silence them. The thoughts were overwhelming. She could feel herself drowning, the words piercing into her. She wanted them to stop. They wouldn’t end though. They wouldn’t leave her until she was dead.

In her distressed state, she didn’t realise she’d come upon a house. It was near silent now. The only sound, the occasional disturbed noise of a bird. A warning. She frowned. The house appeared normal, if only being strangely far from civilisation. As she got closer, she could hear soft humming. She couldn’t hear anything beyond that though. Whoever was inside that house, she was unable to hear their thoughts. It was almost relieving. She’d heard thoughts from everyone back home by now, even her siblings. It was painful. Thoughts shouldn’t be heard. They were private and unfiltered. It stressed her to hear the truth behind Lila’s lies or to hear how anxious Nathaniel was or how depressed Felix was. The worst bit was that her powers failed to alert her to how much pain Bridgette was in until it was too late.

She hoped the person beyond this door would give her the hope she so desperately needed.

Let’s “play”

I’m reaching for only today

Let’s “save”

My heart is hurting day by day

Even though it seems like hope is lost,

I’ll never lose the warmth of heart

Nathaniel was invisible. It was better that way he told himself. Being around others only stressed him out. They were far too unpredictable and they drained him far too much. Even being around Lila and Rose was too much sometimes. Lila’s loud nature kept him on edge and he was always cautious of his thoughts around Rose. He was at least relieved to know he didn’t have to worry about Felix. Although that was a problem in itself. Nathaniel at least attempted to socialise, but Felix kept himself locked in his room. He was sure he’d heard Felix talking to himself before and it concerned him to no end. He knew Felix wouldn’t admit how much he missed Bridgette and Adrien. He preferred to hide behind the door, spending days on end locked in his room.

He missed Adrien and Bridgette too, but he knew there was more to August 14th than meets the eye. There was something suspicious about their disappearances, especially considering that Marinette had also gone missing at the same time. The haze was mocking him, but he couldn’t work it out yet. He wasn’t sure how aware the other two were of it. Lila could know more than him, but he couldn’t trust her to tell the truth, and he didn’t know how much of his thoughts Rose had heard. However, he expected if Rose had heard such thoughts, she would have asked him about it by now.

For now though, he would cling to this small sliver of hope that one of them had made it out ok for the heat was a scary place.

Let’s “daze”

The streets are filled with endless haze

Let’s “change”

The words are gone, all the same

But my feelings stay, the same as always

It seems like I’m the only thing that’s really changed

Chloe didn’t know when everyone had started paying attention to her, but she used it to her advantage. She would use their adoration to convince them to fulfill her wishes. While there were a lot of benefits to it, it hurt sometimes. She couldn’t go outside without someone noticing her and one person noticing her would lead to a whole crowd. The amount of times she’d had to call someone to rescue her was embarrassing. She couldn’t even do something as simple as walk to school without being swarmed.

While she wanted to blame everyone else for suddenly becoming so interested in her, she knew in herself that it was she who had changed. It wasn’t physical because she could go out dressed in pajamas and people would notice her, but she wasn’t sure the change was mental either. She felt no different, but she knew something had changed. It felt like she was on the brink of remembering something, but she wasn’t quite there. Something was missing yet she wasn’t sure what it was. She wanted to ask anyone, but she’d lost all her friends. Adrien was missing. Bridgette, although their relationship was strained at best, had committed suicide. Who even knew where Marinette was. And Felix had locked himself in his room. She was completely alone.

She knew she could ask Felix’s younger siblings, but they frankly scared her. Rose was constantly flinching. Nathaniel freaked her out with how he was constantly sneaking up on her. And Lila was manipulative. She was entirely alone on the matter. Her mother kept her distance only telling her to use her talents to become rich and famous. Although she loved her father, he was way too big a suck up. She was amazed someone like him was their mayor. However, it put her at an advantage. She’d spent years finding out how to fool people from him. She could probably convince the whole of Paris to off themselves by this point. It wouldn’t ease the weight on her chest though.

After all, it was only her who had changed.

To the kid in the back, with their eyes all swollen red

This blue, more blue

Beyond blue summer skies

If only I could reach you, then you’d see

Felix could remember round azure eyes. They were accompanied by long eyelashes and deep eyebags. He would always look to his right and find them. He found it odd that they were swollen red. The little he could remember of them, he remembered them being always happy yet whenever he dreamed of them, they were filled with such sorrow. He wanted to reach out and wipe the tears away, but he was never able to. He was restrained to his spot. He could only watch a face he couldn’t hope to hold.

He figured he probably saw more than just their eyes when he dreamt, but when he awoke the eyes were all that he could remember. Sometimes, when he thought about it, he would even remember them being red, but he would erase the thought. There was no way someone could have red eyes. It was just impossible.

“Sayonara”, you shouted into endless haze

And yesterday was different too

Surely we’ll escape from this nightmare sometime soon?

A voice called out to Felix occasionally. He was sure it was just Ladybug playing a prank on him or him hearing one of his siblings wonder around the house, but the voice was different. Sometimes, the voice was kind. He could hear a high pitched giggle or sometimes it would say his name. The fondness that his name was said with made him want to break down into tears. However, sometimes the voice was deeper and it would insult him. It would mock him and tease him. It wasn’t like Ladybug’s teasing, it was harsh. The words would dig deep, ripping into wounds that he’d been trying to heal for years.

He thought he might be losing it. He figured the years spent locked up in his room had worn at his sanity, breaking him down until there was nothing left. He kept going though. He got up everyday, pretending nothing was wrong, and ignoring the concerned glances of Ladybug and his family. They didn’t really care because caring about him was pointless.

Please wait, I’m here whenever you’re alone

Just wait, another day will come I’m sure

Be it loneliness, or broken hearts

I’m here for you, so share your part

Sometimes when Felix dreamt, it was of soft embraces and a gentle voice humming to him. In those dreams, he felt at ease. He never wanted to wake from those dreams wishing tomorrow would never come so he could sleep forever. Yet he still woke up each morning with a dull ache in his chest and a throbbing in his brain. He was forgetting something, but he didn’t know what. The loneliness ate him up. He was too weak to push Ladybug away, but he was never strong enough to fully argue with her. Sometimes, he just wanted to shut her up. To end her. He knew these weren’t rational feelings to have, but it didn’t matter. She was just programming after all. Her feelings were all simply coding.

Nothing really mattered, yet he kept going everyday just to achieve the same feelings.

Let's "play"

I'm screaming 'til you hear me say

Let's "save"

I'm fighting every single day

Grab a hand so warm you said to take

I can't forget it anyway

Chat Noir couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anything. All that existed was the name the man Gabriel Agreste had given him. The boy reflected in the mirror was unfamiliar. The mask obscuring half his face wouldn’t come off and the cat ears upon his head did whatever they wanted.

There was a duo he’d found. The girl seemed to take a particular interest in him, yet he couldn’t recall her name for the life of him. He should probably question it more, but to think of such things hurt him. He didn’t want to remember because it felt like it would be painful. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t remember what happened to the duo. The memories were probably painful.

Sometimes, he’d be plagued by flashes. One time, he’d seen someone sitting in a hospital bed with blonde hair and green eyes and it had felt like his head was splitting in two. He’d broken down sobbing. He didn't understand why though. He couldn’t remember who it was for the life of him. It felt like it was important, but Gabriel had already told him that it wasn’t. Gabriel had told him many things and why would Gabriel lie to him? After all, the man had stuck by his side all this time and he appeared to be very wise.

That’s right it was easier to forget. That way he could do anything.

Let's "daze"

My heart's a beat that never fades

Let's "change"

You'll never cry alone the same

Colors shining through, the city we once knew

Even if my heart wavers just a bit

All the "lonely days" that you dyed from gray,

Because it's you I know that we’ll get through and try it again

Bridgette had tried her best. Everything she’d done was so everyone else would be happy, but now she realised, she’d played right into the snake’s hand. Everything was her fault and all her friends were suffering because of it. She would never be able to forgive herself for her mistake.

And she wept.

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ao3feed-petopher · 6 years ago

Text

Warning: Contents Are Under Pressure

read it on AO3 at http://bit.ly/2WN5cg9

by Shey

Unfortunately, his roommate keeps getting in the way of his plans, and it turns out his boss is just plain trouble with a capital T.

Words: 3484, Chapters: 1/6, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Lydia Martin

Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

read it on AO3 at http://bit.ly/2WN5cg9

#teen wolf #petopher #chris/peter #chris argent #peter hale #ao3feed #fanfic

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ziskandra · 6 years ago

Text

did you know that i still write fanfiction? no? me neither! i had a lot of fun participating in the @mebigbang test reverse big bang - working with @ramblingandpie‘s art was a great inspiration! ao3 link.

Summary: Having confidently identified the problem, EDI works towards finding a solution.

Upon reuniting with a despondent Samantha Traynor several years after The Reaper War, EDI makes it a mission to cheer up her old friend.

Ninety-Nine Percent Chance of Success

“Oh, hello, EDI! I didn’t see you there.” Specialist Traynor beams as she straightens upwards, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her smile, however, does not quite meet her eyes and her Alliance uniform, usually fresh and crisp, looks as though it had been slept in for days.

It’s been almost five years since they had last seen each other, three since the last time they’d even exchanged an email. “It’s been a while,” EDI agrees with a tilt of the head. “Longer than I would have liked.”

That admission brings a slight twitch of amusement to Samantha’s lips, but it’s short-lived as her face soon settles back into a frown. “I’m sorry,” she starts, not quite looking EDI in the eyes. “I’ve not been avoiding you.” Fortunately, EDI does not need to hold Samantha’s gaze to assess the source of the problem. Firstly, there’s the dishevelled state of the specialist’s clothing: the Samantha EDI had known would never have turned up to work dressed like this. Secondly, there is the woman’s downtrodden demeanour: EDI doesn’t have to be a highly-advanced artificial intelligence to know that Samantha is in physiological distress.

The third, and most obvious sign, however, is the complete absence of the physical signs of arousal that Samantha usually displayed whenever she heard EDI’s voice. Oh, she’d tried to mask them ever since she’d become aware of EDI’s true nature, but there’s no hiding symptoms from EDI. EDI knows. She always knows.

“It’s not me you’ve been avoiding,” EDI answers without a moment of hesitation. There are times, she has learnt, for subtlety, for ‘beating around the bush’ as the humans like to say. But Samantha is an old friend, and EDI has always preferred to chart the most direct path.

Samantha’s shoulders slump ever-so-slightly, but the action does not escape EDI’s notice. “Oh, I know, I know.” She pauses, swallowing a lump in her throat. “It’s just… being back here is harder than I thought.”

EDI takes in the view, watches the tears glisten in Samantha’s eyes as she looks across the bridge, up at the new Normandy. Samantha blinks, inhaling deeply, and continues, even though her voice begins to waver. “I’m fine, though, well and truly.” Unperturbed, EDI forges onwards. “You miss her.” The subject of their conversation goes unspoken, but there’s sometimes something to be said for inferences, EDI thinks. “Yeah,” Sam relents, “I do.” “I miss her too,” EDI confides. Her life has never been quite the same since she’d left the Normandy. So many of her processes had been so intrinsically linked to the ship for so long that her platform’s first foray beyond its range had felt like leaving home. She’d been able to emulate emotion for as long as she’d been self-aware, but it was the first time she’d simply just been sad. Now that they’re building more Normandy-class frigates, EDI’s been called into work more often. It’s nice to have a purpose again, to spend time with old friends. Jeff likes to pretend that he hasn’t changed a bit, but EDI knows there’s more wrinkles near the corner of his eyes. His life is different now. They all are.

Having confidently identified Samantha’s problem, EDI works towards finding a solution. Throughout her travels with Commander Shepard, EDI has discovered that some humans do not like being confronted directly with their feelings. While she has not had quite as many interactions with Samantha to draw experience on, she knows that Sam and the commander were close. What is the best way to deal with this situation? According to her simulations, there is a route that leads to a ninety-nine percent chance of success. Those are not terrible odds, so EDI course-corrects. “Remember when she met her clone?”

Sam looks taken aback for a moment, although she soon recovers quickly. “How could I forget? My Cision Mark Pro IV saved the day!” She holds her hand aloft as she’d held it during that fateful moment several years ago.

EDI smiles. “I doubt you have had a more useful toothbrush since.”

Quickly dropping her arm, Sam admits, “Well, they did just release the newest model. The Cision Mark Pro VII. I’m still saving up for it, myself.” EDI, not having teeth or gums, can’t help but admire Samantha’s dedication to oral hygiene, even if she does not understand or truly empathise with it. “What capabilities does this one have the the older versions do not?”

“Oh, more of the same, really. Just faster.” Sam flashes EDI a smile that’s more about showing off her pearly whites than anything else. EDI’s glad to see that even though Sam has seen better days that there is still more than a spark of the person she’d once known.

“Interesting,” EDI says in response as she’s overcome with the torrent of questions she now wants to ask Samantha. It would be so interesting for her research into human behaviours. But that’s not her task here, so instead, she focuses. Diverts. “Remember how ecstatic she was when she completed her model ship collection?” Samantha snorts. “‘Ecstatic’ might be an understatement.” She plants her feet a shoulder-width apart and balls her fists up by her side in an eerily-accurate imitation of their former commander. Brows furrowed, she continues, “If I find any one of you so much breathing in the directions of my shelves…” Samantha pauses, inhaling sharply through her nose, “… breathing will soon be the least of your problems.” “She loved her ships,” EDI agrees. “But as I do not breathe, it was not a very convincing threat.” Rolling her eyes, Samantha says, “As though any of us would ever enter the captain’s quarters without her express permission.”

EDI tilts her head. “Oh,” Samantha says, eyes widening in realisation. “I suppose you were always in her quarters, in a manner of speaking.” For a moment, she simply looks lost in thought. “Never mind, then.” Deciding it best not to pursue that line of discussion, EDI continues, “Remember when her hamster escaped?”

Samantha makes a noise of dismay. “She didn’t even name him!” she exclaims. “That’s no way to treat a pet.” “But she treated his recovery mission with the same solemnity as she did her other assignments. She assessed the crew she had on hand and made sure that no centimetre of the vessel was left unaccounted for.” “That’s because she thought he’d been kidnapped! Instead, we found him in the mess… cheeky little bastard was happily munching away on our rations without a care in the world. By the look of him, you’d think he’d not been fed in days! Well. The look on his face, that is, he was quite, what’s the word?” She gestures with her hands. “Rotund. Probably still is, the way Dr. T’soni dotes on him.”

“She was incredibly relieved to have found him.” EDI herself hadn’t quite understood the Commander’s attachment at the time, although the speech the woman had delivered afterwards had helped clarify matters somewhat. “Oh yes,” Samantha agrees, “the way she scooped him up in her hands and told him not to ever go missing again! Didn’t even scold him for getting into the food.” “We are family,” EDI reminisces, one of the benefits and drawbacks of her perfect recollection. Her imitation of the commander’s voice is even more perfect than Samantha’s. It’s an unfair advantage. “Just because we’re a motley assortment of misfits doesn’t mean I won’t do the exact same thing for each and everyone one for you. Now, I’ve got to get this little guy back into his cage.” It’s not until she’s said the last sentence that EDI realises it most likely wasn’t an intended part of Shepard’s inspiring speech.

She’s about to play it off as a joke when suddenly, surprisingly, Samantha bursts into laughter, the kind that ignites in the belly and explodes in the chest and although Samantha might not be truly happy in this moment, EDI can’t help but think it’s the first time her friend has laughed this hard in years. Although this is an outcome she had been working towards, now that she has achieved it, EDI is quite unsure of what to do with herself.

“Oh, EDI, I could hug you!” Samantha explains once her laughs recede, a hand pressed against her stomach as though worried her insides might come tumbling out. The stance never ceases to be somewhat concerning: EDI’s not sure she’ll ever grow accustomed to how soft and vulnerable humans are.

“You can,” EDI replies firmly despite her building uncertainty. She’s not fond of the sensation because she is, by all accounts, an artificial intelligence, one that can perfectly adjust her behavioural paradigms with each new situation that confronts her. The first interaction is always the hardest, though, and what EDI is sure of is that she’s never quite been in a situation like this one before.

The fact of the matter is, EDI doesn’t yet understand how these two events relate to each other, that is, Samantha’s elation and her desire to embrace. The only conclusion she can draw is that humans are affectionate when they are happy, even when they are not intoxicated, and even when the galaxy is not about to end. When EDI had first begun learning about humans, she’d thought that human bonding was primarily sexual, that when under duress, their underlying biological programming pushed them towards reproductive behaviours - even if the result of such a mating would not necessarily result in actual offspring.

Yet, EDI has spent several years predominantly living amongst humans, although she’s certainly had a number of interactions with the rest of the galaxy’s species. And every day, she learns and she learns. She’s experienced teamwork and family and camaraderie and friendship, and she’s coming to grips with the reality that being alive, a sentient being, is all about the links one makes with other people, no matter who they are, or where they come from. EDI can change people’s lives, maybe sometimes only slightly, but hopefully always for the better. So that’s why she doesn’t shy away when Sam throws her arms around her, holding her in a seemingly-firm grip that EDI could nonetheless break free from in an instant. “Huh,” Sam says, pulling away just enough to be heard when she speaks, “you’re warmer than I thought you would be.” EDI can’t avoid the easy quip. “Did you think that just because I am a synthetic, I am incapable of comfort?” Samantha loosens her grip, and EDI doesn’t even need to look to know that her friend��s eyes have widened in alarm. “No, no,” she stammers, “It’s not that, I—”

“I have flexible alloys in my skin that allow me to adjust my internal and external temperature,” EDI says, cutting Sam off with more than a hint of smugness.

Sam bats at EDI’s arm as she lets go completely. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” “You did,” EDI confirms as Samantha holds her hands up in mock-resignation. “All right, all right,” Sam says with a wave, “No need to rub it in.”

“I will immediately cease with my abrasive processes,” EDI assures her, and Samantha laughs again. “I’m glad I ran into you,” she says. This time, when Sam smiles, it does truly reach her eyes. She reaches down, attempts to smooth some wrinkles from her fatigues with limited success. “We should get a drink sometime.” She pauses. “Do synthetics drink? You know what I mean. Gather some of the old crew, too, if they’re around. I haven’t seen them in far too long.”

“James Vega and Kaidan Alenko are both in Vancouver,” EDI confirms. In the aftermath of the Reaper War, people have focused primarily on recovering their homeworlds. “As is Jeff Moreau,” she adds, although it almost goes without saying. At the end of the day, they’re never truly far from each other.

“Sounds like we’ve got a party!” Sam exclaims, before casting a guilty glance downwards at the crates piled up around her feet. “Oh, but look at the time! I’ve been stood here babbling on for far too long. I better get these requisitions on board before someone catches me slacking!”

“Let me help,” EDI offers, “I was just heading in that direction.” It’s not even a lie: EDI did have business upon the Normandy today. Running into Samantha Traynor is just a pleasant distraction.

“Oh, if it’s not too much of a bother,” Sam says, ducking down to heft a box in her arms. “I could use the assistance.” EDI wonders if she should tell Samantha that her platform is more than capable of carrying all the crates by herself, but then she reminds herself that humans like being involved and feeling useful, so she says nothing instead as they move the containers, making quick work of the load in companionable silence. Honestly, EDI would have preferred to keep talking, her processes always thinking of more observations to make, more inquiries to present, but the exertion required by SAM to move the boxes means that their interaction is limited in that regard. Still, EDI finds herself surprised by how pleasant it is.

As they relocate the final crate and Sam stands besides the new pile with hands on hips, admiring their handiwork, she remarks, “Well, that’s that done. Thank you truly, EDI! I couldn’t have done it without you.” “You’re welcome,” EDI replies. “It was my pleasure.” The words, once upon a time a formality for EDI, are genuine. She has truly enjoyed talking to Samantha again. “I better let you get back to it,” Sam says with a sigh, disappointment belied in the droop of her shoulders. “But I mean what I said. It was really good to see you again.” EDI knows she is not imagining Samantha’s elevated heart rate and increased temperature. Her measuring instruments are perfectly calibrated.

In this moment, at the very least, Samantha is herself again. EDI commits herself to catching up with the communications specialist more frequently to ensure the results of her learning today are easily replicated. “It was good to see you as well,” EDI assures her.

“I’ve missed my family,” Samantha says with a wistful smile, arms now crossed over her chest. She looks smaller, in a way. EDI finds herself surprisingly unable to understand why.

“You see them every other shore leave,” EDI dead-pans in response. At least she’s learnt that humour helps in these sort of situations. Samantha snorts. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” EDI confirms. “I do.”

Sam begins to turn, facing the direction of the next task on her agenda. “Take care, EDI,” she says, her voice slightly higher than its usual register. “I am incapable of performing with anything less than the utmost precision,” EDI assures her.

Samantha smiles again before finally moving down the corridor with one last look at EDI over her shoulder.

EDI begins downloading the schedules of all the former Normandy crew members who are currently in Vancouver to co-ordinate the most optimal date for a reunion.

#asha fic #mass effect #samantha traynor #edi #mass effect fanfic #i want to get back into writing more regularly again!!#we'll see what happens...

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forkanna · 8 years ago

Link

[AO3 LINK]

NOTE: I probably bring up Rilo Kiley way more often than is necessary, but God they're just one of my favourite bands. While writing this, I ended up ordering my fave album of theirs on vinyl (just being sentimental I guess) and finally got their "Rkives" collection of b-sides, which was kind of their goodbye letter to their fans. Probably the real reason it took me this long is that I didn't want to believe they really would never put out another album...

Anyway, none of this is important to the fic at all.

"MAN, that was so awesome! The way the creature exploded from inside the box and went for the girl's face, but she bashed it with the meat tenderizer?! I was totally on the edge of my seat!"

"The edge of the counter, you mean," I sighed as we headed down Bloor. As much as I hated to admit it, the movie hadn't been half-bad, even if I couldn't see myself watching it again unless a friend really wanted to. And since I don't have any friends…

"Did you see the look on her boyfriend's face when she chose the monster over him? I thought he would BARF!"

"Yep."

"Oh my gosh…" With a happy little giggle, Knives skipped once before settling into a normal stride again. "Way better than that movie you were watching when I got there."

"Oh, 'The Birds'?"

"Yeah. It was black and white, and just kind of looked depressing."

"Right. What a flop that one was." There was no sense in fighting with someone who didn't appreciate classic cinema, after all. Not that I'm that big of a Hitchcock fan, but the old letch had a way with a camera lens.

"Anyway, sorry about knocking over that display," she went on, scratching her cheek. "Is it expensive? I still have some saved up from working at Second Cup last year…"

My shoulders moved up and down. "Doesn't matter. The boss barely gives a shit. And nothing was really broken, just kinda… bent slightly."

"Oh. Okay, good."

"Um…"

The silence stretched on for another block. Finally, Knives asked, "Um, what? Normally I'd be the one to start a sentence and forget to finish it."

That was a fair point. Why was I having so much trouble with this? My question was supposed to be something simple. Supposed to be. But for whatever reason, asking it felt like a more monumental task. An important one.

"Do you… wanna… come back to my place?"

SHIT. Of course I would end up asking it in a way that sounds like way more than I intended. Like I was propositioning some damn college freshman! Who's a chick! I felt stupid, and embarrassed, and had to snap my lips shut to keep from babbling more, even though in reality, this actually wasn't a big deal. People went to their friends' apartments all the time! Logic couldn't stop me from feeling ridiculous.

"Really?"

When I looked up, her eyes were shining with glee. Literally shining — it could have been the headlights of a passing car. Not really sure.

"Nevermind," I said immediately, continuing to walk at a quick pace. "Forget I said anything."

"No, wait, but- listen- I'm talking to you!" Dashing after me, she finally caught up when I got to the corner and I had to wait for the crosswalk signal. "Kim! I promise I'll be good, don't go!"

"I just… wanted to see if you'd be interested, but not if you're going to make it into some red-letter event, okay?! GOD!"

Her arms wrapped around me, and I had to fight down the instinct to shove her into traffic. "But this is gonna be fun! I've been waiting for you to invite me back sometime!"

"You have?! Then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you already kind of acted annoyed that I was even hanging around you, and I didn't wanna push it!"

"Well, that's… that is just… totally accurate," I admitted through my clenched teeth. Much as it pained me. "But you could have just… I don't know, nevermind."

By now, how close she was started to get on my nerves. I don't know why; normally I'm not that averse to being squeezed, but just something about how excited she was to come by my stupid apartment made it worse. Still, was kind of nice to actually have a friend get within my personal space bubble again. For someone to care enough to try.

"I'm just happy, that's all," she finally whispered. Then she seemed to sense that I'd bite her head off purely to avoid confronting feelings, so she drew back and smiled awkwardly. "But yeah, I'll chill with you for an hour or two."

"Fine. Uh… well, then let's, um…"

I didn't even finish the thought. Instead, I put one foot in front of the other, half hoping that Knives would forget to follow me. She didn't.

~ o ~

"What do you want, tea? Milk? Milktea?"

"Water's fine," she said with a pleasant little smile. That was starting to drive me nuts. She left her chunky boots by the door — which I don't know why she was wearing in the middle of Summer, anyway — and sat cross-legged on the counter as I got her a glass of water, then reached for a beer for myself.

"You… don't mind if I…?"

"I can drink now, too, you know," she giggled with her hands wrapped around her shins as she smiled over at me. "But, um… I don't think I should."

The cap bounced across the kitchen and into the corner when I popped it, and I told myself I'd worry about picking it up later. "Don't think you should? What, did you find religion at uni or something?"

"Nah. Just… after what happened at Julie's aunt's…"

Everything in the room seemed to freeze. After a moment or two… I began to realise it really did freeze.

Swallowing hard, I waved my hand back and forth past Knives's face. Totally petrified. She still looked normal, but I couldn't move her even when I pushed very slightly at her arm. This was really bizarre. I started having Vietnam-style flashbacks to the year before, but the flickering of my fluorescent light bulb was helping to distract my brain from diving down that rabbit hole. Not when I already had another rabbit hole to climb out of as it was.

Actually… it wasn't the light bulb. When I looked up, I saw giant brick letters that said "PAUSE" suspended in midair, flashing a rainbow of colours. They were a little too high up for me to reach them easily, but I thought I could touch them by hopping up and down a little…

Yet I didn't. Not yet.

Pacing back and forth, I tried to think through my reaction. Why did I freeze up so much? I couldn't even fully remember what happened that night… except that I had some kind of vague snippet of Knives saying "I've kissed the lips that kissed you." And then we did a little experiment, cutting Scott out of the picture. That's it; everything else was a blank, everything that came after, most of the next morning. Gone. And I had been dreading when she might bring it up again, just in case her memory was a little clearer than mine. That was truly mortifying to me.

On the other hand, Knives was trying not to let that happen again. Did she hate kissing me? Or was she just trying not to repeat a sloppy, drunken mistake? Maybe she liked it but thought I hated it, the same way she didn't ask to come back to my place because she knew I was barely tolerating her as a pseudo-friend.

Anyway, this was all conjecture. I was getting way ahead of myself. Knives was a nice person, even if I don't typically trust nice people (because they turn out like Scott most of the time). Sighing, knowing this wasn't really fair to her anyway, I hopped up and smacked the word that had appeared overhead.

"...I dunno," she finally finished, rubbing at the back of her neck. Then she blinked. "Hey, how'd you get into the middle of the kitchen so fast? I thought I was the one with the training."

"Nevermind that. Um… what happened that night. I don't remember a lot; I was pretty tanked. So like, it wasn't… if I did anything…" Somehow, despite having that additional time to prepare myself, I still wound up blushing and looking away from her.

"Huh? Oh… crazy, right?" Clearing her throat, she shrugged and went on, "Well, I remember more than you do, I think, but we don't have to talk about it anymore."

Swallowing hard and trying to get my stupid face under control, I said, "Thanks." A huge swig of beer gave me time to think of a subject to change to. "Sure you don't want one?"

"I'm good, thank you."

"Cool."

I led her into the living room and flopped down on the couch. She took the seat next to me, but when I turned to glare at her, she moved over to the nearby chair. Then I felt like shit for scaring her off, but she was already talking again.

"So… do you have anything good to watch here?"

"Not really. No internet or cable, and I don't have a lot of movies."

"I thought you'd have tons, working at a video store! Like, when they get rid of the old ones, you could get them for free or something…"

A long sigh issued as I slid further down, propping my feet up on the coffee table. "Nope." She did the same thing, and I tried not to laugh at her mirroring my gesture.

"So what do you do for fun when you get home?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Then why do you go to the library?"

She had me there. "Uh… no reason. Check my email, I dunno."

"Do you wanna listen to music? I, um… have some on my phone…"

The request was so nervous that I had to fight down the urge to lash out at her. To tell her that was a stupid idea, or sarcastically say it was greeeaaat and she was a genius. These things just come naturally to me. Instead, I managed to grit my teeth and say, "Sure." After all, what better ideas were coming out of my brain? Not a one.

~ o ~

So we listened to her music, I finished my beer. I said I liked the song, she told me who it was — somebody I'd heard of but dismissed as a lame pop act. Para-whatever. Then we started talking about other bands we liked, and most of hers were cheesy or lame, but she also liked a lot of decent stuff. Somehow, we both knew Rilo Kiley, which I didn't think anybody else in the universe had heard of. Every band I brought up that she didn't know, she responded with "I'll have to check them out", which would be a brush-off coming from anyone else. But Knives meant it.

It started to get late. Part of me wanted her to stay, but most of me needed her to go, so I yawned and said I was thinking about going to bed soon and she got the hint.

"Sorry I was so lame," Knives apologised with too much sincerity as I showed her to the door. "Next time, I'll try to bring my old Nintendo 64 over or something."

"Nice. Do you have Mario Kart?"

"Why wouldn't I have it?" I smiled. That was the closest I usually came to laughing, and I felt my face heating up again from letting her in too far, but I also was annoyed with myself for overthinking every goddamn moment. "And Smash."

"Sorry my apartment was so boring," I shot at her, trying to make up for the smile with caustic sarcasm. Balance my arbitrary scales.

"It's okay." Totally missed it, of course. "You weren't expecting me today, and I wasn't expecting to be invited, either. But I liked hanging out with you, even if all we did was talk. It's been nice."

"Nice, huh?" Her smile seemed to cut right through my force field. "Yeah. That's a word, I suppose."

After a heartbeat, she leaned in to hug me, and I stood there in mild surprise until she let go. "Do you want my cell?"

"Why bother? You'll just show up when you feel like it, right?"

"True, true. See you later!" She was only a few steps away from the door when she called back, "Oh, and I'll check out those Stars guys!"

"Yep."

I waved. Then I was alone in my apartment, with no Nintendo to distract me from wrestling with my crazy thought patterns. Damn my mom for putting all my games in a yard sale after I moved out.

To Be Continued…

#kim pine's precious little knives #scott pilgrim vs. the world #scott pilgrim fanfiction #kim pine #knives chau #forkanna writes #forkanna the writer

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gerxrdwxy · 8 years ago

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Memories - Happy Birthday Brendon

Read it on ao3 By PagebyPaige

Summary: Brendon is sad and alone and its his 30th birthday.

Word Count: 2047 Chapters: 1/1 Language: English

•Fandom(s): Panic! at the Disco •Rating: General •Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M, Multi •Character(s): Brendon Urie, Spencer Smith, Dallon Weekes, Ryan Ross, Sarah Orzechowski (mention), Dan Pawlovich (mention), Kenneth Harris (mention) •Relationships: Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross (Platonic), Past!Ryden, Brendon Urie/Spencer Smith (platonic), Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes (platonic), Brendon Urie/Sarah Orzechowski •Additional Tags: Brendon is 30, April 12, Fluff, Angst, Brendon is sad and alone, happy birthday bren

How did he end up like this? Brendon is somehow alone and sad, moping in a dressing room on his 30th birthday mourning the loss of the friends he threw away.

Brendon finds himself lonely and unenergetic, completely unlike him. He doesn’t feel like talking to even Sarah, or fooling with his dogs. Brendon looks through the ‘House of Memories,’ the display of “artifacts” from older years of Panic! He looks at his ridiculous hair, the crazy makeup, stage outfits and fond memories. As he moves through and finally reaches Death of a Bachelor. Here he is, headlining a tour by himself, basically the entire record credited to him.

Brendon goes back again, this time really taking time to remember.

Brendon remembers Fever, him and his high school best friends getting together in a space they could barely afford, no idea how they would get by. They had had the band together for three years already and were finally preparing to record. Brendon’s family threw him out and that translated into stage makeup and ‘fuck everyone I like drugs’ type lyrics that were so artistic (courtesy of Ryan) that they somehow worked.

Brendon remembers Pretty. Odd., the messy Beatles album where they spent months in a cabin and most of them were pretty much constantly high. Meanwhile, Brendon and Ryan only got closer. They sang duets with intimate lyrics and Brendon thought they really had something going, maybe.

Brendon remembers Vices, and the god awful fight that caused it. Brendon pauses, unable to continue. Ryan. It’s all he can think of. Brendon had done something proud and stupid and he lost Ryan. His Ryan. Brendon lets himself relive the fight that cost him the love of his life.

Of course, it wasn’t just one fight. It was fights every single night, ending in slamming doors at 3am. Even the people around them could feel the tension slowly building up by the day, until one day everything fractured. The fight wasn’t anything major, just their average argument, but somehow it was different. Brendon and Ryan had reached their breaking points, and no matter what they did that night someone was going to explode. No one really excepted the end, though; everyone really just figured Brendon would trail Ryan like a dog forever. Clearly, that’s not quite what happened.

It was late at night and everyone else had gone to bed, not wanting to deal with Brendon and Ryan’s petty shit. They were talking about the new record, and what they wanted to do. Ryan wanted to be a bigger part of the musical process: Ryan wanted to sing. When he said it, Brendon couldn’t help but snort.

“Why the hell is this funny?”

“It’s just fuckin’ ironic, Ry. You, Ryan Ross, in the spotlight!” Ryan looked indignant.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“I- nevermind.”

“Spit it out, Bren!” Of course, the irony was obvious. Brendon had been trying for almost eight years to work around Ryan’s stage fright, putting everything into his vocals to make anything possible, musically, for Ryan. Now Ryan wanted his chance in the spotlight. So this is how it works, then? Brendon thought, You just get to choose when you want to be in the spotlight and everyone else just works around you? Why, when we started and I wanted to be included in the lyrics I sang was I shut out, but now that Ryan Drama Queen Ross wants to be in the spotlight he gets it? The hypocrisy, Jesus.

“You’re just a fucking hypocrite, okay? We only ever do things when Ryan wants to do them. When I wanted to write lyrics, it was all, 'No, Brendon, what we have now is working’ but now that you want the spotlight I’m just supposed to give it to you?”

“Yes, Brendon. I’m trying to get over my stage fright and sing in our band and I should be allowed to do that. Besides, not letting you in the artistic process was for the best.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you can’t write, Brendon!”

“Well maybe I can! You don’t fucking know that, Ryan. I’ll prove it.”

“Go ahead and prove it, Brendon. But if this is how this is going to go, I’m going to find someone who doesn’t turn important decisions into petty fights!” Ryan stormed out the door and Brendon, still fuming, mentally bid him good riddance. It wasn’t until a few days later when he got the email that he realized: Ryan wasn’t coming back. Brendon had just thrown away the love of his life over some comment Ryan probably didn’t even mean. Still stubborn, Brendon was determined. He sat down that very day and began to write the beginnings of the next record, and the first thing he wrote about was Ryan Ross.

Brendon feels the tears on his cheeks and realizes he’s barely even crying anymore. He doesn’t know when he started, or when he slid to the floor. He picks himself up and moves on.

Brendon remembers Too Weird. He remembers getting a girlfriend and coming out almost simultaneously. Brendon remembers writing about girls. Brendon remembers writing about guys. Brendon remembers writing about Spencer. He sees himself again, slaving over lyrics powerful enough to show Spence what he needed to see. Hard as it was, when Brendon sees This Is Gospel framed on the wall, he thinks of Spencer now and knows it was worth it.

Brendon has once again reached Death of a Bachelor. Brendon thinks of Sarah, of his puppies, all his friends, all his fans, everything he has. He thinks about the fight with Dallon, nothing even major; it was just a little tiff, but now Dallon’s not even an official member anymore. Brendon is alone.

He picks himself up and goes and finds an unoccupied room. He finds a comfortable looking, semi-clean couch and flops down on it face first. He curls up into the fetal position, nearly falling off the couch in the process. Brendon sinks into the couch and cries. Brendon is a mess.

When he calls Dallon, he doesn’t care that he’s in the other room. He calls him anyways, sniffling into the phone and apologizing for their fight, begging him to rejoin the band fully. Dallon just sighs and tells Brendon they’ll discuss this later, and Brendon has too many things to do to worry too much.

When Brendon calls Spencer, he swallows back everything he planned on saying, and so all he tells the answering machine is that he hopes Spencer is doing well and that he’d love to see him soon. He hangs up before he cries again.

The last person on Brendon’s spontaneous must-call list is Ryan. Brendon doesn’t even know what to say, he just calls and sobs and mumbles something that might be 'I’m sorry’ or 'I miss you’ or 'please come back I fucked up and I love you.’ Who knows. Brendon has almost convinced himself he’s talking to a voicemail when he hears Ryan’s too familiar voice on the other end. He bursts into a fresh round of tears.

“Brendon? Bren? Brendon, are you okay?” Brendon’s heard Ryan’s voice recently, but this is different. He sounds so old, so much more mature. Too mature to deal with a grown ass thirty year old crying on his birthday. Brendon almost hangs up when Ryan speaks again.

“Happy Birthday, Brendon. I’ve got a surprise for you, by the way.” Brendon is astounded by how calm Ryan is. “That is, if you’re up for it…”

“What is it?” Brendon is suddenly an overeager child.

“It’s a surprise, Brendon. A surprise.”

Brendon sighs and hears a knock at the door. “Hey Ry, I gotta go. I have soundcheck like, now, and a full set in an hour. Bye Ryan.”

“I kn- bye Brendon,” Ryan chirps and hangs up, leaving him headachy and confused.

Every song in Brendon’s set is practically pointing fingers at him. Brendon plays This Is Gospel and can barely focus on the piano keys for the amount of glances he steals of the drum throne, it’s drummer a shadow of his predecessor. Brendon plays Golden Days side by side with Kenny and he thinks of every memory he describes and all he sees is Ryan. Finally, playing House of Memories he stares at Dallon, a silent apology for everything he managed to fuck up to get him here, without even Dallon as a constant.

When Brendon walks back out for his encore, he knows what he’s going to play. No one will expect it but it’s so, so fitting. Brendon just misses his goddamn friends.

Oh memories, where’d you go? You’re all I’ve ever known. How I miss yesterday. How’d I let it fade away? Don’t fade away!

Brendon’s song, one not well known out of Vices, the album of his heart, is an apology to all those he hurt. I’m sorry, Ryan, it says, for driving you away. I’m sorry, Spencer, that I couldn’t save you sooner. I’m sorry, Dallon, that I let a trivial fight rip the last link from my band. I’m sorry, Panic! at the Disco, that I am you now: a thirty-year-old man touring the world crying alone on his birthday. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fucked up. I miss you.

As the lights dim, Brendon walks off the stage, ready to go back to his dressing room or the hotel or wherever to lie back down and cry. When he gets back, though, he gets three simultaneous phone calls. He answers Spencer first, shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline.

“Yeah?” Brendon is too tired to deal with people, yet still a little euphoric to have Spencer calling me.

“Dallon just called me telling me you won’t answer your phone, so please for the sake of us all answer him!”

“Oh, o-okay. Bye Spence.”

“Catch ya later.” Brendon shouldn’t be this disappointed by Spencer’s call, and yet he is. The fucker didn’t even say happy birthday! Regardless, he picks up his phone again and dials Dallon, wondering what the hell could be so urgent.

“Brendon Boyd Urie get your ass back on this stage right fucking now!” is all Brendon hears before Dallon hangs up. Not wanting to make Dallon bother Spencer again, Brendon quickly complies, not having time to deal with the rest of his missed calls. He’ll get to them later.

When Brendon finally gets himself back on stage, the arena is empty. Almost everyone has neatly filed out the doors, security on their heels. Brendon walks up to Dallon.

“So what the fuck was so damn urgent that you had to call Spencer Smith?” Brendon hears a snicker in the background; probably a tech guy snooping in their drama. Dallon now fumbles for words, not making a very convincing case.

“I, uh, well…. uh, I needed you to help me with…….. something.”

“Right, yes. Something. I’ll get right on it.” Brendon isn’t in the mood for games tonight. This time, the snickering is a certain little giggle, and Brendon does a double take. Tech guys don’t laugh like Ryan Ross. Brendon faces out into the crowd, trying to determine where the sound came from. He looks down and ends up locking eyes with the one and only Ryan Ross, seated next to Spencer Smith.

“Happy Birthday!” Dallon’s voice is behind him and it’s filled with barely veiled excitement. Ryan and Spencer grin at him from the front row and he gestures for them to mount the stage, still unsure how to react.

“You knew about this?” Brendon finally decides to ask Terrible Actor Dallon.

“It’s possible…”

“Oh for fucks sake.” Ryan. Dramatic as always. “It’s Brendon Urie is 30, damnit, and I dragged our asses -he gestures to Spencer and himself- out to Vegas to tell you happy birthday and Dallon can’t even speak English! This isn’t the friends I know.”

Brendon doesn’t even think now, he just loses it. He gives in, wrapping Ryan in a bear hug. Spencer soon joins, smothering them both, and Dallon adds himself on, his head sticking up above everyone else’s. Brendon smiles genuinely for the first time in a very long time inside the friend-pile. Things are shaping up to be pretty damn okay.

#there's no formatting #my fic #fanfic #brendon urie #panic! at the disco #p!atd #ao3 #fanfiction #ryan ross #ryden #spencer smith #dallon weekes #happy birthday brendon #brendon is 30 #april 12 #4.12.17 #april 12 1987 #my writing

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lastbluetardis · 8 years ago

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In Sickness and in Health

This was written for @doctorroseprompts’s weekly prompt: “I had great plans for our Valentine’s Day but then I got sick and I’m sorry I ruined our date… Oh wow you ordered takeaway and found something on Netflix and oh no don’t cuddle with me I will get you sick.”

And this is also set in the Perfectly Matched ‘verse, because I can’t seem to escape it. (This is a stand-alone fic... you don’t need to have read anything in this series to understand this fic. Just know that they’re adorable idiots in love.)

Ten x Rose, Soulmates AU, Teen

Rose falls ill on her first Valentine’s Day with James, but they still manage to make the best of it.

AO3

James was only half-awake when he rolled over onto his side to cuddle closer to his bedmate. He wriggled up behind Rose and nuzzled his nose into her neck as he molded his body around hers.

She shivered in his arms, but it didn’t feel like her regular shivers, the ones she usually let out when he kissed the sensitive patch of skin where her shoulder met her neck.

“M’cold,” Rose mumbled, scooting backwards to put more contact between their bodies.

James stifled a groan as her bum wiggled against his morning stiffie.

“Let me sleep another ten minutes and we can take care of that,” she promised, letting out a sigh as she relaxed back against him.

James glanced over at the clock. “Ehm, you’re actually running late, love. It’s quarter after.”

“Can’t be,” she said, lifting her head to verify the time. Bollocks… She had class in just forty-five minutes. But her entire body seemed to be aching with lethargy.

James tugged the duvet away from them, about to suggest they share a shower, and frowned when he saw her tighten into a ball as goosebumps prickled across her skin. His frown deepened when she only managed to push herself half-way into a sitting position before flopping back down again.

“Just a bit of vertigo,” she assured, rubbing her fingers into her eyes.

But James saw that her cheeks were flushed and her voice still hadn’t cleared of its morning rasp. He touched the backs of his fingers to her forehead and his brows pinched together when he felt the heat radiating off her skin.

“You’re burning up, love,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face as he tucked the duvet tight around her neck. “I think you might’ve caught something. You should stay home and sleep it off.”

“Hand me my phone?” she asked, hugging the blankets to her chest. “Gotta email my professors.”

“I’ve got it,” he said, reaching over her for her mobile. “I’ll take care of it. You just rest now.”

“’Kay.”

Once James emailed her professors, he glanced over at his phone. Should he stay home with Rose?

“You’re gonna be late,” she said, blinking up at him.

“It’s fine,” James said. “I can take the day.”

“No need. I’ll just be sleeping, I think. Very boring. Go on to the lab, James.”

James bit his lip. He really hated leaving Rose like this, but he also needed to get a few things done at work.

“Go,” Rose urged. “Besides, I don’t want to get you sick, too. Can’t miss our first Valentine’s day together.”

James sighed and eventually moved to crawl out of bed.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” he said, tucking the blankets snugly around her shoulders.

“I’ll be fine,” Rose promised, her eyes fluttering shut. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

oOoOo

However, when Valentine’s Day rolled around three days later, Rose had only gotten worse. Not only was she still exhausted, she’d developed a double ear infection and a respiratory infection.

Rose sneezed into her wad of tissues and gingerly wiped her red, raw nose, chapped as it was from the tissue abuse it had endured. Of all the weeks for her to get sick…

Despite what she’d told James that morning, she wasn’t sure if she’d be actually well enough to go out to dinner with him that night. Her ears and nose were still clogged, and she could hardly go ten minutes without coughing up a lung.

She glanced at the clock and reluctantly sat up to reach for her dose of antibiotic and decongestant. After taking the pills and sipping at her water, she flopped back down on the couch and covered up with more blankets before falling asleep.

When James came home that afternoon and saw Rose asleep on the sofa and surrounded by tissues, he knew that their dinner plans would have to be put on hold.

Frustration coiled in his stomach—couldn’t anything go right for them this year?—but it was soon overrun by concern. It wasn’t as though Rose tried to be sick for their first Valentine’s Day. And she really looked and sounded poorly.

With a sigh, James pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the restaurant to cancel their reservation, while tentatively making another reservation for the following weekend, hoping Rose would be well enough then.

He then crept up the stairs and into their bedroom, where he changed into a pair of pajamas, prepared to spend the rest of Valentine’s Day as Rose’s pillow and space heater.

As he descended the stairs, he could hear the tail end of one of her coughing fits, and he winced at how awfully it sounded.

“Still not feeling any better?” he asked, crouching in front of her. Her eyes were glassy and her cheeks were still red.

“When did you get home?” she croaked, carefully dabbing a tissue around her nose.

“A few minutes ago,” he answered.

Rose reached down and pushed a button on her phone to check the time.

“Oh, blimey, I’ve got to get ready,” she said, pushing herself up. James’s heart clenched when he saw her swaying a little bit as she closed her eyes, overtaken by a dizzy spell.

“No need, love, you’re not well enough for dinner,” James said. “Lay back down and get some rest.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine,” she insisted. However, when she stood, she nearly tripped forward as her dizziness returned and she got tangled in her blankets.

James caught her around the waist and held onto her as she rested her forehead on his collarbone.

“Rose, you’re still very ill,” he said gently. “You’d be utterly miserable if we went out. You look utterly miserable now, and that’s even with you in your pjs in our home. I’ve cancelled the reservation. We can try again later when you’re better.”

Rose sighed into his chest but nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, love,” he said, giving her waist a little squeeze. “Nothing you could’ve done to prevent this.”

“I was really looking forward to dinner,” she mumbled. “You were so excited about it, and now I’ve ruined our first Valentine’s Day together!”

James carefully sat down on the sofa with her and pulled her blankets off the floor to at least cover her lap.

“If I’m not allowed to take the blame for ruining anything in our relationship, then neither are you,” he said firmly. “Remember what you’re always telling me?”

“Memory’s a bit fuzzy right now,” she mumbled, leaning against him and tucking her head into his neck. “Try again later.”

James chuckled and pressed his lips to her sizzling forehead. “I guess I can take it easy on you today. Just this once, mind.”

“How generous of you,” she said dryly.

“Anyways, you’re always telling me that even if our plans don’t go as we’d hoped, they’re still perfect because we’re together,” he said. “Same applies to this. I never envisioned my first Valentine’s Day with you would involve so much mucus—” Rose smacked his chest lightly even as she tugged her blankets around her shoulders and nuzzled closer. “—But nevertheless, we’re together, and that’s all that matters, yeah? Being able to spend time with you, Rose Tyler, is the best way to spend any day.”

“Flatterer,” she whispered.

“Always.” He kissed the top of her head. “Get some more sleep, love.”

“Actually… since you claim to like spending time with me, even in my mucous-y state, care to help a soulmate to the loo?”

James chuckled and stood up before pulling her to her feet and guiding her to the bathroom.

Once he’d settled Rose back on the sofa with more water and blankets, he trekked to the kitchen and started on dinner. He called for Chinese for himself while he reheated the vat of chicken soup he’d made for her the day before.

“Bon appétit, ma chère,” James said affecting an awful French accent as he cradled a steaming bowl of soup in a towel.

Rose smiled up at him and readjusted herself before taking the bowl from him.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” she asked, frowning at him.

“I am,” he promised. “I ordered takeaway.” Serendipitously, the doorbell rang at that moment. “Aaaand I’ll bet that’s it. Go on. Pick us out something to watch.”

Several minute later, they were both slurping on their respective meals and continuing their marathon of The X-Files. More than once, James caught Rose side-eyeing his lo mein, and he casually scooped out a few of the noodles and half an egg roll into her empty soup bowl.

“You’re the best,” Rose said with a grin.

“Don’t you forget it,” he teased, pressing a kiss to her temple.

After they finished eating, James set his empty dinner box and Rose’s bowl onto the coffee table before he scooted closer to her and wrapped himself around her.

“No, I don’t want to get you sick!” Rose protested.

James snorted into her hair. “Honestly, it’ll be a miracle if you haven’t infected me yet. But you’re cold, and I want a cuddle. Two birds, one stone, et cetera. C’mere.”

Rose sighed and relaxed into James’s embrace, nestling her cheek into his chest.

“If you get sick, don’t come crying to me,” she murmured, feeling full and warm and sleepy.

“No promises. But I’m sure you’ll take such good care of me.”

“I’ll share my leftover soup,” she allowed.

“Feel the love,” James pouted.

“Maaaaybe I’ll make you your own,” Rose teased. “If you ask nicely. And if you’re really, truly ill. And I mean ill. Like, ear-exploding, lung-coughing, goopy-eyeballs ill.”

James grimaced. “No, ta. Let’s just cross our fingers that I stay completely healthy, yeah?”

And miraculously, James did manage to avoid catching whatever plague Rose had come down with.

Finally, nine days after Valentine’s Day, they were both ready to resume their romantic holidays plans.

“You are the most stunningly beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” James murmured appreciatively as he stepped up behind her, looking her over through the full-length mirror.

She was wearing the new black dress that had appeared in their closet three weekends ago when she’d gone shopping for their Valentine’s Day date, and it looked as sexy as James thought it would when he first saw it hanging on the rack. The skirt fluttered around her knees and the three-quarter-length sleeves would hopefully offer her some protection from the February chill, even if the plunging neckline wouldn’t.

“You look quite dashing too,” Rose complimented with a grin. “I like the new suit.”

“Yeah, I’ve been looking for an excuse to break this one in,” he said, taking a look down at his blue pinstripes. “It looks okay, doesn’t it?”

“You look great, James,” she promised. “Pinstripes really suit you. And… if you want, I have something for you to help finish off the new look.”

James removed his hands from her hips to let her skip towards her chifforobe and grab a long, skinny box.

“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything!” he protested.

“I wanted to,” Rose said simply, handing him the box. “Happy Valentine’s Day redo.”

James grinned as he lifted off the lid to the box to reveal a new tie. It was made of navy silk with burgundy roses twining around the fabric in thin vines.

“Oh, this is perfect!” James said, already undoing the tie around his neck.

“Yeah?” she asked happily.

“Oh, yes!” he crowed, dropping his old tie and the box to the floor as he swiftly knotted up his new tie. “What do you think?”

Rose smiled softly at her soulmate before she stretched up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Handsome, as always,” she proclaimed. “Right, are we almost ready to go?”

“Well, you’re still missing a piece,” James said, tracing his fingertips around her collarbone. “Found a necklace yet?

Rose’s breath hitched, recognizing his failed attempt at nonchalance. “Not yet. Have any suggestions?”

“Well, you’re in luck. How about this?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a square black box. He flicked it open with his thumbs, and Rose gasped when she saw the necklace within. A rectangularly-cut opal sat as the center piece and diamonds framed the perimeter of the gem, and Rose could see a thin silver chain disappearing behind slats in the velvet cushion.

“Oh, James, this is beautiful!” she whispered, carefully touching her index finger to the opal. It was even smoother than it looked.

“You like it?” he asked hopefully.

“I love it! Put it on me?”

Rose spun around as James carefully lifted the necklace out of the box and draped the chain around her neck. He clasped it and let it come to rest against the bare skin of her chest.

“Diamonds for your birthstone,” he murmured, adjusting the pendant so it hung just right. “And opal for mine. Happy Valentine’s Day redo, Rose.”

“This is perfect,” Rose murmured, turning in his arms to press a kiss to his lips.

James sighed against her mouth and automatically opened for her. Her illness had put the brakes on their intimacy, and James’s belly flipped over in desire and anticipation as he could finally kiss her with intent.

But far too soon, Rose eased them out of the kiss.

“We’re going to miss our reservation,” she said when she saw his pout of displeasure.

James sighed. As much as he wanted to stay here and continue snogging Rose, he really was looking forward to dinner with her.

“After?” he asked hopefully.

“Definitely,” she purred, trailing her fingertips down his new tie.

“Well then, Rose Tyler...”

Rose shuddered at the huskiness in his voice as he said her name. James took her hand and pressed a long kiss to the backs of her fingers before he murmured, “Dinner awaits.”

If you’re curious, here is Rose’s necklace (pretend the chain is silver instead of gold)

#doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #soulmates au #and here's james and rose's first valentine's day together!!#(of course it doesn't go right!)#;)#enjoy!#perfectly matched series #my fic

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